Beryl's Scribbles

As they made their way through the crowd, Cathal noticed more faces he recognized, more owners and pets alike that he had been forced to meet ever since Clement first became acquainted with Cain and his extralegal activities. He cowered, as a pet he did not recognize sneered at him, and desperately tried to ignore the muttering around him. The looks on their faces as he passed by confirming that he was, in fact, the unwitting subject of their gossip. 

Cathal turned away, looking instead at where he was being led, a seating area already mostly occupied all by people he easily recognized. Dread filled his stomach as he locked eyes with Zander. 

Zander tried not to stare, he really did. As Cathal got closer, his cheeks burned brighter red, and Zander dug his nails into the palm of his hand in order to distract himself. He's not here for you to gawk at, he told himself, staring at the ground instead of Cathal - trying to rid his head of any thoughts pertaining to him. His legs and stomach, exposed by his outfit, the sway of his hips as he moved - he was just so pretty. Zander shook his head to clear it, settling on continuing to stare down at the floor instead. Nothing ever did seem to get that boy off his mind.

Clement sat in an expensive leather chair, forcing Cathal to his knees beside him. Several of the group exchanged pleasantries, alongside lewd remarks that made Cathal’s ears burn. He tried to ignore Teddy outright mocking him, making obnoxious whining noises that hurt his ears more than his feelings, but the tears that sprung to his eyes were just as obvious as they were every other time he was the center of attention, and the reaction only elicited an almost gleeful round of laughter from the men around him. 

“Awh, poor little thing,” Teddy laughed at him. “You really would be broken in a day if you heard the things we say when you’re not around.” 

“Oh, don’t be so cruel. Look at him, you’ll make the poor thing cry.” Nicholas snapped his fingers, urging Cathal’s attention towards himself. “There you are, puppy. May I?” He glanced towards Clement, who shrugged and unhooked the leash from Cathal’s collar. Nicholas smiled at him, softly, tugging at Cathal’s heart with the gentle fondness he always seemed to display towards him. “Come here, little one,” he said. Cathal leaned forward, hesitating slightly before crawling across the floor straight into Nicholas’ arms.

It really was like second nature, by now. To trust, unequivocally, without reason, that these men who had harmed him so many times before, who had beaten him senseless and left him broken, a bloody mess on the floor, crying and shaking until they came back for a second round, would be kind. This time. Maybe this time. Maybe, or maybe next time. When Nicholas cupped his cheeks in his hands, looking down at him as he knelt on the floor, Cathal trusted him. Again, and again, and foolishly again. There really was something about those eyes.

“You look so pretty all dressed up for us,” Nicholas smiled at him again, and Cathal couldn’t help but beam up at him. “Slutty little thing.”

Cathal’s heart sank. It was visible, clearly, from the way the people around him began to laugh once again. The blush on his cheeks darkened with it, the horrible sinking feeling of a betrayal he knew he should have expected filling his gut. Nicholas laughed with them, still looking straight in his eyes. Cathal squirmed slightly, suddenly very uncomfortable with where he knelt, and Nicholas simply patted him on the head, grinning cruelly down at him before sending him back towards Clement. Crawling back, it was harder to ignore the pointed way in which Zander refused to look at him, and despite all of his complicated feelings, he couldn’t help but still be ashamed that Zander was seeing him like this. 

“Should be near time for the main event, don’t you think?” Clement announced, sounding far too sure of himself for it to really be a question. Cathal looked up at him, and around the room, at all of the faces who seemed far too excited. And it struck him, finally, after several minutes of searching, what exactly it was that felt so horribly off about the situation. 

Cain wasn’t there. 

Neither was Wren. 

While he certainly had no shortage of awful thoughts about Cain Whitaker, his absence struck Cathal as odd. Nicholas in particular seemed to save his more affectionate moments for when Cain was out of the room, and although he really wasn’t sure what was going on, it was easy to tell that this situation was… different, than those. 

