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“Ocelot.”
The hand that came down on his shoulder was heavy and firm. The grip was familiar. Ocelot winced internally at Volgin’s timing.
“See! I told you!” Raikov’s voice this time. Damn him.
“Now, now,” Volgin said. “I’m sure the Major here has a perfectly reasonable explanation for…this.”
'This' encompassed many things about the scene in front of him. The raw snake Ocelot was holding in his hands, which already had a few bites taken out of it. The pile of bones and gristle from other animals piled on top of the table he was seated at. The blood and fur lingering at the corners of Ocelot’s mouth. And the American prisoner’s bag, broadcasting as clear as day where he had gotten all the animals from.
Ocelot put the snake down. Keeping his expression carefully neutral, he turned around. Volgin loomed over him, waiting impatiently for a response, while Raikov loitered behind him, arms crossed and smirking.
“Colonel. If we’re going to take down that American, we need to get on his level. Think like him. We need to learn how he works. What makes him tick. I thought that his eating habits would be as good a place as any to start.”
It sounded like bullshit even to his own ears.
Volgin grit his teeth, eyes narrowed. Raikov piped up behind him again.
“That’s the stupidest lie I’ve ever heard. I’m telling you, he’s -”
Volgin held up a hand, and Raikov trailed off. He leaned closer, putting himself face-to-face with Ocelot.
“Ocelot. I’ve been patient with you throughout this…debacle, but you’re overstepping your boundaries. Tell me something: Where does your allegiance lie?”
Ocelot forced himself not to stare at the man’s scars. They always looked so much more hideous when seen up close.
“With you, Sir. With this country."
“Is that so? Because it’s pretty clear to me that you’re head-over-heels for a filthy American dog.”
Ocelot stayed quiet. It was usually the safest course of action.
“Love is funny. It makes people do all sorts of crazy things.”
Raikov chuckled.
“I can’t have you going crazy at such an important time, can I?”
“Sir, I can assure you, I would never betray this land for something as petty as that. I’m appalled you would have so little confidence in me.”
A jolt of electricity that ran through Ocelot’s body. He gasped and grimaced at the sudden pain.
“Liar. I don’t appreciate being lied to, and I don’t appreciate your dangerous little crush. You need to remember the meaning of loyalty. Come with me.”
“Sir, please, if you’ll just -”
His words were cut off when Volgin’s hand closed around his neck, hauling him to his feet. Volgin didn’t wait for him to get his footing before he started dragging him – half-literally – out of the room. Raikov grinned and followed behind them.
Ocelot struggled, trying to get his feet under him so he could walk with dignity, but it was impossible with Volgin’s long strides. Apparently his scrambling was getting on the Colonel’s nerves, and he shouted at the sensation of electricity assaulting his nerves.
Soldiers scurried out of the way at Volgin’s approach, then stared, openly amused, at the struggling Major. Ocelot felt his cheeks flush with humiliation, and he glared right back at them.
They didn’t have far to travel. Volgin was taking him to the cells. They rounded a corner, and Ocelot was dragged unceremoniously into an empty cell. Volgin shoved him into the bars, and he felt blood dripping from his nose when his face hit them. Wincing, he looked at the cell across from him. A familiar figure was lying curled up on the bed.
Damn it.
So Volgin planned to torture him in front of the American, send a message. Try and make him associate the agent with painful memories. Crude, but effective, under the right circumstances.
Volgin kept him pinned to the bars with one hand on his neck and one on his hip, pressing his gigantic body up against his back. Raikov, meanwhile, waltzed over to the other cell, pulling something out of his boot. A knife.
“Hey! Wake up! Time for some entertainment! It’s on the house, so you better catch a good seat before they’re all gone.” He ran the knife along the bars, occasionally banging them with the handle for good measure. The prison rang with metallic echoes.
The agent blearily sat up, eyes widening at the sight of Raikov. Raikov gestured to the front and center of the cell with the knife.
“Come on, stand over here! Best view in all of Groznyj Grad, I’m telling you.”
He hesitated, but eventually stood up and walked over to Raikov, wrapping his hands around the bars. He hadn’t noticed Ocelot yet, mercifully.
“What do you – AGH!”
