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It’s a dark and rainy Sunday night when he loses his way. And he has no one to blame but himself.
Adam had been out late because of his new job, busy studying all the aspects of his assignments and trying hard to impress his new employers with his knowledge. He’d lost track of time too easily after they’d allowed him to stay overtime. By the time he’d left the office the sun had gone down, and he’d gotten lost in his surroundings. Everything looked so much different in the dark. It wasn’t hard for him to lose his way when he was already so new to the area.
Somehow, he’d gotten himself lost in between the bus stops and all the street names. Really lost. And then the buses stopped running their routes for the night, and Adam got really lost.
The hours tick by, and a chill sweeps in as midnight rolls around. The moon is barely crescent when it appears in the sky. It leaves little to no extra light for Adam to hold on to as he wanders.
He can feel himself somewhere between a nervous breakdown and a full-on meltdown when the sudden sound of a car engine comes to a halt somewhere in the distance. The sound is close enough that Adam can also hear a car door creaking open, though he’s not too sure where. Just somewhere in front of him.
Then, right under one of the street lamps, he spots a man coming into view. Adam watches him step away from a car that must be parked at arm’s length, and swallows his anxiety down at the prospect of having to indulge him with some kind of conversation.
He watches the stranger close the door, and he watches him stand tall and sweep his long fingers through his already windswept hair. Foreign, Adam thinks. He looks something like an expensive bottle of champagne that you have to get imported from oversees.
The man’s head to toe in casual business attire, and even from their distance Adam can smell that his body is saturated in cologne. Fresh from some kind of party, if Adam had to take a guess. He comes to Adam with a glass a little bigger than a shot glass in one hand, and an opened bottle in the other. There’s an air around him that begs Adam to read it as charming, his demeanor suave as his long legs take him in stride to where Adam is standing.
But Adam assumes immediately there’s only one reason why someone like him would be wandering the streets so late at night. Likewise, this man must be thinking the same of him. His father used to tell him stories about life in the underbelly of the city, and why he should avoid the downtown slums.
All the alarm bells in his head go off, his limbs going numb as the stranger takes his last step to stand before him.
He’d like to leave, he thinks. Maybe just start walking before the stranger can start saying anything, until he’s hidden between brick walls and painted cement so that he can just run and leave him behind. But Adam is already too terrified to go through with it. His limbs are locked in place, his throat quivering to find the words to say just to ask the stranger what it is he wants.
The strange man opens his mouth to speak, his voice gliding through the syllables as his eyes take in Adam’s frame. Adam is by no means dressed any kind of provocative, just a simple sweater and a simple pair of jeans. The man seems to enjoy looking at him in it, though. Part alcohol, and part preference, maybe.
“You look too good to be out here alone, gorgeous,” he says, his accent lining his words perfectly with desire. He licks his lips at Adam, downing what’s left in his glass before refilling it and offering it to Adam. “Care to join me for the night?”
His flirtatious words and sudden closeness make Adam’s insides crawl like spiders beneath his skin. His anxiety spikes in the pit of his stomach. Because no this isn’t what he’d planned for when he left his new apartment this morning.
“I…I’m sorry…I’m not a whore.” I’m not what you’re looking for, he thinks, and forgets to say that part out loud. Adam can feel the spark of anxiety as it climbs his spine, because the man does not step aside even despite his words. So he decides he needs to clarify.
“…I’m not a woman, either.” If that’s what you’re looking for.
But the knowledge doesn’t seem to discourage the man. If anything, it’s encouraging him. He grins instead, dipping down to stare at the bits of blue in Adam’s eyes. Foreign words that Adam can’t understand whisper through the air around him, his accent ever as thick as his tongue dips out, once again to wet his bottom lip.
Adam nearly gags at the scent of whiskey on his breath as it fans over his face. He’s definitely drunk. The stranger hovers over him like a lion cornering its prey, and Adam can feel himself start to shake.
“Attractive enough to be one.”
The man reaches out instead of turning away, and Adam’s vision goes white with fear as the man whispers into his ear. “I’m not a picky eater. You’re good enough for tonight.” The man walks over to set both the bottle and the glass on the hood of the car. Then, all Adam registers is hands on his body.
Adam hyperventilates, naturally. His words fail him as the panic and confusion consume him, his thoughts so mangled that it only makes him feel worse. Suddenly nothing feels right.
He lets his voice ring out into the empty streets, forces anything he can from his mouth as he tries to pull from the man’s grip.