And Wren, somehow, had become somewhat of a safety net in Cathal’s mind. He was the only person Zander ever seemed to listen to, and when he was around, Nicholas often spared Cathal no mind, instead focusing on the redhead and leaving Cathal happy in his owner’s arms. 

Sometimes, when he was around these people, one of them would be missing. Not often was it both, and he had begun to dread those moments. Images of being used as a threat for someone else’s disobedience flashed through his mind. 

“I believe you’re right,” Nicholas seemed excited by this as well, a joyful tone to his voice that set Cathal’s hairs on end. “Up, mutt.” Zander shot him a dirty look, teeth barred for a moment before Nicholas simply rolled his eyes and pressed a button on a small remote. Cathal shut his eyes tight until he was sure the moment had passed, then watched Nicholas drag a now disoriented Zander to his feet. He was shoved into the center of the group, staggering and nearly tripping on his own feet. His expression quickly morphed back into that of great disdain and anger, almost as if he were threatening the men around to try and touch him again. Cathal wasn’t sure he wanted to see them try. 

Clement tapped on Cathal’s shoulder, and looked down at him with a grin. “Come on, up you get, puppy,” he said softly. Cathal whined, dread pooling in his stomach but not resisting as he was pulled to his own feet, brought closer to Zander, to a table placed between the couches and chairs. 

“No,” Zander started, cut off briefly by the sight of the shock collar remote still in Nicholas’ hand. Clement paid him no mind, sitting Cathal down on the table even as he trembled. “No,” Zander continued, his voice raised in an attempt at Clement’s attention. “Whatever the hell you’re planning, I won’t do it.” 

“Yes, you will,” Nicholas replied plainly. “You know damn well by now that you’re better off doing as you’re told.” Cathal laid across the smooth, cold wooden surface beneath him, raising his arms to be strapped into the sets of leather cuffs attached to the legs. 

“Well I don’t give a damn, I’m not hurting him again!”

“Who said anything about hurting him, beast?” Clement interjected. Zander shot him a look, annoyed at the name, and Clement laughed. “You’re much less intimidating when you’re put in your place, I do hope you know that.”

“Fuck off,”

“Oh I don’t think so. I hate to repeat myself, but you’ve made it thoroughly clear there’s no getting through that thick fucking skull of yours so I ask again. Who, pray tell, said a damn thing about hurting him?” 

Zander glared at him, silent. Really, he had no idea what to say. What were they there for, if not that? What was the main event?

Clement laughed again, and Zander really, really wanted to punch him. He knew he couldn't, not with Nicholas having that remote, and Teddy right there, but he briefly considered it, taking more pleasure in the thought than he was expecting.

“What you’re going to do, mutt,” Clement continued. “Is fuck the stupid thing senseless. Or everyone else in the room will.”

“You mother-”

“Ah, ah ah. Decide quickly. Or they,” Clement gestured around, at the group and the surrounding crowd. “Will decide for you.” 

Zander shuddered, looking quickly down at Cathal and back to the bastard leaning over him. Cathal squirmed, face bright red - and it was no wonder why, from this angle the shorts he had been put in covered very little. Zander could see the little bulge between his legs, the wet spot right beneath - and he knew the rest of them could as well. 

No, no no no, Cathal thought, as Zander hesitantly stepped closer. He stood between Cathal’s legs, and Cathal’s quick glance toward Clement did nothing to soothe his nerves. It almost made him dizzy, how quickly the blood drained from his face at the sight of Clement’s smile. 

Just wait til you see what I have in store for you.

The crowd had begun to close in on them, now, causing Cathal’s blood to run cold. They stared, and mocked him with lewd comments, pointing and gawking and sticking their hands closer. Zander’s teeth clacked loudly together as someone pulled their fingers away from his mouth, a dangerously close call that made Cathal even more nervous. The buzz of electricity brings Zander to his knees for that infraction, and he let his head rest against the edge of the table for a moment before he could get to his feet. Cathal squirmed again, fluffy black hair tickling his thighs. The top of Zander’s head just almost touching between them. 