Raikov kicked him straight in the groin. As he clutched between his legs, backing away, Raikov spit in his face.
“That’s for stealing my clothes. You goddamn pervert.”
The American glared, wiping the dripping saliva off of his nose and mouth. Raikov beckoned him back to the front of the cell, and he finally noticed Ocelot and Volgin. Confusion was written all over his face. Ocelot felt Volgin laugh behind him.
Raikov spun the knife lazily, walking back towards Ocelot’s cell.
“A pervert like you is just going to love what we have planned for the poor little Major here tonight. So watch nice and close, okay?”
Volgin spoke up.
“If you look away, I’m giving Ivan free reign to do whatever he likes to you - with that knife or otherwise. I’d imagine he’s more than a little upset at you, so angering us would not be in your best interest.”
The agent stared at Ocelot, the question clear on his face: What the hell did you do? Ocelot looked away, refusing to make eye contact.
Volgin roughly stripped off the upper half of his uniform, tiny electric shocks penetrating Ocelot’s skin at every touch of his fingertips. Then he started removing his pants.
Ocelot felt a violent sinking feeling in his stomach.
Torture, he could handle. But the thought of being humiliated like that, in front of the man he wanted more than anything to impress, made Ocelot want to cry in anger and frustration.
He struggled, but he knew how useless it was. When he was fully naked, Volgin grabbed his arms and forced them above his head, tying his hands to the front of the cell with a length of rope. Volgin tested the rope. It was apparently satisfactory, because a moment later, he started grinding into Ocelot’s ass.
The American was dutifully staring, expression torn between confusion, horror, and interest. Ocelot was sure his face was a deep shade of red. He closed his eyes.
Volgin grabbed roughly at his short hair, and the resulting shock made Ocelot blank out for a minute. When he came back to his senses, he felt something warm and hard pressing insistently against his thigh.
He screamed and pulled at his bonds. He had already lost any respect the agent might have had for him – surely the man wouldn’t fault him for a little fear.
Volgin chuckled. The way he was pressed against Ocelot, the feeling of his chest moving up and down with the action felt obscenely intimate and out-of-place.
Raikov was appreciating the view from the far end of the cell. His eyes twinkled at Ocelot’s scream, and he sauntered over, admiring Ocelot’s bare body.
“Isn’t this what you wanted? A strong man to fuck you like the traitorous whore you are? You should be glad we’re doing you a favor and cutting out the middleman. No, no – no need to thank us!”
“Fuck you.” Ocelot spat back.
Raikov’s eyes narrowed, and Ocelot suddenly felt cold metal against the base of his cock. He froze.
“Listen, you little bitch…”
“You’re on very thin ice, Major.” Volgin continued. “It would not be a good idea to defy me while I’m testing your loyalty to me.”
Ocelot was shaking with anger and embarrassment. He stared defiantly at Raikov for a moment, then looked down, biting his tongue.
“That’s more like it.” Volgin’s voice was almost a growl.
Raikov slowly moved the knife, trailing it up Ocelot’s chest and toward his neck, pressing down lightly. Droplets of blood pooled along his skin in a line made jagged by Ocelot’s constant shivering. A sudden metallic clang made Ocelot jump. Raikov had banged one of the cell’s bars again, and was now angrily addressing the other prisoner.
“Hey! Don’t you dare close your eyes! It’s time for the main show. We designed it special, just for you.”
Ocelot snuck a peek at the American out of the corner of his eyes. He was staring right back at him. Ocelot wanted to scream at him to just look at Volgin, or Raikov, - anyone other than him. He might have done so, if Volgin hadn’t thrust into him, with no warning or preparation.
“Fuck!”
Even though Ocelot held an interest in men, he’d never actually had someone else’s cock inside him. And even if he hadn’t been ridiculously inexperienced, Volgin’s was proportional to the rest of his inhumanly large body. He felt like he was being ripped apart as Volgin started thrusting in and out of him.
Raikov giggled, pressing his hand to his mouth like a bashful girl.
“That’s a good look for you.”
He pressed the knife back against Ocelot’s throat, moving it up to his face. He stopped at his mouth, and gripped his chin, thrusting it up for the American to see. He traced the blood at the corners of his lips with the blade.