I don’t want to go with you. I don’t want to sleep with you. I don’t want to have sex with you. I want you to leave me alone.
“Don’t-“
The man holds on to him tighter. Adam feels himself trying to pull himself free the moment the man starts pulling him toward the car.
Stop pulling me. You’re ripping my sweater. Your hands are dirty. You’re hurting me. I don’t want you to touch me. Please stop touching me.
“I-…I-I-“
Adam starts flailing, unable to think and unable to voice his discomfort. The panic reaches the worst parts of him, and he starts to claw at the man trying to hold him to him.
Adam doesn’t make it easy, but it’s clear from the start that he won’t be winning the fight in the end. The man’s grip is bruising, only tightening the longer they struggle. His strength easily overpowers Adam’s.
He slams Adam into the side of the car as Adam fights, knocking the side of his head against the semi-rusted metal frame. Somewhere in the distance, glass shatters. It barely registers in Adam’s already buzzing mind.
Adam’s barely worn shoes are dragged over cobblestone and grit, followed by the stranger’s grunts as he has to manhandle him.
Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone.
“Stop!” Adam yells out, both embarrassed and overwhelmed the moment he’s pushed against the car door. He knows, probably, that once he’s inside the car he’ll never get out again.
As the man manages to get the car door open, the door in one hand and Adam still in the other, Adam sees his chance. He hauls back and swings his fist right into the stranger’s face. Blood comes to the surface, and the stranger’s grip falters. But before Adam can register he’s supposed to run he’s slammed once again into the frame.
The man utters a single warning for Adam to calm himself. One more chance and no more will he play nice. But Adam only fights back harder. He’s too scared not to. And too afraid to get his words to work to try and talk himself out of what’s happening.
Fear and panic give him enough adrenaline that he almost gets away. He manages to cuff the man on the ear hard enough that’s he’s let go. Adam’s half on the curb and half on the road then, fighting his own shock-weakened limbs to scurry away.
It’s inevitable that he’s caught only a moment later. It’s also inevitable that when he’s hauled back up to his feet, a forearm pressed tight against his throat, that he’s heaved back to where the car is.
The car door is thrown open, and Adam is shoved inside. The musty scent of the cushions leaves him feeling queasy.
“I warned you,” comes the vehement response above him, now lacking any kind of illusion of allure.
The man crawls halfway into the backseat with him, where Adam is haphazardly sprawled over the dirty cushions. Then, he proceeds to give Adam a split lip and a busted cheek for his continued defiance. He puts enough force behind his fist that Adam feels his skin splitting on impact. His vision starts to blur in one eye.
But Adam can’t help how his legs are trying to kick out at him, not in a way that this stranger will understand. Adam’s panicked hands grab at the man’s forearms in-between each blow. His voice falters, caught somewhere between a gurgle and a whimper the longer they fight. Adam’s so scared, so desperate to claw his way out from under the man that his nails start to draw blood.
“Quit fucking struggling.”
There’s a blow to Adam’s collarbone that makes him cry out, and a blow to his brow that gives him the throb of an instant headache. The man’s knee digs painfully into his ribs, a warning before there’s pressure there threatening to snap a few bones. It makes it harder to breathe.
Somewhere, under all that pain, Adam can feel the fight leaving him. The blood stops rushing in his ears, and the absence of adrenaline leaves him too weak to even want to defend himself. He all but goes slack in the backseat while the stranger aims for another blow. Once the man realizes Adam’s calmed down though, he relents as well.
Both of them are breathless when he crawls back out and stands up, carding a hand through his sweat-slicked hair in an attempt to tame the loose strands that had fallen in his face during the fight. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a dull black case and pulls a single cigarette from it.
“You’ve ruined my mood.” He lights the cigarette and holds the first intake in his lungs like it’s ecstasy on the first rebound. “For that, you’re gonna make it worth my fucking time.”
Adam says nothing. He lays there inside as the man smokes, just trying to catch his breath and gather his whereabouts in the wake of his dissipating meltdown. The pain in his ribs help him to concentrate. The blistering throbbing in his face helps him to gather up his thoughts.
He listens when the man tells him to stay still, and does nothing but let his aching body quiver in the back seat as the stranger leaves his view. It’s only for a moment, and when he returns the cigarette is gone from his lips.
Adam doesn’t fight back when his legs are man-handled to fit fully inside the backseat, nor does he complain when the door slams shut and the cuts over his knees press into the dry plastic of the door handle.
But depression sinks in. So does fear. Adam’s at this stranger’s mercy now.
