#pan says...

Eventually, he traded his seated position at the end of the bed to being curled up in the fetal position upon it. He watched the path of the sun as its beams entered through the high window after sunrise and crossed the floor of the room during the early morning hours. He was numb and emotionally spent, having given over to the terror and tears that had wracked his body for what seemed like hours. Now, he just laid there, staring at the chips and cracks in the floor, without even the energy to chastise himself. What would the point be in that? It wasn’t as though there was anything he could do. No way out of the room, no way to communicate with anyone, no way to help Emma.

Killian clamped his eyes shut and fought back the rising bile his mutinous imagination threatened to bring up. Try as he might to keep the thoughts and visions at bay, he couldn’t help but consider the atrocities Pan might be subjecting her to. He turned his face into the mattress and balled the sheet in his hand, attempting once more to expel the torment of his mind.

The crackle of static from the tv screen grabbed his attention and Killian bolted off the bed. The monitor showed a sterile looking exam room, much like one would find at a physician’s office. Coming into frame from off screen, a Lost One appeared carrying an unconscious Emma in his arms. Killian tensed as he watched him lay her on the exam table, only relaxing when he disappeared out of frame again. The relief was short lived when another man entered, quickly followed by a small statured woman. Both were garbed in medical scrubs, including surgical masks, which obscured their identity.

Killian watched in confused horror as the woman - a nurse? - folded out a pair of stirrups from the end of the table and set Emma’s feet into them. She and the doctor (or at least, Killian hoped he was a doctor) positioned Emma to their liking, covering her lower half with a sheet before the doctor brought over a stool and sat between her spread open legs. Killian watched with shallow breaths and clenched fists as the nurse handed the doctor instruments so he could perform some sort of procedure. When it finally became clear to him, Killian was shocked to realize what he was witnessing.

They were removing her IUD.

Pushing himself away from the exam table, the doctor stood and removed his gloves. There was no audio, but Killian deduced he had given the nurse instructions before departing. It wasn’t until after the man had gone that Killian acknowledged the reason for the extra tension he’d been holding. As violating as the procedure had been, Killian had prepared himself to witness an altogether different kind of violation of his Swan.

Shaken, Killian sat back down and ran his hands through his hair, only vaguely aware Pan had come back on the speaker.

“What?”

“Pan says,” he repeated, “you are not permitted to tell her what you just saw.”

Stunned, Killian blinked several times, letting his mind catch up to the horrors Pan continued to lay before him, then thunderously, he stood and shouted, “You can’t expect me to keep something of this magnitude from her!”

“You will if you want to keep her alive,” Pan stated flatly, sobering Killian and sending a chill down his spine. “Keep this to yourself,” Pan warned again. “Or your punishment will be paid by her… with her life.”

~/~

Emma sat on a tiny cot with her knees pulled up to her chest. The hospital gown they’d given her the day before was stiff and scratchy against her skin, but at least she was no longer cramping.

Pan had told her that she would be the one punished, because she had been the instigator in her and Killian’s “dalliance”. The price for such an offense… she had to have her IUD removed, and she had to keep its removal a secret from Killian.

“You can’t expect me to keep something like that from him!” she’d protested, yelling up at the speakers embedded in the ceiling of her new, tiny cell.

“If you do not,” Pan had warned her coldly, “Then I will force Killian to pay the price… with a pound of his flesh.”

When the doctor had come in to talk with her before the procedure, she’d learned he was one of Pan’s poor unfortunate victims as well, forced to serve as the demented imp’s medical errand boy. He seemed professional enough, though perhaps a bit arrogant. His brash demeanor shifted though when Emma asked him what Pan had meant by “a pound of flesh.”

Swallowing hard, the platinum haired man exhaled deeply before confessing, “It could mean a variety of things. Having an organ removed so it can be sold on the black market, or even an… an amputation.”

“Amputation?!” Emma exclaimed in a shocked whisper. “You mean you…”

Solemnly the man nodded. “I’ve been forced to remove every organ imaginable and sever untold numbers of body parts from various victims of Pan’s.” Taking her hand in his, he squeezed it tightly and advised, “If you want your friend to remain whole, then do as Pan says.”

