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malevolent-muse · 3 months

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The Price of Silence - Barisi Fan Fiction

After reconnecting with his former mentor, Barba, Carisi becomes concerned when Barba brings up an unfortunate event from Carisi's past. Later, Barba admits to hiding a deep, dark secret and cautions Carisi to keep his distance. Against his best interest, Carisi ignores Barba's warning, and he finds himself becoming something he had never thought he would be - a victim. In the end, Barba tries to make amends, but it is too late.

Warning: This is a DARK fic. This story includes EXPLICIT NON-CON CONTENT. Dead Dove, Do Not Eat. (Word Count: 20,000+ Chaptered version on AO3)

Chapter 1

Hearing a knock at the door, Sonny tilted his head up to see who was wandering around Hogan Place long after the sun had set.

"Barba!" Sonny exclaimed softly, as he lowered the box of items he had been holding carefully onto his desk's surface. "What are you doing here?"

"I came by to congratulate you, Counselor," the former SVU ADA replied as he sauntered into the shared office space and looked around at the vacant desks.

"I thought you were still out in Iowa," Sonny said, his voice strained as he tried to keep down his excitement at seeing his friend and former mentor.

“Oh, I am," Barba replied causally. "But I had some family stuff I needed to take care of in town. It's a short visit, which is why I didn't tell anyone I was coming. But then I heard you had turned in your badge to work under Chief Hadid as SVU's new ADA."

Slightly humbled and a bit embarrassed by Barba's concise assessment, Sonny shuffled a bit, putting his hands in his pockets. "I couldn't pass up the opportunity," he finally said.

"Nor should you have," Barba replied. "Though you'll have to forgive me for dropping in on you like this. I wanted to see how you were settling in."

Spreading his arms wide, Sonny indicated the stacks of paperwork already accumulating on his desk.

"It's my first day, and I already feel like I'm drowning."

"That's the law, Carisi," Barba retorted as he stepped closer. "You're always going to be drowning in paperwork. Once you get yourself settled, you can start treading water. Win a couple of cases, and you'll be swimming in no time."

Sonny huffed in self-derision. "Speaking of swimming, what's that saying about lawyers and sharks? Something along the lines of both always being out for blood?"

“Actually, I think it's: Why don't sharks attack lawyers?" Barba chuckled before answering. "Professional courtesy."

Grinning at the joke, Sonny felt a sense of familiarity wash over him. It had been months since they had last seen each other, but in typical Barba fashion, his old mentor never missed a beat.

"You know," Sonny sighed. "I'm glad you're here, Barba. It's good to see a friendly face at the end of my first day. It's been... well, it's been stressful."

"Not an easy transition?"

"No. Definitely not easy."

”Well, you're still getting settled. I wouldn't let it bother you too much."

“Thanks," Sonny mumbled, a bit awkwardly, not knowing what to say next.

"Of course," Barba replied, coming even closer and clapping a comforting hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Though I was wondering, did you ever get that business with the bar exam worked out?"

”Oh?" Sonny wondered, a sudden pit forming in his stomach. "That's not really something I've thought about in a while."

"No, of course not," Barba said dismissively. "It's not your fault, after all. "

"I would never cheat."

"I didn't mean to imply that you would."

"C'mon, Barba," Sonny groaned. "Don't do this to me, okay? I passed the exam, plain and simple. It might be surprising that a guy from Fordham Law managed to pass on his first try, but we can't all be Harvard prodigies."

Barba smirked. "Well, you were my protege. I am proud of you."

“Again, thank you."

“You’ll have to forgive me for bringing it up, Carisi. I am trying to look out for you," Barba stated. “But if you’ll remember, back when one of your classmates got caught cheating on the exam, I told you to retake it. That sort of thing can tank a career.”

"But I passed."

"I know, Sonny," Barba explained. "But you knew the guy, and you went to school with him. The fact that he cheated while you both were taking the test could be seen as suspicious."

“He wasn’t just some guy. His name was Kip. And I wasn't the only one besides him taking the test that day," Sonny growled. "Also, it's not like I conspired with him in any way. You know me, Barba. I would never—"

"But does your new boss know that?" the former ADA interrupted. "Sonny, I'm worried about your career. If someone were to find out about the circumstances around your exam—"

"They won't!" Sonny interrupted. "Jeez. I passed the bar years ago. No one is looking into those specifics now."

"Not yet," Barba countered. "But Sonny, you're in the big leagues now, and you're going up against seasoned professionals. And I hate to say it, but some of them are out for blood. They will notice the gap between when you passed the bar and now and see it as a reason to undermine you. I want you to be prepared."

"And I am!" Sonny said defensively. "I don't have the experience that you have, but I know what's at risk if I can't do my job. I'm not going to fail at this."

"I know you won't. But I want you to be prepared if it does come up. You should get ahead of it while you can. Besides, I don't want a call to come out of the blue and for someone to start asking questions I don't want to answer."

"Well, you wouldn't tell anyone, would you?"

Barba paused, saying nothing.

“Rafa?” Sonny prodded.

Sighing, Barba replied, “Honestly, Sonny, I don’t know.”

“Rafa!”

“Don’t ‘Rafa’ me,” Barba grumbled. “Life is complicated. And if someone came and asked me, I might have to share what information I have about the situation with him… or her.”

“You’d tell Ms. Hadid?”

“I never said that.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“That you should tell her, Sonny,” Barba huffed. “You know what, I shouldn’t have come. After everything happening with my—“ Here, Barba abruptly stopped short. Taking a breath, he continued, “I’m not in a good headspace right now. I’m sorry.”

“Barba,” Sonny said softly, “please tell me you won’t speak to anyone about what happened with Kip. He was a fool for doing what he did but I had nothing to do with it, I swear. I just want a shot at being a lawyer and actually doing some good.”

“And you’ve managed to put yourself in a position where you’ll get that shot,” Barba muttered. “I just—“

“You want me to bargain with you?” Sonny interjected. “C’mon, Barba. What is it that you want? Why did you really come down here? You want me to beg you to keep your mouth shut?”

Looking over at him with sad eyes, Barba replied, “You are too noble a man to trade your honor for my silence, Sonny. I can’t promise you much, but I can promise that if the situation arises, what information I am forced to share, I won’t do it willingly.”

Sonny nodded slowly, taking in Barba's words.

"Thank you," he said after a tense moment. "I appreciate that."

Barba nodded back at him, looking almost sullen.

"I don't want to ruin your career or anything, Sonny. You deserve this chance. Just be careful, okay?”

"I will,” Sonny promised, though his chest still felt tight from the air of contention that still lingered. "And thanks for coming down here. It means a lot to me."

"Of course," Barba said with a tight-lipped smile, as he made his way back towards the office door. "Just don't expect me to make a habit of it. I've got my own problems to deal with." Reaching the exit, he paused and turned back to Sonny. "Oh, and Carisi? Good luck."

"Thanks," Sonny replied. "I'll need it."

With a parting nod, Barba left the room, leaving Sonny alone with his thoughts and a sinking feeling in his stomach. As the new ADA stood there, staring at the empty doorway, he couldn't help but wonder what had truly prompted Barba's visit. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it than merely a social call.

Chapter 2

Wandering into the bar, Sonny glanced around the dimly lit room. While there was a good crowd of people, the interior of the establishment was spacious. Most of the patrons were gathered around the counter, sharing drinks and conversation. He wasn't sure what kind of establishment he was entering, but he knew who he was searching for.

Or, to be more accurate, who he was looking for.

He hadn’t seen Rafael Barba for months. Yet with information that the former ADA was back in Manhattan, Sonny had easily stepped back into the role of a detective and had been tracking down his former mentor.

The chatter, music, and various noises filling the room were distracting. Still, after a moment or two spent scanning the various individuals sitting at the counter, Sonny then moved along. He was trying to make a quick assessment of the customers seated at the booths all while keeping his hands close to his sides and his movements slow and fluid so as to remain inconspicuous. Just as he began to think that he had yet again failed to locate Barba, he came to the last booth in the corner of the restaurant. There, sitting alone, wearing a rumpled three-piece suit, and staring blankly at a tumbler of whiskey, was Rafael Barba.

Sonny exhaled deeply before sliding onto the hard wooden bench opposite his friend.

Beneath a hooded brow, dark green eyes darted up as Sonny shook off his suit jacket and settled in his seat.

“What are you doing here?” Barba grumbled.

“Thought I’d return the favor you paid me on my first day and drop in on you,” Sonny casually remarked.

Catching the eye of a passing waitress, he lifted his hand as an indication that he required her service.

“Why?” Sonny continued. “Have I caught you by surprise?”

“No.”

The waitress Sonny had flagged down approached and he made sure to keep the inflection in his tone calm and casual. Though, if he was being honest with himself, he worried his countenance would betray his deeper concerns as he ordered a round of drinks from her.

“I’ll have whatever he’s having. And why don’t you get him another round as well?” he stated, his voice raised so he could be heard over the other patrons and the clinking of glasses.

Fishing his wallet from his pocket, Sonny pulled out his card and handed it to their server, asking her to open a tab for him.

A second after the waitress left, Barba spoke.

“How did you know I was here?” he asked, his voice strained through gritted teeth.

“Your mother’s funeral was on Friday. I figured you’d still be in town. My condolences, by the way. I wish you would’ve let me know. I would’ve come.”

“But —“

Cutting Barba off, Sonny hastily added, “Liv called. She said she was having a difficult time reaching you.”

“You didn’t seem to have a problem finding me though. What did you do? You didn’t have TARU run a search for my card transactions, did you?”

With a shake of his head, Sonny retorted, “No. Just wore out some shoe leather going from bar to bar looking for you."

“Well, you found me,” Barba remarked, his voice thick with sarcasm as he lifted his cup to his lips and took a sip. “Congratulations.”

Just then, the waitress returned, balancing their drinks on a round plastic tray. Nimbly, she placed each tumbler in front of them.

“Here you are. Anything else I can get for you?”

“We’re fine,” Barba said, a restrained growl resonating in his voice. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Sonny echoed.

He watched the waitress turn and leave to serve other tables and in her wake, she left nothing but silence. It hung in the air between the two men. Sonny, determined not to make Barba upset, waited for his friend to be the first to speak.

Taking a drink from his glass, he tried not to grimace at the burn of the spirit. Sonny wasn’t much one for hard liquor and knew if he attempted to keep pace with Barba, he’d be chugging Pepto come morning.

“You didn’t need to go through all the effort of tracking me down,” Barba finally said.

“I figured if you weren’t answering Captain Benson’s calls, you wouldn’t answer mine either.”

Barba lifted a singular brow.

“You’re not wrong.”

“Good, ‘cause I would hate to think of you actually sending my calls to voice mail. Rafa, man, I got to tell you: What you’re going through is a big deal. And you don’t need to go through it alone.”

“Some things are better dealt with alone.”

“You sure about that?” Sonny quipped back.

“Yes, detective, I’m sure,” Barba said with a deep sigh.

“Detective?”

“Err,” Barba corrected himself. “I mean counselor.”

“It takes some getting used to,” Sonny said with a chuckle.

“Your cases going okay,” Barba asked, using his mistake to redirect the conversation.

“Better than most,” Sonny answered, fidgeting with his glass as he delayed taking another sip of the strong liquor. “I’ve won more cases than I’ve lost.”

“Did you ever talk to Hadid about your classmate? The one who cheated on the bar?”

Jeez, Sonny thought, not this again. Why won’t Barba let this go?

“I know you didn’t care to talk about it much the last time I saw you,” Barba continued. “But I’ve been in your shoes, Sonny. I’ve done the job you’re doing. And I know it’s better to get ahead of potential rumors before they become your downfall.”

“No,” Sonny responded, making an effort not to sound bitter. “I haven’t brought up that with my boss. And I don’t plan to either.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ll lose my job,” he snapped.

“Not the end of the world. Trust me, I’ve been there.”

“No, Barba,” Sonny challenged, “you resigned.”

“I was charged with second-degree murder.”

“And then you got acquitted. You didn’t have to resign.”

“It was the right thing to do,” Barba emphatically stated.

“The right thing?” Sonny argued. “Barba, it’s not about what is right and what is wrong. It’s about you thinking that you’re alone in all of this.”

“I am alone.”

With a sigh, Sonny countered, “No. You’re not.”

“Strong words coming from someone whose mother is still alive.”

Sonny’s jaw dropped at Barba’s insensitive comment. Though he managed to snap it closed again just as quick. Then, taking a breath in through his nose, he looked down at the whiskey still in his cup. Figuring he could use a dose of liquid courage, he lifted the whiskey to his lips and downed a couple drams at once.

“Well,” Sonny stated, “I know what it’s like to feel alone, even when there are people around who care. But you don’t have to be alone, Rafa. You have friends. And every one of them, myself included, wants to make sure that you know that we care. That we are here for you.”

Heaving a heavy sigh, Barba replied, “I just don’t see the point anymore.”

A bit shocked, Sonny came to the abrupt conclusion that Barba was spiraling. Drinking alone at a bar after the death of one’s mother was one thing, but saying that there wasn’t a point anymore was drastic. It seemed incredibly out of character for his former mentor to say something like that.

“The point in what?” he quickly asked, seeking clarification. “And please don’t say life. Trust me, Barba, life is always worth living, even when it’s painful.”

Though their corner of the bar was dimly lit, Sonny noticed a smirk briefly flash across Barba’s features.

“No,” he remarked. “The point in pretending.”

“Pretending? I don’t know what you mean.”

Finishing his initial glass and starting in on the one Sonny had purchased for him, Barba explained, “I mean that I don’t see a point in pretending that deep down I’m not … that there’s not something seriously broken inside of me. For as long as I can remember, I didn’t want to disappoint her. My father I could give two shits about, but not my mother. I wanted so badly to show her I could be the good and decent son she deserved. And without her here, I feel so … empty.”

“So you thought you’d handle this sort of loss easily?” Sonny scoffed. “Barba, how many drinks did you have before I got here? You may be an ass, but you’re not broken.”

“I think I’m on my fifth. But don’t think I’m going to forget you calling me an ass to my face though,” Barba answered, his voice dark but tinged with humor.

Sonny let out a low huff.

“I should get you home.”

“No,” Barba countered. “You should leave. Thanks for the drink, Sonny, but I think it’s best that I find my own way back.”

“And why is that? Oh, right, because you think you’re broken and undeserving of—“

“You don’t think I’m broken?” Barba interrupted. “Sonny, if I wanted … I could—“

Stopping abruptly, the former ADA instead took another drink.

“You could what?” Sonny prodded.

With a shake of his head, Barba replied, “I’m not going to say it.”

“And here I thought you said there was no point in not pretending anymore.”

Sonny was just antagonizing the former ADA at this point. Still, it was better than the alternative, which was leaving Barba alone with his thoughts. Mourning the loss of a parent could be destabilizing. And what Sonny wanted most was just to ensure his friend’s well-being. However, given the context of their conversation, he doubted that Barba would actually tell him anything significant.

“Tell me, counselor,” Barba retorted, emphasizing his words with thinly veiled mockery, “for as long as you’ve known me, how many relationships have I been in?”

“Is that a trick question? You’re married to the law, Barba, and she is a jealous mistress.”

Huffing in quiet laughter, Barba replied, “That she is.” Then, a bit more serious, he added, “I didn’t date because not having a relationship was better than having one and disappointing my mother.”

“Mothers often have strong opinions on who their children should date. I know mine does. And let me tell you, I definitely don’t agree that all I need is a nice Catholic girl. But, ah, if you don’t mind me asking, how do you think your relationships would have disappointed your mother?”

“By dating men.”

Sensing heat rise to his cheeks, Sonny bowed his head to hide his embarrassment. Barba’s sudden admission left him reeling. He had never truly understood the idiom 'knocked down with a feather,' but now he felt it was entirely applicable. The shock was profound, and it made him feel terrible for not knowing something so important about someone he thought he knew well.

“I didn’t realize…” he stammered. “I thought…”

“You thought what I wanted you to think,” Barba admitted. “I only mentioned my past relationships that were with women because I didn’t want my sexual preferences to draw the wrong sort of attention; especially not in the workplace.”

Taking a moment to process, Sonny thoughtfully said, “You’re right. It’s no one’s business but your own. And, clearly, I had no idea. Not that changes anything, I am still your friend.”

Barba heaved a heavy sigh.

“You know,” he muttered, “part of me is glad that I never had to tell her. And I feel bad about that, like I’m happy she’s gone. I’m not though. But to her, being queer wasn’t just a sin, it was unacceptable. She would’ve seen it as a failure on her part as a mother.”

“That sounds more like relief than happiness,” Sonny stated, trying his best to comfort the other man sitting across from him.

“Aren’t they the same thing?”

“They can be. But not in this case, I don’t think. And it doesn’t make you broken, not being bi or even feeling some relief from having to share that information with someone who —“

Interrupting, Barba interjected, “That’s not why I said I feel broken.”

“Then why?” Sonny prompted.

Instead of answering, the former ADA took the opportunity to drain the last of the whiskey from his cup. Then, his eyes casting around, Barba caught the attention of their server and wordlessly raised his empty glass.

“You think another drink is going to get you out of answering my question?” Sonny asked, his tone serious and somber.

“I think getting another drink might convince me to answer it,” Barba responded as the server approached yet another round.

“Thanks,” he replied carelessly, his attention focused on his now replenished beverage. Silence lingered between them as Barba rotated the glass, almost absentmindedly, only taking sips of the dark liquor sparingly.

Sonny waited. He could be patient.

Finally, Barba spoke, “It’s like I have a loaded gun.”

“Do you?” Sonny quickly asked in reply, his eyes going wide.

Though he was sure it was just a figment of his imagination, the buzz of conversation around them seemed to become eerily still. His mouth going dry at the thought of a loaded weapon in a crowded bar, Sonny waited for Barba to answer.

Rolling his eyes, Barba said, “No, Carisi. I don’t. I’m making an analogy.”

“An analogy for what?”

“I thought it was obvious: I’m not dealing with this well. I dunno, maybe I’m the loaded gun. And the strangest thing is I’m desperate, okay? And yet I’m terrified that I’m going to do something drastic. I … I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“Rafa,” Sonny said, confidently, “you’re not capable of that sort of cruelty. Trust me on this one.”

Taking yet another drink, Barba asked, “And what if I said the person I’m worried about hurting is you?”

A lump stuck in Sonny’s throat at this new admission and he did his best to gulp it down. Leaning forward, he made an attempt to pull Barba’s glass away from him.

“Now you’ve really had too much to drink.”

Yanking away, Barba pulled his drink back toward himself and hissed, “You don’t get it, Sonny! It’s what I’ve been trying to tell you all along. You’ve handed me this loaded weapon and then have been all but provoking me to use it. That’s why I want you to tell Hadid. Please tell her and rid me of any possible leverage I could hold over you.”

“Leverage?” Sonny asked, taken aback. “Are you really saying you’d try blackmailing me over not disclosing someone else’s mistake? Why? For what purpose?”

“Because I am broken,” Barba admitted. “Because the idea of coercing a friend to do things he would never do if given a choice has somehow taken up a permanent residence in my mind.”

“You’re not that kind of person.”

Shaking his head, Barba said, “I don’t know anymore. All I know with I’m tired of pretending to be someone I’m not. And if that means using what I have to get what I want, then so be it.”

“That’s not a solution.”

“Then what would you have me do? Just sit here and pretend that everything is okay? That I don’t have demons gnawing away at me, trying to get me to do the unthinkable? And I could do it, Sonny, I know I could. I need to be stopped,” Barba sputtered in frustration, tears coming to his eyes. “Why won’t you stop me?”

Sighing, Sonny reached over for his jacket before sliding out of the booth. He stood silently, sliding his arms into the sleeves before he answered.

“I don’t have all the answers. But I do know that if you were to act on a compulsion like that, it would be an act of self-destruction rather than one of malice or intention to harm.

“You think I wouldn’t hurt you?”

“No, Barba, I don’t. Now, I’m going to go close out the tabs then we’re going before you confess to anything else and end up passing out before I get you home.”

Almost as though he had been defeated, Barba nodded silently. Bowing his head against the onslaught of tears, dark strands of his normally well-coiffed hair hanging down over his brow.

Walking over to the bar, Sonny quickly finished paying for both his and Barba’s tabs. He took his time, giving his friend time to dry his tears in relative privacy. Then upon his return to the booth, he watched as Barba downed the last of his drink before standing up. As he swayed slightly, Sonny caught his arm, steadying him.

“It’s going to be okay,” he said, reassuringly.

Barba said nothing, instead he just leaned against his former mentee as Sonny led him out of the bar. As they walked out into the night, Sonny couldn’t help but feel a weight settle over him. Had he been right to reassure Barba that everything was fine or had he inadvertently put them both on a trajectory that would ultimately lead to catastrophe?

Chapter 3

Sonny's fingers were steady as he hit the button on the elevator to take him up to Barba's hotel room floor. He’d been at this particular extended stay before, after the time at the bar. But that had been a while back. Since then, he hadn’t heard from Barba and neither had their mutual friends. Sonny was beginning to wonder if his former mentor had skipped town without telling anyone.

As the elevator doors rumbled open, Sonny stepped out onto the plush hotel corridor, feeling a strange sense of unease.

Barba didn’t know he was coming. And after he had tracked the former counselor last time, Barba had made it known his unannounced presence was not appreciated. As Sonny approached the door, he could hear nothing but the sounds of his own heart beating wildly in his ears. He hesitated, wondering if he should just turn around and leave.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door. A moment later, the door opened, and rumpled-looking Barba stood in the doorway. Standing there without a tie or suit jacket and his shirt sleeves pushed up to his elbows, the older man’s vest was splayed open with all its buttons undone. Despite his state of relative undress and shorter stature, Barba looked as imposing as ever.

“Absolutely not," Barba said, standing his ground, preventing Sonny from entering. “Carisi, go home.”

“I see you’ve already started for the night,” Sonny said, raising a finger to indicate the half-drunk tumbler of dark liquor in his former mentor’s hand.

“What’s it matter to you?” Barba challenged.

“It matters if end up passing out and choking on your own vomit.”

“I’m not going to—“ Barba said, his voice rising before he abruptly stopped speaking. Taking a moment, he then said much more quietly. “Fine. Come in. Say your piece and then leave. You understand me?”

“Yes, sir,” Sonny said with a little bit of mocking respect.

Still, feeling relieved, he stepped inside the hotel room. Glancing around, he noticed that the room was spacious and tidy. At a nearby desk lay a stack of paperwork and a nearly empty bottle of whiskey. Slung over the back of the chair, was Barba’s suit jacket with the brightly colored handkerchief spilling out of the lapel pocket.