Cathal’s whimper seemed to be enough to catch his attention, and Zander lifted his head, shooting backwards when he realized how close he was. The crowd laughed. 

“Are you going to fuck him, or should we just pull you aside and let you watch?” 

Zander glared at Clement again. Every comment he made, every fucking breath he took, brought his blood to a boil. 

“Yeah come on, puppy! Mark your fucking bitch!” Someone shouted, and Clement grimaced, clearly perturbed that someone had the audacity to speak over him. Zander would have laughed, had the circumstances been different. 

“We’ve heard so much about you two lovebirds, you know,” A second voice mocked, none of them paying any mind to the expression on Clement’s face.

“Pathetic little dogs in heat, aren’t you?” Another.

“Heard the mutt is just obsessed with his little puppy,”

“And here I thought that Whitaker brat would’ve trained his fucking animals better than that,” 

“Not every dog can be as sweet and broken as his bitch,” Nicholas interrupted, looking snidely at Cathal. 

“Aw, he likes the broken ones! That’s so cute,”

“I think the lovebirds should show us how much they like each other, huh?” 

“Put on a show for us, won’t you?” 

“Yeah, come on alpha, fuck your little doggy. Be a good whore,”

“Don’t fucking touch him like that!” Zander finally shouted, swatting away a hand that traveled far too close to Cathal’s thigh. Cathal tensed, awaiting the pain he expected to come, but never did. Relieved, he closed his eyes for a moment, not seeing how Teddy came up from behind with his pistol, grabbing a handful of Zander’s hair and shoving the barrel against his chin. 

“Be a good little mutt and breed your fucking bitch or I’ll paint these walls red, okay?” 

There was a moment of silence, a moment where not a soul dared even breathe lest they break the tension in the room and set off the gun in Teddy’s hand. None of them had come for a murder, and with his reputation, they all knew he wouldn’t hesitate for even a second. 

“Please, d-don’t… don’t m-make it any worse,” Cathal whined, locking eyes with Zander and trying, to no avail, not to pay attention to the gun. “P-please just, j-just fuck me, just- just f-fuck- just fuck me, p-please…” 

Don’t make it worse.

In the back of his mind, Cathal knows he will pay dearly for begging like that, breaking even the simplest of his rules by speaking out of turn and so crudely. Good boys don’t swear. Nice pets don’t swear. And yet, watching Zander shamefully slide his pants down, he really didn’t care about that. There were much bigger things to worry about. 

Zander refused to look at him, going as far as to look directly away, even when he drew closer. He glanced quickly down to find the waistband of Cathal’s shorts, face going bright red and intending to look away again as soon as they were off. Underneath, a pair of thin red panties, mesh with a little heart print and lace all along the edges. Someone whistled at the way his cock twitched through his boxers, and his face burned red hot from shame. Zander bit his lip, eyes locked on those panties. His hand shook slightly as he reached back up to grab them, time seeming to slow down around him. Cathal shuddered as Zander’s hand brushed against his stomach, moving his hips slightly to encourage him. Eventually, slow as he was to do it, Zander slipped them down Cathal’s legs, breath hitching in his throat as he did.

Cathal’s face flushed as Zander looked at him, unable to deny his arousal. It wasn’t like he wanted to be there, in front of all those people, but there wasn’t much he could do to prevent the slick that had soaked through to his shorts. The cool air caused his dick to twitch, and he could’ve sworn that Zander blushed even stronger at that.  