She’d woken up in this new room some time later, sore between her legs in a different sort of way than she had been after her night with Killian. A note with self-care instructions and a bottle of ibuprofen had been left on the table by her bedside, and it was then Emma had realized she’d mercifully been anesthetized for the procedure. The day had stretched into night and Emma had sat paralyzed with guilt and fear over what Killian might be going through. She’d had little to no sleep, and was therefore more on edge than normal when the door to her cell opened the next morning.

“Sorry,” the doctor apologized, noting how she’d balked at his appearance. “I just wanted to check and see how you were doing. Is it alright if I examine you? I have my nurse with me.”

Emma consented to his examination, not wishing to give Pan any further ammunition to use against her, or worse… against Killian.

“Everything seems to be in order,” he told her. “Anything bothering you physically? Any pain?”

Emma shook her head and mumbled she was fine, then sat back up with the assistance of the nurse once he’d finished. She was just straightening the hospital gown when she felt the prick of a needle pierce her shoulder.

“What did you…” The question fell away as numbness immediately began to overtake her. Within seconds, Emma could not move her arms or legs and she slumped over into the doctor’s arms, unable to keep herself upright.

“It’s okay,” the man soothed, laying her back down on the cot. “The effects are temporary. You’ll remain conscious, but you’ll be unable to move or speak until it wears off.”

More and more of her succumbed to the paralysis, her entire body becoming heavy and unresponsive. When her eyes would not open again after a blink, Emma panicked. Her heart raced at the sound of bootfalls entering the room and a silent scream echoed through her mind when she was hoisted off the cot and over a man’s shoulder.

~/~

Killian stood in the corner opposite the door, anxiously waiting for it to open. He wasn’t sure if having forewarning of Emma’s return was better or worse than simply being surprised. In the last few minutes since Pan had given him the news and his instructions, Killian had worked himself into another right state.

His stomach churned in a way that made him thankful for his lack of appetite since Emma had been carted away. Although, its lack of contents did not stop the threatening bile from creeping up his throat. His palms were slick with a sweat that was slowly breaking out over his entire body and his heart felt as though he might choke on it.

With the notice and instruction had also come the reminder to not let on what he’d seen the day before. As if he could forget. However, when the door finally opened and the Lost Ones entered (one with Emma over his shoulder and the other brandishing a cattle prod in Killian’s direction), Killian understood why Pan felt the need to remind him. All he wanted to do was take her in his arms and reassure himself of her safety, to inquire how she was feeling, whether she was in pain or needed anything from him to ease the after effects of what she’d been through. Of course, he couldn’t do that. He had to pretend he didn’t know any more than she did about what happened to her during their separation. Her life depended on it.

“Swan?” Killian called out as the Lost One laid her on the bed. “Swan, are you alright?”

She didn’t move. Didn’t respond. For an awful, gut-wrenching second, Killian thought she might be…

A sigh of relief whooshed from his lungs when he saw her chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm. She was alive. Thank God!

“I’m afraid she is currently… unable to respond,” Pan said over the speaker system as the Lost Ones backed out of the cell.

Once the door was secured, Pan gave Killian permission to leave the corner, and he wasted no time in rushing to Emma’s side.

“Swan?” he prodded, gently shaking her shoulders. “Emma, love. Wake up.”

“I told you,” Pan sighed in a bored yet exasperated tone. “She is unable to respond.”

“What did you do to her?” Killian demanded, his gaze sweeping over her form, working in tandem with his hands as he searched for injuries or any other clue that might explain her comatose condition. Was she still under the effects of the anesthetic she’d been given?

“Careful,” Pan warned in a feigned voice of concern. “She has a number of bruises and abrasions. You wouldn’t want to go and injure her further.”

Killian’s head snapped towards the camera perched over the TV monitor and again demanded, through grit teeth, “What did you do--”

“Oh, don’t look at me,” Pan said. “I had nothing to do with those bruises, or any of the other markings. You did that.”

Killian’s eyes slid back to Emma’s body, and he began to note the marks his mouth had made on her neck, as well as the faint impressions his fingertips had left behind.

“Pan says,” the voice commanded in an accusatory tone, “undress her and take a good look at what you’ve done to her.”