“What is it?” Barba grumbled, interrupting Sonny’s visual analysis of the area.

A little nervous, Sonny didn’t answer right away. Instead, he made a bit of small talk.

“You working on a case?” he asked, jerking his head to the side towards the desk and its stack of papers.

“No,” Barba grumbled. “My mother’s estate is taking far more time to reconcile than I anticipated.”

“Can I help?”

Fixing the younger man with a glare, Barba said, “Estate law is especially complex. It’s best that you just stick to the small portion of the law you practice, counselor.”

Raising his hands in a small gesture of defeat, Sonny replied, “Okay, Barba. Have it your way.”

“If I had my way,” Barba said, gruffly, “I would be drinking in peace, not answering pointless questions about my day. So if you want to stay, you need to tell me why you are here in the first place.”

“I… um…,” Sonny faltered, “I’m sorry, Barba. I was trying to do what you asked me to do.”

“Which was what, exactly?”

“I went to Ms. Hadid to tell her about the incident involving my classmate’s bar examination.”

“How did that conversation go?”

“It, uh, didn’t actually end up happening. I got cold feet.”

“Jeez, Carisi,” Barba grumped, “did you really have to come here in person to tell me that?”

“Hey,” Sonny countered, “you don’t know Hadid like I do. She’s uncompromising and quick to pass judgment. I haven’t eaten all day because I’ve been so nervous to talk to her about it. I know it’s a small thing but it still could have serious repercussions.”

“Which is why—“

“Which is why,” Sonny said as he interrupted and echoed Barba’s words, “you told me to take care of it. But I’ve decided, I’m not going through with telling her. In fact, I’ve been thinking a lot about our conversation from the other night. And I’m going to call you out on your bluff.”

“My bluff?”

“Yeah, Barba, your bluff. Because at the end of the day, I know you’re not capable of ‘hurting’ anyone. And I’m going to prove it to you.”

“How?”

Sonny laughed, “I’m not going to tell Hadid about Kip so you’re going to have to blackmail me.”

“Carisi,” came Barba’s stern reply, “that’s not funny.”

“Sure it is, Barba,” he countered with a big grin. “Do your worse.”

Barba’s brows knitted together in confusion.

“What are you trying to prove?”

“I’m trying to prove to you that you don’t have to pretend to not be broken and callously cruel because you are in fact neither of those things.”

Eyes narrowing, Barba took a step forward. His voice low and dangerous, he said, “You are putting yourself in a position I guarantee you don’t want to be in. You don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

Sonny sighed, “Why are you fighting me on this?”

“Because,” Barba said vehemently, “my demons are my own. I will work through them on my own.”

“How?! By drinking yourself to death?”

Angrily, Barba turned away. Walking over to the desk, he set his drink down with a heavy thunk.

“Rafa?” Sonny gently prodded.

“Leave, Dominick,” Barba said curtly.

“C’mon, don’t be like that,” Sonny said, approaching his former mentor and laying a comforting hand on the man’s shoulder.

Spinning around, Barba knocked his hand away. Looking at him with what could’ve only been pure rage, Barba spat as he gave him a shove, “LEAVE!”

Sonny stepped back, raising his arms up in a non-threatening gesture. “Hey,” he said calmly, “let’s talk, okay? There’s no need to get physical.”

Taking a step forward and with his fists clenched, Barba growled, “You think I won’t?”

Worried his former mentor might actually take a swing at him, Sonny said, “Barba, are you being serious right now? I have the advantage of both training and being bigger. You wouldn’t win.”

“I want you to GO!” Barba shouted, coming closer and giving Sonny another push.

“No,” Sonny countered. Backing away from the door, he walked over to the bed and sat at the end of it with a huff, the crisp bedclothes wrinkling beneath his weight. Taking off his suit jacket, he folded it and set it next to him.

He had no intention of leaving, not when Barba so clearly needed someone to help calm him down. After all the guidance his former mentor had provided him, he felt compelled to return the favor and help Barba work through the emotional upheaval his mother’s death had caused. And while Sonny was trying to outwardly convey a sense of calm composure, Barba was clearly in a state of distress.

With one hand on his hip and the other buried in his hair, Barba paced.

“Barba,” Sonny said softly, “calm down and just talk to me.”

“Calm down?!” Barba replied through quick breaths. “Sonny, you’ve gone too far. And now you’re sitting on my bed like … like …” Biting the knuckles on his hand, Barba turned away. However, Sonny could hear him say, “Oh my god, he’s on my bed.”

“Listen, okay?” Sonny said, his voice composed and steady. “I’m sorry I made you upset but I think it’s important to discuss what exactly set you off. I’ve never seen you this worked up before.”

Suddenly turning to face him, Barba said, “If I do anything, it will be your fault, Sonny. You understand that, don’t you? You … you pushed me too far.”

“Pushed you to do what?” Sonny asked.

“For crying out loud!” Barba exclaimed as quick steps brought him over to the end of the bed. Grabbing Sonny’s vest and the layers of shirt beneath it, he pulled. “You have to leave!”

Hearing the sound of the popping of stitches, Sonny raised his arm and knocked Barba’s clutching hand away.

“Barba! Get your hands off of me. What the actual fuck are you doing?”

What occurred next, happened too quickly for Sonny to stop it. Barba raised an open hand and struck the younger man across the face.

Shocked, Sonny’s fingertips flew to his left cheek. The pain was quickly dissipating but it still hurt. Barba had been right, he had pushed him too far.

Still too stunned to speak, Sonny went to grab his jacket and stand. If Barba was so hell-bent on having him gone, he’d go. Glaring, he raised himself to his feet but was knocked further back onto the bed when Barba gave him a forceful shove.

“Wha—?!”

Barba moved quickly, getting on the bed and pinning Sonny down. Sonny struggled, trying to push the other man off of him.

“Barba,” he huffed, “what are you doing? Get off of me.”

His hands up and gripping Barba’s arms, Sonny kept trying to force him off. But he didn’t have the upper position and the other man’s weight was centered on Sonny’s torso, effectively pinning him. A formidable struggle ensued, and while Barba attempted to grab his wrists, Sonny just tried to get away from the situation without harming Barba.

Thrashing around, and losing a shoe in the process, Sonny managed to swing one leg over the other and turn his hips at an angle. As his foot caught on the fabric of the bedspread, he used the leverage it gave to turn himself over onto his belly and to push himself back and towards the head of the bed. Now, he just needed to get his legs under him and he’d be able to shake Barba off.

A knee planted itself forcefully in the small of his back and it knock the air out of his lungs.

Having finally secured Sonny’s right wrist with his left hand, Barba leaned over him. He fished something out from underneath one of the pillows, it must’ve been tucked under there all along: a looped restraint made from tightly woven nylon. With deft fingers, Barba wrapped it around Sonny’s wrist and firmly secured it with an attached band of wide velcro.

While Barba’s intentions were now becoming clear, Sonny found himself slow to react. It was as though his brain simply couldn’t fathom his former mentor being in the possession of such an item, let alone using it on him. And so, despite his struggles, he felt in a state of shock as he watched Barba pull out and wrap a second restraint around his left wrist.

Feeling the weight come off of his back, Sonny could finally breathe again.

“Barba!” Sonny yelled, yanking at the restraints. “Let me go!”

“Quiet!” Barba snapped back, his tone hushed, as he hastily removed Sonny’s smartwatch from his wrist and pulled his phone from his pocket. Turning off the devices, Barba added, “Do you really want security to be called up here?!”

“Then let me go,” Sonny replied through gritted teeth.

The former ADA did not respond. Instead, he backed off until he was at the end of the bed. Then scooting off of it entirely, he slumped onto the floor. Only the top of his head now visible, Sonny watched as Barba’s fingers intertwine within the strands of his hair. His hands now balling into fists, he pulled at his short dark locks as he began to shake. And all Sonny could hear was the blood pounding in his ears and Barba’s short gasps of distress.

Unwilling perpetrator, the phrase flashed across Sonny’s mind. It was a term often used by the defense to negate the guilt of their client. It was a tactic to manipulate the jury into thinking that somehow the defendant wasn’t fully culpable for their actions.

But had Sonny inadvertently pushed his former mentor in becoming just that? Barba had been drinking before he got there. And though not as drunk as he was the night at the bar, it was definitely a factor in all this.

Taking a deep breath, knew he had to somehow rewind tonight’s events. It was paramount, for both their sakes, that this ‘misunderstanding’ not go any farther.

“Rafael,” he said as calmly as he could manage, “you don’t want to do this. You don’t want to hurt me. Let me go and no one has to know.”

“Stop,” Barba stammered, his volatile emotions cutting through and shaking his voice. “Don’t talk to me like some sort of negotiator.”

Getting up from the floor, Barba stalked out of the room. Entering the ensuite bathroom, he shut the door and locked it. And dread settled in Sonny’s stomach at the sound of the bolt sliding into place.

“Barba!” Sonny called out, though not too loudly. He didn’t want to risk drawing more attention to the situation from anyone potentially staying in the neighboring rooms.

However, the door remained firmly closed.

Struggling against the restraints, Sonny tried to bring his hands together to undo the fastenings. When that effort became clearly impossible, he lowered his face to the velcro straps securing the loops and tried pulling them off by gripping them with his teeth. When they remained unmoved, Sonny twisted his hands around until he could see that there was a secondary adjustable hook that latched the straps in place once they were secured.

Fuck, Sonny silently fumed

His mind raced with the various circumstances that held led him to this situation. Feeling helpless, he weighed his options. He could start yelling again, it would surely anger Barba but it was the only possible way he could get someone to intervene. Of course, security would come and subsequently call the police. They were in Manhattan, so it was likely SVU would get called if the responding uniformed officers suspected any sort of sexual element to the assault.

Ugh. No, not that.

Then again, the unis might just recognize either him or Barba and call SVU anyway.

Sonny turned red with shame just at the thought of Captain Benson being called down to handle the unit’s both current and former ADA getting into such a predicament.

The reality was that fighting against the restraints around his wrists was pointless and his only viable option was that he needed to talk some sense into Barba and get him to undo the velcro straps.

“Barba,” Sonny called again, his voice just above a whisper.

When there was no response, Sonny found himself with nothing left to do but fruitlessly struggle. The tight nylon restraints dug into his wrists the more he pulled at them. As the minutes ticked by, he grew tired. Finally giving up, Sonny maneuvered himself into the least uncomfortable position he could manage.

Settling, Sonny turned his head to lay on one of the displaced pillows and waited for Barba to reemerge. Staring at the nearby digital clock that sat on one of the nearby nightstands, he watched the minutes tick by. With his mind a chaos of emotion and apprehension, Sonny chose to focus on the mundane.

One, two, three … sixty.

Trying to accurately count the seconds, Sonny recited each number every time the minute changed. He didn’t manage to make it through ten minutes before his eyes began to droop. Even though he found it odd that he felt tired enough to fall into an uneasy slumber, part of him was very aware that it was a common coping mechanism for the body to shut down in times of extreme stress and fear.

Fear: it was never a word he before thought to associate with his former mentor. And yet now, he did.

Chapter 4

The metallic click of the bathroom door being unlocked quickly roused Sonny from unconsciousness. How long he had been out, he didn’t know. But it had been long enough for a wet patch of drool to form under his cheek and on the pillow. Instinctively, he went to wipe his face but was immediately hampered by the restraints still firmly in place.

Craning his neck, Sonny looked over his shoulder to see Barba emerge from the bathroom. The former ADA was clearly no longer being run ragged by his own emotions. Standing there, Barba was neat and presentable. Apparently, he had taken the time to shower and put on a fresh set of clothes.

Not yet fully awake, Sonny mumbled, “What…?”

Coming forward, Barba fiddled with one of the buttons on his sleeve. “What’s done is done. I hate to say it but there’s no turning back now.”

Dread clenched in Sonny’s belly, but he couldn’t help but ask, “Are you going to kill me?”

“I wouldn’t talk much if I were you,” he said firmly. “I’ll just gag you if you do. And, no, I don’t think killing you will be necessary.”

His mouth suddenly went dry, Sonny’s tongue shifted to the roof of his mouth as he swallowed against the lump forming in his throat.

“Were you sleeping?” Barba asked, his tone unnaturally casual.

“I didn’t mean to,” Sonny softly confessed.

“Hmm,” Barba hummed in acknowledgment as he walked over to the desk and began searching through one of the drawers. “Good. It’s probably for the best. We’re going to have a late night.”

“Late? Barba, c’mon. Don’t …,” Sonny stammered. “Don’t talk like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you don’t have me strapped to a bed against my will!”

Barba turned to shoot Sonny a cautionary glare.

“Sorry,” Sonny meekly apologized, remembering Barba’s prior threat about a gag. Then, when the other man resumed his search of the drawer, Sonny carefully asked, “What are you doing with restraints like these, Barba? Did you know I was coming?”

“No,” Barba answered.

“Then why have them?”

“Why do you think?”

Fear clawed at Sonny’s throat and strained his voice as he asked, “You’ve done this before? Tied someone down to your bed?”

“Yes,” Barba calmly replied. “Though on previous occasions, the other party has always been willing. This, this is a first for me.”

As he spoke, Barba turned, his search over and a pair of scissors in his hands.

“Shit!” Sonny shrieked, renewing his struggle against his bonds, and thrashed helplessly on the bed. “Barba! Don’t! Please just — don’t!”

“Hush!” Barba’s voice interjected like the crack of a whip. “I don’t want to hurt you, Carisi; at least not in a way that will leave scars.”

Sonny’s jaw tightened, as he turned his face down towards the pillow beneath it. Unshed tears were burning at the corners of his eyes and he refused to let them fall. It was a terrible situation to be in but he had to remind himself that he wouldn’t make it any better by panicking.

Once he felt as though he had his emotions in check, Sonny said, “This is not okay, Barba. You need help, psychological help.”

“And what,” Barba propositioned, as he came over to the side of the bed, “would a shrink tell me that I don’t already know? I know that when I am experiencing uncertainty in my life, I seek control as a form of stability. That’s all this is.”

“Okay, okay,” Carisi huffed, his mind scrabbling for reasons he could give Barba to change their present trajectory. “So if you want control, you have it. You get to decide how this goes, for both of us. But we both know the ramifications if this continues without my consent.”

“You’re offering your consent?”

“No. I didn’t say that,” Sonny immediately retorted. “I’m just saying that if you do anything more than what you have already done, there’s no undoing it. But you have the control. You can choose to undo the restraints and let me go. No harm, no foul.”

“But if I don’t?” Barba postulated. “What then, Carisi? What would you do? Let me answer that for you. You’ll do nothing. You’re your mother’s good Italian Catholic boy with strong traditional values. The shame alone is enough to prevent you from doing anything. And, on the off chance you gather the necessary fortitude to talk to someone about what takes place here tonight, I’m sure the statute of limitations will have long since passed.”

“But would you be able to live with yourself, knowing what you had done?” Sonny seethed quietly, angry that Barba would manipulate him this way.

“I think so, yes.”

“Then you are not the man I thought you were,” Sonny bitterly admitted. “You really are broken and cruel. And I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. I am sorry I ever trusted you. I am sorry I was ever your friend.”

Barba’s countenance grew dark as he listened to Sonny’s words, the hues of his green eyes shaded under his knitted brow and the muscles in his jaw flexing as he clenched it. Leaning over the bed, Barba’s fingers snaked their way under Sonny’s collar, flipping it up and loosening his tie.

“Hey!” Sonny protested as his tie was lifted up and brought higher up on his neck. “Barba, stop. Listen to me, you’ve got to lism-mhu-eeh.” As the length of silk was slotted between his teeth and pulled tight, the rest of his words were garbled and muffled.

“I think you’ve done enough talking. Shall we begin?”

No! Sonny screamed but without the full use of his lips and tongue, he couldn’t enunciate anything more than strained sounds.

“Relax,” Barba instructed, “or at least, as much as you can. After all, you came here requesting that I blackmail you. And that is what I am doing. This is the price you are paying for my silence. You’ve brought this on yourself.”

But I never thought you’d do anything like this!

Pulling against the restraints, Sonny knew they would not yield, and yet he still tried, flailing on the bed like a fish out of water. He struggled, hoping that there was a chance one of the straps wrapped under the mattress would snap and he’d get free. Barba couldn’t stop him then, that he was sure. And even without his phone and missing a shoe, he’d still run until he was far away from his former mentor as his legs could carry him.

But each moment he spent contending with the restraints, he could feel the strength ebb from his muscles as they tired with effort. Finally, after many minutes of fighting to free himself, Sonny let his body go limp, yielding himself to the soft comforts of the mattress beneath his belly.

“I know I said it was going to be a long night,” Barba muttered. “But there’s no need to wear yourself out proving my point.”

Lowering the scissors he still held in his hand, he extended them and placed the open blades on either side of Sonny’s shirt sleeve.

Seeing what Barba was doing, Sonny gave a distinct moan of dissent.

“I know, I know,” Barba said, his tone almost placating. “It’s a nice shirt and so is the vest. But for what I have planned, I think it best to have you bare. Don’t worry though. I’ll keep what I can intact. You’ll have clothes to wear when you walk out of here.”

Sonny’s face contorted in fear and disgust as Barba closed the shears together with a grating snip. Trying to protest once more, no distinguishable words came from his mouth as he raged against what was being done to him. And it certainly didn’t stop Barba from meticulously cutting away at the fabric of his clothing.

It made Sonny sick: the carefulness of Barba’s deliberate actions. Cold metal blades touched his skin with every movement and yet Barba made sure it was only swathes of cotton, linen, and silk being cut.

Closing his eyes, Carisi did his best to avoid having to be present for what was happening. If he could escape, even if it was just in his mind, it was the only way he could rationalize getting through this experience. However, as it turned out, his own thoughts were not the place to seek a reprieve.

How is this even happening? Barba has been one of my closest friends and mentors for years! I trusted him! And now… now this?!

That one simple word: this. It was the only word he could use to describe what was taking place because bringing himself to even think ‘assaulted’ was too much, let alone contemplate the idea of being raped.

Barba wouldn’t?! Not that. Not after all the lives he’s seen destroyed by it. Not after all the work he has done to put those sorts of perpetrators away. This cannot be happening!

Gulping down his distress, Carisi held still as his clothes were slowly snipped into easily discarded pieces. Once Barba was done, the man stood back and viewed his work. The vestiges of Sonny’s shirt and vest now lay in scattered pieces on the floor.

Reaching down, the tips of Barba’s fingers traced along the smooth skin of Sonny’s spine.

Sonny shuddered. It made his skin crawl and his stomach soured from knowing the degrading touch he felt belonged to someone he had trusted so completely.

Naked from the waist up, Sonny tucked his bent arms so that they rested underneath him. Curling in on himself, he buried his face in the plushness of the white hotel pillow. How he wished there was enough slack in the connecting straps so he could bring his hands together and undo the velcro keeping him restrained.

“Arr-ah,” Sonny tried to speak Barba’s name even though the gag prevented it. But Sonny was desperate. There had to be something he could say that would stop all of this.

“Shhh,” Barba hushed him, moving around to the end of the bed. “We’ve only just gotten started.”

When Sonny felt a hand reach down and wrap around his ankle, he kicked out. Though he didn’t manage to strike Barba, he was rewarded with a sharp and disapproving cluck of the tongue.

“Tsk,” Barba hissed. “Come now, Carisi. I’m not asking for your consent but I do demand your obedience. Otherwise, I’ll have to reconsider going against my word and start hurting you.”

If Sonny had the ability to speak and an ounce of power in this situation, he would’ve mouthed off. But he had a feeling telling Barba something along the lines of ‘bite me’ would have caused the already violating situation to escalate to new heights of depravity. Consequently, Sonny remained compliant as he was stripped of his socks and remaining shoe.

Pressing his hips firmly into the mattress, Sonny hoped to deter Barba’s efforts at unfastening his belt and pants. But despite this, the other man was firm and methodical. Kneeling over Sonny’s legs, and pinning them to the bed with his shins, Barba’s unyielding fingers slithered down under his hips. Carefully, so as not to tear the fabric with sudden jerking motions, he undid the belt and unbuttoned Sonny’s pants. Once this was accomplished, Barba got off the bed and began to pull at each pant leg. It wasn’t a smooth process as Sonny was forcefully undressed, his pants snagged his underwear and they came down with them.

As the cool air brushed the skin of Sonny’s ass, he let out an unanticipated sob of grief. The last thing he wanted to do was cry but cry he did as he pressed his face into the pillow below. Like his trust, his clothes were now gone. In their place was left a profound sense of betrayal and heightened vulnerability.

Nothing was said as the younger man cried. Instead of making one of his trademark sassy remarks, Barba moved about the room quietly; picking up and folding the intact clothing and setting them on a nearby chair. The items destroyed by the blades of Barba’s scissors were then discarded in the bin next to the desk.

Finally, coming to stand at the end of the bed, Barba surveyed his handiwork.

“You know Carisi, I have to say it: you are a very pretty specimen. Far more pretty than I think you realize. Had you remained as a detective, I am sure there would’ve eventually been a perp that would’ve noticed. I suppose what I’m saying is: this sort of thing was always inevitable. Just be glad it’s me and not some stranger.”

Turning his head, Sonny shot Barba the most damning glare he could manage.

Fuck you, Barba! He inwardly screamed. Fuck you for ever pretending to be my friend. And fuck you for trying to justify what you are doing, you sick fuck! I fucking hate you! You will burn in hell for this, you disgusting excuse for a man.

“I suppose,” Barba continued, “you should be grateful that I’m doing this to you and not someone more vulnerable. Honestly, Carisi, think about it: I have finally caved to acting out something I’ve only fantasized about. And out of all the people who could’ve pushed me past my breaking point, at least it was you. You know all the resources and tools you’ll need to deal with any sort of trauma. And that’s how I can live with myself because I know, once we’re done, you’ll be fine.”

Fine?! No! Barba! I won’t be fine. And fuck you for trying to twist my sense of integrity and willingness to protect others into a reason for me to be okay with this. This is not okay!

Anger now surging again, it abated Sonny’s tears.

I can’t just lay here and take it, he thought. I have to resist. I have to fight!

Pressing his knees together, he tried to keep what shred of dignity he had left as he pulled himself as far away from Barba as he could. Extending his right arm, he wrapped the excess length of nylon tethering him to the bed in his fist. Breathing in deeply, he gave the strap an almighty yank.