He’s given a name to go along with the sharp angles of that foreign face. Nigel. The stranger who has abducted him is called Nigel. The sound of it feels ominous on his tongue, heavy and weighted like a swear word.
They make it to a motel along the interstate. The car stops after what feels like hours of driving, and Adam tries not to have a panic attack when Nigel is opening the car door again and reaching inside. He tries to be complacent. He tries to do whatever he’s told in hopes that this man will decide to let him go once the deed is done. He’s already lessened his chances by trying to fight back. He doesn’t want to make it worse.
But there’s suddenly more demands once they get inside, and Nigel seems less interested in making a good impression. He’s blunt, and to the point. He calls to Adam and expects nothing but complacency. Adam is in pain, but Adam listens. Because his wounds are hurting him and he worries that if he doesn’t he’ll just be hurting more.
Adam listens to Nigel’s drunken requests as the beer disappears from the small fridge inside their little motel room in the hours that follow. And he tries to be amiable, even though he just wants to run.
He doesn’t really want to, but when the time comes, Adam doesn’t push back when Nigel wants to know what it feels like inside him. That was the ultimate goal from the start, right? Adam understands the urge. He understands the request. He willingly removes his sweater, jeans, and underwear before laying on his back on the bed. He’s not technically a virgin, but when it comes to anal sex he doesn’t know much about the finer details.
It’s awkward and clumsy when the two try and come together, both with Adam’s discomfort and shyness and Nigel’s eagerness. Adam doesn’t outwardly say anything at first. He assumes it’s going to be something like the sex between a man and a woman. He probably won’t even feel much. Better to just let Nigel have his way until he’s done. It’s easier that way.
He doesn’t even say anything when Nigel spreads his limbs over the bed like a whore, not bothering with pleasantries.
Nigel knows better. But he’s too drunk by the time he hoists Adam’s legs back, too drunk to remember that Adam isn’t a woman with a wider, slicker hole meant for taking cock before he’s forcing his own inside Adam’s smaller, dryer one. He thrusts his hips forward so sharply and so suddenly that Adam’s body nearly goes into shock.
After the third harsh thrust, Adam can’t hold back his cries of pain. His body is on fire, and it’s nothing like he thought it’d be. It’s far from painless, with the burning pain of his overly stretched hole twitching around Nigel’s cock, and the stabbing pain of it just inside.
“Ow-“
Nigel doesn’t give him time to voice his opinion. He groans over the cries of pain, pressing his body down against Adam’s until he’s nearly suffocating him. With Adam’s knees against his chest and his arms pinned between them, Nigel gives no warning and offers no steady pace.
The meager spread of spit he’s lathered over his cock aides little in the blunt force trauma. It’s too dry and unpleasant when Nigel tries to force himself all the way in. And Adam sobs, trying with broken syllables and a cracking voice to beg Nigel to slow down and try something else.
But Nigel just pulls back, spits on his cock, and simply tries again. Adam’s hole rips as its forced into the dry stretch, blood rushing to the surface and pooling around his girth as Adam quivers from the unexpected pain.
Adam cries out, groaning through a whimper at the pain, and Nigel thrusts harder. Tears roll down Adam’s cheeks, and Nigel can feel himself getting harder inside. He speeds up to the sight of Adam’s wrecked, pained expression. He’s bending down and groaning in light of that broken, desperate voice. Suddenly, there’s enough precum that Nigel is able to move easily inside him.
Nigel fucks him hard after that. He fucks him with enough strength to bruise the inner lining of his walls. His cock feels impossibly hard inside Adam’s trembling body, the line of it taut and the need to cum so high that his toes ache.
But Adam can barely handle it. Nigel is too much for his body to handle. He’s too long and he’s too thick and Adam feels like he’s tearing apart at the seams. The head of Nigel’s cock keeps bumping into the edge of something painful and raw deep inside him, stabbing into him with enough force that the pain starts to make him feel queasy.
It’s far from nice. Adam has to grit his teeth and hold his breath just to keep from vomiting all over them both. By the time Nigel finally lets go and cums inside him, it feels like something inside him has ruptured.
Adam is still in pain from Nigel’s abuse in the car. Coupled with the new and uncomfortable stabbing ache along his insides, he’s not too keen on doing much of anything else. Nigel moves, but it’s just to lay down beside him on the bed. If anything, Adam’s glad at least the sexual part of the night is over.