“No,” Killian stated, defiantly. Standing from the bed, where he’d been kneeling next to Swan’s prone body, he took measured steps towards the camera, wagging his finger in its direction. “I know what you’re doing,” he said. “I won’t have you twisting what happened. I know what Emma and I shared the other night and it wasn’t what you’re insinuating.”

“Oh? What was it then?”

“It was magic,” he declared vehemently, with his arms spread in boastful defiance, “And freedom. Full unabated freedom. The kind you experience with someone you trust unequivocally, with whom you can bare yourself in ways you never thought yourself capable. The kind that requires a level of understanding, devotion, and acceptance rarely found between two individuals.”

Each word of defense against Pan’s implied censures was also a much needed reminder to himself of the truth of what he and Emma shared. He would not let this vile monster take from them what they had sought to claim for themselves.

“That’s what Emma and I have and nothing you can say or do is going to change that fact.”

“Oh?” Pan drawled. “Perhaps not,” he stated as the cell door squealed opened and a Lost One sauntered into the room. “But I imagine he can.”

Positioning himself between the Lost One and Emma, still lying helpless on the bed, Killian braced his posture and demanded to know, “What do you mean? What’s he going to do?”

“That depends on you,” Pan replied. “If what you say is true, then surely Emma won’t object to you taking some liberties with her whilst she is currently… indisposed.”

“Liberties?” Killian questioned. Though a sick feeling forming in the pit of his stomach had already begun to deduce the madman’s meaning.

“It appeared to me that she took quite a few liberties with you the other night, so I’m simply letting you return the favor. Of course… should you refuse…”

The Lost One’s hands dropped to his waist and he began to loosen his belt, his salacious gaze and a hint of a smug smile peeking out from the mask he wore.

“No! Stop!” When Killian’s words failed to stall the Lost One’s actions, he turned back towards the camera and agreed with Pan’s wishes. “I’ll do as you say. I’ll take whatever liberties you demand, just…” Pointing a stern finger at the Lost One, Killian implored, “Get him out of here!”

The Lost One’s hands balled themselves into fists and he hesitated for a moment after the order from Pan was issued. His eyes fell to Emma, a sinister sort of longing swirling through their brown depths, before he flicked them back up and glared at Killian as he backed out of the cell.

He’d wanted her, Killian realized with a jolt of propriety rage and jealousy. It hadn’t simply been a command he was conditioned to obey that had made him willing to do the unthinkable to Emma. He wanted her, had been eager to have her, even.

Emma’s comments about her exchange with one of the Lost One’s returned to him and he couldn’t help but wonder if the Lost One he’d just encountered had been the same, or… No. She had said the Lost One who had carried him back after being drugged seemed to care for him. That Lost One, the one who had just departed, held nothing but animosity towards Killian. Did that mean…?

If Killian had a connection to the other Lost One, then was this Lost One connected to Emma somehow?

The startling question would have to be left unanswered for the moment. Killian needed to focus on the rules and procedures Pan was currently laying out for his new depraved game.

~/~

It had taken some doing, but Emma had managed to quiet the panic deafening her mind. Being unable to control one’s body, to even open your eyes or utter a sound was the most unnatural and surreal feeling she had ever experienced. The only thing she could seem to manipulate was her breathing, but it also continued to work involuntarily as well.

She’d held her breath in awe against the swell of emotion that had filled her during Killian’s declarations, but it had sped up on its own, almost to the point of hyperventilating when the Lost One had returned and Pan’s intentions had been made clear.

Never doubting that Killian would do whatever he had to in order to keep her safe had not kept her from again holding her breath until the sound of the door screeched closed this last time, ensuring she would not suffer at the hands of some stranger. Now, she attempted to regulate her breathing once more as Pan gave instructions to Killian regarding their new game.

“Of course, I realize that my voice might be a bit of a distraction… a deterrent even. So, you’ll know a new Pan Says has been issued when the lights flicker. You can then receive your next set of instructions from the monitor. Understood?”

“Aye,” Killian clipped out, sounding closer now than he had a moment again. “Let’s get on with it.”

“Excellent,” Pan crowed. “This will be my last vocal command until our game is at an end. Pan says… undress Emma.”