“Oh, we’re struggling again, are we? Go ahead, Carisi, wear yourself out. That’s made with the same material they use to make seatbelts,” Barba commented as he observed from the sidelines. “If those straps can withstand high-speed collisions, I very much doubt your tugging at it is going to make a lick of difference. My biggest concern is you’ll yank your shoulder out of its socket.”

Panting and sweating, Sonny ignored Barba and continued to pull at the tether. The bed springs groaned underneath his knees and the mattress began to curve upwards but the woven nylon remained intact. With one last push, he hauled a strap up and back before he felt something in his arm pop.

“Ah!” He let out a gasp of pain and dropped back down onto the bed.

“Shit, Sonny!” Barba exclaimed, coming over to the right side of the bed. “I literally just said not to—“

Unable to keep quiet, Sonny interrupted Barba with a string of unintelligible expletives.

“Lower your voice,” Barba growled, “and I’ll take off the gag so you can tell me where it hurts.”

Immediately falling silent except for a constant grumble of pain, Sonny did as he was told. Once, Barba had loosened the knot, Sonny spat out the sodden fabric and exclaimed, “Fuck you, you mother fucking son of a bitch!”

With his done exceptionally dark, Barba replied, “Do you want to be in pain? Tell me where it hurts.”

“My fucking elbow,” Carisi growled.

“Good,” Barba replied. “Then it’s just a muscle strain or a small tendon tear.”

Lifting the silk of the tie back up, Barba ignored Sonny’s words of dissent as he retightened the knot.

“No, Barba. Arr-ah!”

“Give me a second,” Barba replied. “I’ll be right back.”

Walking over to the desk, Barba picked up the ice bucket before heading into the bathroom. Moments later, he returned, a plastic sack and a rolled-up hand towel in one hand and a small toiletry bag in the other.

Not wanting Barba to touch him, Sonny still relented when he was told to stretch out his arm. He lay on his left side warily eyeing Barba sat next to him and placed the towel-wrapped-ice on the joint before subsequently securing it by tying the two ends of the plastic bag around it.

“There,” Barba pronounced. “That should hold for a bit.”

I still hate you, Sonny silently grumbled, though Barba’s small act of kindness had taken the sharpness off of his anger.

Getting up from the right side of the bed, Barba disappeared out of Sonny’s line of sight. Closing his eyes, he braced himself for what he thought was coming next. Maybe if he walked through what he anticipated would happen, it wouldn’t be as terrible when it was actually happening.

There would be the jingle of a belt being unbuckled before the zip of a fly coming undone. Barba would then get right up behind him before pushing his legs apart wide enough he’d have easy access. Then to the worst part: there would be pressure and the tug of skin on skin. It was likely the next repeated motions would create tears in delicate tissue. There would be pain. He would bleed. Barba would climax. And then it would be over.

It will be over, the notion echoed in his head.

“Carisi,” Barba's voice broke through Sonny's thoughts, “you are really not going to like this next bit but I’m going to need you to get on your knees. You can keep your shoulders down and rest your arm but those hips need to be up.”

Glancing backward, Sonny watched as Barba riffled through the toiletry bag and pulled out a few small items. One of which was a disposable razor.

“Uuccr-eehu,” Sonny muttered through his gag with a grumble.

“I take it you’re saying ‘no’ in the form of vulgar insults,” Barba replied. “But do keep in mind that you have very little to no control here. I am going to do exactly what I want and I am more than capable of making you comply. It’s your choice: the easy way or the hard way.”

Sonny shook his head.

Just get on with it! Sonny raged silently. You don’t need to debase me any farther, you bastard!

“Trust me,” Barba growled, “it is easier to just get rid of the hair than let it tangle and catch once it gets matted with lube. Unless you’d rather I not use lube at all.”

Sonny knew that there was no avoiding whatever Barba had in store for him. He also knew that the anticipation of it all was beginning to edge him towards a state of panic of epic proportions. The thought of getting violated dry would not only make tearing a possibility but would guarantee it happening. With one last shake of his head and delicately cradling his arm against his chest, Sonny raised his hips and got onto his knees.

“Good boy,” Barba snarked, his patented sarcasm coloring his mocking words of praise. “Now spread your legs just a bit.”

Getting on the bed behind Sonny, Barba didn’t waste any time knocking Sonny’s shins to either side as he knelt between them.

Indignation seared through Sonny’s veins and he cocked a knee back just to thrust it back violently, kicking at Barba. This time he made contact.

“Oof,” Barba gasped as Sonny’s bare foot struck him.

And though Barba was reeling from being kicked, he wasted no time retaliating.

Less than a second after kicking Barba, Sonny felt the pads of Barba’s fingers as they struck his testicles.

Gasping, Sonny’s knees went out from under him and bile rose in his throat as he retched in agony. Unable to help himself, he curled up and whimpered at the pain.

“Why must you insist on making me hurt you?” Barba fumed. “I told you I would and yet you still act like you have no fear. What is wrong with you?”

There’s nothing wrong with me, Sonny silently answered. I’m just not some submissive fuck toy you can bend to your fucking will.

“This is your last warning, Carisi,” Barba continued. “Make me discipline you again and I’ll have to break out an actual gag that will keep you silent. I can make you suffer and you’ll regret being alive to experience it. Do you understand me?”

Still shaking from the pain, Sonny didn’t make a sound.

“I said do you understand me?” Barba repeated himself with a growl.

Sonny nodded his head in agreement. What other choice did he really have? He was no masochist and he was finding that pain was a strong motivator.

“Now back up on your knees. And don’t fucking kick me.”

Grinding his teeth down against the saliva-sodden silk of his tie, Sonny complied. With his head bent low, he hid his face in shame. He wanted to cry again but his fear kept the tears at bay.

A cool wet cloth was pressed between his cheeks as Barba wiped him clean of any of the day’s sweat and grime. Next came a muffled hissing sound as a can of shaving cream’s nozzle was pressed before the damp foam was applied to the skin surrounding his puckered hole.

Humiliation wasn’t a strong enough word for what was happening to him. And yet Barba was acting as though it was the most straightforward process and not a gravely cruel form of sexual assault.

Once Barba had finished applying the shaving cream, he began to use the razor. Cautious strokes of the blade were used to get rid of any hair from the sensitive area. Seemingly, Barba was not bothered by the actions he was taking as he began to speak.

“I am going to ask you a few questions, Carisi. You need to be completely honest because I will most definitely find out if you’re lying. Just tap on the bed to answer: one tap for yes, two taps for no. Do you understand?”

Begrudgingly, Sonny tapped once.

“Earlier you said you haven’t eaten today because you were nervous about talking to Ms. Hadid. Was that a factual statement?”

The question, though straightforward, was not one Sonny had expected. Then again, it was certain that Barba was prepping to penetrate him anally. It only made sense that the former ADA wanted to ensure he knew what he was running into once he breached Sonny’s virgin hole.

Shuddering at the realization of the context and the calculated callousness, Sonny tapped once.

“Have you taken a shit today?”

This question was worse than the first and Sonny had a hard time answering it. His mind raced, trying to remember such a mundane yet incredibly explicit personal matter. To complicate things, Barba was palming Sonny’s ass like a basketball in order to spread his cheeks apart. Sonny clenched.

“Hey!” Barba scolded, “Do you want me to nick you? Because that’s how you get nicked. Now, answer the question.”

Sonny tapped once for yes.

“Was it solid?”

Again, Sonny tapped once.

“Good,” Barba said, a bit of relief in his tone. “That means you’re probably clean enough and I won’t have to douche you. I wasn’t looking forward to trying to have you squat over a bucket while still tied down to the bed.”

Sonny growled in indignation at the mere thought.

“You know,” Barba relayed, “I probably don’t need to even bother asking this but have you ever been on the receiving end of anal sex?”

Sonny couldn’t even bring himself to dignify that question with a response.

Sighing, Barba finished shaving Sonny’s ass and wiped him off. Then, getting off of the bed, he headed over to a nearby closet. It opened with a creak and though a few articles of clothing hung on the rod and a suit case rested at the bottom, there was nothing that immediately drew Sonny’s attention. What could it be that Barba needed to get?

Taking down a large black box that had been sitting on the top shelf, Barba carried it over to the bed. He placed it down by the headboard so Sonny didn’t have to crane his neck to see it.

But before opening it, Barba explained, “This: this is very special. I saw it being used once in a femdom video and it shocked even me. Luckily, the domme was kind enough to drop a link to the product she used in the comments. I had to order it from the UK. It took months to get here and I haven’t yet had the chance to use it. There was no one I considered special enough to use it with. But you, Sonny, you are very special.”

With this pronouncement, Barba opened the box.

Sonny’s eyes went wide.

For all intents and purposes, it was a large black silicone snake. With a tapered head and thick scaly body, it was absolutely massive.

Staring at it, Sonny’s vision swam with an array of colors before blacking out completely.

Chapter 5

“Sonny?” a voice called his name. “Sonny?!”

“Barba?” he replied, his tongue feeling thick and wooly.

“Hey,” Barba said softly, “you back with me now?”

“Yeah,” Sonny answered, disoriented and confused.

“What’s going on with you? You keep losing consciousness on me. Though this time, I think you fainted.”

I fainted? Sonny wondered. And then it all came rushing back to him: abruptly showing up at Barba’s hotel, confronting him, Barba trying to get him to leave, them fighting, the restraints, having his clothes cut off of him, getting shaved, and lastly, seeing what it was Barba had in a big black box.

Jerking away from Barba’s deceivingly caring words and gentle touch, Sonny didn’t get far. He was still restrained. He felt an invisible pressure on his chest, it restricted his breathing and his panic rose. His breaths coming in rapid succession, Sonny thought he might pass out again.

“Sonny,” Barba gently hummed, “Easy there, Son. You’re okay. Just take a few deep breaths and try to relax.”

With his gag having already been removed while he was out, the thought of screaming flashed across his mind. But Sonny quickly opted to plead with Barba instead. It was not as though a scream wouldn’t be immediately silenced and subsequently punished. A scream would not guarantee help would come, either. He decided that he much rather have the ability to communicate.

“I can’t relax. Barba,” he begged quietly, “please, can we stop? I’m sorry for pushing you to do this, okay? Please, I’ll do anything. I’ll stay here. I’ll be quiet. I’ll do whatever you want. You can even leave me tied up. But, Rafa, that thing is like six feet long. If you force that inside of me, I’ll die. I know I will. Please, I don’t want to die. Not like this. Please, not like this.”

Barba didn’t respond right away to Sonny’s pleas. But when tears started to fall from Sonny’s eyes as he looked up at his former mentor, Barba gently wiped them away before then placing a chaste kiss on Sonny’s brow.

“You won’t die,” Barba stated.

“Please,” Sonny cried, feeling guilty that he was disregarding his own moral compass, “can’t you just have sex with me instead? I much rather take what’s between your legs than that, that monster!”

“Are you really asking me to fuck you?”

“Yes,” Sonny stammered.

With a heavy sigh, Barba replied, “As I said, Carisi, you are a beautiful specimen. I’ll not corrupt you by violating you in ways that should be intimate. Besides, think of the DNA I’d leave behind.”

“No one has to know. Rafa! I won’t tell a soul. You know I won’t. That’s why you picked me, right?”

“Sonny,” Barba chided. “We are way past the point for bargaining. You have nothing to offer me that will change my mind. I have you and I will take what I want. There is no stopping me.”

“You have me now,” Sonny frantically rationalized. “But what about later, Barba, do you want me later? Do you want me whenever you want? Because you can have me. I will give myself to you. Not just this time but every time.”

“It sounds like you asking me to keep you like a pet.”

“Or a boyfriend,” he stuttered.

“Boyfriend? Sonny, you’re straight.”

“So? Does it matter?”

“A relationship is more than just physical intimacy, you know.”

Getting up from where he sat on the bed, Barba paced a bit. This was the first time since he had emerged from the locked bathroom that he was showing any sign of real emotion.

Was it possible that Barba’s outward portrayal of decisive calmness this past hour was just him going into some sort of dissociative-like state? A state where Barba’s mind retreated to a place he could assert power and control because he felt overwhelmed and unable to cope. Which in turn resulted in his behavior resembling that of someone on a sort of dementedly sadistic autopilot.

Sonny’s heart hammered in his chest. This was possibly his only way out of this mess. He had to convince Barba that he was serious about establishing and maintaining a romantic relationship with him, even if it meant going against some of his most fundamentally held beliefs.

Stopping his pacing, Barba asked, “Do you trust me? Answer me honestly, Sonny.”

Trembling at the potential repercussions, Sonny admitted, “I used to…”

“Then wouldn’t I be a fool to trust you to keep any promising you make for the future?”

“I wouldn’t call you a fool,” Sonny bitterly conceded, “but yes, I suppose you shouldn’t trust me. But, Barba, just because you shouldn’t doesn’t mean you can’t. I swear on my mother’s life, you can trust me. I want to be your boyfriend and all that entails. I’ll take you home with me to Staten Island for Sunday family dinners and everything. Please, Barba, please. You can trust me.”

Sighing, Barba said, “As tempting as your offer might be, Sonny, I really don’t think you’d follow through.”

The finality of Barba’s statement brought Sonny to another bought of tears. He couldn’t recall a time in the past he cried this much and yet there was no stopping it. Sobs tore from his chest and he could only breathe in with shuddering gasps. As much as he wanted to reason with Barba, all Sonny could do was cry.

Leaving his side, Barba left briefly only to come back with a damp washcloth.

“Oh, Sonny,” he said gently, wiping the tears and mucus running down Sonny’s face. “I know you don’t want this, but you don’t have to make such a fuss.”

“It’s hu - humiliating and de - degrading,” Sonny hiccuped through the tears. “This shouldn’t be - be happening. I used to be a - a cop. And I - I trusted you.”

“This isn’t going to last forever,” Barba soothed. “And I promise, it won’t kill you. Besides, it’s extremely flexible and only three and a half feet long, not six.”

Shaking his head, Sonny tearfully lamented, “It’s too big, Barba. It’s too big.”

“You'll be fine. I've seen this done before.”

“In porn!”

Barba glared.

“Do you need me to put your gag back on?”

“No,” Sonny said with a shake of his head. “Barba, please, no.”

Instead of replying, Barba moved from the side of the bed down to the end.

As Sonny craned his neck to see, he noticed that the black box had been moved to the foot of the mattress.

Was this really happening?!

“It seems sort of strange,” Barba said, his tone once again falsely casual. “You keep calling me Barba as if we’re merely work colleagues. But I think we’ve moved past that, don’t you? This is a far more intimate situation, so if you must call me anything, use my given first name. And not that pet name you picked up from Liv, either.”

“Rafael.”

“Yes,” Barba stated. “Unless you’d rather use terms like ‘sir’ and ‘master’ which are more typical in these types of scenes.”

Even hearing the terminology left a lump in Sonny’s throat. Still, he shook his head.

“Okay,” Barba said, exhaling deeply. “I think we’re finally ready to get started. Now, I know it’s intimidating.”

“I’m not intimidated,” Sonny interjected, his voice raw. “Rafael, I’m scared. Don’t you get that?”

“I have a perfect understanding of the situation I’ve put you in,” Barba replied. “Inducing fear is not accidental. Fear makes you easier to control.”

Gulping, Sonny softly begged for the last time, “Please don’t do this.”

His voice laced with pity, Barba replied, “It’s too late. Now, you can keep laying down for this part but later I’m going to have you get up on your knees when I use the toy. Understood?”

“Yes, Ba — Rafael,” Sonny whispered, his whole body tensing up and preventing him from even raising the volume of his voice.

Sonny could feel the shifting of the mattress beneath him as Barba’s weight was added to the bed.

“So pretty,” Barba murmured softly as he pushed Sonny’s legs open.

He wasn’t looking but he could feel Barba touching him, with his strong masculine hands. They were nothing like the slender fingers of a woman, especially not as Barba tucked his hand down between Sonny’s legs and wrapped it around his testicles. Rolling the tender balls between his fingers, Barba let out a sound somewhere between a hum and a growl.

Fear and disgust writhed in Sonny’s belly. He knew that with one tight squeeze of his hand, Barba could have him gagging in agony. But besides that, Sonny couldn’t help but feel that Barba’s apparent lusts and desires were wholly unnatural. It was deplorable, the way Barba was engaging in such a depraved manner. It went against his most sincere and, and not to mention, religious beliefs: to objectify or be the object of another man’s sexual desire.

Guilt gnawed at him.

Sonny had even offered to enter into such practices willingly had Barba agreed not to use the snake. Surely that was a sin as well.

Mumbling some other words Sonny’s ears could not quite capture, Barba had removed his hand only to place it as well as the other hand on each of Sonny’s ass cheeks. Barba spread him open and the cool air of the room grazed against his freshly shaven skin.

Sonny felt so bare and exposed and he feared he’d die from embarrassment as Barba leaned down a drew the wet surface of his tongue across Sonny’s sensitive flesh.

“Don’t,” Sonny groaned with a hitch in his chest.

It was vile and abhorrent, what Barba was doing.

“Never been eaten out before?” Barba questioned. “Really, Sonny? Not even by a woman?”

Through gritted teeth, Sonny confessed, “Never.”

“Then,” Barba said, “you’ve been dating the wrong sorts of women.”

Shifting uneasily, Sonny tried to stay still. Repulsed as he was, he wanted to crawl out of his own skin. His tender hole twitched and spasmed tightly with every wet caress or press of lips.

“I must say,” Barba stated, between additional strokes of his tongue, “your tight little ass is just as pretty as the rest of you. It tastes pretty too, almost earthy but with a hint of sweetness. I can tell you keep yourself clean, unlike other men. I would, though, prefer if you would unclench just a bit so I taste a bit of that inner pinkness.”

His teeth gritted together closed and Sonny couldn’t bring himself to respond. It was bad enough that he was being forced to endure such deplorable behavior. But, having that behavior described to him in vivid detail was just making a bad situation worse.

“Do you like how that feels?” Barba asked, his breath hot on Sonny’s hole.

Sonny silently answered with a meek shake of his head.

Huffing indignantly, Barba ceased his licking and pulled back.

At that moment, Sonny was relieved. Unfortunately, that relief was short-lived.

With his eyes squeezed shut and his jaw clenched closed, Sonny could only listen as there was a pop of a capped lid and the oozing sound of viscous liquid. A second later, the cool and slimy sensation of lube smeared between his cheeks sent Sonny scrambling. With his wrists secured, he could do nothing besides try and angle his lower half away from Barba.

“Sonny,” Barba grumbled, grabbing the inside of a thigh and roughly repositioning the younger man. “Knock it off. You’ve already thoroughly exhausted all your options and continuing to resist me is pointless. Besides, don’t act as though you’re some sort of naïve virgin.”

Wanting to counter in some way, Sonny instead found himself completely frozen as a slick digit was prodding the outside of his anal opening. His whole body tensed and his fists curled in the bedclothes beneath him as Barba’s finger slowly pushed through the tight ring of muscle.

“That’s it,” Barba muttered. “It’s just a finger. You’re okay.”

“Ra-Rafael,” Sonny said through stuttering breaths.

It was distressing, though not excruciating. But the twinge of pain was enough to start inducing him into a panic.

“Shhh,” Barba hushed him. “Just relax and let your body get accustomed to it.”

But there was no getting used to such a violating intrusion, and he could feel his heart rate rising as it became harder and harder to breathe.

This was also no doctor’s examination, despite Barba’s even and composed demeanor. In a medical setting, there might be some discomfort but assuredly the doctor would be wearing rubber gloves. Instead, Sonny found himself actively trying to ignore the sensations of warm skin-to-skin contact and the odd press of Barba’s fingertip. To make matters worse, his body was having instinctual reactions to what was happening. It was too much. All of it was just too much.

“Wait!” Sonny suddenly exclaimed, heat flaring up through his whole body and settling on his face. “Rafael, stop. You have to stop.”

“Sonny, settle down. I told you, you’re fine.”

“No,” Sonny huffed. “It’s not that. If you don’t stop, I might end up . . . shitting myself.”

“You’re feeling the sudden urge to defecate?”

“Yes,” Sonny stuttered.

“Good,” Barba replied, nonchalantly. “Don’t fight it. Relax into it.”

Mortified by such an instruction, Sonny replied, “This is sick, Rafael. Please don’t make me do this.”

Barba sighed, “I know this is your first time but it’s not mine. And in my experience, I very much doubt there’s anything in your system that needs immediate clearing out. It’s just an urge trigged by digital penetration. It will pass. But rest assured, I am prepared to clean us both up if you do end up making that sort of mess.”

Biting his lip, Sonny barely kept himself from saying that he rather die. The humiliation was awful enough on its own, he didn’t need to complicate things by wishing for death. Instead, he remained quiet and still. And as each moment passed he felt the rigidity fall from his limbs as he became more and more pliant.

Minutes passed and Sonny silently noted that as much as he hated being forcefully anally penetrated and violated, Barba’s actions so far were actually becoming bearable. Instead of sawing in and out of him, the tip of Barba’s finger was applying subtle pressure as it stroked a spot inside of him.

Sonny muffled a moan.

Whatever Barba was stroking, it felt . . . different, electric, even. But not electric like a sharp shock but more of a warm buzz that was spreading through his whole body.

“That’s it, Sonny,” Barba hummed. “Just relax.”

When he felt Barba’s finger ease out of him, Sonny glanced over his shoulder to see what was happening. Still terrified of the silicone snake, he was relieved to recognize a slim container of lubrication in Barba’s hand.

“Don’t worry,” Barba said as he smeared more lube on his fingers. “I’m still working on prepping you. The toy is too flexible to push past much resistance. And you’re still far too tight for me to get it in.”

Sonny whined in frustration and discomfort as he returned his head to the comforts of the pillow beneath it. He didn’t want to be prepped open to be violated. But saying that aloud wouldn’t change the fact that he had no choice in the matter.

He felt Barba’s finger once again prodding at his backdoor. And though he clenched against the intrusion, there was less resistance as Barba pressed inside of him. A few soft strokes later and the first finger was joined by a second.

“Rafael,” he bemoaned at the stretch. “Too much.”

“It’s not too much,” Barba chided. “You just need to loosen up Sonny.”

“Can’t,” Sonny replied with a shake of his head.

“Hmm? You mean you can’t take something like this?” Barba questioned as he V-ed his fingers open.

Gasping at the sensation of the expanding digits inside him, Sonny lowered his head and bit down on the pillowcase.

Waiting for a beat, Barba said, “Looks like you took it just fine to me. Let’s keep trying that, shall we?”

His voice muffled by the pillow, Sonny screamed in indignation. He wanted to kick out at the man violating him but anticipation of painful repercussions, along with a healthy dose of fear, kept his temper in check.

