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Cry All You Want To (I Don’t Care) [1/3]
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jatty
Title: Cry All You Want To (I Don’t Care) [1/3]
Author: jatty
Pairing: Frank/Gerard
Rating: M
Warning: disturbed!Frank, language, kidnapping, rape, torture, Stockholm Syndrome, references to suicidal thoughts and actions, and thoughts of necrophilia and homicide.
Disclaimer: I don’t own MCR, and I really hope this isn’t true
Word Count: 8,216
Summary: Frank doesn’t love Gerard—he’s never even seen him before the party. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want him, doesn’t need him. Gerard is beautiful, vulnerable, and just Frank’s type. It’s Gerard’s own fault for being so weak—wearing eyeliner and tight pants—and so naïve. He was just begging to be taken against his will.

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A/N: Because I apparently can't write only one story at a time anymore...And this is the most disturbing thing I've ever written.

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“Sorry about my brother,” Mikey said as soon as he let Frank in the front door. Frank hadn’t even seen this mysterious older brother yet and Mikey was already apologizing for him. “Find the place okay?”

“Yeah,” Frank said, looking around at the cars parked on the front lawn of the townhouse. “Who’s place did you say this was?”

“Ray’s cousin—he told you that yesterday.” Frank stepped into the crowded entrance room and looked at all of the people he most certainly had a chance with. Drunk bitches were grinding on each other, hands holding red Solo cups up in the air. Cute and ugly dudes talking, drinking, and grinding on girls.

“Right,” Frank said.

“So, beer’s in the kitchen, liquor’s in the bathroom.”

“Why’s liquor in the bathroom?” Frank asked, scrunching his nose in confusion. Mikey shrugged and walked away through the crowd. Frank followed him to the beer in the kitchen, fearful of what could be in the bottles in the bathroom. “So, where’s your brother?”

“Getting wasted in the bathroom,” Mikey called, handing Frank a cup of beer. “He drove here and won’t let anyone take his keys. He’s gonna kill someone tonight, so make sure you stay out from in front of his car.” The kitchen was covered in red and blue cups, some were full, some empty, some spilled. There were stacks of pizza boxes on the floor—empty and full—an empty tub that had once held fried chicken. It was obvious to Frank that he’d come to the party too late.

“Sounds like a fun a guy,” Frank said, raising his eyebrows and drinking the lukewarm beer from his cup.

“Hey! Frank, you made it!” It was Ray, sauntering into the room with his arm around his girlfriend.

“Yeah,” Frank said, tipping his hand to the sober-looking woman under Ray’s arm.

“He met your brother yet?” Ray asked, stooping down to nuzzle his girlfriend. Frank felt a cruel spark of jealousy bolt through him and he took a swig of beer, glaring into the cup bitterly.

“Not yet,” Mikey said. “He still boozing in the bathroom?”

“He’s not boozing,” Ray said. “I think he’s kind of upset.”

“Or drunk,” Mikey said, drinking four swallows from his cup. “Or high,” he added, drinking again. “Or being a crybaby.” He added something else in a mumble as he finished off his cup remarkably fast.

“You really don’t like your brother,” Frank said, looking around the kitchen and watching a blonde guy come in to get another cup.

“I love the fucker,” Mikey said, throwing his cup on the floor despite Ray’s unhappy sigh. “But he’s a big fuckin’ baby who needs to grow up. I offer to take him out and what does he do? Locks himself in the bathroom and hides.”

“Shy?” Frank asked, trying to pretend that he was disinterested.

“You have no idea,” Mikey mumbled. Frank chatted up Ray and Mikey for a little while before finishing another beer and going on the prowl. Mikey found a girl to make out with against a wall, Ray repeatedly kissed his girlfriend on the cheek and on the mouth.

Frank slid around the walls, looking for anyone about to pass out or otherwise vulnerable. He wasn’t a pervert, he wasn’t insane, and he wasn’t deranged…he just liked his victims weak. He hated relationships and all of their strings and ties and nooses. He hated having to listen and ‘be there’ when no one ever listened to him and no one was ever there for him when he needed it.

It wasn’t a crime to have a one night stand, and if the person wasn’t conscious, it didn’t matter. It just saved them the memories and mixed emotions.

Then, Frank saw his target. He wore tight black pants—exposing his sexuality, or at least masquerading some sort of confidence. The hoodie he was wearing was oversized, and he was burrowing into it like he felt threatened. The hoodie in contrast to his jeans were such a contradiction. Confidence and insecurity—he was weak, he was wiping his nose on the back of his shaking hand. He was scared. He was perfect.

Frank slid over to him slowly and gave him a smile.

“Hey,” Frank said. The man jumped and stared at Frank in shock, his hazel, bloodshot eyes going wide, his wet, glistening lips parted in a gasp. He wasn’t used to being talked to—being hit on would just flatter him to death.

“Um…hi?” The man said, sniffing and wiping his nose again—this time on his sleeve.

“You liking the party?” Frank asked. The man stammered for a few moments and then ran his hand through his greasy, long black hair.

“Um, yeah…yeah, it’s okay.” Frank could barely hide his devilish smirk as he watched man begin to shake with nerves.

“Are you Mikey’s brother?” Frank asked, taking in the awkwardness of the man and thinking back to all of the little quips his best friend had told him.

“Y-yeah,” the man mumbled. “I’m Gerard—how did you know that?”

“I’m Frank—Mikey’s my best friend,” Frank said, offering a huge, fake, friendly smile. “He talks about you all the time.” The man lowered his lined eyes to the ground and sniffed.