The bed dipped and she could feel Killian’s presence. She longed to reassure him, to look into his eyes and let him know she was alright, that she wouldn’t hold anything he had to do to her against him. All she could do was lie there, though; a limp piece of dead weight he had to roll and reposition without any assistance in order to appease Pan and his perverted commands.

Once the hospital gown had been removed, leaving her thoroughly exposed, Killian returned her to her back and from behind her eyelids she could detect the change in lighting as they dimmed and brightened, signaling a new Pan Says. If she could have scoffed, she would have. Of course he was giving written instructions. Pan knew she was conscious and could hear everything. He didn’t want her to have any forewarning of what was to be done to her, the bastard.

The mattress dipped next to Emma’s head and she felt the scratch of Killian’s beard against her cheek. Inhaling deeply, she let his scent fill her lungs, let its calming balm soothe her racing heart.

“I’m sorry, love,” he whispered low and soft into her ear. “I’m so sorry. I hope you can forgive me for what I must do.”

I already have, she told him, if only in her mind.

Her breath hitched at the feel of his rough tongue caressing the space below her ear. It only took a few swirls and licks for her to process what he was being forced to do, her skin still sore in the places where he had sucked his brand into her flesh during their lovemaking. Pan was making him trace every mark, every bruise, every abrasion Killian had left on her body with nothing more than his tongue.

Pin pricks of wonder rippled across her skin when he reached her breasts. His hot breath preceded the warmth of his mouth as it caressed the scrapes previously left behind from his teeth. She wanted nothing more than to arch her back and encourage him to take her nipples fully into his mouth, but her inability to move was proving torturous in ways she had not considered.

Her stomach, her hips, the insides of her thighs, all points of contact along the front of her he had to trace with his tongue before rolling her onto her stomach. He took extra care and attention to place her arms and head into as comfortable positions as he could before continuing his ministrations down her back. Long, lingering, dampened laves followed the welts and scratches left by his nails and soft flutters caressed the bruises on her hips and buttocks, causing a shiver to run up her spine and a dull ache to begin throbbing from between her legs, which were dangling awkwardly off the bed.

The lights dimmed and brightened again and before Emma had a chance to wonder what Pan’s new demand was, a light smack landed on her backside. The lights flickered again and a slightly harder slap cracked across her ass. When the lights signaled again, the sting of Killian’s palm, firmly making contact with her already reddened and raised flesh, brought tears to her eyes. As did the next strike, and the one after that, and the ones after that. Tears broke free from her lashes, pooling in the crease next to her nose before slipping across her face into the sheet beneath her cheek. Killian’s rough, calloused hand stroked her ass, attempting to soothe some of the pain he’d inflicted. Pain she absolutely did not mind. In fact, she kinda got off on it, and when his fingers dipped between her legs to find her wet and wanting, his groan told her it was a fact he was now aware of as well.

A series of strobing lights had Killian on his knees in front of foot of the bed, his face buried in her folds with his mouth latched to her clit, while his fingers toyed with and probed her holes. He was knuckle deep in her ass, fucking her with his fingers as his tongue assaulted her cunt and she could hear the cries of her body, begging for release, whimpering in her head, unable to convey its desire in any way, shape, or form, which had to be the most maddening experience of her life. When relief finally came, her orgasm slammed through her completely unobstructed with an intensity far greater than any she could ever remember having before. A moan vibrated through her pussy, prolonging her climax, and Emma wondered if, despite her inability to tell him so, Killian could tell she had come from his tongue.

Her breathing was labored, the sound of her blood roared in her ears, and she felt flushed and sated from the tips of her ears to the points of her toes. Unable to vocalize, a groan stuck in her throat when he removed his fingers from her depths and began to roll her over onto her back once more. She hadn’t even noticed the lights indicating a new task.

Attempting to regain her bearings, Emma could hear the rustling of fabric and suspected Killian was taking off his clothes. Her heart rate picked up at the prospect of him being inside her, filling her like he had the other night, and a fresh ache took hold of her core even as she worried about her new unprotected status. With a firm tug, he pulled her closer to the edge of the bed until her ass was practically hanging off the side. Lifting her hips, he wedged a pillow beneath her, raising her pelvis and tilting it up to meet his groin.