As Barba continued to V his fingers open and close, one of the fingers was brushing against that very particular spot again and the strange sensations it elicited. His eyes falling shut, Sonny let his mind focus on that electric feeling rather than the mechanics of what was happening to him. Like white noise clouding his brain, he let it wash over him.

Once again, the minutes ticked by, and with them, they pulled the tension from Sonny’s muscles and bones.

“Good boy,” Barba praised him softly.

He could feel the heat of Barba’s breath against his skin just a second before the other man pressed a kiss on Sonny’s lower back, right above his left ass cheek.

Sonny would’ve grumbled at this but there was an odd sort of pressure beginning to mount. It was like nothing he had experienced before. It was as though Barba was pulling at invisible strings within him, weaving them into some intricate pattern with only the motions of his fingers.

Barba’s smooth movements were that of someone well-practiced. As he alternated between the come-hither motions and the occasional V-ing of his fingers, the slickness of the lube ensured that his digits glided along with relative ease. Repetitive and rhythmic, the actions were almost mesmerizing.

As his whole body was beginning to tense, Sonny found himself beginning to pull his knees up under him.

“Rafael,” he gasped, his breaths becoming shorter.

“Ride it out,” Barba instructed, his fingers still resolute in their motions. “Even if you feel like you’re losing complete control of your body, don’t try to stop it.”

Even with his eyes squeezed shut, Sonny was seeing stars. And then, simultaneous with a sharp intake of breath, he reached some sort of peak. Waves of pressure seemed to be released and his whole body trembled. It was as though he’d been disconnected from the world and totally immersed in a cloud made of soft yet intense sensation. By the time the waves settled down to mere ripples, he was completely exhausted.

“Fuck,” Sonny muttered in a husky whisper.

He knew he had had some physiological response but still, it wasn’t like anything he had ever experienced or knew he could experience.

Behind him, Barba removed his fingers briefly before adding in a third. There was no burning at the stretch this time, even with the slight push and pull motion Barba was using.

“What…?” Sonny questioned.

Answering him, Barba explained, “I find orgasms from internal simulation of the prostate are much more powerful than external ones. Additionally, there’s little to no refractory period. And with all those endorphins flooding your system, it really helps to loosen you up.”

“I … I came?” Sonny uncertainly wondered aloud. “I’m not … I’m not even hard.”

“Time to get on your knees, Sonny,” Barba instructed.

Barely registering what was being said to him, Sonny let Barba move him into position. He felt groggy, almost drunk. Looking down, he stared at his limp cock hanging between his thighs. It was dripping, and not with lube either. Drops of clear fluid were freely leaking out of his cock and falling to the bedspread below.

Sonny felt the blush of shame heating his cheeks.

What was happening to him? This was all very wrong. His former mentor was basically raping him; and using his fingers alone, Barba had managed to make him orgasm like some sort of cheap and easy broad.

“Rafael?” he whispered just loud enough over the sloshing noises being made by the fingers and lube in his ass. “Can we stop? Please. I don’t know if I can handle any more, at least not mentally.”

“By the time you’re incapable of speech,” Barba countered, “then I will know you aren’t capable of handling anything more.”

“Do you plan on stopping then?”

“I might. We’ll see.”

Chapter 6

Sonny knew there was a term for what he was trying to do. It was called dissociation. There was little wonder why he was doing it. It was easier to no longer associate himself with what was happening to him physically than continue to face the fact that he was being raped.

Actually, a voice in his mind chided, the penal code stipulates that for the charge of rape to be applied, the perpetrator must engage in sexual intercourse with the victim. Since Barba has only used his fingers, the charge would be aggravated sexual abuse in the second degree. But once he uses that freakishly long dildo, you can tack on sexual abuse in the first degree.

However, as the victim, he would not be assuming his role as ADA. He wouldn’t be upping the charges against Barba at all.

It would be satisfying though: personally bringing charges against the former ADA assigned to SVU.

Closing his eyes, Sonny envisioned the scene. He’d be standing in the courtroom, expensively dressed in a sharp suit and a pair of shined-up Oxfords, presenting the evidence like it had happened to someone else and not to him. His face would be contorted in righteous rage as he detailed for the jury all the corrupt and heinous acts that Rafael Barba had committed. And Barba, he would …

He would wipe the floor with you, Sonny’s internal dialogue supplied. Barba went to Harvard. You went to Fordham Law. It’s not an even matchup and you know it.

He wouldn’t represent himself either. A lawyer who represents themselves has a fool for a client. And you know that Barba doesn’t abide fools.

What then? Sonny thought. I couldn’t prosecute him and he wouldn’t represent himself either.

He knew what would happen. He’d be sitting behind the state-assigned prosecutor with his friends and family. They’d surround him in a cocoon of protection. But he would still be unable to keep his eyes off the back of his former mentor’s head. Barba, of course, would be sitting with his defense attorney, his eyes straight forward. Steadfast and determined, he’d never even glance back over his shoulder at him.

Would Barba do that because he was afraid he might burn beneath the heated glares of hatred? Or rather, would he do it as an exhibition of complete control as he feigned innocence? Crimes involving sex were, after all, not the easiest things to prove. Especially if Barba kept his word and didn’t — Carisi shuddered — use his penis to fuck him. Would Barba claim it had been consensual or pretend like it never happened at all?

But this was all predicated on Sonny bringing charges.

Barba was right.

It was doubtful Sonny would do that. Even now, as he knelt naked, his ass exposed as Barba sexually abused him with multiple fingers, he knew that the title of ‘victim’ was one he did not want to claim. The shame of it was just too much to bear. So he here was, dissociating and getting lost in thoughts of being in court instead of being present in this awful reality.

And just as Sonny knew he would not disclose what happened this evening to anyone. He also knew that dissociation during traumatic events often was a precursor to developing PTSD.

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder: it was a nasty fate.

A bout of anger surged through Sonny’s veins. The intensity of his hatred towards Barba, had it been made of something other than emotion, could’ve burned through him. It was as if his rage was molten metal, pouring through him and casting off bits of hot slag in sparks of hostility.

Fight back!!! Sonny’s mind screamed at him. Get out of this and kill the mother fucker!

But the ache in the crux of his arm, where he had pulled or maybe even torn a ligament from yanking at the restraints, throbbed numbly. It was a constant reminder: he wasn’t physically capable of getting out of this, no matter how hard he tried.

Despair wasn’t enough to temper his anger. However, it pulled him back into the sharpness of his reality. Overcome by emotion, Sonny let out a gasping sob.

Behind him, the even tone of Barba’s voice resonated with calculated composure.

“More tears, Sonny? I thought we were past the crying phase.”

Though his face was damp with a mixture of the tears and the mucus dripping from his nose, Sonny still snapped back in anger.

“Fuck you, Rafael. You know exactly what you are doing. You know I will never, ever get passed what you are doing to me. I wish — I wish you would just kill me.”

“Kill you?” Barba replied, the shock in his voice palpable. “Sonny, you can’t be serious.”

“I’ll spend the rest of my life as a victim,” Sonny countered, though jagged breaths. “Not a cop or a lawyer, not a son or a brother, but as a victim. I’ll never be anything else. I’ll never be a husband or a father, Rafael. You have stolen my life from me, so you might as well kill me.”

Barba heaved a heavy sigh.

“That’s a worst-case scenario. Besides, we haven’t even gotten to the good part yet. Who knows, you may even like it.”

“No!”

“Watch your volume,” Barba hissed. “You know what I’ll do if you don’t.”

With a shake of his head, Sonny lowered it to the pillows below and let the tears silently fall.

Then came the now-familiar snapping sound of the lid on the tube of lube. He felt it dribbling down the crease between his ass cheeks as it met Barba’s still-inserted fingers at the point where they were still fucking him at a slow and lazy pace.

The addition of more lubrication could only mean one thing: Barba was nearing the end of his preparations. Soon, Sonny was going to find himself impaled on more than just a few fingers. Sloppy noises issued from where Barba had forced his body open wide for insertion. Sonny could even feel the slight brush of fabric on his cheeks where the cuffs of Barba’s dress shirt were whispering along his skin.

For a second, Sonny felt a pang of dismay at the thought of getting such fine clothes soiled by the excessive amount of lube that was being used. Then, chagrined that the thought had even crossed his mind, he did and said nothing as Barba continued. The ever-fluctuating emotions crisscrossing his mind kept him unbalanced, pliable, and, most of all, subdued.

Had Barba known this whole time that this is how it would go? That the fear, anger, despair, shame, humiliation, and outrage would undermine his ability to maintain any sort of composure. That all of it would effectively hobble him like some sort of tamed creature, rendering him defenseless and vulnerable. Had Barba known?

Fuck.

There was no answering his question. Instead, Barba began once again to command Sonny’s attention.

“Sonny, you’re going to have to listen to me now and respond when I speak to you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Rafael,” came Sonny’s meek reply.

“And no more talk of how you would rather be dead. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Rafael,” Sonny muttered through gritted teeth.

If Barba didn’t want him speaking those words, then fine. He wouldn’t say them aloud. But he would continue to think it: that he wanted to be dead. If he was being honest with himself, he wanted Barba dead as well. He wanted his former mentor gasping for breath as he wrapped his hands around Barba’s neck and squeezed until the man was deceased. And though shame blossomed at the thought of committing such a mortal sin, Sonny rolled around in the idea like a pig in the muck.

“I am not sure how good of a look you got at my special toy snake, Sonny,” Barba continued, seemingly obvious to the turmoil his actions were invoking. “But it is a thing of beauty, it really is. There is a flared base at the end, so it doesn’t taper off like a real snake’s tail. But that’s a safety feature, it ensures that it doesn’t get pushed completely inside. If that sort of thing happens, it’s a one-way ticket to the ER.”

Sonny nearly snorted in disbelief. That thing was so long, he knew that no way could that possibly happen. At least, he hoped not.

“It’s crafted out of smooth silicone,” Barba continued. “It’s easy to clean. Though, I admit, I haven’t used it before now. But besides that, it has these detailed scales and ridges on it to mark how deep it’s gone. And the head of the snake, it’s really shaped like one. There’s a blunt nose that tapers into a bit of a bulbous head, but that’s the widest part. The rest of the body isn’t that wide. Really, it’s not. I would say the circumference is just smaller than that of a silver dollar.”

Not knowing how to respond, Sonny said nothing at first. Instead, he felt his belly churn at Barba’s practically loving description of the sex toy.

It’s just a toy, he told himself. It’s just a toy that is being used as intended. If Barba uses it properly, it won’t hurt. It’s supposed to be pleasurable.

Sonny had no intention of deriving any pleasure from the object but he knew that he wasn’t going to avoid it being used on him. Besides, he had exhausted all his options. He had fought, bargained, and pleaded. Better for him to come to grips with his reality now instead of tensing up and prolonging the process.

“Just do it,” Sonny finally said, his voice muffled as he buried it in the pillows. “Rafael, please. Get it over with.”

When Barba replied, Sonny could tell there was a wide grin on the other man’s face, even if he couldn’t see it.

“And I thought you’d never ask.”

Sonny could feel Barba’s fingers flex inside of him as they were slowly drawn out. But before the full length of the digits had left his desecrated hole, Sonny realized that Barba had the nose of the snake already butting up against his puckered entrance. Instinctively, he tightened and wished he could prevent the inevitable.

“Sonny,” Barba chided, “relax.”

“I can’t,” Sonny gasped his earlier expressed desire to ‘get it over with’ quickly forgotten. “Please, no. No, no, no…”

Like a broken record, he pleaded for Barba to stop as his former mentor used the tips of his fingers to spread Sonny’s ass wide and eased in the head of the snake.

Blunt nose first, the toy penetrated him and Sonny could only inhale sharply as efforts to keep the intrusion at bay failed. As he released the air in his lungs, he could feel the widening bulbous head push into him as the rim of his asshole flared out around the widest portion of the snake’s silicone skull.

“Oh fuck!” Sonny exclaimed as finally the head popped inside his rectum.

The ring of muscle along the rim of his ass burned at the exertion of having to spread so wide.

“Head’s in,” Barba noted gleefully. “You should see yourself, Sonny. It looks like it’s a part of you. It’s almost as if you’ve grown another appendage.”

Shifting uneasily, Sonny said nothing. And though silent tears streamed down his face, he knew better than to give his disgust and revulsion voice. Besides, he had to admit it, the stretch of the snake’s head was no worse than the stretch he had felt around Barba’s fingers. The toy was pressing against that very particular spot that had given Sonny those electric feelings earlier. And the weight of it tugged teasingly at the inner rim of his ass. Couple those two sensations together and Sonny wasn’t as horrified as he initially thought he would be.

Barba’s fingers briefly grazed along the plump swell of Sonny’s ass cheeks as the former ADA gripped the toy just below the base of the head. With persistent yet cautious effort, Barba pushed it further inside Sonny’s rectal cavity.

His jaw fell open and Sonny repeatedly gulped in one lungful of air after another. Words were failing him as he tried to comprehend the sensations he was perceiving. He felt full; too full. And it was all so wrong. It was the reverse of all the experiences he had ever had in his lifetime. Where he was well acquainted with the sensation of defecation, this was the reverse of that. It was unnatural.

“Rafael,” Sonny gasped, unable to escape the feeling of total defilement, “take it out. Please, take it out.”

However, despite Sonny’s pleas, Barba kept slowly easing in more and more of the snake’s length.

The experience of being penetrated completely and Barba’s lack of communication left Sonny feeling utterly helpless. It was as if his consciousness or his soul could have been removed from his body and been left on the outside: a passive observer. Because, as of this moment, he had no tangible will of his own and was totally incapable of interceding and preventing the events that were occurring.

He knew he couldn’t with any accuracy estimate the amount of length that had been pushed past the rim and into his rectum but Sonny was sure that it was far too much. That was until pain shot through him like he had been pierced or stabbed with something far more sharp and solid than the blunt rubber nose of a sex toy.

Sonny couldn’t help it; he screamed. Still, knowing Barba would gag him again, he tried to swallow down the volume of his cry and was left gasping out a sob.

“Shh,” Barba hushed Sonny, calmly explaining. “We’ve just reached the S-curve that connects your anal passage to the rest of your intestinal tract.”

His fingers clenched the bedspread beneath him, the fabric bunching and folding in his grip. Sonny's knuckles turned white as he gasped, his breath ragged and shallow, each inhale a struggle against the waves of discomfort crashing through him.

“You,” he wondered aloud, though his voice kept hitching because of the pain, “you really get - get off on this … sort of thing?”

Behind him, Barba shifted his weight, bringing himself up onto his knees and pressing himself up against the back of one of Sonny’s thighs. Through the fabric of the other man’s pants, he could feel the firm bulge of an erection.

“Does that answer your question?”

Numbly, Sonny nodded.

He wanted to tell Barba that he was a ‘sick fuck,’ but he was wise enough not to voice this aloud.

Still in pain, Sonny was relieved when Barba drew back and with him, he pulled part of the snake back as well.

“With a little trial and error,” his former mentor explained, his tone a blend of reassurance and determination, “I’ll find the right angle and be able to push past the curve.”

“Too big,” Sonny muttered, knowing his complaints would fall on deaf ears. “It’s too big, Rafael.”

Once again, Barba began pushing more of the snake inside Sonny’s rectum. This time, when it hit the curve, Sonny was able to prevent himself from screaming though the pain was worse. What was sharp before had now escalated into searing agony that seemed to radiate from the depths of his core throughout his entire being.

Gasping, Sonny involuntarily wailed.

“Ma!”

Like a scared child, he had cried out for his mother.

With a tut of his tongue, Barba adjusted the angle of the snake.

“There’s no need for hysterics, Dominick. Call for your mother again and my response will be to make you start calling me ‘daddy.’ It would be a first for me: taking on that familial title. But I’m sure you wouldn’t like calling me that now, would you?”

“No, Rafael,” Sonny said, as every fiber of his being screamed in protest.

Utterly defeated, he felt the humiliation twist at his insides.

Though, after this brief exchange, there were no more words between them. Instead, the only sounds Sonny could hear were the occasional snap of a lid as Barba applied more lube and the shuddering breaths escaping his own lips.

Over and over again, the snake was pushed into him until it met the curved bend of his colon. And time and time again, there was no headway made. With each failed attempt, Barba would become frustrated. Growling softly, he'd apply more lube and try another angle.

This continued for at least an hour, Sonny was sure. He could, after all, keep his eyes trained on the brightly lit red numbers of the clock resting on the nightstand next to him. And it was nearly 2:00 am when the last of the strength Sonny had began to ebb. He had been instructed to remain on his knees but his legs were losing their rigidity.

The snake’s head continued to butt against the bruised and battered curve. Then, one of Sonny’s legs slipped. And as the angle of his body changed, so did the angle of the bend within him.

Gasping, Sonny felt the toy push past the curve and further into him than it had ever gone before.

“That’s it,” Barba exclaimed, clearly excited. “Good boy. Take it in.”

It was as though the snake had taken on a life of its own, winding and curling like a serpent as it navigated the hidden depths of his body.

His breath hitching, Sonny began to hyperventilate. But trying to regulate his breathing and move away from what was happening to him was pointless. With every slight movement, the snake within him wound its way further inside his body.

“Stop moving,” Barba ordered.

Instantly, Sonny froze.

“It’s only about halfway in. I’m going to pull it out a bit and see if I can’t get more in.”

More? Oh, fuck. I can’t handle more!

Sonny nearly voiced his thoughts aloud on the subject when the snake began to slowly ease out of him. His eyes rolling back and his lids fluttering, Sonny moaned at the new sensation. After hours of torturous pain, the relief he felt as the snake slithered out of him was practically glorious.

Behind him, Barba chuckled.

“Like that, do you?”

Realizing he had inadvertently conveyed that he was slightly experiencing what could be construed as pleasure, Sonny vehemently shook his head ‘no.’

“Sonny,” Barba growled, “I want to hear you say it. I want you to tell me you like it.”

Scared, Sonny hesitated. And even when he spoke, he could only muster a whisper.

“No.”

“No? You sure?” Barba’s voice held a thin veiled threatening tone.

Shaking his head, Sonny shivered. The snake was mostly out of him now, though the head still rested within him, just past the curve.

“Sonny,” Barba prodded, “are you sure you don’t like it?”

“No,” Sonny said, his voice trembling.

“No, what?”

“No, I — I’m not sure. I’m not sure of anything,” Sonny admitted.

Hearing this remark, Barba once again began to push the freakishly long toy back inside the younger man. And beneath his touch, Sonny whimpered.

It was true, he didn’t feel sure of how to feel about his body being violated and manipulated in such a despicable fashion. But one thing Sonny knew for sure, Barba had officially lost all sense of what was right and what was wrong.

Though the thought didn’t remain with Sonny long as the snake slithered within his guts. He knew it wasn’t real but it felt as though it was writhing. Internally, he could feel his belly cramping at the intrusion. But instead of rejecting the foreign object, this reaction only seemed to be drawing it further in.

“Ho,” Barba crowed, “nearly two-thirds this time.”

He won’t be satisfied until it’s fully inserted! Sonny realized. Shit. Even if there are people out there who enjoy this sort of thing, I’ve never done anything like this. I’ve been in no way acclimated to such an extreme practice. This thing is going to cause a tear in my intestine. Barba might actually end up killing me.

With his own mortality looming before him, Sonny’s mental fortitude fractured and then crumbled. Even as the Barba withdrew the snake once more, his mind remained adrift. Relief mixed with suffering as they came in tandem waves, lapping at what remained of his senses.

The abstract concept that was time eluded him. It no longer held any meaning. Each push and pull of the long silicone toy, the weight of it heavy in his gut, further splintered the pieces of his consciousness. Though his body was tethered to the bed, his perception blurred everything around him and everything that was happening to him.

He could’ve been there for hours longer or mere minutes, Sonny had no idea. However, he did know that, after multiple attempts, the silicone creature had been fully seated deep within him. Along with the ache and sharp twinges of pain, he felt the round base of the toy flush against the rim of his ass.

Barba was silent as he removed it for the final time.

Shivering and exhausted from remaining on his knees for so long, Sonny collapsed. A sheen of sweat covered his body and dripped from his brow though he barely registered anything besides his throbbing limbs, ass, and belly. Concrete thoughts still eluded him. Only sensations remained such as the slick feel of excess lube dripping from his ass, sliding thickly down his taint, and glazing his testicles.

These sensations were the only way he knew he was still alive. Though, even then, he wasn’t too sure. He couldn’t move. He could barely breathe.

“Sonny?”

He heard his former mentor’s voice question him. And though Barba’s tone was soft and gentle, Sonny squeezed his eye’s tightly shut against the sound, as if by doing so he could block it out. And while he was incapable of much at the moment, he knew that he wouldn’t — no, he couldn’t — give Barba the satisfaction of a response.

Barba’s fingers trailed gently down Sonny’s lower back, stopping to cup his ass.

“You were so good for me,” Barba said, his voice the barest of whispers. “Thank you.”

His eyes, already raw and sore from crying, eked out the last tears he would shed into the damp pillowcase. They were finally done and what relief Sonny felt was overshadowed by the fear that still kept him compliant.

Compliant.

Yes, that was all he could be in that moment as he numbly realized that Barba was undoing the restraints and releasing Sonny’s wrists from the tightly woven nylon straps. It was only once they were off did he realize that though he hadn’t lost his life, he had certainly lost a part of himself. As that black silicone snake had thoroughly penetrated him, all the fight had been slowly pushed out and extracted from his soul.

An odd sense of hollowness washed over Sonny as he lay there motionless.

“Sonny?” Barba’s voice came again. “You can leave now.”

With his eyes still closed, Sonny couldn’t bring himself to do anything. His only compulsion was to fall into the void the rifts in his soul had created as Barba had so easily cracked him open.

The flat of Barba’s warm hand came to rest on Sonny’s shoulder.

“Sonny?” Barba said, his tone a touch more stern.

When there was no response to his words, he became more stringent in his actions. The flat of his hand now gripped Sonny as Barba gave him a slight shake.

“Carisi, look at me.”

Unable to resist any order given to him by the former ADA, Sonny’s eyes flashed open and he met Barba’s stare with a dull and unblinking deadman’s gaze.

“Oh Sonny,” Barba voiced, “have I broken you?”

Sonny didn’t bother responding as the answer was apparent to them both.

Strong hands maneuvered him closer, rolling him onto his side. A gentle push and Sonny found himself staring up at the ceiling. Seamless crows-feet patterned ridges of mudded spackle splayed across the flat white surface. Dull light cast long shadows along the deep corners of the room as Sonny lay there numb and despondent.