“Not good things,” Gerard whispered. “I know what he says.” The man walked away, and Frank let him. It was all part of the plan.

Frank wandered away and found Mikey again after a little while.

“Sup?” Mikey said, holding the hand of a different girl than the one he’d had before.

“What car’s your brother driving?” Frank asked.

“Why?” Mikey asked, his face void of emotions.

“I want to go outside for a smoke and I need to know which cars to avoid.” Mikey laughed, but answered.

“It’s a Subaru. Grey. He won’t leave until I do though.”

“I’m heading out for the night, probably,” Frank said. “I’m tired.”

“Oh,” Mikey mumbled, squeezing the girl’s hand. “See you later then. Sorry there weren’t any good girls for you.” Frank never told Mikey that he was gay. It was safer that way. He’d let Mikey catch him with countless girls, just so he’d never begin to suspect that the men found beaten after parties they’d attended together had anything to do with him.

So Frank left the party and hovered around the parked cars. He found the silver Subaru under a tree down the street. It was as secluded as its owner was. Frank found the car unlocked and rolled his eyes at the man’s stupidity as he crawled into the backseat and laid himself out on the floor. It was easier to hide in those dark shadows, and he couldn’t let Gerard see him until it was too late.

He waited for thirty minutes before he heard someone walking up to the car. His heart was hammering in his chest, but the rush was so fulfilling. He loved it—the tension as Gerard got into his car and shut the door. The tingling that covered his skin when Gerard spoke—“Fucking Mikey…always makes me go places I don’t want to. And why? So he and stupid friends can make fun of me.” It lit the flame in Frank’s soul as he heard Gerard complain on and on as he started the car and began to drive.

Frank waited for a few twists and turns before slowly rolling and twisting his way onto the back seat from where he’d hidden on the floor. The nerves were so exciting—would he get caught? Would Gerard scream and swerve and nearly miss a tree? Would he hit a pole in his terror?

Quickly, and silently, Frank made it onto the backseat where he lay for only a few short minutes before it was time. He had to fight to keep the deranged giggle from bubbling out of his throat as he prepared to speak.

When Gerard hit the brakes a little too firmly at a stop light, Frank began his ploy.

“What the fuck?” He moaned in a falsely sleepy tone. It was louder than any sleepy person could have ever mustered, but it had to be. Gerard couldn’t not hear him.

Gerard gasped shrilly and stiffened in his seat. Oh how Frank loved the fear that began to taint the air. Poor Gerard—too afraid to even turn around and see who was in the backseat of his car. He looked more like he was ready to open the door and run off down the street.

Frank slowly sat up, holding his head and pretending to be drunk.

“Where…what?” Frank groaned. “It’s not my car!” Frank drunkenly wailed. Gerard’s shoulders relaxed and he looked over his shoulder with a put-on glare that quickly disappeared.

“Frank?” He said, face twisting in confusion. The light turned green, but Gerard didn’t pull forward, even though the car behind him honked. “What the fuck are you doing in my car?”

“This is your car?” Frank asked, tilting his head over too far to one side and forcing his left eye to twitch.

“Yeah, this is my car,” Gerard snapped, he turned and saw the light was green and started driving again. “What the fuck are you doing in my car?” Gerard asked with anger overcoming his terror.

He’d be scared again soon, but not until Frank had earned his trust.

“I went to go to sleep,” Frank said. “I thought this was my car…Can you drive me home?” Gerard made a choked sound and then sighed in frustration.

“Fine…I can’t leave to you walk in the dark intoxicated.”

“You’re the one who’s drunk,” Frank slurred. “They all talk about it.”

“I’m not drunk!” Gerard growled. Frank leaned forward in the backseat to lean up beside the driver’s seat.

“I think…you’re kinda cool,” Frank breathed. “I live that way…” He pointed his hand in front of Gerard’s face so he had to move his head aside to avoid being poked. “Thank you for taking me home,” Frank said with a forced drunken giggle. “You’re nice—you looked nice tonight. Why don’t they like you?” He saw the pain flicker on Gerard’s face and immediately wanted to see more. But he couldn’t yet. He had to be patient. Just a few blocks more to get him home.

“Where do you live?” Gerard asked, changing the subject.

“I live by the party—like…just down the street from it.”

“All the way back there!?” Gerard cried out. “Why did you think this was your car? Why would you drive?”

“I didn’t drive,” Frank said. “I thought made it home...” Gerard sighed in annoyance and followed Frank’s crummy directions back to his own little one-story house set back from the road, but not so far as to draw suspicion. “You’re so nice,” Frank slurred when Gerard pulled up at his house. “I love you…” He fell back down against the backseat and rubbed his face against the upholstery when Gerard looked back at him. “I can’t get up…”

Moaning in annoyance and throwing back his head, Gerard shut off the car and opened his door.

“Are you going to help me inside?” Frank asked, his tone drunken and stupid. Gerard fell for it like the stupid, naïve little slut that he was—or was going to be soon enough.

Gerard got out of the car and opened the back door for Frank. Frank woozily sat up and slid towards him. He got one out of the car, thought of something to make his stomach churn, got his other foot on the ground, and then stood up—falling against Gerard immediately. The other man stiffened.

“I don’t feel good,” Frank moaned, pushing Gerard away and stumbling a step to the side. He twisted so his back was to the other man and quickly—stealthily—rammed two fingers down his own throat in order to vomit.

Gerard groaned in disgust as he shut his car door and then came to Frank’s side.