She startled when his cock slapped against her clit, not that he would be able to tell. Her skin raised in a ripple of goose flesh when he did it a second and then third time before lining himself up with her entrance and stretching her in that delicious way as he entered her. Grabbing her ankles, he draped them over his shoulders, then wrapped his arms around her legs, holding them tight to his chest as he began to rut his hips into hers. The rhythm he set was punishing, the force of each thrust making her breasts bounce wildly, borderline painfully, as he pistoned deeper and deeper into her. His pace was relentless, slowing down only once several minutes into the assault, when the lights flickered and he presumably glanced over his shoulder to read Pan’s newest command. He fucked her for an indeterminate amount of time after that. Forcefully, savagely, almost brutally.

The sound of their bodies slapping together echoed through the room, as did Killian’s ragged breathing and choked back utterances. Just when she thought she couldn’t take anymore, he pulled out and let go of her legs, causing one of them to slip off his shoulders. He grunted and cried out as hot streams of his release coated her breasts and stomach. Staccatoed breaths and moans reverberated off the metal walls until he was thoroughly spent, then he brushed a gentle kiss to the inside of her leg before resting his head against it, the sweat of his brow making it a slick point of contact.

“Good boy, Killian,” Pan rasped from overhead, ruining any tenderness Killian had been trying to infuse into the moment.

“Fuck off,” he snapped back, lowering her leg back down while removing the pillow from beneath her.

“Ah, ah,” Pan tutted. “Pan says to leave her as is.”

“Let me at least pull her further up the bed, so she doesn’t slip off onto the floor,” Killian argued.

When Pan did not respond, Killian climbed onto the bed and positioned himself behind her. Grasping under her arms, he hoisted her up the mattress until she was now completely situated on the bed. It shook as he collapsed next to her, his breaths still coming in pants from the extreme exertion he’d put both their bodies through.

She could visualize his face in her mind. Beads of perspiration were probably littering his brow and gathering in the hollow of his throat. His eyes were likely closed, his long lashes resting against his rosy cheeks, which would be nearly as pinked as his lips, red and swollen from the way he’d practically made a meal out of her. She longed to sweep his bangs off his forehead, to run her fingers down his face and trace his lips, allowing him to kiss each tip and tease them with his tongue.

As they lay there a tingling began to work its way through the numbness. Small jerks and spasms rippled through her extremities, exacerbating the soreness in her tender places. A groan made its way past her lips and she was finally able to pry her eyes open. She could feel Killian roll towards her, concern and guilt swimming in his eyes as his face came into view overhead.

“Swan?”

“K-Killian,” she croaked, attempting to raise her hand so she could cup his face, but it wouldn’t cooperate.

“Don’t try and move,” he said, making his way off the bed and into the bathroom. “I have to… you’ll need to…”

Unable to finish his thought, it wasn’t until she was finally able to turn her head and saw him return with a wet washcloth that she realized what he was struggling to tell her.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, trying to work up the necessary saliva to wet and clear her throat. “I know. I was conscious the whole time.”

“You… What?”

When she tried to sit up, he climbed back onto the bed, stalling her actions and encouraging her to lie back while he cleaned her up.

“Yeah, they injected me with… something. I don’t know what,” she explained, enjoying the feel of the damp cloth as it ran over her breasts and across her stomach, wiping away the now dried-on mess. “I couldn’t move or speak, but I was aware of everything. Could hear and… feel everything.”

Killian’s face pinched in a pained expression, and she could practically feel the guilt rolling off him. “I’m so sorry, Swan. I--”

“Hey,” she soothed, taking his hand. “It’s okay. You have to know that no matter how deranged or depraved, I’d rather it be you doing those things to me than--”

“Aye, I do… it’s just...”

“What?”

The muscle along his jaw tightened, causing a small spasm to ripple beneath his skin. Unable to meet her gaze, he confessed with a heavy dose of shame and penitence, “I enjoyed it.” His voice was little more than an exhale. If he’d been any further away, she likely wouldn’t have heard him at all. After a long pause he finally worked up the courage to look at her as he continued, “I didn’t want to. I only wanted to get it over with, but I… I started to enjoy it and--”

“Killian,” Emma sweetly admonished. “Do you really think I’d fault you for that? Do you think I was suffering the whole time? Because believe me… I wasn’t.” He offered her a small smile, but still didn’t seem convinced. Squeezing his hand more tightly, she added, “I will never hold my bringing you pleasure against you, no matter the circumstances. Every time there’s been intimacy between us, I’ve enjoyed it, at least on some level. Every. Time. Don’t ever forget that. Don’t ever forget those beautiful words you said to Pan about us.”