It wasn’t long, though, until his view of the ceiling was obscured by the face of his former mentor. Barba had moved from his position off to the side until he was crouched over Sonny on all fours. And while he couldn’t bring himself to meet Barba’s line of sight, he could see the hunger that remained within those green iris hues.

The same fear from earlier reared up and tightened its grip around Sonny’s heart, though it threatened to pound out his chest. He could barely breathe as he surely couldn’t move as Barba lowered his face to meet Sonny’s.

Soft lips brushed against his own. And while Sonny remained unresponsive, the press of Barba’s kiss became more urgent as his tongue dipped into Sonny’s slack mouth.

“Sonny,” Barba muttered, pulling away ever so slightly, peppering his face with more kisses. “Sonny, oh, Sonny.”

His name was like some sort of mantra, repeated over and over as Barba smothered him with one kiss after another kiss, nuzzling into his neck, and sucking a single hickey along the skin at the edge of a smooth collarbone.

“You’re so pretty,” Barba said, lifting a hand and gently caressing the edges of Sonny’s hairline. “I can’t resist you. You know that?”

Still staring blankly at the ceiling, Sonny gulped. This time, he was one-hundred percent certain that Barba was going to have sex with him.

Barba was going to rape him.

A spare pillow was yanked from where it had fallen, off to the side of the bed, and pushed under Sonny’s hips. Maneuvering the former detective’s legs apart, Barba kneel between them as he unbuckled his belt and unfastened the buttons and fly of his trousers. Then, pushing down the hem of his underpants, Barba released his erect penis from its constraints.

Barba hoisted Sonny’s legs up, briefly hooking them over his arms, and positioned himself as he aligned his cock with Sonny’s loose, sloppy hole. Leaning forward, Barba slipped inside of the younger man. It had been an easy task as there had not been a bit of resistance of any sort.

Face to face with the man that had been his colleague, his friend, his mentor, and now rapist, Sonny found that not even this new form of violation could rouse him from his state of profound apathetic paralysis.

His head bobbed limply as Barba pumped into him like some kind of loose-limbed fuck doll.

Loose. Sloppy. Easy.

Those were the words echoing his mind as he was raped.

Even so, those were not the words Barba utilized as he used his cock to repeatedly violate Sonny.

“Such a lovely boy,” Barba murmured, pressing a wet kiss at the edge of Sonny’s mouth. “So good for me. You’re so good for me.”

The weight and pressure of Barba’s body on his was uncomfortable and Sonny huffed softly with every thrust of Barba’s hips. His own soft member was caught between them, unpleasantly rubbing against the twisted fabric of the other man's clothing. And still so sore from the stretch of having the snake up his ass, Sonny barely registered the sensation of the cock rhythmically thudding into him other than he knew that it hurt.

Hunched over Sonny, Barba continued to murmur sweet sentiments of endearment. And even with his mind in ragged pieces, Sonny knew that in some way his former mentor had broken too. Earlier, Barba had promised he wasn’t going to be ‘intimate’ with him in this way. Clearly, that had gone out the window along with Barba’s ability to control himself.

He shouldn’t have been surprised, the other man had, after all, spent hours on the edge of arousal all evening. But what surprised Sonny was how he was being brutalized. Using long languid strokes, Barba’s actions were a far cry from the dominant and rough jackhammering described by the various rape victims Sonny had interviewed while he had been a detective. If anything, Barba’s current actions were more akin to the actions of someone making love.

“Sonny,” Barba gasped. “Oh, fuck, Sonny! Oh!”

His hips suddenly juttered, his cock pulsated, and Barba climaxed.

Heaving a dramatic moan, Barba sunk down onto his elbows and rested his torso against Sonny’s.

Even through the fabric of the older man’s shirt, Sonny could feel the racing beat of Barba’s heart as the pair of them lay there, unmoving. Eventually, though, Barba’s deflating cock slipped from Sonny’s hole, and a small sluice of jizz dribbled out along with it.

With the presence of fluids, Sonny thought, the DNA evidence will corroborate the charge of rape in the first degree.

Rolling off of Sonny, Barba lay there nestled up against him for a while as if they were lovers and not perpetrator and victim.

“Sonny,” he eventually said, sitting up and tucking himself back into his soiled clothing, “are you going to move or I am going to have to drag you into the bathroom?”

Having not spoken for the duration of the rape, Sonny didn’t see any reason why he ought to utter a single word now that it was over. Instead, he closed his eyes and, summoning up a bit of strength from the tattered remains of his soul, rolled over on his side and away from Barba. With his knees pressed together, he covered his genitals with one hand while he tried to pull up the soiled bedding behind him with the other.

Surprisingly, the syllables that next fell from Barba’s mouth were tinged with pity.

“I have to get you cleaned up,” Barba explained as if he were some kind, benevolent individual looking after a friend who had made a poor decision, “before I get you home.”

Home? Sonny wondered. Why bother? Does he want to rape me in my own bed?

Standing up from the bed, Barba stood over and surveyed the scene.

“Fuck,” he muttered before turning and heading towards the bathroom.

A few moments later, Sonny could hear the twist of a knob and the spray of a shower starting. Glancing over at the clock, he realized that it was practically morning. Whatever Barba was planning on doing with him, they were running out of time.

Footfalls alerted him to Barba’s emergence from the hotel room bathroom. Consequently, Sonny stifled a fearful sob and haphazardly dragged what he could of the bedcovers over his head.

The footsteps kept coming though until they came around to the side of the bed he was facing before they stopped.

“Come,” Barba said, his voice permeating the fabric barrier, “let’s get you clean.”

Weakly, Sonny murmured inarticulate sentiments of dissent as he was pulled from the covers. Still, he offered no resistance as Barba hauled him to his feet and half-dragged/half-carried Sonny into the bathroom. He didn’t really walk, his bare feet grazing the carpet fibers only enough to support some of his weight. Still, every step sent shooting pain skyrocketing through his ass. Once in the small room, Sonny allowed himself to be lowered carefully onto the tiled floor of the shower. Steam had already filled the room by the time the warm spray was striking his skin.

What followed next could’ve been described as an act of compassion, had Barba not spent the night sexually torturing him. Taking a small plastic bottle of pills off the bathroom counter, Barba turned the label towards Sonny so he could read it: Tylenol. His former mentor opened the bottle and shook a few white capsules into the palm of his hand before lowering them down so Sonny could reach them. Sonny didn’t even move, he just open his mouth and let Barba drop the pills on his tongue. Keeping his mouth open for a few seconds, Sonny then swallowed the pain relievers down with a mouthful of warm shower water.

He imagined his eyes might’ve looked glassy and glazed over as he watch Barba shed his suit jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves. And as Barba knelt on the floor, next to the shower, Sonny was stunned as the former ADA began to gently cleanse every inch of Sonny’s skin with the soft and soapy washcloth. Barba was getting soaked in the process, but he didn’t seem to mind.

With soothing strokes and touches, Barba removed the evidence of the night’s events. Gone was the slick and sticky film of excess lube. Gone was the sweat from strained muscles. And gone were the many tears that had fallen over the past hours. Barba even washed Sonny’s hair, massaging shampoo through Sonny’s prematurely graying dark-blonde locks. Lastly, Barba cleansed Sonny’s genitals and ass, delicately washing and rinsing away evidence of his crime.

Sonny looked to see if there would be bright red smears of blood on the washcloth as Barba pulled it away. He was unexpectedly dismayed to see none. Being raped had been painful and he was sure he’d have torn at some point.

Maybe it was an indication of Barba’s skill that he hadn’t.

Wrapped in a fluffy white hotel towel, Sonny found himself sitting on the curved seat of the toilet. Unlike the shower floor, the hollow of the seat allowed him to sit with far less pain. And for that he was grateful.

Tangled in a web of what he could only describe as a numb stupor, Sonny remained still and silent as he let Barba dry him off and even comb his hair. He still couldn’t bring himself to move, though he did avert his eyes, as the other man removed his clothes and stepped into the shower to rinse off. When Barba was clean he left the bathroom to change into a fresh set of clothes.

Alone in the bathroom, Sonny allowed himself to relax, but only briefly. Seeing as he was already on the toilet, he emptied his bladder. He knew that if he tried to stand on his own, he’d lose his balance and he didn’t relish the thought of pissing on himself while falling down to the bathroom floor. Besides, the sound of the stream of urine hitting the water below was preferable to the occasional drip of Barba’s cum leaking out of his fluttering hole.

When Barba re-entered the small bathroom, draped over his arms was what remained of Sonny’s clothes. Setting them on the counter, Barba leaned over to flush the toilet.

Sonny flinched.

“Hey,” Barba said kindly, “you’re okay. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just going to get you dressed. Okay?”

You’ve already hurt me, Sonny thought but couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Pulling a folded white shirt from the top of the pile of clothes, Barba said, “This is mine so I hope it fits. It might be a little short but you don’t have to wear it for long and no one should notice the length if you wear your suit jacket over it.”

Eying the white short-sleeve undershirt, Sonny let Barba thread his hands and arms through the sleeves. When Barba brought the shirt up and over his head, Sonny shrugged it on as the towel that had been around his shoulders puddled around his waist. It was demeaning, being dressed like a toddler. But Sonny had been through so much already, that it barely even registered.

Next, Barba slid on Sonny’s socks, careful to align the seams along the toes so they didn’t bunch up uncomfortably. And, handing Sonny a bunch of squares of toilet paper, Barba said, “Wipe yourself as best you can as I get your underwear and pants back on. Okay?”

Numbly, Sonny nodded as he took the folded tissue and did as he was told.

Only when his pants and underwear were slipped up around his ankles and out from underneath his feet did Barba have him stand up.

“Hold onto me if you need to steady yourself,” Barba directed as he hitched up the garments around Sonny’s hips.

As Barba buttoned Sonny’s pants and looped his belt through the buckle, Sonny turned and glanced over his shoulder. For some odd reason he couldn’t fathom, he was concerned that the towel had fallen into the bowl.

“Don’t worry about that,” Barba said, turning him back around. “I’ll take care of it later. I left your jacket and shoes in the other room. We need to get those back on you and then it’s time to go.”

“Go?” Sonny muttered the first fully formed word he had managed to utter in many hours.

“Yes, Sonny,” he replied, patting his pockets to make sure he had his wallet and keys. “We’re going downstairs to the lobby where I’m going to call a cab to take you back to your apartment.”

Reaching out to grip Barba’s arm, a pang in the crux of Sonny’s elbow reminded him that it wasn’t only his ass that had been damaged that night.

Apparently seeing the look of pain on the other man’s face, Barba steadied Sonny by holding onto his non-injured arm.

“Do you want me to take you to the hospital?” he asked tentatively, though his eyes were scanning Sonny’s features wildly. “You might need to have that arm checked out.”

Sonny shook his head.

No. The medical staff will see the striations and bruising on my wrists from the restraints. I can't let anyone know I've been hurt or who I've let hurt me.

“I’m fine, Rafael,” he finally said. “Take me home.”

A/N: The epilogue for this story (Chapter 7) wouldn't fit in this post. Since I'm not sure anyone is going to read this whole thing on Tumblr, I won't post it unless requested to do so.

#svu #fanfic #rafael barba #barisi #sonny carisi #law and order svu #dark fic #dead dove do not eat #18+ content

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fushipurro · 2 months

Text

the gentleness that comes (not from the absence of violence)

masterlist

☆ Synopsis: The Infamous "Invisible Man" is finally caught and detained by the FBI. In recognition of his skills, he's offered the chance of a reduced sentence if agrees to assist with a recent string of murders. He accepts, but under one condition.

His partner has to be you, his arresting officer.

☆ Content: 18+ MDNI, f!reader, fluff/smut/angst, no curse AU, mentions of blood/alcohol, graphic violence/murder, guns, porn with plot, hurt/comfort, dubious morality, creampie, fingering, oral (f.receiving), biting/scratching.

☆ Word Count: 17.2k

Toji Zenin.

A ruthless assassin that’s managed to keep himself under the radar longer than you’ve been in the force ─ which hasn’t been all that long, but plenty of time to earn name for himself.

He’s the type of killer that you hear about from ghost stories, a mystery so thought provoking that you find no shortage of true crime podcasts about it online. The Zodiac Killer’s got nothing on this guy.

After growing up with TV shows such as Bones or Law & Order SVU, you jumped at the chance to study criminal psychology in college. This led to you graduating with high marks and officially joining the ranks of the FBI, eager to become your own form of Temperance Brennan or Olivia Benson.

You never for a second thought that of anyone else in the force, you would arrest the one and only assassin. The myth, the legend, Toji himself.

At the time his name was unknown, and even now there’s only a shred of paperwork that proves he even exists. As far as the underworld goes, he’s earned the title of “Invisible Man” through his actions alone. Toji’s never once left a shred of evidence that could lead back to him, despite being the cause of many brutal unsolved cases piling up to this day in the archives.

He’s a hired killer, that much was already certain. Many of crimes linked to the assassin all can be traced back to hits listed on various forums and sites on the dark web. Your fellow agents could never get a read on where the payments went from there beyond layers of encryption, and thus, the trail ends short of any possible suspects.

Really, it was a miracle you managed to catch the man himself behind all the heinous acts. How do you find someone when you don’t even know what they look like; someone who leaves behind zero evidence? Not one hair sample, fingerprint, blood droplet, bullet, casing, nothing. You decided to do what any sane person could do to draw out this enigma of a killer.

You ordered a hit on yourself.

A fake version of yourself of course to hide the fact that you’re working for the government, but the pretty face in the photos is all you.

Quite the gamble, but it paid off when not even a few days after, he made his move on you. It started small with “accidental” meetings in public areas like at a grocery store or a sketchy bar one night where he offered you a drink and a good time. These little moments all led up to when Toji finally decided to corner you, but your team on standby were more than ready to apprehend him.

It worked surprisingly easier than you ever thought possible, but you chalk it up to him just being rusty. How else could you manage such an impossible feat?

All the cold cases tied to him had stopped for a period of five years before picking back up again a few short months ago. This time around, your team contemplated whether this was a copycat killer or if the real deal came back from the dead.

Nowadays, the killings appeared more spur of the moment rather than sophisticated and with careful planning. He still did his part in staying invisible as perfect as always, but the motives for each victim bounced between money to “someone looked at him funny” at best. Therein lies the problem you face.

No evidence? No conviction.

It’s one of those situations where everyone knows that the suspect is guilty, beyond a reasonable doubt, but at the end of the day, it’s conjecture without proper evidence like DNA or a confession.

Toji is a hell of a lot smarter than he looks and he knows it. You’re willing to bet if you got a peek at his brain, it’d be just as muscular and veiny as the rest of him. It makes him all the more terrifying to deal with if you’re not careful enough.

After his detainment, you thought that might be the end of it. Even if he can’t be tried on the counts of a dozen killings, there’s still the fact he was arrested on the charge of attempted murder in the first degree with you as the target.

You’re confident the jurors will find him guilty on that charge and spend the next 20 something years in prison if all goes well. Early release on good behavior seems far from likely for someone so dangerous with a capital D. All you can hope is that the justice system pulls through when it matters, and you won’t have to worry about him ever again.

…Right?

You got a sweet little promotion topped with a raise following the arrest, and most exciting now are all the new cases you’re in charge of, including the recent serial murders performed by the newly notorious Cupid Killer.

When you arrive at the bureau, you’re more than eager to start working until your boss calls you into his office upon arrival. You take a seat in front of his desk, not at all ready for the words you’re about to hear.

“The higher ups and Toji’s hotshot lawyer, Higuruma, have settled a deal. We’ll have him on our side assisting with the case.” His brows furrow with annoyance, but the psychologist in you can tell he’s conflicted. “I’m assigning you to supervise him out in the field. You caught him once, now you get to hold his leash.”

“Sir, with all due respect, you can’t possibly be serious,” you drawl, looking at the man behind the desk completely dumbfounded that such a thing could even happen. “We finally caught him so why risk him running off?”

He sighs, “I’m aware of the trouble this presents, but this is a good chance for us to kill two birds with one stone.” He reaches his hand out to the landline on the table, pressing one of the buttons. “Send him in.”

Your stomach immediately drops into what feels like a bottomless abyss. He’s serious. This isn’t some nightmare either, you know full well you’re awake and pinching yourself a thousand times doesn’t change anything.

“Y/N, I want you to learn all you can from his fucked-up brain. This is the perfect opportunity for someone of your talents to pick him apart so future criminals won’t even stand a chance.”

“But sir, out in the field? Why not keep him in an interrog-“

You’re cut off by the office doors bursting open, followed by the sound of heavy handcuffs. You turn in your seat to see the six foot however many inch wall of pure muscle walk into the room like a Greek God descending from the steps to Olympus.

May as well refer to your boss as Apollo from now on if he wants to play the twelve labors with this much better-looking Herakles. Too bad you weren’t given the gift of prophecy to see this coming. He should be in Tartarus, right where he belongs. A guy like Toji surely has a reserved space down there waiting for his arrival (he doesn’t, thank you Gege).

His eyes no sooner land on you causing your chest to tighten. You’re too afraid to even breathe, his presence is so overwhelming it has you in a chokehold. “There she is,” he drawls all low and husky-like that you can’t help the shiver that comes after.

He’s escorted in with the help of a few officers who lead him to the chair at your side. You shoot a look back to your boss that resembles a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming freight train, and not just any train ─ no, we’re talking the 777 runaway from the movie Unstoppable.

Toji wastes no time sitting down, his body easily spilling out the sides of the chair. He’s unbothered, maybe even happy about it once you feel his knee grazing your own. He moves with purpose, just like any other action. When it comes to Toji, there are no such things as accidents.

You don’t dare look his way, but you can feel his predatorial gaze aimed right at you point blank like a green dot laser sight. He doesn’t need to see a demonstration of your fear because he already knows it ─ like he can smell it. With how skillful he is, that wouldn’t surprise you if he could like this is all some alpha/omega type story. But who can blame you for being afraid?

It’s horrifying when you know you’re sitting next to a killer capable of committing the perfect crime. One look was all it took to have you ready to turn and run with your tail caught between your legs the night he was arrested.

It’s a miracle he even was caught, and you can’t shake the feeling there’s more to it than some divine intervention. There’s no closing Pandora’s box now, not when the monster inside is fixing to be put on a leash for your very own hands to control.

Your boss clears his throat, “Back to the matters at hand, I’m trusting you with this. You’re new to working in the field, but I expect good ─ and fast results.” He then points to Toji. “I expect you to behave as well. Otherwise, I’ll make sure the only thing you see for the rest of your days are four white walls.”

“Yes, sir,” you meekly respond, hearing an amused huff come from your new hunting dog of a partner. Actually, a hunting wolf would be a better comparison over a mutt, unless of course we’re talking Cerberus.

Either way, you can’t help but feel like a rabbit that’s wandered onto the dinner plate of this vicious canine, awaiting your demise with a pretty little bow taped to your body. Instead of letting fear control you more than it has, you close your eyes and exhale.

Stay calm. Relax. This could be fun if he behaves.

You’re a criminal psychologist, and from your profile analysis, Toji is the best possible specimen to work with. Everywhere he goes, he’s a force of nature leaving a trail of wreckage in his wake. It’s like he’s got some point to prove to the world, presumably caused by his upbringing you hope to learn about, as with most other criminals.

The contracts he picks up usually lead to a lot of faces the FBI has had their eyes on; sex traffickers, drug lords, serial killers, hell he's even taken down whole gangs in one night. You can’t lie that his morally gray work doesn’t make your own life easier, as cruel as his methods are.

There are numerous questions you’d like to ask him, enough to make a whole college dissertation surrounding the organ in his skull alone. The one on your mind the most is why he stopped for several years. What happened during that time span that led him to go radio silent? You have some theories, and all you need now are answers.

“Do I get a gun now?” he asks, looking to your boss with a hopeful expression.

“No.”

“Hell no.”

He looks away, clearly annoyed with that answer. “Tch.”

“What do you expect? You’re a criminal,” you say directly and right to his face. Guess your little breathing exercise really did help you get your spunk back.

“Innocent until proven guilty, sweetheart.” His tone is mocking and the smirk he flashes infuriates you. “I think if I’m going to be doing your job, I should have a way to protect myself, don’t ya think?”

“What, those muscles of yours aren’t bulletproof?” you respond, laying on the sarcasm, not forgetting to roll your eyes after for dramatic effect.

“Enough,” your boss growls, glaring back and forth between the two of you. “Learn to play nice, we have a killer to catch before another body ends up as a file on our desks.”

“Yes, sir,” Toji drawls mockingly, adding in a two-finger salute. You can already tell he’s the type of person that has to have the last word in an argument.

This is going to be a pain in my ass.

After the meeting ends, Toji’s escorted away while you finalize the details with your boss and all your favorite “squints” at the lab. You love your job for making every day feel like an episode of all your favorite crime dramas.

Later on as you sat at your desk going through files, you’re disrupted by the sudden hand that comes down over the stack of papers in front of you. You follow the cobweb of veins up to a pair of stunning green eyes.

“Jesus ─ fuck, don’t sneak up on me!” You slap his arm with the back of your hand, but he doesn’t budge.

Instead, he leans down until you feel his sultry breath right up against your ear. “I wouldn’t be good at what I do if I couldn’t sneak up on someone, ya know?” he teases, pulling away when you about stomp on his foot with your heel.

“And what would it be that you do, Mr. Fushiguro?” you ask, hoping to get an easy confession out of the man to put an end to this headache.

“Name’s Toji, sweetheart.” He grins knowingly, and you feel a flicker in your chest as a result of that devilish face and choice of words. You tell yourself it’s just agitation, I mean what else could it possibly be? You deal with emotions for a living so you should know these things.

You huff at him, of course he won’t make this easy. You grab a few folders as you stand, wordlessly making your way out the door from the office.

“Where are we goin’, sweetheart?” he questions, trailing closely behind you like a puppy ─ a dangerous puppy.

Forget thinking it would be fun to pick his brain, now you’d rather find joy in picking him apart with your bare hands. “Name’s Y/N, Toji, feel free to use it,” you scoff.

You’re playing a risky game, and you know it. Choosing to challenge Toji is like throwing gasoline on an open flame, waiting to see if the flames grow or follow the stream back until it explodes in your hand like a backyard barbeque gone wrong.

You don’t care if he does erupt, the sooner he tries anything or confesses, you have the killer of a lifetime stuck behind bars and the world becomes a safer place. Until you remember that he’s not some chaotic evil underworld tycoon, just a hired killer that’s taken down some truly sinister individuals. That much makes you question your moral compass on whether he should be locked away.