“Do you like…need to go to the hospital or something?” He asked, placing a gentle hand on Frank’s shoulder as Frank reeled from the gags wracking his body.

“No,” he moaned, in actual dread. Sometimes he hated how into it he got when he acted…wouldn’t dry heaves just be enough? He hated the burn in his throat. “I just wanna lay down,” he said, forcing himself to sound like he were crying.

“Come on,” Gerard said, “I’ll take you inside, okay? I don’t want you to fall.” So Frank fumbled with getting his keys out of his pocket, and Gerard had to put them in the lock for him and open the door to his house.

Every time Gerard would take his hands off of him, Frank would pretend to fall and force the other man to catch him—just to be sure that Gerard would come inside and take him to his bedroom.

“Here we go,” Gerard said in a soothing, motherly voice as he shut the door behind him like a good boy and guided a stumbling Frank towards the bedroom.

“I never want to drink again!” Frank cried in false hysteria as Gerard took him into his spotless bedroom. He could see how it was set up—didn’t know what was hiding beneath everything on the bed.

“You’ll be okay,” Gerard said, like he was used to dealing with drunks even though Mikey said Gerard was the foolish, stupid drunk. “Just lay on your side, okay? Incase you get sick in your sleep or something.”

“Okay,” Frank mumbled, standing just at the edge of his bed. He couldn’t hold back the smirk, but his back was to Gerard so the other man couldn’t see. His blood was singing with pure adrenaline and pure bliss—he loved this part. “Gerard?” He said, sleepily and softly.

“Hm?” Gerard answered, rubbing Frank’s shoulder one last time before Frank whipped around and decked him straight in the face. Gerard recoiled, crying out and covering his face quickly. Frank moved fast, trained for this, and punched him in the stomach he doubled over.

From that position, and with Gerard still too stunned from the blow to the face to react, Frank fisted his hand in the man’s hair and pulled his forward, shoving him until he bent over the bed.

It wasn’t the position he wanted Gerard in—but that was okay. He still wanted to play before letting his victim realize that there was no way out…

Gerard finally came to his sense and tried to escape from Frank in the only direction possible. He crawled onto the bed, literally thinking he’d be fast enough to crawl all of the way to the other side and escape.

Frank knew this move. He anticipated it, and as soon as Gerard was on the bed, Frank pounced on him, sat on his stomach, and pounded him in the face with almost all of the strength he had. Gerard was yelling like a feral beast and trying to block the blows. It was okay—Frank didn’t care if he was punch face, hand, or arm. He just wanted to hit something and cause pain, and know that he was responsible for every sad, hurt, and choked sound Gerard made.

“Stop!” Gerard screamed, covering his face and sobbing, trying to roll into the pillows to hide his face from the blows. “Please!” He’d quit trying to hit back and laid shaking and sobbing from the pain. Frank was pleased, and he let his blow become less damaging.

Though the assault had ended, Frank still didn’t pause long enough for Gerard to realize that. He grabbed Gerard’s right wrist and pinned it above his head. There was blood on his hand and that made it easier for Gerard to slide it out of his grasp.

But Frank wasn’t letting him free—no, no, no… He grabbed his wrist again with bone-crunching tightness and pinned it against the pillow. Gerard whimpered in despair, his eyes clenched tightly and his bloody lips pulled back into a grimace of pain. Frank hadn’t hit him in the mouth, but the blood from his nose was coating his face lovingly.

“Stop,” Gerard begged. “My wallet’s in the car—you can have what you want,” he sobbed. He was crying and it was beautiful to Frank. “Please—don’t hurt me.” He was so pathetic. A few blows to the face and he’d lost his fight…

It would come back though, Frank knew it. It always came back when they realized he wasn’t after their money.

“I don’t want your cash,” Frank breathed against Gerard’s ear. “You’re not a prostitute…you’re mine.” Gerard’s eyes snapped open and let out a strange cry. His whole body jerked and he started fighting again. He fisted a hand in Frank’s hair and pulled hard. Frank screamed and tightened his grip on Gerard’s wrist and made sure his body stayed over top of Gerard’s. He wouldn’t let his hips slide from his stomach—if Gerard got on top of him, Gerard could escape. Gerard could be in power and he wasn’t allowed. Frank didn’t want Gerard in charge—Gerard was to be his new toy. Frank was going to play with him, not the other way around.

Gerard started yelling and thrashing, but his hysteria did him in as Frank’s calm and collected nature kept him in command. He knew what to expect, he had the upper hand.

Poor Gerard didn’t stand a chance when Frank got the rope out from under his pillow. In four quick motions, undaunted by the free hand scratching his face, Frank had the first of Gerard’s arms tied to the headboard.

Gerard’s fight intensified as he realized he was almost trapped. In one moment of terror, he grabbed his bound wrist with his free hand when he should have swung at Frank’s face and landed him square in the nose. If he’d punched, he might’ve gotten free, but he panicked instead.

As soon as he grabbed at his bindings, Frank pulled the second cord out from beneath the splayed sheets and—wow—so quickly he was done, both of the man’s wrist tied nicely with a tight knot.

Just for his troubles, Frank punched Gerard two last times in the face until he stopped squirming and listened to the man sob beneath him.

“No,” he moaned. “No!” He was twisting his wrists uselessly while Frank got off to his pain. Gerard’s clean tears marring the blood smeared on his bruising cheeks. He was beautiful—Frank loved it.

He always loved his victims once had them.

“What are you going to do?” Gerard whimpered when Frank stopped hurting him. “What do you want!?” He shrieked. No one would hear him scream.