It didn’t take long for Zander to push his own underwear down his thighs, not even bothering to step out of them before taking his cock in hand, guiding himself towards Cathal’s entrance. He shut his eyes as he pushed in, afraid of the chance that Cathal would look at him with those big, terrified blue eyes, frightened and confused and downright heartbreaking. What he was not, in any capacity, expecting, was for Cathal to moan, and he opened his eyes to see him with the sweetest, most blissed out expression, eyes rolled back into his head and mouth agape. The people around them laughed. Slowly, Zander pulled out, thrusting back in a little more forcefully. Cathal whined, loud from the back of his throat, and Zander felt himself twitch inside. 

He took a moment to find his pace, thrusting into Cathal’s sweet, wet hole - making both of them moan when he did. Cathal had wrapped his fingers around the lip of the table above his head, and he held on tight, rocking with it as Zander pounded into him. 

Cathal’s soft little moans do absolutely nothing but spur Zander on, his hands squeezed at his hips, sure to bruise the next day. The thought simply added fuel to the fire, the idea of marking him, after having not had an opportunity to touch him at all in what felt like forever, laying a claim - telling Clement with no uncertainty, he’s mine. Cathal practically screamed as Zander thrust into him harder, harder, harder, and Zander growled back, almost animalistic, certainly not one Cathal had heard before. So possessive, the entire room can tell what he's saying. 

He’s mine.

Clement doesn’t own shit.

The blush that had painted itself across Cathal’s cheeks was the most lovely colour, in Zander’s opinion, every ounce of him perfect and endearing from the tip of his nose, that blush that spread even to the tips of his ears, the sweet little sounds escaping from his mouth, the soft warmth of his cunt. The thought of better circumstances crossed his mind, and he couldn't help but think that in a different time, a different place, he would love to tell Cathal exactly how beautiful he really is like this. 

Zander slipped a hand between Cathal’s legs, beginning to rub gently at his dick and grinning slightly at the obscene noises the action sparked. Cathal just made them so well, his mouth stretched open and eyes rolled back into his head. Little cries of uh, uh, uh, as Zander continued to fuck into him, his own moans sounding more and more like that primal, possessive growling with each thrust. Cathal’s head spun, his body tensing up as he neared an orgasm, Zander’s hand on his swollen little dick making it harder and harder not to just give in and cum. He noticed, quickly, and picked up his pace, driving Cathal mad with need. 

“Please, I,” Cathal whined, cutting himself off with another, louder moan. “Aah, ahh, please, I- I’m, I’m g-gonna, I’m, please, please c-can I, please can I cum,”

Zander fucked into him harder, faster than before, drowning out anything Clement could have had to say with the sounds tearing their way from Cathal’s chest. He didn’t want to hear that bastard’s voice say a goddamn word, let alone try to dictate how good he could make Cathal feel. Ignoring the way Clement glared at him, Zander licked his fingers for lubrication, immediately returning his hand between Cathal’s legs and dragging out the most agonized little cries of pleasure. Cathal stiffened, holding his breath, and Zander continued to fuck him, touching him in all of the best ways. Sharp, soft little inhales made way for a long, drawn out cry as his legs began to shake, his body convulsing against the table as he came, encouraging Zander now to chase his own building orgasm. 

Mark him,

That stranger's words echoed in his head. Yours. Yours. He’s yours.

He grunted as he thrust into him, harder and harder until he felt his legs would give out before he came and stilled, one hand on the table to hold himself up, still slowly fucking into him. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted this to end, however disgusting the thought made him feel. Zander paused, looking into Cathal’s sweet, tearful eyes, as the pair of them struggled to catch their breath.

Clement didn’t give him a chance to admire Cathal any further, however, getting immediately into his space and shoving him away from the boy. He could, if he ignored Clement’s obnoxious behaviour, catch a small glance at the pool of white leaking from between Cathal’s legs, and if anything, it just made him want to touch him again, to push it all deep inside and really fuck him. God, he was never going to get this day out of his head. 

Zander didn’t see what happened to Cathal next, as he was thrown to the floor by Teddy, who seemed to have his own, horrible plans in mind for the next event.

Small price to pay.

***