No, he needs to be locked up. You’re the one in the FBI, crime-fighting is your job, not his.

Toji doesn’t talk much the way down to the parking lot, and you’re thankful for that. The man casually strolls up to the driver’s side with you and holds out his hand expectantly. When you don’t respond he even does a little grabby hand motion.

“Toji.” You stare back at him like he just insulted you. “I’m not letting you drive a government vehicle. Do you even have a license?”

“Come on,” he groans, and now he’s pouting like a toddler fixing to throw a tantrum. “If you aren’t giving me a gun, the least you could do is let me drive.”

“Forget it, it’s not happening,” you tell him, opening the door for yourself and closing it before he has a chance to complain. His eyes narrow with his ever-growing frustration as he walks around to the opposite side.

When you put a guy like Toji into any room, he has a way of making everything ─ and everyone ─ feel tiny in comparison, and that’s especially true when the room in question is the interior of the average Dodge Charger.

You gotta admit, they cleaned him up nicely. His suit pants fit nice and snug, but the white button down looks a size too small as the fabric strains around his muscles. The black tie is out of place on Toji, but you think it adds some charm like the scar over his lips. He seems to look good in anything he wears, even an orange jumpsuit, but that’s a given when you’re an already attractive person. Fuck, he really is a devil in the body of a god.

“You gonna ogle me all day or take me somewhere fun already?” He rolls his head in your direction; obviously still upset you won’t let him drive. Typical.

“This isn’t a date you know,” you say back as though you aren’t blushing like a woman in heat. You turn the car on and are met by “I Hate Everything About You”by Three Days Grace over the radio. A funny coincidence given the situation, really. That’s all it is, right? No way could you feel that sort of affection for a man that kills for a living.

You proceed out of the lot, changing the topic before he has a chance to make another comment, “I assume they filled you in on what we’re dealing with?”

“They did but I didn’t care to listen.” He shrugs and you feel the vein on your forehead throb. I’m going to kill him, I really am.

“…Why?” you drawl, further losing patience with the man. Being cute doesn’t give you a pass to have a shit personality.

“Because none of the people talking were you and that was the whole point of this.” He gestures with his hand in the air, but you’re unsure the exact meaning of his words at this moment in time.

“I swear, are you ever going to stop with the flirting?” you sigh, resting your head against your hand as you slow for a red light. “Reach into my bag and pull out the folders, there’s some autopsy reports you can look at.”

He does as you ask, forcing you against the car door to accommodate his volume in the process. With your bag in hand, he settles back into his seat, giving you a quick wink that’s met with a deadpan stare. The light changes back to green and your eyes go forward to the road ahead.

“This your boyfriend?” You glance over to find your phone in his hand as he admires the lock screen. It’s a photo of you smiling, side by side with Suguru after your first case-closed.

“Put that away.” You swat your hand at him which only makes him chuckle. “And no, he’s my partner. Least when I’m not working with a killer.”

“You say that like you aren’t one, but that’s okay because you’re FBI and I’m the big bad criminal?” He rolls his eyes to further mock you before staring into the side of your face, practically burning holes into your features. After a moment, the scarred corner of his lip rises with sudden realization and his face lights up. “Wait…” He lets out a low gravelly laugh. “You’re a fuckin’ virgin, aren’t you?”

You immediately choke on air, swerving the car a bit. “E-excuse me!?”

“You haven’t killed anyone yet.” He leans back against the cushion, grinning like a maniac. “It’s nice to know you’re a virgin in other ways too though, my offer from the bar still stands. I can make you feel real good.”

He leans in over the console and of all the times you’ve been close to him, only now do you catch a waft of cologne mixing with his natural musk. It’s scary how captivating the smell is, bringing every nerve in your body to life all at once if you don’t open a window right away, which you do.

“Unless you want me to drive this car into a ditch, I suggest you shut the hell up.” You’re not serious, but if he keeps provoking you, that vision will quickly become reality. Some medical leave might do you some good.

“Ooo, scary. Your loss though.” His hands raise in a mock surrender before returning to the files in his lap. “Tell me about the case then, I want to hear it from you.”

A sigh escapes you for the nth time today. “For starters, we’ve dubbed the assailant as the “Cupid Killer”. Namely because their targets are always those in seemingly happy relationships,” you emphasize with air quotes.

“Why do you think that?” His brow raises, flipping through photos from the autopsy before landing on some of the ones from the crime scenes. “Ouch,” he hisses.

You catch him adjusting in the seat with careful consideration for a certain area, not missing the soft outline of something huge to say the least. God, get it together!

“Yeeaah, the killer enjoys making our victims choke on their own family jewels. As a psychologist, I’m inclined to believe there’s a reason for that.”

“You think they’re cheaters?”

“Bingo, hence why we suspect the killer to be female. They likely have emotional trauma that ties into to their choice of targets ─ like a revenge motive maybe.”

“What’s with this?” He holds a photo in front of you showing one victim’s exposed chest cavity.

“Every victim thus far has had their heart removed, but we’ve not been able to locate any part of the missing organ. It’s a mystery.” You turn off the road and into an empty amusement park, parking just in front of the gate. “It’s possible the killer is taking these hearts as a trophy or for some other purpose we’re just not seeing yet.”

He acknowledges you with a hum, putting the folder away carelessly before stepping out onto the concrete. With a few calculated strides, he’s back at your side scanning the area like some oversized bodyguard or protective boyfriend. It’d be sweet if he wasn’t a walking criminal that could easily snap your neck and ghost himself before the FBI even knows what happened.

The rest of the walk is quiet as you lead the hitman to the remnants of the latest crime scene, a Ferris wheel. There are still remnants in the area from CSU’s search, including all the various “keep out!” tapes or evidence numbers littered across the ground around the attraction. You walk up the metal steps leading to one of the empty bloodied cars of the ride.

“The body obviously isn’t here anymore but…” you pause, pulling out one of the folders and scanning through until you found some photos from the scene, passing them off to Toji. “Maybe you’ll see something we missed, with your experience.”

Toji takes the photos from you, laughing through his nose. “What I can see is that this chick likes adding a bunch of extra steps. I find it much more efficient to just stab someone and dump ‘em in a river.” He makes a sly and toothy grin.

“Hey, you mind repeating that for me?” You pull out your phone, nonchalantly opening a recording app. “I didn’t catch that.”

“Nice try, sweetheart,” he says with an amused expression, pushing your hand away. His head lowers towards you, hoping maybe he’ll get another reaction out of you without the threat of you driving off the road. “You didn’t say please.”

You flutter your eyelashes at him all innocent and pretty. The last thing you want to have to resort to with Toji is begging. You do have some dignity after all. “Please?”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Nah, ya missed your chance. Better luck next time.”

Your face turns to a pout as you throw your phone back in your bag. You hate how much of a fool he makes you feel like. Even your ingenious brain can’t keep up as it turns to mush in his presence. Not a wrinkle in sight as far as you can tell so long as he’s around like some walking ironing board or steamer.

You have to remind yourself that he’s been at this longer than you. A man like Toji was always going to be a challenge one way or another, but you’ll crack him somehow eventually. You know you will.

“What did you learn from this scene?”

“Well for starters, our forensics division found the victim to have been deceased a few days before they were moved here. Another so-called happy couple whose girlfriend had nothing but good to say.”

“So,” he prompts, looking off into the surrounding distance. “How did they move the body here?” The way he makes himself sound like a college professor isn’t doing your mood any favors. He’s here to assist, not tutor you.

“There’s no evidence the victim was dragged, and even in a body bag we would’ve seen some form of chafing or fabric samples. The killer could’ve carried the body in, but that’s less likely given what we know about their physical strength.”

Toji gives the area another glance and you can hear him audibly sigh as disappointment takes over his features.

“What?” you ask, sounding a little too offended in your tone.

“Nothing.”

“Obviously it isn’t nothing.” Your hand moves to your hip, shifting your weight to one side. “I know you’re lying, Toji.”

“Yeah, cause you’re a shrink.” He scowls. “You should know when I’m lying.” You feel like there’s an underlying point he refuses to highlight on, but before you can ask, he’s already hot on the trail in the direction you entered the park from.

The nerve of this guy!

“Hey, wait!” you shout, running off after him. “Where are you going!?”

Another fun trait about this man you’re finding out is that he even walks like a serial killer. Think of any horror movie villain ─ Jason Vorhees, Michael Myers, even the damn Predator. You can be running for all you care, and the killer will still out speed you without even trying.

That’s Toji.

By the time you got back to your car, he’s already inside and buckled in. “What’s your deal?” you question, tossing your bag onto the backseat without a care.

“I expected a little more from you, to be honest.” He meets your eyes with a bored, lifeless expression. “It’s no wonder you guys are begging me to do your job.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He lifts one finger up, jabbing your forehead to push you back down into your seat. “Figure it out with that brain of yours, Y/N.”

For a psychologist, you’re not sure why it suddenly bothers you that he’s using your real name instead of the usual “sweetheart”. You choose to ignore it, turning the key in the ignition and driving off without another word.

There’s no radio this time or conversation, nothing to drown the awkward silence that hangs in the air. You glance over from time to time at almost every red light, but Toji’s expression remains the same. Eyes closed, his head leaning against a fist propped up along the door, just a resting stoic face. Fuck, even that’s a good look for him.

Your eyes trace lines down from his pointed nose to his chiseled jawline, taking note of how that very jaw clenches every so often or the small movements from under his eyelids. His black hair falls neatly over his face and you imagine how soft it must be to the touch.

Why of all people does the Invisible Man have to be this guy? This incredibly sculpted, god of beauty and sexual ferocity with a slutty little waist to match.

No matter how hard you try to avoid it, you’re slipping, and you know it. The longer this goes on, the harder you find it to continue trying to deny the obvious here. So deep into denial that you don’t even realize the web of red silk you’re ensnared upon.

BEEEEP.

“Shit,” you mutter, pressing on the gas pedal all too quickly as evident from the tires squealing. Toji muffles out a laugh and you spot a faint smile creeping up his face from the corner of your eye.

Damn him. If it weren’t for the fact that he’s a murderer, he’d be exactly your type of guy. You’re still reeling from his earlier comments, knowing he does have a point.

You’re an FBI agent, out in the field. At some point, you will be the one pulling the trigger and ending someone’s life. You understand perfectly well his line of thinking about justice and all, but when you’re the one standing on that threshold, it’s different, and you aren’t sure if you’re truly ready to cross the boundary.

“Where are we off to now?” he questions, and you’re at least thankful he dropped his attitude.

“A bar.”

“Oohh,” he snickers. “You trying to win me over with some alcohol? Good luck with that, I don’t get drunk.”

“I’m not doing this for your entertainment, I’m doing this for the case.” Your fingers anxiously tap the leather of the wheel. “I am going to ask you though to play along with my idea.”

He raises a brow all too eagerly, “What would that be, sweetheart?”

You swallow the lump in your throat before speaking, “…Pretend we’re dating.” You refuse to look at him after, not wanting to see whatever look is plastered on his face. Unbeknownst to you, he’s actually surprised.

“Don’t take it the wrong way.” You immediately cringe at your meek tone, knowing full well it’s his fault. “All of our victims have had alcohol in their system prior to their deaths, so it might be safe to assume a bar is where they find their targets.”

“And you want me to be your date, why?” he asks with that same annoying teacher tone he used on you earlier. How can one person be so insufferable and alluring at the same time?

“Our suspect is the Cupid Killer. They likely only go after men who are obviously in a relationship with someone. The bar we’re going to is having a Valentine’s Day special, which makes it a prime location our suspect could be in.”

“Smart,” he hums with approval. Does this mean you get that extra credit now? “You’ll have to be the one to treat me since the bureau locked all my cards.”

“Fine, but only because it’s covered under my expenses.” You roll your eyes, finishing the drive in silence until pulling up a few blocks away from the bar, intent on walking the rest.

As you come around to the sidewalk, Toji gets right up at your side and places his hand on the small of your back. Before you even have a chance to protest, his mouth is hot on your ear whispering, “Don’t forget that you asked for this.” His voice sends a shiver down your spine that doesn’t go unnoticed. It’s in his nature to not overlook a single detail after all.

If you only knew what else he knows, then it would be a real treat. From the way your thighs subconsciously squeeze when he violates your personal space to the hitching of your breath when he leans in close. He knows all too well what you won’t allow yourself to feel, and for that, he has a plan.

You make sure to send a message to your coworker, Kento, about having reached the destination. He’s like the Angela Montenegro of your division with his computer skills, always keeping a lookout over you in and out of work. You hate the ideologies of “work husband/wife”, but Kento’s become a “work dad” to you, without all the issues.

Toji’s taken on the role of a pretend boyfriend better than expected, making sure to open the door of the bar for you to enter, and even taking off your jacket to hang. He takes your hand and leads you over to some empty stools at the bar, tapping the counter to make his order.

The venue itself is louder than you’d prefer but go figure. There’s a crowd of couples celebrating the day of love. The lights were all shades of red and hot pink, and the music consisting solely of love songs.

The bartender returns shortly with drinks in hand, passing them to you both. You can easily tell he’s tired given the eyebags present and the disheveled bangs that hang loosely down over the tattoo across the bridge of his nose. His ghostly pale skin making a sharp contrast to the rest of him.

You take this chance to scan the rest of the bar, using your profiling experience to draw up any possible suspects from the groups present. Nothing too major strikes your fancy so far, but the night is early, and happy hour has only just begun.

“You should keep your eyes on me, sweetheart.” You snap your head to the assassin, ready to protest before he interrupts with two fingers under your chin, “You want to show off how in love~ you are with me, don’t you?”

“If it weren’t for this whole thing I’d be spilling this drink over your face,” you spit, ignoring the fiery aftermath of his touch against your skin. It’s just the alcohol, not him. You shouldn’t even be drinking on the job!

“Ouch, am I not your type?” He feigns hurt feelings. “No…that’s not it.” He corrects himself, eyes burning into you as though he’s the shrink in this totally fake couple. “You’re just frustrated is all, I can tell.”

That’s it, I’m done.

Your hand attempts to move on its own, ready to follow up with your threat until his own locks around yours. “Aht aht, sweetheart,” he purrs with a salacious smile.

“Why are you like this?”

“What can I say? You interest me deeply.” He closes the distance between you both without breaking contact with your eyes. Obsidian swallowing his green pools, fuck ─ even his eyes are hypnotizing!

He allows his lips to ghost over your own for a moment before grazing your cheeks on a path up to your earlobe. “How can I not be when a girl as pretty as you also had the balls to put a hit out on herself, all for me?” He licks his bottom lip afterwards, watching the goosebumps trail down your neck before pulling back.

You try and hide your flustered expression with the drink in hand, but you’re too late as always when it comes to Toji. Remember the part about him never overlooking details? All in the job description.

“I had to do something to get your attention,” you say in defense. “We were all freaking out when you suddenly popped back into existence after a stagnant five years. What’s the deal with that anyways?”

All of a sudden, his eyes went dark. The twinkle he had in eyes before extinguished and replaced with coldness. Or maybe loneliness? “That isn’t your business.” His voice drops an octave and for once instead of misplaced arousal, there’s some actual fear present in your core.

“Hey at least you aren’t denying it this time,” you tease. “Too bad I’m not recording this time around.”

He ignores you, taking a long swig of his drink. You watch the way his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, resting your head against your hand on the counter. While his brows knit together, you can make out the faint little crinkles forming around his eyes for someone of his age. He’s not old ─ no, but he’s at least in his thirties and most likely doesn’t have a strict skincare routine like you.

Your attention is drawn to the newest song playing overhead, “Lover’s Rock” by TV Girl. Toji must’ve noticed your interest for how quickly his mood shifts and you find your hand encased with his own.

Are you sick of me? Would you like to be?

I’m trying to tell you something. Something that I already said.

He pulls you out onto the dancefloor, intertwining your fingers together with his free hand on your waist. Yours settles on his ridiculously large bicep. Does he stuff himself with steel? Throw a jacket and shades on him and you’ve got yourself a living, breathing Terminator.

You like a pretty boy. With the pretty voice.

Who’s trying to sell you something. Something that you already have.

You could feel him softening up as you find your pace, letting him twirl you around between the other couples like you’re his doll. The look on his face remains nearly unreadable each time you meet his jade eyes.

But if you’re too drunk to drive. And the music is right.

She might let you stay. But just for the night.

The longer you stare, the more you catch glimpses of the emotions he won’t share. Curiosity. Confliction. Affection. Hurt. Love. Grief. It’s as though his body is actively fighting against them surfacing in order to steer away from vulnerability. You see it all too clearly. Behind those mesmerizing orbs lies pure heartfelt honesty.

And if she grabs for your hand. And drags you along.

His lips meet yours in an instant, closing the window view to his soul in the blink of an eye. You didn’t fight it, how can you? It felt like time had stopped and the universe only consisted of you and Toji, side by side like two neutron stars spiraling inwards to meet the other in a phantasmal display of cosmic power.

Even your traitorous pussy is firing off gamma-ray bursts in the form of pulses perfectly in sync with the beating of your two hearts as one united being. You’ve officially crossed the event horizon into the singularity. To think you even had a chance to resist his gravitational pull was a foolish dream.

She might want a kiss. Before the end of the song.

Because love…

You push away from Toji who stares back at you through half-lidded eyes swarming with desire. “I-I’ll be right back,” you murmur, rushing off to the nearest restroom.

…burns like a cigarette.

And leave you alone with nothing.

When you made it just outside the restroom, you took one last look to where you left Toji, seeing him talking with some chestnut-haired woman. Jealousy fills your throat, stinging like bile.

And leave you alone with nothing…

Once inside, you waste no time approaching the sink and splashing some cold water on your face. The reflection you find in the mirror looks like you, but her pupils are blown into heart shapes with twinkling little stars of adoration.

Get it together! You clap your cheeks with the palms of your hands. He’s a killer for god’s sake! Anything he’s doing is just a lie to get what he wants (it’s not, and you know it). Another voice calls out from lower in your body, Oh, but I think I’m in love with this criminal…

Fuck.

You exit the bathroom a few minutes later, sighing heavily as you walk down the dimly lit hallway back to wherever Toji is. Out of nowhere, a hand coils around your wrist, yanking you into one of the storage rooms.

You’re fixing to yell and go for the gun hidden under your shirt, but a large, rough hand clasps itself over your mouth and the other keeps your arm fixed behind you.

“Shh, don’t,” Toji warns in your ear. His body is actively caging you against the wall and you can’t help the fear that bubbles up until the voices outside the room draw your attention.

“Oh, come on~ I think it’ll be fun!” a female starts to speak.

“Baby,” another chimes in, male this time. “I’m not so sure about this.”

“Don’t you want to spice things up a bit? I’m getting a little bored, don’t you want to do something different for once?”

Considering Toji’s urgency, you can only assume this isn’t some normal couple chatting outside. Could it really be the Cupid Killer? If that is the case, then this is your opportunity to arrest them and put a stop to the killings! What is Toji doing!?

You squirm in his grip trying to break free, but he refuses to budge even as you bite down on the hand covering your mouth. The door is slightly ajar and peeking through, you can just barely make out some features of the man. Older, dark hair, glasses maybe too?

“Quick fuckin’ moving unless you’re trying to start something with me,” he groans. You’re unsure what he’s getting at, but after he adjusts his body, a heavy weight along your back tells you all you need to know. He exhales deeply, and the heat of his breath hits your neck all at once like a dragon fanning flames.

When the coast is clear, he spins you around so your back is against the wall, arms planted on either side of your head. Even in the dark, you can make out the starved eyes ready to eat you up for dinner.

“Toji, what the fuck was that about?” you whisper-shout at him, your anger evident. “If that was the killer, then we could’ve done something, we had the chance to!”

“You really want to confront them in a public place and put the lives of others at risk? You think a virgin like you can handle that?”

“I could’ve called for backup or better yet, let you at them since you’re so experienced! Since when do you care about the lives others anyways?” Your patience is dangling by a thread. “Have you spent the past five years being a saint or something? Huh? Do enlighten me, or better yet I’m sure I can do it myself now that I’ve gotten the chance to know you.”

“Cut it out,” he growls, pulling harshly on your wrist as he exits the closet space. He leads you out through the main area of the bar, seemingly uncaring to what others might think watching you both.

“Let go of me!” you futilely attempt to pry his fingers off with your own. He doesn’t so much as spare you another look as you’re taken out of the bar and led in the opposite direction away from your car. “Where do you think you’re taking me?”

“Be a good girl and shut up until we’re there.” He exchanges his grip around your wrist to that of your hand, encasing it perfectly inside his own. It’s odd, but you’re too distracted by whatever’s going on to think much about it.

“What if I don’t want to? I don’t have to listen to you, I’m the one calling the shots here.”

His head snaps your way with a petrifying glare. “If you want to be a brat, then I’ll treat you like one. You’d do well to take my advice.” You click your tongue spitefully in response, the one part of you not turned to stone by his eyes.

The man’s as stubborn as the Cretan bull with horns to match. Having a gun and a badge don’t make you the next Theseus either. You’re sure Toji could easily take down a Minotaur with his own hands and walk away scot-free.

The tension between you two now is thick enough that you’d need a chainsaw to cut cleanly through, but you refuse to be the one pulling the startup cord to do so. Well, at least until you see where he so insistently dragged you along to.

“Toji?” You act innocent, pretending you’re not surprised while blinking upwards at the neon sign overhead. “Why the hell did you bring me to a love hotel?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Not really.”

“Tch, then act like you do.”

He releases your hand and pulls flush against his body at your waist, ushering you inside. The worker at the front desk is quick to greet you both. “One night, preferably somewhere quiet,” Toji says to them as he leans over the counter pretending to whisper, “This one’s got a tendency to scream.” He winks, and your jaw goes completely slack.

I’m going to kill him; I really am.

The receptionist passes you a look of…pity? Jesus fucking Christ.

“Toji~ don’t say something like that, it’s embarrassing!” You laugh it off while at the same time digging your elbow into his side, "I keep telling him the clit doesn't need to be pounded on like a trampoline, but at least he can figure out where it is on his own now!” You smile innocently to the worker, not even bothering to whisper.

“W-what name for the room?” they ask with an awkward look on their face. You’re sorry to put this person just doing their job in the middle, but someone has to humble Toji. Paybacks a three-folded bitch.

“Fushiguro,” he responds, pulling out your wallet to pay from your back pocket. You did say you’d be charging the bureau but you’re not going to enjoy explaining this one charge to your boss.