“What do you think?” Frank asked in a whisper, leaning down and licking Gerard’s cheek. The man thrashed beneath him, but it no longer mattered if he forced Frank off of him—his wrists were still bound and there was No.Way.Out…

“You’re Mikey’s best friend,” Gerard sobbed. “He talks about you all of the time—he said you’re nice.” Aw, the victim was trying to get into Frank’s heart. He wanted sympathy because he still thought that maybe Frank would let him go…

“I am nice,” Frank said. “If you’re nice to me.” Gerard’s breaths became frantic when Frank slid back to sit on his knees instead of his stomach.

Gerard’s whimpered words turned to screams as Frank toyed with the buckle of his belt.

“No!” Gerard screamed. “Stop it! Stop!” Frank rolled his eyes, tired of hearing the screaming, but not yet ready to silence it.

The shouts went from an alarum to mortal terror—deep to shrill as Frank undid the belt, undid the button…undid the zipper, and slowly started to tug. Taunting his victim who tried to kick him off.

“Have you ever had sex with a man before?” Frank asked, smirking at Gerard when the man chanced a terrified glance at him.

“No,” Gerard wailed. It wasn’t so much an answer to the question as a it was a protest against what he now knew for certain was going to happen.

“No?” Frank taunted, pulling the man’s tight jeans down to his thighs.

“No!” Gerard screamed, thrashing uselessly and pulling at his bindings. His true physical objections were just about to start. His true terror wouldn’t set in until he was stripped and Frank could see everything. That was when it would all come crashing down—Gerard would feel that his world was over, but he’d fight. He’d fight and scream and cry until at last—Frank would be inside of him and then he’d lose the will.

Then he’d lay still and sob as he was forced to take it against his will.

Frank didn’t see why being fucked in the ass was any different than getting punched in the face—they both hurt like hell and left a damaging mark. Why was the sex so…heartbreaking?

Frank would never let himself know…

Gerard made a sound like a child being stabbed when Frank took hold of his boxers—too impatient to play up the torture any more than stare the man in the eyes—and dragged them down his ass to the middle of his thighs.

“Oh…” Frank said with fake disappointment as he stared at Gerard’s cock just to make him uncomfortable. “I thought it’d be bigger—I wanted more of a prize for all of the fight you put up. But this thing—” Frank chuckled and grabbed Gerard’s member tightly in his fist and squeezed hard, making Gerard scream, “—is just as pathetic as you.”

“Get off of me,” Gerard pleaded, trying to throw Frank off of his legs, but failing because now his too-tight fucking pants were holding him captive as well as the bindings on his wrists.

“Why?” Frank asked, dropping Gerard’s dick from his hand and forcing his hand between Gerard’s tightly clenched legs to grab his balls. “I’m having fun.” He emphasized his words by twisting his wrist and squeezing his hand, evoking a loud scream from the trapped man.

“Ow!” Gerard cried. “Ow—please stop!” Frank let go of him and sighed. He wanted more of a fight…Gerard was giving in too easily. Frank could almost say he was boring—he liked the occasional unexpected blow to the face. The pain was so…so erotic.

Letting Gerard off easy, just this once, Frank sighed and slid back until he was sitting on the mattress instead of Gerard’s body. The man, instead of kicking in Frank’s direction, pulled his knees up to hide himself and whined.

“Why aren’t you fighting?” Frank asked, grabbing one of Gerard’s ankles and forcedly pulling off one of the man’s shoes.

“I don’t want hurt anymore,” Gerard sobbed. Frank groaned in frustration. He overestimated this target—he’d already broken him without even trying.

“I’m still gonna hurt you,” Frank said conversationally, grabbing Gerard’s other foot and ridding it of its shoe as well. Gerard the man whimpered and Frank watched his body shiver with fear. He could still get off to that, even though he liked pain more.

“You’re Mikey’s friend,” Gerard tried. “Please let me go.”

“Why? So you can run off to Mikey and tell him what I did? He won’t believe you.” Frank grabbed the waistbands of Gerard’s pants and boxers and pulled, pulled them down and forced them off of Gerard’s legs. After almost getting kicked while stealing Gerard’s socks as well, Frank forced his way between Gerard’s legs and laid down on his chest, feeling Gerard’s body shuddering beneath him.

He was so perfect.

“Please—please, don’t,” Gerard sobbed.

“Why?” Frank asked, reaching over to his nightstand and grabbing a pair of scissors. He slowly sat up, sitting directly on top of Gerard’s dick just to cause him pain, and flashed the blades before his eyes.

Gerard pleaded more as Frank slowly cut off his sweater and the shirt underneath. He cut them up the middle and then down the sleeves, showing arms wrecked by scars that Frank was already aware of.

“What’s this?” Frank said, faking gasp and running the blades of the scissors over to the fresh, scabbing wounds on the inside of his arms. “Is Gerard trying to kill himself?”

“Stop,” Gerard sobbed, burying his face against the pillow.

“That’s what I hear from Mikey,” Frank cooed. “‘Oh, Gerard’s suicidal,’ ‘oh, Gerard’s in the hospital again, he stopped eating,’ ‘oh, dear, Gerard tried to hang himself.’ If you wanted to die before, you’re really gonna hate your life now,” Frank seethed. “I’m gonna show you what it’s like to fight to stay alive—you won’t dare hurt yourself again.” Frank grabbed Gerard’s chin and forced him to look him in the eye. “I’m gonna kill you,” he said, hardly audible.