Nigel falls asleep soon after that, but Adam feels almost like he’s in a strange state of shock. He’s too paralyzed to even move, let alone leave the room and make his escape. He lays there in a stupor, in the same spot Nigel had left him in until the birds start chirping and the rest of the city starts to wake. He never gets to sleep, and by morning Adam is so out of it that Nigel stirring next to him does little to catch his attention.
By then most of their combined bodily fluids have dried. On the bed, and on Adam. Inside Adam.
When Nigel wakes up he only looks over Adam once, with a grin at his lips and a promise behind his gleaming eyes before he goes and gets in the shower. Adam can feel the exhaustion start to settle once Nigel is fully out of the room. His defenses start to wilt. His eyes start feeling heavier, his temples suddenly aching from all the tension he’s kept in his shoulders throughout the night.
He tries to press two fingers at the spot between his brows just to alleviate some of the pain, but he quickly pulls back with a hiss as more of it blossoms. He forgets all about his earlier injuries, his fingers coming up to slowly press against different areas of his face to assess the damage.
The entire left side of his face is swollen. It hurts just to tap his fingers against his eyelid. But he does it anyway, almost as a reminder that he’s survived the night. Because right, they really got into it in the car last night. They were strangers then. Not that it makes a difference.
When Nigel returns it’s with only a towel wrapped around his waist. Adam instinctively whimpers. It’s not loud enough to really be audible, but Nigel still seems to hear it anyway. The towel is already beginning to perk up, tenting where Adam can assume his cock is filling out. Dread settles in his stomach like a brick.
“Even with a fucked-up face you’re still nice to look at. What a pleasant surprise you are.”
They fuck again, this time with Adam being hastily flipped onto his stomach and Nigel thrusting into him from behind. There’s already and abundance of pain inside where Nigel has bruised him from the night before, and having Nigel inside him and thrusting again so harshly and so soon has his stomach in painful knots.
Adam tries to handle it. He tries to control the pain in short bursts. But he doesn’t know how. It’s a lot of pain and all at once, and he’s so tired that it’s hard for him to block any of it out.
There’s the incessant throb in his face from his injuries, already agitated from their position on the bed. There’s also the way Nigel’s greedy hands batter Adam’s already bruised ribcage. His arm hurts too, from the previous night and from all the pulling. The pain of having Nigel’s cock so hard and so relentlessly unforgiving inside him turns white hot too fast with the rest of it, and before he can even register the nausea, he’s spilling the contents of his stomach all over the comforter. It’s mostly just stomach acid and bile.
Nigel doesn’t stop. Not even when Adam begins to cry. It turns him on too much to make him stop. Adam’s too lethargic and too much in pain to struggle anymore. So, he just cries. Because he has nothing else.
Afterward, after Nigel’s thrusts come to halt and Adam can feel the warmth spreading inside him, Adam curls in on himself. Nigel leaves him alone, and Adam lays there with his hands wrapped protectively over his lower stomach as his insides throb from all the abuse. Eventually, Nigel comes around to clean up the vomit. He doesn’t do much else in terms of comfort.
The days that follow are more or less the same. In the end, Nigel doesn’t let him leave. The days come and go, they follow Nigel’s estranged jobs and Adam gets tugged along by an invisible leash. Adam’s wounds slowly start to heal.
Adam is alive, but he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to feel about it. Nigel can be nice, but he can also be abusive. Mostly, Nigel just has a short temper. Adam spends three weeks by his side, and by then he becomes more accustomed to Nigel. He becomes accustomed to his line of work and his bipolar demeanor.
The scenery changes and the scenarios alter their course, but their daily lives for the most part don’t change much. Nigel sometimes works and Adam does not. They have sex before bed and as soon as Nigel wakes up. They eat whatever Nigel provides. Nigel drinks and busies himself with either his clients or the tv, and Adam sticks to making sure their belongings are present and that Nigel is taken care of.
It’s a routine: something Adam is very much capable of falling in to. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t hold hope of being able to leave one day. Because some day, Nigel will get bored of him. Just like anyone else he’s taken in before. And that leaves Adam with two options.
Nigel might decide to kill him, just to get rid of the evidence he could present. Because Nigel made sure that Adam knows exactly what he does for a living, which means that Adam knows entirely too much. And Adam knows himself well enough to know that he probably won’t survive running from someone like Nigel if he were to risk it and take off.
The other option is being rescued. But he hasn’t heard anything on the radio about himself going missing, nor has he ever read anything in the papers. Nigel certainly hasn’t mentioned anything. It makes Adam’s anxiety worse, and that second option less likely the longer time stretches on.
