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With the new moon hanging high in the sky, it was easy enough for the supposed outlaw to slip into town past the Moisture Farm and up into the lower square. He hated both feeling like he had to come here and the fact that he needed to hide that he was coming here, but with everything going the way it was... what other option did he have? Haru thought he was out on watch. Grace was in town. Andy was in town. (Light, he hoped Andy wouldn't see him. That would be the last thing he needed.) He wouldn't be long. Just a quick trip in, a moment of peace... and a hasty retreat.
He could do this.
Logan hopped the fence rather than trying to work around the rusty hinge on the gate into the graveyard and slowly made his way over to his father's grave. He hated the way he could already feel the tears burning at the backs of his eyes, the lump growing in his throat. Being back in Sandrock was hard enough; he didn't need his emotions getting the better of him and making that much worse. He slid his hat off his head and set it on top of the grave, hoping that would at least make his figure less immediately recognizable if anyone happened to walk by.
It took a long moment before he could convince himself to speak. "Hey there, Pa." He cleared his throat, shaking his head enough to chase some of the haze away. "I know I ain't been by in a while, an' I know you know why. I'm..." Logan's jaw clenched, his eyes closing. "I'm tryin' my best to watch out like you told me. I'm gonna figure out what you wanted me t'know, an' I'm gonna protect this place as best I can. I jus'--" His voice wavered and cracked, and he lowered his head. "Dammit." He let a beat pass, carefully breathing in and out, counting each inhale and exhale. "Wish you were here, Pa," he finally managed, in little more than a hoarse whisper. "Peach knows I'm tryin' my best, but it don't feel like I'm making any progress. I'm trying t'do right by Andy, sendin' him back into Sandrock so he can get a proper life, an education... 'least more of one than Haru an' I would be able to give 'im."
Logan's eyes squeezed shut, and he could feel the tears forcing their way past his eyelids. "It's all just a Light-damned mess, Pa. I don't know how to save Sandrock. Barely know how to save myself. Not sure I oughta, these days. But someone's gotta, right? And you ain't taught me to be a coward." His fists clenched at his side. "I just hope I'm making you proud."
"Well, well, well." Logan was on his feet, hand at his holster in one smooth movement as he turned to see Pen, typical smirk on his face. "What a lovely little surprise." Logan didn't say a word, just watched to see what Pen was going to do, the mask hiding the curl of his lip. Pen spread his arms wide, a mocking show of neutrality. "Now now, there's no need for hostilities. If I'd wanted to do something to you, I would have already done it!"
Logan didn't trust like that at all, but he relaxed his hand just a fraction from the handle of his pistol. "The hell you want, then?"
"I'm trying to find an understanding." Pen took a step forward, but held up his hands again in a sign of retreat. "Come on, Logan. I'm not an idiot. I can see just how much this little backwater town means to you, and how much they still care for you. So I'm giving you this one chance to explain, out of the pure goodness of my heart."
After a beat of silence, Logan narrowed his eyes at Pen. "You think I'm gonna take your word on that?"
"Of course! I'm me." Pen put his hands on his hips, chest puffed out. "Protector of Sandrock, Enforcer of the Church of Light, and all-around nice guy. You can take my word on anything."
Logan clenched his jaw, still unconvinced but not able to find a way to argue his way out of the concept. "Fine. You wanna know why I'm doin' this."
"I do! I am incredibly interested to know what turned you so far against your home. It just doesn't make any sense." Pen crossed his arms.
Logan bit back the growl. "You know damn well what happened. Y'all locked my Pa up in the Church and this happened." He looked back at Howlett's grave--
--and in that instant, he felt a sharp yank on the back of his mask, pulling hard enough to tug the fabric into his mouth and effectively gag him. The next heartbeat brought a spear of pain as he was pushed into the headstone, his face and ribs pressed hard against the rock. Logan reached for his pistol but felt a searing flash of heat as the Relic weapon on Pen's hand sent out a burst of energy, not only blowing the gun and holster off of his leg but melting the weapon into a useless mess in the process. "I don't think so." Pen's voice was low, cold, controlled in an unusually low-key manner. He leaned into Logan, pressing him harder against the headstone, his breath hot on Logan's ear. "I've been waiting to complete this set for a while now. And you know, this will be all too fitting to do this here."
Logan tried to twist against Pen's hold - and then froze as he felt the other man's tongue slide up the shell of his ear. He tried to say something but could only manage to mumble against his mask, which promptly got twisted tighter against his head and he cursed into the fabric. "Ah ah ah, we can't be having that." Using his body weight to pin Logan in place, Pen redid the knot on Logan's bandana to keep it tight as the makeshift gag. Logan tried to swing his fists behind him, pushing against the stone in an attempt to leverage himself up, but the knight wasn't budging. "Are you going to make me tie you up?" Pen murmured in Logan's ear. "You really are just like your father."
Logan froze. What? The moment of shock gave Pen the perfect timing to yank Logan's cape off of his back, and Logan could hear a loud rip as he could only imagine Pen was tearing a strip off of the cape. He tried to fight against it again, but the other man was too strong and too fast; he felt rough fabric tie tight around his wrists, cinching them close to each other. "Yes, please, keep fighting." Logan could hear the shit-eating grin on Pen's face. "The struggle makes it all so much sweeter."