And Gerard did tremble—because he didn’t want to die. Frank was God now. He controlled how Gerard felt, and Gerard wasn’t allowed to be suicidal here.

Gerard looked up at his wrists and tried twisting them again, as if he’d somehow get free. While he busied himself with that, Frank returned the scissors to the nightstand and grabbed a condom from inside the drawer. When Gerard saw it he started thrashing again—one blow to the face left him still.

No fight left as Frank—bored and tired—undid his jean and rolled the condom onto himself, not wasting time with a show. His body was his own, and it wasn’t there for Gerard’s viewing pleasure.

The only opposition Frank got as he threw Gerard’s legs over his shoulders and lined himself up without any prep or stretching was the honor of having Gerard collapse into tears. Every breath was a sob.

“Look at me,” Frank commanded. Gerard shook his head against the pillow and wailed. “Look at me!” Frank screamed. He didn’t have to hit—Gerard was already his slave. In fear of pain, his eyes slid open and he stared at Frank worriedly. “I want to see your eyes—I want to see the look in your pretty eyes the first time a man fucks your pathetic ass.” Gerard tried to look away, but corrected the behavior with a slap across his face. Gerard was weak, and Frank got to watch him shatter as he slowly, slowly…slowly pushed inside his tight little body.

“Hurts!” Gerard screamed. “Hurts! Stop!—ow! Ow!” He started thrashing and took Frank by surprise—Gerard was the first to fight when he’d already pushed inside. It felt like his dick was being split in half due to the lack of lubricant and Gerard’s stupid rigidness, and his squirming just made it worse—but for Frank, worse was sometimes so, so, so much better.

Frank pressed in all of the way and leaned down to force a kiss onto Gerard’s lips. And the fucker bit him. Quickly, to show that he was in charge, Frank pulled out to the tip and slammed back in, hurting himself more than he could have possibly hurt Gerard, but not letting it show.

Gerard screamed like a man being killed and pressed back against the bed as if trying to slip through it somehow.

Frank set up a brutal pace, watching Gerard’s eyes roll back in his head as his bloody, smeared lip parted with his heavy pants and cries. He looked disgusting—blood, snot, tears, and drool dripping down his pain-contorted face.

“Why are you doing this?” Gerard sobbed between squeaks of utter pain.

“Because I love you,” Frank breathed. Gerard moaned and shook his head. Frank watched him come undone and lose his mind as he was fucked into the mattress. His wrists were bleeding from his constant attempts to rip them free of the bindings, but Frank couldn’t feel pity.

Stupid Gerard, letting a stranger hitch a ride home. Idiot, going inside with him. Fucking moron, thinking it was safe to take him into his room to lie down. He’d been asking for this—Frank was just giving him what he deserved.

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Frank woke up sticky, lying on top of Gerard’s slowly rising and falling chest. His breaths were even, telling Frank that he was still unconscious. Gerard had passed out shortly after Frank had finished with him. Frank was sad that he didn’t get the chance to be lulled to sleep by his captive’s sobs.

There would be other chances for that, though. Probably even tonight.

Frank moaned at the thought and slid gently out of bed. He was going to take a shower, and then he was going to wake his little captive. Or, his captive would wake, scream and scream and Frank would shower, listening to him cry in the other room…

Both possibilities sounded wonderful, but Frank really wanted to wake him himself if he could help it.

Quietly, Frank washed off the night’s antics from his flesh and dried off. He got himself dressed in a nice enough outfit and stepped back into his bedroom. Gerard was still laying, almost looking dead in his sleep.

Frank looked at the blood on the sheets between Gerard’s legs and sighed. He was going to need another new mattress…and he didn’t want to get rid of this one just yet, liked it.

Slowly, Frank went over to the bed and untied one of Gerard’s wrists. The binding was too tight and he just knew that circulation was slowly being cut off throughout the night. He needed his little slave’s hands—he was going to make him do things to himself with them later because there was nothing better than making the slave its own worst enemy.

Gerard stayed unconscious as Frank tied his wrists to different (and much lower) parts of the headboard with a different material that would cause less damage even though it held just as tight. Taking advantage of his state, Frank took the time to bind his ankles to the baseboard as well—just to keep from getting kicked if the man woke up with more fight in him than he’d had the night before.

“Wake up, Darling,” Frank said, about an hour after he’d finished retying him. Gerard wasn’t just sleeping—he was completely blacked out. “Wake up, Baby,” Frank cooed, petting Gerard’s hair and kissing his bloody cheek.

The first thing Gerard did when he woke up was cry out in pain—before he even opened his eyes. That made Frank smile.

“Do you want something to drink, Baby?” Frank asked. Gerard opened his bloodshot, heartbroken, devastated, tortured eyes and began crying silently. “Hm? A drink?” Frank asked, leaning down again to give the man another kiss on the cheek.

Gerard began to sob and closed his eyes tightly. He didn’t pull at his bindings, but to Frank that was no surprise. His spirit was broken, but he wouldn’t get it back for another few hours. And Frank would break it just as soon as it returned.

“I’m going to get a cloth and wipe your face,” Frank said softly, getting off of the bed and going back to his bathroom. A soft noise from Gerard followed after him and Frank smiled as he wetted the cloth, filled the glass he had on the bathroom counter with more warm water, and returned to the room with them. “Here, Baby—this’ll help you feel better.”

Gerard moaned and flinched away from Frank’s touches at first, but he quickly gave up and laid still against the blood-stained pillow so Frank could dab to dried and sticky fluid off of his face.