They hand you a key which Toji snatches up, wasting no time in pushing you on your way. The room itself was exactly what you expect a love hotel to look like, especially around Valentine’s Day.

Red satin or velvet everything, rose petals scattered on the floor and bedding, various red and pink sex toys lined up. There’s even a clothing rack with several costumes to choose from if you’re into that.

Toji pushes past you, shutting himself away inside the bathroom. You figured he might try and say something to defend his masculinity, but not saying anything at all worries you even more.

Moments later you hear the shower kick on, so you opt to lay down on the heart-shaped bed to wait, letting Kento know what’s up and ordering a room service pizza delivery.

He comes out after around ten minutes, still drying his damp hair with one towel while another loosely hangs off his waist. Oh sweet Adonis. If you thought he was attractive before, then you’re in the presence of the almighty now.

Every inch of his skin is a perfect ratio of muscle, scars, and veins. Even his abs have abs that all trail down the V-shaped landing strip barely visible above the hem of the towel. Phidias himself would have a field day with his body. You’re surprised there isn’t any steam radiating off him, but a peek into the bathroom behind him doesn’t reveal any foggy mirrors.

What the fuck am I doing?

You roll away to face the wall, hoping it might stop the incessant meows coming from your body. You’re supposed to hate him, not want to fuck him!

Clearing your throat, you brush away those indecent thoughts. “So…Fushiguro, huh? Care to explain that?”

“Not really.” He stops short of the bed, tossing the towel in his hands somewhere else in the room. You can feel his presence hovering over you, but you refuse to look. You know if you do, then something inside you will snap.

“Look Toji. If you don’t want to talk to me, that’s fine, I get it,” you sigh. “But figure your shit out so we can work together properly and catch our killer.”

“You still can’t see it with that brain of yours?”

“Huh? What do you even mea- hey!” His hand latches onto your ankle, pulling you to the foot of the bed. You’re about to kick him but instead make the mistake of looking into his eyes first and once again you find yourself at the other end of Medusa’s stone-cold glare.

“Do you think I’m stupid? Do you honestly believe I would be careless enough to be captured by the FBI if I didn’t have a reason?”

“I don’t know, Toji! W-we all just assume you’ve gotten rusty.”

“What do you think, Y/N. I don’t give a shit what your coworkers think of me.” He tilts his head, drawing himself ever closer to you. “I know you’re smart enough to see my intentions.”

“Toji, I-I can’t…” You move to cover your face with your hands, but Toji stops you, holding them above your head. He raises one leg up onto the bed, effectively caging you under him.

“You can’t, or you don’t want to?” The towel conveniently slips off, pooling on the floor. “’Cause there’s a big difference there, sweetheart.”

Fuck, fuck, this is too much!

“I-I just ─ I can’t, this is wrong!”

His eyes swirl with a dangerous mix of mischief and desire, and Aphrodite help you if it doesn’t turn you on more. “If you really want me to stop then I will, no questions asked; but I don’t need to be a shrink to read what your body is telling me.”

The moment you feel his breath fanning your lips, that very something you were worried about snapping, snaps. Your lips part way like a glimmer of green for Toji and he’s on them in a second, kissing and suckling on the plush tissue like he’ll never have another chance.

His tongue swipes your bottom lip, as if he’s asking for an invitation inside. You oblige, greeting him at the entry with your own and soon finding the taste to be just as intoxicating as the rest of him.

The hand bounding your wrist releases and you’re quick to find purchase around the back of head. His hair even while wet is just as soft as you imagined it would be. Soon, you feel the tip of the Hydra’s head rub against the fabric of your pants, begging for some form of relief to come.

Toji pulls away with a clear string of dew still connecting you two as one, observing you through half-lidded bedroom eyes and a wolfish grin. This must’ve been how Psyche felt when she first laid eyes on Eros, completely enamored by his beauty.

His thick fingers come down, doing away with the buttons of your shirt to reveal the golden fleece lace of your bra hidden inside. You turn away, cheeks turning a delicate shade of flustered. “Aht aht, eyes on me, sweetheart.”

Begrudgingly, you face him once more eliciting a “Good girl” from the man, sending straight pulses down to your pussy. His voice is laced with sin and if getting off to it makes you a sinner, then you’ll gladly become one.

Toji can’t help the groan that escapes his throat once your bra and free and off to the side. With your chest in full view he purrs, “So pretty.” before the padding of his thumb circles in on one of the buds.

“Toji~” you mewl, trying to tilt your hips over his knee to relieve the pressure building between your thighs, growing ever more desperate for his touch.

“Shh, I’m getting there.” He licks a stripe up your earlobe, nibbling on the soft flesh. “Don’t be impatient or I’ll stop right here,” he warns, but it’s a false threat. If you brain wasn’t so foggy you could see that, but unless you actively tell him no, he isn’t stopping for anything now.

His lips find their way across your jawline, moving down your throat and leaving behind blooming red roses in his wake. You throw your head back deeper into the satin sheets once your whole tit is encased in his mouth. Toji lips work wonders on the soft flesh, biting and suckling in ways you never thought you’d gain pleasure from. Sure, you play with your own chest while masturbating, but never has it pushed you to the brim of an orgasm quite like this.

Again you find that Toji never fails to overlook the minor details, even when it comes to your own pleasure so unfamiliar to him, the squirming and the mewls coming out of you are all he needs to see and hear before he’s pulling away and you’re left whining.

“Fuck, Toojjii,” you drawl out with frustration, trying to use his hair as leverage to pull him back. He grabs your wrist, keeping it still in his grip as he brings his mouth up and over your fingers.

Fuck, you could cum just from this sight too. A beauty like Toji and that knowing look he gives while your dainty little fingers swirl around his tongue. His other hand is just rubbing up and down your thigh with feather-light touches. Every time he gets close to your heat, he reverses direction, but every return brings him closer and closer.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Let me hear every pretty noise that mouth of yours can make,” he tells you in the most saccharine tone you’ve ever heard. Truth be told, from the way you sound and call out his name with such neediness, he would’ve busted right then and there had he not relieved himself in the cold shower earlier.

Toji’s fingers loop around the hem of your pants, removing the fabric from your body to join the rest on the floor. He sits himself up, admiring your choice of matching panties that highlight the beautiful curves of your body. With one precise movement, his thumb lands perfectly overtop your pearl.

“What was that you said earlier?” he teases, rubbing patterns into the bundle of nerves and forcing such pretty moans from you. “Tell me, did I find your clit alright? How am I making her feel?” he chuckles deeply and you’re at a loss for words.

God, when you said this man always had a point to prove, this isn’t exactly what you had in mind.

Just when you find yourself on the white cliffs of ecstasy once more, he removes his hand, flashing you a sinister smirk that infuriates you beyond belief. Before you’re able to protest, his fingers hook around the sides of your panties, slowing prying them away from your dripping folds with a look of sheer cockiness all over that stupidly sweet face.

“Look at this pretty cunt drooling for me.” He uses two digits to spread your lower lips, eyes lost on your perfect little hole clenching around nothing. The sight of it makes his own cock twitch with anticipation. “How long have you been walking around all wet like this, hm?”

All day. But you won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

“Since you started touching me.” Is what you muster up.

“That so?”

No. “Y-yeah.”

He shrugs with disbelief. “Whatever you say.” And you should know better than to take him for a fool.

He gathers some slick over his middle finger, resting the tip perfectly over your virgin hole doing all it can to suck him inside. He exhales deeply, closing his eyes for a moment. “Relax, sweetheart. Let me take good care of ya now, okay?”

You nod your head in a frenzy, biting your bottom lip as pushes up into your gummy walls. A couple of your fingers is nothing compared to one of Toji’s size, and you haven’t even gotten to elephant in the room swaying against your leg. With depravity as the pit and his cock as the pendulum, there’s only one way this is going to go.

“So tight for me, I hope I don’t break you.” The sudden pressure that follows his words tells him all he needs to know about how much you enjoy this. He knew you’d be good for him. A challenge at first, but he lives for those. If earning your heart and getting to split you open with his mighty broadsword meant he had to undergo the twelve labors, then so be it. He’ll finish those in record time unseen since 1300 BCE.

With a curl of his finger, he undoubtably finds your g-spot judging by the saccharine gasp that leaves your mouth. Your back arches in a way that puts the golden ratio to shame, for you are the true measure of beauty.

You on the other hand are hit with a wave of embarrassment. Who knew you could make such pornographic sounds? Not you, and it’s such a shock that you feel the need to shield your face with the use of your arm.

Big mistake.

“What’d I tell you before?” he growls, ceasing any and all movement.

“Sorry,” you murmur, uncovering your face. His finger goes back to your sex, circling the entrance methodically.

“Don’t you dare hide away from me. I want to hear you scream for me tonight.”

Who knew being threatened by an assassin in bed could be so damn hot? And here you thought you could deny what your pussy already knew.

You could say he’s punishing you by pumping in an extra finger this time around, but in his experienced mind, it’s high time the prep work really begins with some scissoring action. The added stretch stings like a bitch, contorting your face. Surviving the main event is going to take a miracle from above.

Sensing your slight displeasure, Toji slots his head down between your legs and while maintaining the steady rhythm of his fingers, his lips envelop your clit perfectly, better than any rose toy ever could hope to achieve.

“Toji,” you breathe and to the sailor kissing you up, it’s like the voice of a siren invading his ears. If that’s the case, then he’s more than happy to let you sink those harpy talons into him and take him for everything he’s worth.

For the third time of the evening, the knot in your stomach threatens to burst. Every pump of his fingers is akin to the hammer of a blacksmith working over the searing forge that is your pent-up body. History has it all wrong for Hephaestus is a green-eyed mass of all that is good and far from ugly.

He gambles whether or not to edge you for a third time, but the taste in his mouth is pure ambrosia, and who is he to deny the heavenly gift? In order to not waste a single drop, he removes his finger, fitting his entire face in between your folds. His nose batters against your clit, inhaling the divine smell that sends his eyes rushing to the back of his head with a lengthy groan to follow.

The humming is what sets you off, finally bursting the dam and letting white wash over you like a tidal wave of arousal. He swears he could cum from your face, taste, and screams alone ─ and god does he try so hard to resist flooding your legs and painting the sheets instead of your insides.

You finally come to when a sharp bang clashes against the wall.

“What was that?”

“It’s a love hotel, probably someone who likes it rough.”

He’s completely uncaring, and for all the right reasons. Toji finally has you right where he wants you and he’s going to enjoy every second of it. His tongue is working wonders to clean up all the clear liquid runoff, leaving your pearl with the pop of his mouth.

“Best fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever tasted, sweetheart,” he tells you with such a lewd expression.

You can tell he isn’t lying about that either given your degree of experience. If Toji ever went to college, you’re sure he walked out with a PhD in sex. Hell, at this point it wouldn’t surprise you if he has a Nobel Prize in cunnilingus.

He sees that fucked out face of yours staring up at him with stars in your eyes and little do you realize what you’re doing to him. Every cell in his body is crying out to claim you all for himself, pleading to what little control he has left that without you, there is nothing left for him.

That’s all he needed to hear before the next thing you know, both of your legs are lifted up and over his ridiculously muscled thighs and the 13th wonder of the world falls onto your stomach with a thump.

Shit, how is that behemoth going to fit inside you?

“Don’t worry, I’ll make it fit all nice and snug.”

Great, is he telepathic now?

“T-toji I don’t thi-“

“Shh, sweetheart, please,” he pleas and it’s as much of a shock to you as it is to him to have heard it escape unchecked from his mouth. He really does mean it though ─ and if he has to beg for it, he sure as fuck will. “Just relax for me baby, okay?”

You wearingly nod your head and watch as he pulls back, grazing all the delectable inches over your clit. There’s a trail of white beading left behind that he takes into his fingers, smearing it around the angry crown of the hydra’s head.

And like some crazy sex sonar, it falls perfectly against the entrance to the gates of pussy heaven. Fuck, if this doesn’t prove you two were meant to be together, he doesn’t know what will.

His expression darkness into what could be best described as cunthirsty in nature. “I’m going to ruin you now for anyone else, and you know why?” Your eyes screw shut as his cock bullies its way past the pearly gates. “You’re all mine, sweetheart.”

“Hahh─ fuck!”

“There, there,” he releases the filthiest guttural groan you’ve heard from it yet tonight. “Relax~”

He’s really trying if you can believe it or not. It’s taking everything in his power to rein himself from crashing his hip against your ass in one fell swoop. The sight of his cock splitting the pink seas to disappear inside outshines the beauty of any marble statue or painting.

The stretch is unbelievably insane and has you crying out in your thoughts to the 12 Olympians for mercy.

“Shit, sweetheart, there are no gods here. Only you and me.”

“Nghh, Toji please.”

His thumb comes down over your clit, smoothing you out as he plunges the rest of the way and bottoms out.

“That’s it,” he drawls. “Just like that baby. You’re doing so well taking me all in one go.”

You don’t realize how hard you’ve been gripping the fabric of the sheets until Toji’s hand works its way between. Taking it into his own, he presses your palm down around your belly button and adds some pressure that results in some blissful whimpers from you.

“You feel that?” You nod in response. “Words, sweetheart. I haven’t fucked those out of you just yet.”

“Yes! Fuck, please please.”

“So needy,” he snickers. You thankfully don’t have to say anything more before he’s reading your thoughts again and starts moving his hips back and forth.

Maybe the real challenge of this all is trying not to cum early, your grip is otherworldly. He spots a few tears dotting your cheeks and swipes them away. In the thrill of the moment, he decides to taste those and surprise, they’re just as sweet as the rest of you.

Not even King Arthur himself would be able to pull him out of you now. There’s no going back and all that’s left to truly claim you is to mark you in every way he knows how.

He’s the best kind of weighted blanket the way he hangs on you. One that comes with the added bonus of the plethora of new roses adorning your neck and collar.

“Such a good pussy for me ─ fuck this was worth everything.”

“Mmpfm?” you muffle out incoherently, unable to form a cohesive word when every piston movement has you seeing stars.

“I knew you were gonna be special the moment I saw that ad online,” he groans between thrusts and disheveled breaths, speeding up with every passing moment. “Pretty girl like you throwing herself to the wolves. I f-fucking knew your work before accepting that hit.”

He knew all along!?

This new information hits you like the freight train you were afraid of at the start. He never once became rusty, no ─ he went full dormant like a supervolcano.

“You wanna know why I did that?” His mouth meets yours in a messy kiss, clashing teeth and all before planting his forehead against yours. Those green eyes have long since been swallowed up with black hearts.

“I-hhahd to see what you were like in person. I needed to see just who are for myself.” God, if his moans weren’t some of the prettiest sounds you’ve ever heard. “You’re crazy, you know? Hell, if I ain’t crazy as all fuck for you now.”

“Fuck, fuck, Toji!” you scream as he bites down on your jugular, the moment you’ve been waiting for since the beginning. The maw of the wolf meeting the throat of the perverse bunny loving every minute of this.

“You wanna cum, sweetheart? You gonna let me cum in you? Let me show you who you belong to now?”

There isn’t hardly a second to think as he ruts his hips mercilessly into your core. His once domineering side morphing under the full moon into a pure animalistic nature with all intentions of fucking and claiming you as his. Dark romance novels wish they could achieve what Toji already accomplishes.

“Y-yes, yes─ please Toji, make me yours, please!”

“Good fucking girl.” Is all he manages to exhale before carnal desire takes over and he sinks his teeth back into your neck with a bruising grip.

The groans and warmth that follow in your cunt shoot through you and straight to the heart like it’s your Achilles heel.

You sigh and scream his name a thousand times in a siren song melody that does exactly what he knew you could do for him. Your body shakes and convulses, draining his balls dry and maybe even his soul after when that was all that remained.

For what feels like an eternity after, you’re untethered from the Earth, drifting in a realm of white where the only noise you hear is the synced rhythm of your hearts beating as one.

When you come to following the magnitude 10 orgasm, Toji’s full weight is on top of you his cock buried deeply. You pat his scratched up back (courtesy of you) a few times, but to no avail.

“Toooji~ you’re heavy,” you voice, wincing at the hoarseness of your own throat. Guess he was right about the whole screaming thing.

He groans with disapproval, eventually succumbing when you start pinching the raised crop circles you created. Not wishing to pull out, he simply rolls onto his back, trading places. The next few minutes are spent in silence, still catching each other’s breaths as he rubs his coarse hand up and down your back soothingly.

Post-nut clarity has never him as hard as it has until now.

“Letting myself get arrested by you has to be one the dumbest things I’ve ever done for pussy.”

Is that all he thinks of this as?

You swallow the bitter lump in your throat. “…do you regret it?”

“Not for a second,” his hand finds its way under the chin you’re so desperately trying to hide between the cascading mountains of his chest. “Look at what you’ve done to me, sweetheart.”

There on his face, you find that his eyes are slowly returning to the beautiful green you that so captivated you about him. Beyond that luscious forest of color lies his deeper emotions: adoration, lust, affection, longing, love.

Love.

It really makes people do such stupid things.

A smarter man would’ve avoided getting arrested and instead just asked you nicely to treat you for dinner. Toji’s without a doubt a smart, tactful man. But he exhibits such raw energy to a fault that leads him to believe the thrill of the hunt would be more worth if it means he gets the golden horned hind at the end as opposed to any other frolicking red deer.

It worked out though, for now he’s staked his claim and made his caveman ancestors proud.

“Fushiguro was my wife’s last name,” he tells you, and you can hear the subtle grief in his tone.

“I figured it had to be someone, but you were married? We never saw that in our background check on you.”

“That’s because I’m good at my job,” he huffs. “I kept my wife separate from it all, including any official documents so she could never be traced to me.”

His left hand raises as he takes a moment to observe the empty spot on his ring finger. There’s a faint discoloration around the skin proving the passage of time under the sun. Proving that time with her really did exist.

“If you’re uncomfortable, you don’t have to continue.” You bring your hand up just next to his scar, gliding your thumb over the rough edges.

“My wife, she… passed away during childbirth.” He doesn’t break eye contact now with you, and while the muscles on his face don’t show how he feels, you can see it swirling all around the depths of his eyes. “All I have left of her is my son, Megumi. Our little blessing.”

“I don’t think that’s true, Toji. Not anymore.” He takes his hand and ruffles your hair, knowing what you’re getting at like always with him.

“Truthfully, I think it’s a downright terrible you opted to return to murder to pay the bills, but I’d say Megumi is lucky to have a father that’d go that far for their child’s future.”

It is a cruel thought, but Toji isn’t and probably never has been a normal person. If killing is all you’ve ever known, you understand how hard it can be to find some other purpose in life.

“You know, I almost wasn’t sure I’d even get this far with you, but I’m glad.” He smiles, and it’s one of the most genuine faces you’ve seen him make to date. Toji’s not some psychopathic killer ─ no, he’s someone dealt a shit hand in life doing whatever they can to get through each day like anyone else.

An unstable mind, sure, but also someone with the capability to love another with his whole being and change for the better. Had he not lost his wife, you most likely would never have seen another victim end up as paperwork on your desk.

“What would you have done if it hadn’t work out?” you ask, almost curious if that next victim would’ve been you if your team wasn’t ready to apprehend him, but you already know the answer to that, don’t you?

“If you think any prison could hold me, then you have a lot to learn,” he laughs, lifting you off his cock and resting you at his side. You whine at the empty feeling, making him grit his teeth to not get hard and ruin the moment. “I would be gone that very night and then you’d never see or hear from me again.”

The door knocks a few times, and you panic a bit wondering who it could even be. Reality crawls back from the recesses of your mind reminding you that you’re a government agent, currently fucked to high heaven with a criminal in a love hotel.

Toji hops off the bed, throwing a towel around his waist and he approaches the door without any fear.

“Toji─ wait!”

It’s too late, and he opens the door.

You clutch the sheets over your naked form, looking straight out of the Birth of Venus, holding your breath for whatever comes next.

“You ordered pizza?”

Oh.

You exhale with relief, “Yeah, we really haven’t eaten all day.”

“Really, after all the cream I filled you with?” he teases with the return of that beautifully salacious smile that you find to no longer be as infuriating as before. “I guess I could eat, but I might need you to quench my thirst again.”

You really do hate this man, but god if you didn’t fall pussy first into the depths of Hades and come out unscathed and madly in love.

Love works in mysterious ways.

“Shit, they make these things in heart shapes now?”

You chuckle and it’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard from you, maybe even more than your voice moaning his name.

“Let’s eat and take a bath together, alright? I’m only just getting started with you.”

The morning after comes all too soon, no thanks to your unsilenced phone screaming into the void. Toji has you pinned in a borderline suffocating bear hug that you struggle to move yourself from to reach your phone.

“WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU? I’VE BEEN TRYING TO REACH YOU FOR AN HOUR!?”

More like 15 minutes given the timestamps of the voicemails.

“Sorry, I just woke up. What’s going on?” Toji rumbles from behind you and you pray your boss didn’t hear. Granted, you are responsible for him so you should have him close. Love making closeness, however? Yeah, let’s not try and explain that to your boss.

“What’s going on is that we’ve got another victim. Get over to the Rose Garden Park. Now.”

“Shit!” You toss your phone to the side, slapping Toji’s unnecessarily large forearm. “Come on, wake up pillow princess.”

“Five more minutes.”

“No can do or I’ll get fired, let’s get moving.”

Toji releases you, but not without serenading you with his morning huskiness paired with a deep heavy groan. The sound of it sends goosebumps shooting down your spine at lightning speed.

Standing proved to be a challenge on par with Toji himself. It’s nearly impossible to flex any singular muscle without some sort of pain from the ten-inch semi that ran you over again, and again, and a third time for good measure the night before.

If you thought his morning groans were hot, the dark laugh he lets out as he watches you struggle makes you consider up and quitting from the FBI right then and there. Sadly, you don’t, because you do love your job. Well, that and the student loans knocking for their reimbursement and an extra dozen zeros of interest. Gotta love college.

“Come on, Toji.” You throw his clothes onto the morning wood tent pitching the sheets. “Get up already.”

“What, no breakfast in bed? Here I was hoping to wake up to some cake on my face,” he teases with the most shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen on someone.

“You can have that later during a conjugal visit if you’re a good boy, I can’t lose my job right now.”

“I’ll keep you to that then.” He winks, you roll your eyes.

While you’re still finishing up, Toji’s out of bed, cleaned, dressed, and ready to go. It’s not fair women are the ones left needing a cane after sex.

Out in the lobby, you end up passing by a familiar sight from the bar, aka the chestnut-haired woman that approached Toji following your earth-shattering kiss.