His eyes widened, perhaps realizing for the first time that she had been conscious for that part as well.

“I meant every word,” he assured her. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel guilty for the things I’ve done to you. Even though you say you enjoyed it, I see the bruises I left, from both the other night and the ones forming from my actions from only moments ago, and I hate myself for causing you pain.”

Stronger now, she sat up and cupped his face. “I won’t pretend I’m not sore, but… being with you is hands down the best sex of my life, and I would do it all again in a heartbeat.”

His eyes flickered between hers, reading the truth in her gaze and causing a more genuine smile to bloom from his face.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he replied on a heavy, relieved breath. Then a smirk lifted the corner of his mouth and with a raised brow he cheeked, “Though, given what you’ve told me of your past sexual encounters, that isn’t really saying much.”

She laughed and slapped his shoulder before falling into his arms, surrendering into his embrace as they clung to each other for several minutes. It wasn’t until after they’d broken apart, with him helping her off the bed so they could both get dressed, that a sobering thought occurred to her.

“You know,” she said, uncomfortably clearing her throat as she pulled her pants up over her hips, “given what I know of your past… I’ll understand if you don’t feel the same. About the sex, I mean. Well, that and--”

“Don’t get me wrong,” he said, interrupting her before she could mention Milah, the love he had lost and practically ruined his life for. “I loved Milah and we had many wonderful experiences together, but,” he took her hands in his and gazed at her in a way she thought she might drown in those blue depths, “nothing as ever amazing as… this.”

Guiding her back to the bed, they sat on its edge and he further confided, “I think Milah and I always had a part of ourselves held back from the other. Regardless of how we felt, we knew it was wrong. We knew we weren’t free to truly love one another, and since having met you, I’ve come to realize something.”

“What?”

Flicking up his gaze, he said something she never would have expected. “How alike her husband and I truly were.”

Emma blanched. “What do you mean?”

Running his thumb over the backs of her knuckles, he paused for a long moment. Emma could tell this revelation was not easy for him. Perhaps he was still trying to find a way to verbalize it. Sensing he needed time, she waited patiently for him to continue.

“She belonged to him. That’s what he always said,” he relayed, haltingly, from the memories he was dredging up. “She belonged to him. Her husband.” Pulling himself back into the here and now, he focused on her once more and a sad smile ghosted across his lips. “Milah used to assure me that despite the fact she was married, she belonged to me, and I took that to heart. I started to feel like she did belong to me, and I was wrong for doing so. Not because she was married, but because… a woman should not belong to anyone. She was not an object to possess, anymore than you are.” His Adam’s apple bobbed, and his attention turned towards the door of their cell. “He thought you were his to possess. I see that now.”

“Who?”

“The Lost One who came in here when Pan threatened to have another fulfill his demented wishes.”

Her gasp pulled his attention back towards her, and she felt as though her heart might hammer its way out of her chest as he told her, “I think he has a connection to you, Swan. Like the other Lost One has towards me. I think you know him, because I am certain he knows you.”

“How?” she asked, breathlessly. “How do you know--”

“He wanted you,” Killian begrudgingly told her. “But more than that, it was like he felt he had a right to have you. I could see a longing in his eyes, as though he knew… knew what having you would be like.”

Emma opened her mouth to respond, her mind racing with the implications of Killian’s words, but before she could say anything he took her face in his hands and the look in his eyes stole her breath away.

“You may have given me your consent. You might even think I had a right to do what I did in obeying Pan’s rules in order to safeguard your body and your dignity, but you do not belong to me, Swan. You are not mine to do with as I wish.” Pressing his forehead to hers, he murmured, “But I hope you might feel as though you belong with me, as I feel I belong with you. That we belong together, not to each other.” Swallowing thickly, he pulled back and softly whispered, “I love you, Emma.” Then captured her lips before she could reply.