“Poor Baby,” Frank cooed, getting on of Gerard’s cheeks clean. “I didn’t mean to break your nose…” Gerard moaned deep in his throat from fear and began shaking. “I’ll be gentle,” Frank said as he slowly started to clean to blood on and around Gerard’s slightly crooked nose. “My poor Baby,” Frank muttered.

He could be gentle when he wanted to—and he only ever wanted to when he cleaning up the aftermath of wonderful tortures. Eventually, the men he victimized would let him do anything. But he only kept them around for a week or two at most.

He never killed them, even though he told them he would. By the time he let them go, he was certain that they’d never tell a soul. But Gerard was different. Frank wanted to kill him. He wanted to watch Gerard’s eyes turn from terrified to dead…he wanted to know what it looked like. What did Gerard’s soul look like?

“What’s going to happen?” Gerard asked, his cracked and raw voice no louder than a desperate whisper.

“I’m gonna keep you,” Frank said, still washing blood from Gerard’s chin and neck. And to think—he still had to wash up his ass and thighs later before trying anything new. “And I’m gonna play with you every day…and I’m gonna kill you.” Gerard moaned in terror and jerked his head away from Frank’s grip. It was all he could do with his arms and legs bound.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Gerard begged.

“Oh, I know,” Frank said, leaning down and kissing Gerard softly on the lips. He could feel Gerard gasp into his mouth and he loved it. “But I don’t want to think about anyone else touching you—you’re mine now. And I know if I let you go you’re gonna find someone to confide in, someone to hold you and make it all better…someone to fuck and take my place in your memory. That’s not allowed.” Gerard whimpered in terror and let the tears bathe his cheeks.

“Please,” Gerard whispered. “Don’t hurt me.”

“The point is to hurt you, stupid,” Frank hissed. “You shouldn’t have left your car unlocked—you should’ve thrown me out at the stop light. You shouldn’t have gotten out of your car—you shouldn’t have come in my house, let alone my bedroom, you idiot. You asked for this—you deserve this.” Gerard whimpered and pulled at his bindings weakly. “No…tell me what you’re afraid of most. I need to know what to use against you.” Gerard stared at him with terrified, hazel eyes. He didn’t understand why Frank was being so blunt. To Frank, it never made sense to play games. People were smart. If he said he needed to know what terrified someone, that person was going to assume that that knowledge would be used against them. “See, I’m afraid of spiders,” Frank said. “What are you afraid of?”

“Dying,” Gerard breathed.

“And yet you slit your wrists?” Frank asked, tapping one of the fresher wounds on Gerard’s arm. The man winced.

“Dying all alone…”

“You won’t be alone,” Frank whispered. “I’ll be with you—killing you slowly and dismembering you while you’re still alive.” Gerard screamed and shook his head violently.

“I didn’t do anything to you!” Gerard pleaded. “Please!—Let me go!”

“No,” Frank said firmly, grabbing Gerard’s face and turning his head to face him. Gerard stared at him in pure, wide-eyed terror. His lips were parted and moist with spit from his screaming, his cheeks raw from the tears and Frank’s scrubbing. So many bruises marked up his skin from his beating… “You in the mood, Baby?” Frank asked, swallowing hard as he stared at the man’s pretty eyes. “I wanna fuck…” Gerard whimpered, started whining, and then screamed as Frank started untying one of his ankles.

But Gerard didn’t dare kick him…and Frank didn’t reward him. He untied both ankles, forced his legs up and apart, and got between them. He grabbed a condom from his nightstand, undid his jeans, and took what he wanted again…and again…a third time until Gerard lost control and ended up pissing on himself in fear. Frank didn’t punish him—the shame and humiliation on Gerard’s face pleased him, but he was certain that he’d never let this…accident…happen again. Next time, he’d make him piss in a bottle before taking him—the degradation might even be worse that way.

Frank cleaned up the mess when he’d finished and lay back down at Gerard’s side, not bothering to tie his ankles again. Gerard wasn’t fighting, he was playing dead.

He had work in the morning, and that made him sad. That was less time he could spend with his little captive and more time the poor man had to be tied up and alone. Tomorrow, people would really start to worry about Gerard. They’d wonder why he wasn’t at work, and why he wouldn’t answer his phone.

Frank moaned in grief because he had to ditch Gerard’s car someplace that wasn’t so suspicious…maybe by a ravine so they’d think Gerard jumped. Or maybe along the highway with the engine assaulted so they’d think he hitchhiked and disappeared.

He didn’t want to ditch the car—he wanted to lay in bed with his Baby and cuddle for a long, long time…

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard lay in the bed sobbing and biting on the gag in his mouth. He didn’t try to pull at the cords holding his wrists to the headboard, nor did he pull at the bindings on his ankles. There was no way out—he was trapped.

He’d been trapped for days. Frank had left for work again, leaving Gerard alone in the strange house—his only company was the too-large dildo Frank had forced inside of him just before leaving. If it fell out, it would be replaced when Frank got home with an even larger one. Gerard worked very hard to keep still.

He wanted to go home. He wanted Mikey—and wanted to shake him until he told him why he had to make him go to that party just to ignore him the whole night. Why couldn’t he have let him be on his own? Why couldn’t he just be allowed to stay in his apartment and hide?

Part of him feared that Mikey wanted this to happen to him. Frank had shown him how little people loved him. No one cared about him. No one came here looking for him. No one called Frank asking if he’d seen him…

The front door to the house screeched open and Gerard started sobbing harder. Frank was home for his lunch break and Gerard was going to be hurt—he was always hurt. Every hour, it seemed, for two weeks he’d been hurt.