About a month passes, and still nothing circulates about his disappearance. Adam finds himself feeling sad and bitter about it, that no one wondered why he suddenly stopped showing up to work. Had they simply fired him for his absence instead of looking into his disappearance as something malicious? Has he already been marked off and forgotten, because he was new?
Three months in, and Nigel still doesn’t let him go. He’s less patient with him though, which starts to leave Adam on edge. Especially when Adam doesn’t feel up to indulging him, and Nigel shows him exactly why it’s never a good idea to deny him anything. He uses Adam’s body to satiate his own and doesn’t bother to help him in the aftermath of the abuse when Adam decides to reject his advances.
Adam gets used to the mistreatment, though he’s not fond of it. His body gets used to stretching around Nigel’s cock the more that Nigel fucks him. And Adam’s body usually heals quickly enough that whoever is manning the front desk of the next shady motel they stay at, they don’t decide to ask questions.
But Adam starts to feel lonely the longer they’re together. It starts to eat away at him. Because Nigel has already made it clear that he keeps Adam around just to have sex with him. There’s never been much of anything else there. And it makes Adam feel hollow inside the longer he has to endure being with Nigel like that and not gain anything from it. Nigel doesn’t seem too interested in giving him anything, not even an orgasm. So Adam never asks, even though it makes his chest ache not to.
Somewhere down the line, Nigel decides that Adam is trained enough not to run when he leaves. So he does. He goes and completes his tasks and returns with blood on his hands and enough money for them to survive on for months at a time. Nigel starts earning enough money to upgrade their living arrangements.
And somewhere down that same line, Adam stops wanting to leave. He stops wanting to escape when he realizes he has nothing left to return to. Enough time passes that he’s not only lost his job, but also his new apartment and any funds he’d left with to start his new life. He’s got nothing but Nigel now, after almost a year passes. And that’s depressing enough for him to want to stay with Nigel, in the end. At least Nigel makes sure he’s warm enough at night. At least Adam has access to food and water here, even if their surroundings aren’t always the cleanest. It’s still better than having to live on the streets.
It’s not until some time later, after a night of rough and unfulfilling sex for Adam, that Nigel decides to show him the poster.
“It’s almost our anniversary,” Nigel tells him, his tone a mock form of intimacy. He brings his hand up to card his fingers through Adam’s messy curls, his thumb massaging the knot over his scalp from where he’d slammed Adam against the wall only a day prior. “I thought I’d get you a present.”
The attention is nice. So is Nigel’s soft touch. Adam leans into it before he can stop himself. It’s a rarity, and Adam can’t help that a part of him yearns for more of it. He knows though, that Nigel’s only teasing him. Nigel’s done it enough to him that he understands his demeanor for what it is.
Adam swallows the anxiety knotting his chest, letting his words out as softly as he can. He doesn’t know what to expect, and that scares him a little. Nigel always has been a bit of a loose cannon. He just hopes it’s not the muzzle of a gun against his lips.
“I appreciate it.” Because he can’t forget that anything Nigel chooses to give him is something he should always be grateful for.
“You’ll love it, doll” Nigel says with a smile. He’s still completely naked as he gets up and makes his way over to the duffle bag he’d brought inside earlier, his body glistening with sweat and his own drying semen as he’s digging through the contents.
When he returns to Adam on the bed, he presents a frame. The paper inside the frame makes Adam’s insides feel cold. Maybe the gun would have been kinder.
“Gorgeous picture, huh? Had ‘em take it from my other phone.”
Inside the frame is a neatly pressed poster, the bold words “Missing” plastered across the entire top of the sheet. There’s a semi-recent photo of himself on it, complete with his personal information. There’s even a short paragraph about an eyewitness account during the time of his abduction, coupled with a description of…well…Nigel.
“I never saw one for you.” Nigel grins, and Adam starts to feel sick. “So, I had one made. Just one, though. Just for you.”
The implications are enough to have Adam’s head spinning in circles. All this time and no one had thought to report his absence. It took his kidnapper to make it happen, all while giving a fake eyewitness account of someone who described him perfectly.
Nigel offers the framed copy of the poster with the adoration of a lover and a gentle kiss to his forehead, and Adam accepts it like an arrow straight through his soul. He can almost feel himself bleeding out in the moments after.
The message is clear: he’s already forgotten. Nigel is free to do as he pleases. For however long he pleases. Adam’s only choices are Nigel, and death. He has nothing else. And he has no idea how to handle that information. Except, maybe for one thing.
“….Thank you…Nigel.”