“I hope you weren’t too attached to all those animals you hunted. It seems the Major here developed quite a taste for snake while we weren’t looking.”
Ocelot dared another look at the agent. He looked like a little queasy.
Raikov’s grip on his chin was suddenly replaced with a much larger hand. Volgin yanked his head back, and started licking the gore off of his mouth. His tongue was hot, heavy, and dry, moving lecherously across his lips. His thrusting started getting faster, harder. Ocelot thought he might vomit.
He ground himself desperately into the bars, trying to get even the slightest bit away from the violation. His struggling only seemed to amuse Raikov, and make Volgin press into him more violently.
He suddenly noticed a sound that had been building for a while. Heavy breathing. It wasn’t his own or Volgin’s, and it definitely wasn’t Raikov, so who –
No. Oh no. No way.
The agent at least had the decency to look guilty through his obvious arousal. His face was flushed, his breath loud. Something pressed at the base of his pants. He was getting off on this, even if he looked like he didn’t want to.
Ocelot felt like curling up and dying. The desire only intensified when Raikov noticed the agent’s state, laughing in disbelief.
“See? I told you you’d enjoy the show! Here, I’ll give you something a little extra, for being such a good audience.”
Raikov pressed the knife against Ocelot’s cock again. Ocelot tried to squirm away, but Raikov put the weapon away, though not before slicing a short cut against Ocelot’s most sensitive body part. Ocelot bit back another scream. He hated how much the two men torturing him enjoyed the sound of his pain.
Raikov replaced the knife’s cold touch with the painfully firm grip of his hand. He grinned at Ocelot’s look of confusion, patting his head patronizingly.
“Why should he be the only one to enjoy this? Come on, show him what he’s missing.”
Raikov’s hand started moving roughly along the length of his cock, jerking him off inelegantly. It worked, to Ocelot’s shame. As much as he tried to resist, thinking of how wrong all of this was, he felt himself getting agonizingly hard, even as Volgin continued to rape him.
He didn’t dare look at the agent now. He kept his eyes shut and prayed. Prayed that his body would get used to the pain, make this easier on him. Prayed that Volgin would finish soon. Prayed that Raikov wouldn’t drag this out long. Prayed that the agent would fall and suffer amnesia, forgetting he ever saw all this.
He heard Volgin’s breathing become strained, and he bit down on his tongue to muffle a scream when the man forced his entire length into his body, up to the hilt. The taste of his own blood filled his mouth, mingling with that of the animals.
Volgin gripped his chest with a gloved hand, and sent a large jolt of electricity through his body. It yanked a strangled scream out of Ocelot, and Volgin’s thrusts became frantic, nearing release.
Raikov continued to fondle his cock, and Ocelot felt himself near the edge as well. Ocelot felt like crying, of relief this time. It was almost over.
Volgin shuddered, crushing Ocelot’s hips with his hands as he came. The feeling of warmth filling his insides was revolting. Volgin held himself firmly inside Ocelot throughout the entirety of his orgasm, which seemed to last ages. Ocelot felt warm liquid spilling out around the man’s cock, dripping down his legs. Vomiting felt like a very real possibility now.
Volgin finally pulled out, Ocelot falling limply against the bars.
Raikov, a sparkle of childish joy in his eyes, removed his hand from Ocelot’s cock, stepping away.
Ocelot was appalled at how close he came to asking him to come back, to finish the job. He was close, and it was painful not to come now.
Instead, he watched as Raikov helped Volgin fix up his clothing, both of them looking thoroughly satisfied. Then they started walking out of the cell.
“Wait! Where are you going? Untie me!”
Raikov giggled again. Volgin grinned, his scars warping gruesomely.
“We figured you should have some time to sort things out with the American. So we’ll give you some time alone, just you two and your thoughts.”
With that, they strode out of the prison, leaving Ocelot naked, erect, and tied to the front of his cell. Anyone who walked by would see him like this. He shouted in frustration, banging his head against the bars.
“Those…savages!”
“Yeah…”
The agent’s agreement was breathy and short. Ocelot finally looked at him directly, and found him looking ashamed, absentmindedly stroking himself.
Damn it.