“Frankie,” Gerard cried into his gag when the man burst into the room. Gerard gurgled in quiet fear as Frank stormed over to him, and then shrieked as Frank ripped the dildo from him in one harsh pull.

“I don’t even get a thank you?” Frank snarled.

“Thank you,” Gerard said quickly, the gag distorting his words.

“Good boy. I’m gonna take the gag out, and you’re gonna be quiet.” Gerard nodded quickly and held still as the soaking wet gag was taken from his mouth. The sides of his mouth were red and raw, chafed from the cloth which was tied too tight. “You thirsty, Baby?” Frank asked. Gerard nodded. “What?”

“Yes, Frankie,” Gerard said. He was supposed to call him Frank, but if he said Frankie he was usually treated better.

“Good boy. I’ll get you some water.”

“Thank you, Frank,” Gerard called after him when he left the room. Frank came back with a bottle of water and a sandwich. The sandwich was Frank’s, but Gerard only wanted the water. He got dinner a night, and that was all he really craved.

“I’m gonna untie your wrists, and you’re gonna drink on your own today, alright?” Frank said, setting the bottle and the plate down on the bed beside him. Gerard nodded because he didn’t always have to speak and held still as Frank unbound his wrists one by one.

Gerard didn’t fight anymore. He felt sick when thought about how easy it was to just obey. He couldn’t escape and he knew it. He knew Frank would kill him soon, but he still didn’t try to get free. If he was good, Frank took care of him. He didn’t need to act up or get himself in trouble. He’d just lose all of the freedoms he’d just gotten if he did.

( ) ( ) ( )

By the second month, Frank was feeling pretty damned pleased with himself. The cops had questioned him about Gerard’s disappearance, and he’d gotten himself removed as a suspect. Of course, he didn’t tell Gerard that he’d been questioned. He told Gerard that no one wanted him, that he wasn’t even registered as missing.

Stupid Gerard believed him. Stupid Gerard was so…so good. Frank had already kept him too long, but he liked this constant, forced company. Gerard was his to fuck, his to fuck with, his to hurt—his punching bag, his pillow, his lover.

Mikey was in ruins though. Frank had seen him break down twice since the party. He blamed himself for Gerard’s disappearance, and he damn well should.

Gerard talked to him, unlike other victims. Gerard opened up and told Frank about how mean everyone was to him. Forced him to go to parties so they could laugh at him, ever since he was a kid. He liked to stay home and hide, but Mikey always convinced him to come out.

Slowly, Frank began to believe that it was Mikey’s fault. Gerard was socially damaged from being taunted his whole life—he didn’t know what to be wary of or cautious about.

Frank, for the first time, felt pity for his victim. Poor Gerard…Frank might have let him go if his screaming voice wasn’t so beautiful.

As pretty as it was now—cracking as Frank fucked him with a dildo too large to handle. Frank was mesmerized by watching the unbelievably thick, unbelievably long object disappear inside of his captive’s body. No matter how hard Gerard fought, it still went deeper and deeper, bathed slowly in blood.

Frank had been pushing it all of the way in and tugging it out for almost an hour—he didn’t realize how much time had gone by. It was just so fascinating. How could his body open up so wide and just take it like Frank wanted it to?

Suddenly, too suddenly, Gerard quit writhing and Frank pulled the dildo free of him, scared. Had his baby passed out? Yes…for the seventh time, he’d fainted while being tortured. Frank never hurt Gerard for fainting like had his other captives. He felt bad for Gerard, so he let it go.

He had to stop playing with him though, and that was sad, but he could always start again tomorrow.

Frank tossed the dildo aside to be cleaned up later and gently wiped at the blood coming from Gerard’s opening with his finger. It was so bright—a bright red that demanded attention and warned of negative consequences. The body wasn’t meant to be treated this way, but it would learn to take it just like Gerard’s mind had.

Frank smeared the blood off of his finger onto the tip of Gerard’s dick—just for an excuse to touch him there, even though he didn’t need one. He got off of the bed and went the bathroom, seeking a cloth to use to wash Gerard’s face.

Frank really hated to see him laying there with tears and snot and drool all over him.

As he was wiping the other man’s face, Gerard came to, looking dazed with eye glazed over in pain.

“Hi, Baby,” Frank said softly. Gerard looked at him for a moment and then started to cry all over again.

“Hurst,” Gerard sobbed. “It hurts.”

“I know,” Frank said, as if he weren’t the one who’d caused the pain. “You’ll like it soon though. I know you will. It’ll fill you up inside and it’ll turn you on.” Gerard whimpered and shook his head.

“Hurts bad,” he whimpered.

“I want it to,” Frank said. “I like you hurt—you make such pretty noises.”

“I can make them other ways,” Gerard said, sniffing and trying not to burst into hysterics. “I can!”

“No,” Frank said, tutting and petting Gerard’s hair. “You only make those noises when I’m hurting you bad.”

“Hurt me somewhere else?” Gerard asked. Frank laughed, just because no other person—no other slave—talked this way. They always just cried and begged, and begged and cried. Gerard tried to negotiate. He knew pain could only be replaced with other pain. He didn’t try to get out of it entirely.

“I like hurting you down there,” Frank said, smirking. “It’s so sensitive. No other part of you is so…bi-polar,” Frank said, laughing. “Stroke it and you moan, scratch it and you scream. I love it. I love hurting you.” Gerard whimpered softly as Frank reached down to demonstrate exactly what he’d said, taking Gerard’s dick in his hand and pumping it slowly until he was fully hard and then digging his fingernails into the flesh and scraping off skin cells until he drew blood from the tip.