Logan could feel a pit growing in his stomach. What the hell does he have planned? Because if this was headed where he thought it was...
Pen leaned up against Logan again, and this time he could feel exactly what Pen in mind, as the unmistakable pressure of an erection pressed against his ass. "Your dear old Pa fought back too. Almost left a scar or two. But he gave in eventually. They all do." With one forearm firmly against Logan's shoulder blades, he could feel Pen's other hand loop around his waist to his belt buckle. With a snarl, Logan shoved back against Pen Just enough to push himself a fraction away from the headstone--
--and in the next moment, he felt Pen's arm move from his back just to bury his hand in Logan's hair, yanking back on his ponytail hard. "Let me tell you how this is going to go, dear little bandit." The sarcasm and arrogance dripped off of Pen's words. "I'm going to have a little bit of fun with you, and you... are going to enjoy it." Logan coughed out a laugh as best as he could through the gag. "Oh, you don't believe me? Hm." With a sharp tug, Logan felt the buckle of his belt snap in two. "You want to know the real truth of what happened the night the Temple collapsed?" Pen pulled, tearing away the belt and letting it and his various pouches dangle by the single strap left around his thigh. "That rage, that fury... I can almost smell your hatred of me. A cornered beast, ready to lash out at anything. And yet." Logan could just barely see Pen pull the dagger out of Logan's discarded belt, and then the feeling of that last strap being sliced away. The belt and his belongings clattered to the stone at their feet. "That's the same look Howlett had in his eyes when I came to find him in the Temple." A pause, and then a laugh. "Come to think of it, it's what he looked like when I injected that virus into him too."
Logan's chest went cold. Pen poisoned my Pa? He tried to push away again, but Pen leaned harder against him, hand still tight in Logan's hair. "You see, I had decided to be benevolent. Offer one last chance to Howlett, to save his life. After all, I was the only one who had the antidote to cure him." Logan growled against the mask, which just made Pen slam his head forward into the stone, sending bursts of stars into Logan's vision. "I'd give him one opportunity to prove himself useful enough for me to save, even when it was against my orders to let anyone with knowledge of what was happening in Sandrock stay alive. And you know what he said?" The sneer was audible in Pen's voice. "He looked me straight in the eyes and said 'I don't care what you do to me, long as you leave my boy alone.' Hah! What a pathetic plea. Ready to trade away anything to save his precious baby boy."
Logan squeezed his eyes shut again, fighting to keep the tears away. Dammit, Pa... But it sounded just like him. Of course Howlett would have protected him until the end. Of course. But... Logan tried to turn his head toward Pen, silently willing him to keep talking. (Not that he thought the bastard would need any prompting to keep monologuing.)
"And I thought, 'well I hadn't intended on taking this on a trial run, but why not.'" Pen leaned close to Logan's ear. "I told him the only way he was making it out alive was if he convinced me he was enjoying himself. And let me tell you... hearing a seasoned warrior mewling your name, begging you to let them come for you, that is a whole different kind of hot."
Logan snarled against the mask again, but as Pen tugged back on his hair he fell still. He could feel the bile rising up at the back of his throat, but fought to keep it down. He didn't need that all over the bandana.
"The more you enjoy this..." The hand that had broken off his belt now tugged at the front of his pants, popping off the button holding the fly open and then without warning thrust down so that Logan could feel Pen's fingers wrap around his cock. He couldn't help the shudder. "The easier it gets. After all, a squeaky wheel does better with grease, hm?" With one arm still flat on his back and the other around his waist, Logan felt the toe of a boot come up - and then scrape down his ass and stomp to the ground, bringing his clothing with it. Slowly, Pen began to stroke Logan, long lingering touches that made his skin crawl.
That was really the worst part of this. If it had been rough, bloody, carnal - that would be one thing. But Pen was acting like he cared. As he'd said, the goal was for Logan to enjoy himself with this. That was sick enough on its own, pretending like he was going to enjoy being... Peach, he could barely think the word.
What Logan hated more was that he could feel his body reacting. How long had it been since anyone else had touched him? Jerking off by yourself was one thing, but it couldn't compare to being with someone else.
Apparently, even if that someone else was a rapist.
Pen chuckled against Logan's neck. "Well, well, well. Would you look at that? Already getting hard for me. Shameful, really. If you'd wanted a taste of me, all you needed to do was ask."
That ain't how this works, you prick! The retort was muffled into nothingness against the gag, and Pen just laughed. Logan could feel his teeth grinding together, lowering his head while heat rushed through his body. All he wanted to do was push all of this out of his mind, forget what was going on around him, just detach from the world - and every time he thought he might, Pen would shift - or pull just a bit harder - or rub his thumb over the head of Logan's cock and send shockwaves back through his body.
"There we go," the knight all but purred into his ear, and Logan shuddered again. Was that a shudder? Hell, don't tell me he's got me shiverin'. "You've got the hang of it. You don't want it that rough, do you?" Pen pulled his hand back - and a moment later Logan's whole body went cold and stiff as he felt a finger slide between his ass cheeks. "Don't worry, little bandit. We'll get you all set and ready."