You can only assume that since she’s here that she must’ve gotten lucky with some other guy instead of yours truly. Why would anyone go to a love hotel of all places alone, after all?

This time around, Toji’s certain you’ll let him drive, but to his disappointment, that answer’s still no. It doesn’t matter how much of a limp he gave you; he can drive his own car if he ever gets the chance to again.

FBI and CSU are already covering the scene as you pull in, including some familiar faces that make the job worth every minute.

“Y/N!” one of the men shouts, rushing to give you a hug like an LDR’s first meetup. You’re quick to block his attempt, given the mess of dirt and evidence on his jumper.

“Uhh, ew Satoru. Did you forget where you are?”

“’Course not, but I haven’t seen you in like forever.” He rolls his eyes, playing dramatic as always, but you love him either way.

Satoru reminds you a lot of Jack Hodgins, even going so far as to perform the same career roles in analyzing evidence ─ crazy experiments and all. He and Suguru go way back and are set to be married soon.

“We literally just saw each other yesterday.” You shake your head, but with a playful smile tugging at your lips. The man behind you clears his throat, diverting your attention back to the case at hand. “So what do we got?”

“Victim’s a young male, likely early twenties.” Your other coworker, Shoko, chimes in. She’s the head of the forensics division for the bureau and one of your closest friends and “sister from another mister”.

“They’ve been dead for roughly 72 hours already, same MO as the rest. No doubt the Cupid Killer’s work.”

Toji brushes past you, crouching near the woman and the body. Your other coworker and intern to Shoko, Utahime, gives him a questionable look before backing away to make room.

“What do you think?” he asks, no doubt intending for you to answer. He doesn’t even look your way but if there’s one thing you’ve learned from throughout this whole ordeal, is that he’s only interested in you and no one else.

He really is all yours. Even his criminal nature is being locked behind rose-tinted glass after a day with the man named Toji instead of the assassin codenamed Invisible Man.

Shit, has it really been only one day and you’re now complete and utterly head over heels for the guy?

Better believe it, sweetheart.

Just what is this deviant god of pleasure and what has he done to you? It wouldn’t surprise you if he came out and said his mother is Aphrodite herself.

All those marks you’re so desperately trying to hide under the collar of your jacket from the FBI weren’t for nothing. Not to mention how Toji’s back looks like a grizzly bear used him instead of a tree to mark their territory. That, and the plethora of roses you nipped and sucked to life across the expanse of his chest and abs he so wishes he could show off to the world.

“You’re all mine…”

Just remembering those words sends heat right to your kitty who’s actively purring and meowing this very moment.

Toji clears his throat, pulling you from your thoughts and reminding you that now is not the time to get all hot and bothered again. Least you’re not denying it anymore, that’s a step up from yesterday.

The crime scene for today is a public park with the victim placed upright on one of many benches with a view of a lake. His clothes are disheveled giving way to an empty chest cavity. There’s also the unnatural placement of genitals as with all the rest. At his side are a bouquet of red roses and baby’s breath ─ a classic romantic gesture ─ placed neatly in the crook of his elbow.

“I have to say, it looks a lot like they’re waiting for a date to arrive, but given the time of death, this one is staged as always.” You move closer to Toji’s side, using his shoulder as leverage while simultaneously ignoring Satoru’s questionable eyebrow at your obvious limp. “It’s a message of some sorts, like with all the rest of the victims.”

“What else do you see?”

“What else?” you say, confused.

You’re not missing anything are you? What could you possibly be missing. Toji sighs, but for once he won’t give you the cold shoulder over it. He points his finger out first at the chest, and then to empty groan.

What’s there to see that no one else would have? Unless it doesn’t quite pertain to physical evidence but something more psychological─

Oh.

“Fuck, how did I not see this before?” Toji stands up, looking at you expectantly. “The Cupid Killer isn’t one person. There has to be two.”

“Two? What makes you say that?” Satoru questions.

“Look at his thighs!” You snap on a pair of gloves, prodding your fingers along the flesh. “There’s knicks all along the skin; they weren’t careful ─ no, it’s completely rushed. They were angry when they did this but then look here!”

All eyes follow your hand up to the opening of the chest cavity. “It’s too clean, too careful. If all the killer wanted to do was exact revenge, why take such precautions to not damage the heart? If you even had the means to cleanly cut a heart out, why destroy the penis and everything around it in the process?”

“So why does that mean two killers then? I thought we established the hearts were trophies, so wouldn’t they need to be careful for that?”

“She’s right, it does makes sense,” Shoko interrupts. “The technique is different. The heart was cleanly removed with all the proper saws and cutters, but the rest is an amalgamation of whatever they had on hand, even with the previous victims.”

“The Ferris wheel too, that’s why you got all upset, Toji!” You paused, starting to pace back and forth as the thoughts kept coming. “One person would’ve struggled carrying a body, but two? That’s why the evidence is so minimal and without any scuffs on that body to get them up the stairs.”

“Good girl,” Toji praises, ruffling the crown of your head. “Now you’re seeing it like I knew you could.”

“Shit, so there’s two of these psychos running around?” Satoru hugs his own arms with a grimaced face.

“We still don’t know what the relationship of the two killers are just yet, but we should assume they’re all in on this.”

“Y/N! Toji!” Your boss bellows as he marches over, stomping along the way. “I hope you’re doing something instead of fucking around, why haven’t we caught the bastard yet?”

Fucking around? That’s exactly what we did last night.

It’s more fucked up that your boss expected a killer in handcuffs placed in front of his desk at the end of the day though.

“Sir, we’ve just made a breakthrough in the case,” you tell him excitingly.

“I don’t need breakthroughs, I need suspects! I need arrests! Something already to calm the public!” he shouts, uncaring to the commotion he’s causing.

“Sir-“

“No, I need to see some results, and fast. You too, Toji. I’m not letting you run around for fun. I’ll put those cuffs back on you myself if this keeps up.”

“Your agent’s got everything under control, so why don’t you go back to your cozy air-conditioned office and wait for good news.” He glares, ready to wage a war if need be for your sake, Ares help him.

“Don’t you talk back to me, I couldn’t care less about you rotting away in some cell,” he bites back, and you know Toji won’t take that lightly.

Before something irreversible happens, you take his wrist as tight as you can, dragging him back to your car. You plop down into the driver’s side with a thump, slamming the door in the process.

“Fuck!” you snap, hitting the steering wheel.

Toji on the other hand settles in without a hint of that earlier anger. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“I will be if I don’t get fired,” you sigh. “I can’t mess this up, Toji. I’m finally out in the field doing something interesting. If I mess this up I’ll be stuck in interrogation rooms until retirement.”

Toji’s hand settles on your shoulder and gives a reassuring squeeze.

“You’ll be fine, sweetheart. Just keep using that head of yours, the answers are already there, I promise you.”

How would you even know that?

You both go silent, staring forward while you think and tap the wheel a thousand times over with your index. Eventually, a lightbulb blinks above your head like a divine prophecy.

“If our killer has medical experience, then…” You dial a number on your phone, turning it to speaker. “Kento! Can you run a search for any former doctors or nurses in the area that could have any reason to resort to violence? Firings, complaints, accidents, anything.”

“Sure thing, give me just a moment… Alright, I’m sending you over some photos.”

“There!” You point one out to Toji. “Dr. Mafune, I only saw a glimpse, but I’m sure; he was at the bar yesterday when we were in the closet!”

Kento clears his throat, “Dr. Mafune was a surgeon at a small local hospital, but after an unrelated accident, the hospital was sued and shut down afterwards.”

“That’s as good a motive as any, and perfect experience for knowing how to remove hearts.”

“This is where it gets interesting. His daughter, Katsura, is the widow of the first victim we found. She worked in the building with her father while training to become a scrub nurse.”

It’s her! The chestnut-haired woman!

“Send me the address of the hospital, we’re going to go check it out. Thanks, Kento.” You throw your phone down, wasting no time in kicking the car alive and pulling out.

“Sweetheart, I’m all for indulging you, but are you sure about this?”

“Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet now?” You spare him a glance, flipping the emergency lights on. “I have to get them before they kill another. Katsura was at the bar and the love hotel, I know you saw both. She probably has another victim ─ and that hospital is bound to be their workshop if it’s abandoned!”

“You’re ballsy, I’ll give you that,” he chuckles, lowering his hand to grip your thigh. It’s possessive but fuck if you weren’t on the job, you’d have pulled the car over for a quickie.

“You should know that already from the first time you met me. Think mine are bigger than yours, tough guy?”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t push it.” He rolls his eyes playful, squeezing your thigh tighter. “We both know the answer to that after I let you play with them.”

It’s a careless decision going in without backup and you know it. A part of you continuously is screaming “don’t do it!” but you’re too deep now.

Balls deep, you might say.

Ha.

Here at your side is the Invisible Man. The man who conquered the underworld, one perfect crime after another. How on Earth could anything possibly go wrong?

The parking lot to the building is empty, save for some scrapped vehicles polluting the area, but you know better than any that that doesn’t mean the killers aren’t just parked somewhere else. Even if they are, this must be the hideout. You’re positive.

You jump out the car, pulling out a bulletproof vest from the trunk and throwing it on. There is a spare that Suguru would use, but in no way would it fit Toji’s physique. Hopefully his muscles actually are bulletproof like the nemean lion.

“Slow down, sweetheart.” Toji grabs you and twirls you back to his chest. “Don’t go rushing in when you don’t know what’s inside.”

You pout, but he’s right. Running in now would be a dumb decision like no other that could result in your own untimely demise. Better to let the professional head inside first.

He gives you the signal, wordlessly calling you forward. It doesn’t look like much at first, just a regular old, abandoned hospital. Things are tossed around, broken with graffiti on the walls, but so far, it’s quiet. But is that really a good thing when there could be a life at stake?

The two of wander down a hallway together, and there you come across the operating rooms. The doors are busted down, but the inside is exactly what you were hoping to find.

The killers’ workstation.

No signs of life as far as you can tell, but the tools are all there and the walls stained with dried blood.

“Holy shit,” you murmur. “We found it, Toji! The Cupid Killers were here–“

POP. POP.

Toji’s body encases you in a heartbeat, shielding you from the gunfire. You hardly register what’s happening before Toji snags one of your guns straight out of your holster, aiming it at the woman in the doorway.

“I knew you’d come find me. You just couldn’t stay away ─ huh, big guy?” The woman’s sultry voice hits you like cheap perfume sprayed over rotting food.

Toji’s unresponsive, staring down Katsura through the iron sight of the gun. Another voice chimes in from behind her, and you recognize it straight away from the closet, “Katsura, don’t waste this moment.”

“Why are you doing all of this?” you ask from behind Toji. He has his free arm stretched out to keep you where you are, blocking you from the Cupid Killers.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m getting my revenge.” Her lips stretch into a sadistic smile. “My husband thought he could get away with it ─ keeping secrets for so long from me and all. When I was laid off, I came home from work early to find him in our bed with another woman. Can you believe it!”

“I had to do what any reasonable woman would.” She waves the gun around playfully, laughing maniacally. “I killed him, stuffed his dick down his throat where it belongs, and had daddy here steal his heart for me. It’s only fair since mine was stolen and then crushed.”

“Why the others then?” you hiss. “What did they do?”

“They’re all cheaters, every one of them. It’s insane how many men are so willing to throw away their relationships for a night with me. I had to punish them.”

Your plan at the bar worked perfectly then. Toji was geared up to be his next victim thinking you were a happy couple. Would he have fallen for her thirst trap? Or did he figure out she was the killer from that interactive alone? Probably the latter if you had the guess. That asshole (affectionate) reads people better than you ever hope to.

“I knew muscle man over here had to be special, I even tried to convince my dad to let you in on the fun too after you ran away from his love to cower in the bathroom.” At this point her cackles closely resemble that of a hyena, and they only laugh like that before they attack.

“You don’t know how excited I got hearing you two through the walls at the hotel after. I can’t wait to join your hearts together after I kill you both.”

“Katsura, we really should–“

“Why stage all the bodies? What part of your revenge did that serve?”

“Those locations all meant something to me once upon a time. The Ferris wheel we shared our first kiss, the park where he proposed to me, the home we shared. Every memory is being painted in blood to start the canvas anew!”

Toji looks over his shoulder at you, twirling his finger around his head as a not-so-subtle drag at her pure insanity.

“The only one dying here today are you both.”

“Catch me if you can then, honey!” She bolts right as Toji fires a round. Never knew Toji could miss a shot.

“Stay here for me, sweetheart,” he tells you, but before he can leave you grab him with everything you’ve got.

“Toji! Your arm!”

His white sleeve is stained in red, trickles of blood following his thick veins down his arms. The fabric is torn in the areas, no doubt from when he meat shielded you from harm.

“I’ll be fine, it’s just a scratch.” His smile reassures you but doesn’t fill the pit that’s formed from the haunting sight.

He got shot. For you. Like literally, jumped in front of you, and took not one, but two bullets for you.

All because you got cocky and carried away being side by side with the self-approved strongest man on the planet instead of calling for backup.

Toji plants a kiss on your forehead and in the sudden shock of it all, you let go, and he runs out the room.

Get it together! a voice shouts from within you. You’re the FBI agent here! This is your job!

“Fuck,” you mumble, shooting a backup request to Kento and charging out after Toji.

There’s no sign of him or the killers anywhere as you aimlessly go through the halls, peeking into every room along the way. You pass by a directory board along the way which you stop to scan.

Room 214: Dr. Mafune – Cardiology

“Bingo.”

Unaware to you, Toji had caught up to Katsura in another part of the hospital. Both stand opposite of each other on a bridge overlooking the lower floors of the building.

“You can always dump her for me, you know? I’ll treat you real good.”

“I already told you once.” He stalks closer to the girl with a growl. “You’re not my type.”

“That’s too bad, we would’ve made a good couple.”

She raises her gun, ready to claim her next victim but her speed is nothing compared to Toji. In one lightning-fast motion, her arm is snapped and the gun disarmed. Before she can even react to the pain, he’s coiled around her neck in a chokehold.

Toji brings her to her knees, taking the gun in his free hand and pressing the muzzle into her temple. “Don’t think we’ll be having any second dates after today; I’m already spoken for.”

POP.

You hesitate just outside the male cupid’s office upon hearing the gunfire, praying to everything you believe in that Toji’s okay. Inside the room, it’s empty of any people, but behind the desk are shelves containing 12 hearts floating in jars all their own.

“Holy shit.”

You lower your weapon, stepping past the threshold and into the room to get a closer look.

“Don’t move,” a voice hits you from behind.

Turning your head slowly, you see Dr. Mafune standing a few feet behind with a gun pointed at your head.

“What, no bow and arrow for the Cupid Killers?” you tease. “Put your weapon down and hands behind your head.”

“You’re not the one calling the shots here.” You’re locked in a staring contest with the man, breaking the standstill as you draw your weapon. There’s a loud pop of fire followed by the telltale metallic smell coating the air.

The killer turns to run and you start after him only to be stopped by a blistering pain resonating from your shoulder.

“Shit, I’m hit.” Your jaw clenches as you fight through to pain to give chase. You’re so close, fight it!

Dr. Mafune doesn’t get far before you catch up. “Freeze! I will shoot you!”

He stops, slowly turning to face you.

“My wife left me with my dear Katsura for another man. When my baby came to me after killing her husband in a blind rage, I helped her like any father would.” He looks down the line of the barrel into your eyes, behind his clear-coated eyes, you find a whole lot of pain and zero regret. “I made it look like it was an accident, but then she wanted to go further, make others pay for their crimes. Of course I had to help. I love Katsura with all my heart.”

“Why tell me all this now?” Your breathing is turning erratic with every passing second. There’s a feeling of coldness spreading outwards from your shoulder that’s becoming harder to ignore as well.

“You won’t be making it out of here alive.”

It was then that time felt like it slowed down, almost to a complete stop. You could see Dr. Mafune raising his gun, but the trigger of your gun weighed more than the world on Atlas’ shoulder.

This is it. This is the boundary where you decide if you’re capable of ending another’s life. The only sound you hear is that of your heart beating a mile a minute. All until the crashing wave that is Toji slams into your body as a copper bullet comes flying at you.

Time resumes in an instant, and all the noise in the room returns.

“You trying to get yourself killed, sweetheart? Never hesitate or you will lose.”

Toji rushes the doctor, shooting out one of his kneecaps to stop any means of easy escape. One large fist comes down the force of titans, shattering bones in the killer’s skull. Blood spatters across Toji’s face all while he grins like the madman that he is, enjoying every second.

Using his foot, he crushes the hand carrying the gun, listening to the agonizing groan like it’s music to his ears. The glasses he had on were long since shattered, slipping off onto the pool of blood on the ground. Toji’s fingers coil around the hairs of the doctor, dragging his body through the puddle until he’s placed right in front of you.

“Time to lose your other v-card, sweetheart.” His face lights up with amusement ─ funny given the situation at hand.

“I…” you shudder, looking between the bloodthirsty assassin and the serial killer. You can barely feel the tips of your fingers as you raise the gun, feeling it tremble in your weak hands. The gun unceremoniously falls into your lap. “I can’t.”

“That’s too bad,” Toji sighs, swiping his tongue across his bottom lip. “Guess the fun’s all mine then.”

It was then that you spot a reflective glint from the sleeve of the doctor ─ a glass syringe. It drops into the killer’s good hand and turns to aim right at Toji. Every ounce of muscle in your body screams as you raise your gun back up, finger on the trigger.

You decide then and there that Toji is someone worth saving. If it means being responsible for taking the life of another, then so be it. You can’t let Toji die. The weight of the world is gone and the trigger’s weight turned light as a feather.

POP. POP. POP.

Toji’s eyes widen at the scene, releasing his grasp on his man and watching the staggering amount of blood pool around his feet. The broken syringe is all he needed to see for it to click.

“Nice shot,” he whistles. “I should kiss you for that…sweetheart?”

You can’t bring yourself to speak and your vision is tunneling to black. Toji’s kneeling in front of you shouting, but you can’t hear a single word. It took him all too long to notice the blood coming from your shoulder and he curses himself for letting the bloodlust distract him from your pain.

Your body is pulled flush against his chest, one hand tucked around your back and the other applying pressure to the wound.

He’s so warm.

Shit… is this what dying feels like?

This sucks, but hey ─ I lived pretty a good life, I guess.

Even got the chance to fall in love…

. . .

I wish I could still see him; I’m gonna miss that sweet face.

I’ll miss you, Toji…

Thanks for showing me true love.

. . .

Beep. Beep. Beep.

“Shh, she’s waking up!”

“Satoru, give her some room to breathe!”

“Both of you need to give her some space.”

Light starts to peek in through your eyelids as the world returns to you. Suguru and Satoru are right there in front of you, Shoko prying the latter back a few steps from you. Kento’s there too, standing by the door with a calm but underlying concerned expression.

“…Guys?”

“How are you feeling?” Shoko asks, looking over your body in full doctor mode.

“Like I was hit by a freight train,” you laugh, recoiling from the pain. “What happened?”

Kento speaks up first, “You were shot, as I’m sure you knew. Thankfully it missed anything vital, but you passed out from the blood loss.”

“Toji?” You shoot up all too fast, but Shoko pushes you (gently) back down. “Where is he? Is he okay!?”

“See for yourself, sweetheart.” The familiar voice fills the room and you swear the heartrate monitor skips a dozen few beats.

“We’ll leave you two to chat.”

“Aww come on, Shoko! I want to stay here!”

“Satoru~ let them have their moment.” Suguru grabs his arm, dragging him out practically kicking and screaming while the other two calmly trail behind.

Toji comes to your side, sitting at the edge of the bed, taking your hand in his. Maybe it’s the morphine high, but he feels even warmer than before.

“You did good out there, sweetheart. Scared the shit out of me though, almost thought you’d die on me.”

“I told you not to underestimate me,” you rasp, flashing him a gentle smile. He brushes his thumb back and forth lovingly, and all the pain you felt disappears. “…Hey, Toji?”

“What’s up?”

“If you’re okay with it, then I’d like to take care of Megumi.” You briefly pause, observing the curious glance he gives you. “He’s going to need someone there while you’re in prison after all; I’d like to be there for him and make sure he lives a good life.”

“You’re a sweet girl, Y/N.” He snorts out of amusement but quickly follows up with a grin that sends warmth straight through your body better than any IV medicine could.

The road to recovery hasn’t been easy, but you’re happy the case of the Cupid Killers is finally put to rest. Your boss is equally happy, despite your headstrong attitude that resulted in you getting shot. That’s an issue for another day.

You haven’t heard much in regards to Toji’s case moving forward, but you’ve gotten to meet Megumi and see how lovely of a boy he is. A sweet young two-year-old with the temperament of an angel. The spitting image of his dad, minus the spiky head of hair.

Today’s your first day back at work, and you couldn’t be more excited despite the tinge of fear from already getting called into your boss’ office. You cautiously enter, sitting down in front of his desk.

“Suguru’s officially going into retirement soon ─ I think he’s jumping the gun ─ but he insists he wants to be there 24/7 for his newly adopted twins to settle in.” He leans forward and presses a call button on his phone, “My office, now.”

“Sir?”

“You’re going to need a new partner from now on. I expect you two to get along and help clear up the backlog of cases we’ve got.”

The door clicks open and you spin in your seat. Whiplash hitting in the form of déjà vu as Toji Fushiguro himself walks in, devoid of any handcuffs or guards. He wolfishly grins at the sight of your bewildered state, taking a seat neat to you exactly how he did the last time you both were in this room together.

“Higher ups made yet another deal. Toji will be working with us now as your very own partner.” Your boss slides a gun and badge across the table which Toji happily accepts. “He’s not out of the clear, so think of this like a special parole. I expect good things from you both.”

“Yes, Sir,” you both respond, this time without any sarcasm or mock salutes. Toji follows you closely back to your new desk of operations, sitting himself down over the oak wood top.

“So, partner,” He lowers his head and at the same, cups your chin turning you upwards to meet his lips with a sliver of space between. “Still wanna raise my kid with me? Let’s make it official, sweetheart.”

☆ Notes: did i go a bit overboard with the greek mythology references? maybe, but in my defense they were all last minute additions for some extra details which btw, jesus christ i went fucking ham for this. the word count baffles even me.

took so fucking long to get this out though. you ever find a fanfic that is so goddamn good and beautifully written that it makes you want to delete everything you've ever done because you feel like you'll never compare? yeah well i found that while writing this. that and i've had migraines every day for like a solid week now, i hate it here.

ANYWAYS, this was a prompt inspired by tojisfanatic based on this artwork

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