He wished he could swallow Gerard’s noises and make them a part of him forever.

“Frankie,” Gerard whimpered. “Hurts…”

“Good,” Frank said. Gerard moaned and laid flat against the bed, looking far too disoriented. Frank finished wiping up his face and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips before taking the cloth back to the bathroom to rinse it and soak it in water again.

When he returned, he settled on the wonderful task of wiping the blood up off of Gerard’s thighs, slowly working his way towards his torn rectum—loving the way Gerard hissed in pain as soon as Frank touched the rag to it.

Frank was sad because he knew he’d have to let Gerard’s body be for a while—it needed to heal before he caused…

Frank shook his head violently.

Permanent damage? He was worried about permanent damage?

What did that mean? That he wasn’t going to kill Gerard? But he wanted to kill Gerard. He wanted Gerard dead…just not yet. And not anytime soon.

He wanted to keep fucking him…he wanted to fuck him now, even though he was sore and raw and bleeding already. He needed to…

Cruelly, Frank tossed the rag aside and grabbed a condom from the nightstand. Gerard squeaked in fear when he saw the movement and pulled at his bindings for the first time in days.

“No!” he called, not loud, but desperate. “No—No!” Frank pushed in quickly, daunted by Gerard’s shrill scream of pain. It didn’t feel as pleasing as he’d hoped, but it was still good. There was too much blood for friction and Frank slid in and out with ease.

Gerard thrashed beneath him, his body shaking from the pain shooting through him. Frank moaned deeply, knowing that he’d caused that pain. He alone. Gerard fell apart beneath him and Frank sighed softly, watching himself as he buried himself to the hilt inside of Gerard’s wrecked and ravaged body.

“Frankie,” Gerard stammered. “Hurts so much…” Frank stared Gerard in the eyes and watched them go fuzzy and out of focus. Frank started fucking him faster and watched as Gerard passed out from the pain.

It was then that Frank decided he wanted to be fucking Gerard when he died…he wanted to be inside of him when his body gave out. Then he wanted to desecrate his corpse…

( ) ( ) ( )

Gerard woke up when he was dropped into a tub of scalding hot water and screamed. He felt the water sear his torn entrance and stung at his few patches of undamaged flesh as well. The water burned the sensitive skin of his groin, but when he tried to get his hips out of the water, Frank just forced them back down. It felt like Frank were trying to boil him alive.

“Hush—you need clean,” Frank said bitterly. “Your worthless little dick is going to be fine—relax.” Gerard moaned and wailed in misery as the hot water made his body parts twitch with agony. The pain just grew worse and worse as Frank scrubbed him raw with a bath brush, and then even more agonizing as Frank shoved his head under the water to rinse away the shampoo in his hair.

Gerard didn’t know why, but when Frank let him out of the water finally and wrapped him in the mercifully cool towel, Gerard wrapped his arms around Frank in a tight embrace. He buried his head under Frank’s chin and trembled, hoping that somehow showing affection to the man would get him some affection back.

It worked…

Frank started petting his wet hair gently and let him lay against his chest for almost five minutes before drying him off and making him stand up despite the pain it caused his wounded body. He was escorted back to the bedroom, but wasn’t bound as he was laid back on the bed.

“I trust that if I go get you something to eat, you’ll stay right here?” Frank asked. Gerard nodded quickly and buried his face in the bloody sheets on the bed. He knew better than to disobey…what he didn’t know how to do was react when someone rang the doorbell.

[2/3]

OMG woah Frank is mean omg

Yes he is :3 The new chapter is up--hope you are prepared. (Thanks for reading!)

Aw poor Gerard Frank is so mean! This is really good. It's really interesting to see inside Franks head and what he's thinking when he hurts Gerard. Cant wait for more :)

More is now up! Thanks for reading!

omg it so .... heavy. thank you for making my heart beating faster while i read this one. xx

You're welcome :) Thank you for reading. The new chapter is up now.

Wow. I did not expect that. That was so sad :(
But it was so good! I love you're writing! Can't wait for the next part!! :)

Thank you so much! :) Part two is up now :)

This is just... It's twisted, but I really want to see what happens next. ^^
Can't wait for the next part.

Part two is now up! Thank you for reading and taking the time to comment!

YOU WILL WRITE MORE NOW OR I'LL SO PLAY FRANK AND FORCE YOU TO BE GERARD. And I don't think you want that... but I do... you see, I like when you hurt... so perfect. Innocent. Scared...
-grins evilly-

LIKE DAT!!! :o
Am I a bad person for loving this so much already?

xoxo
F

So when can I expect you to arrive at my house? lol

The new part is up now :) Hope you enjoy--even if it makes you a bad person :p

Wow. This is really different. Darker than your other stories. I'm curious as to how you're gonna get us to like Frank, cause right now, I don't. Is there any meaning behind the fact that Frank is always the dominant character & Gerard is the weaker, more sympathetic character in your stories?

This was (and is) my most disturbed creation.

I don't even know if Frank is supposed to be liked--but he does have a story that will come out in Part Three.

I guess the reason I always play him off as the stronger is because he seems the more assertive of the two. I have written a story where Gerard was a little more dominant than Frank and then a stroy where Frank was really the weaker part of a couple. It's not really a conscious decision I make when I write--I've always just seen Frank in my mind as the dominant one.

Thank you for your interest and for taking the time to comment :) Part Two is up now if you're interested in reading more.

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