Logan retched and thrashed, but the knight wasn't letting go. He'd gotten some kind of oil on his other hand while Logan had been preoccupied, and had brought that hand forward to continue stroking up and down, over and over, until Logan wasn't sure how much of the slickness he was feeling had come from Pen and the oil, and how much was his body betraying him. His skin felt hot, not just where Pen was touching him but everywhere. His chest felt heavy as he fought to pull in breath.
That got another low chuckle from Pen. "What do you know? It does really work. And here I thought they were just trying to show off. See, up in Duvos, we're not nearly as much of cowards about Relics as you all are down here. And one of their newest inventions is this oil, supposedly made with plants from the Old World that work to boost your sex drive."
Logan just groaned, and he couldn't tell if it was out of disgust for what Pen was saying, or something else.
"You're not as big as your daddy, I have to admit. Not as much to work with." Pen's fingers tightened just a fraction, his fingertips kneading into him, teasing at the head of his dick, running along the underside. "Shame."
Logan let his head rest against the stone in front of him, and he desperately tried to forget what stone this was. Light-dammit. He groaned as Pen smeared more of the precum he was pretending didn't exist on his fingers, and then came back to press against his asshole again. Slow, methodical movements as Pen massaged the muscle there. As much as he hated to admit it, the jackass knew what he was doing. His cock was throbbing in Pen's hand, and it was all Logan could do to keep from giving Pen any movement that wasn't getting dragged out of him.
"Now comes the fun part." Pen pushed, and the moan that wrenched its way out of Logan's throat was indecent to say the least. Pen had buried his finger up to the second knuckle in Logan, the pain of the intrusion mixing with the unbidden pleasure still floating around in his mind. The knight curved his finger and Logan's control cracked. His hips bucked forward into Pen's hand, his skin tingling anywhere Pen had smeared that oil. "There's a good boy," came the sneer. "Show me how much you want me to fuck you."
Wanting to get fucked was both at the top and the bottom of Logan's mental list at the moment, if he was perfectly honest. But between what he assumed were the effects of the oil Pen was using, and his own complete detachment from the situation at hand, he wasn't going to argue the point. The duality of sensations between the hand on his dick and the finger in his ass was sending sparks into his vision, and he bit into the bandana in his mouth hard. Every time he'd started to get used to what he was feeling, Pen would pull back out, slick his hand up again, and come back to push even further in. Now he could feel that tingling heat in his ass as well, and as Pen pushed hard enough Logan could feel the man's other fingers against his skin, another moan tore itself from his throat. He bucked into Pen's hand again, pushing forward hard enough that he could feel the head of his cock collide with the stone in front of him.
"Go ahead and moan for me, Logan." He hated how smug Pen sounded. "Who's going to hear you? It's not like the doctor is going to come save you, and that old fool can't hear anymore anyway." Logan couldn't see the gesture, but he knew Pen had to be talking about Mort. That hadn't occurred to him. Did he want to get someone's attention now? What would happen if someone found him... like this?
Which was the worse fate?
A hook of the knight's finger, and whatever reservations Logan had been harboring fled. His vision went white and the growl of unfettered lust that came out of him felt like it shook the ground. The rush caught him by surprise as his head swam, a wave of light-headedness knocking him off-balance. It wasn't until he heard the laughter that he realized what had happened - as he opened his eyes to see white splattered and running down the gravestone.
He'd just... On...
He was going to be sick.
"Ah ah ah, I'm not through with you yet." Even through the sheer overstimulation, Pen wasn't slowing down. A second finger worked its way into Logan's body, muscles constricting and pulling at Pen's skin as he twisted and turned his hand, burying deeper and deeper into him. Logan closed his eyes, trying to block out the memory of what he'd just seen.
His stomach, roiling.
His throat, raw.
And pure, carnal lust flooding every inch of his skin.
Whatever this oil was, it was powerful and terrifying.
"There we go," Pen's voice came back to him. "Almost ready." As Logan felt a third finger slide into him, he rutted back into Pen's hand, groaning at the stretch that forced. "Hah, eager now, aren't we? All in good time, yakboy, all in good time." But said yakboy wasn't interested in 'in good time.' The raging inferno in his body was insistent: now. He jerked back again, a growl rumbling in his chest. "Fine then, have it your way."
A pause, and Logan fought not to whimper as he felt Pen pull his hand back. Distantly he could hear metal and fabric shifting. And then--
--Logan's throat seized up as he felt Pen thrust into him. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think. His blood was pounding in his ears, his hearing ringing. It hurt, Light it hurt, but the oil was doing its job.
All semblance of caution or care was gone. Pen pushed him up against the headstone hard, pulling on the edges of it to leverage himself in harder. Logan could hear the granite cracking in Pen's grip. Still with his hands bound behind his back, Logan used the momentum of each thrust to try and get some kind of friction on his revived erection. The stone was rough, but the sparks of pain from that were nothing in combination with everything else.
There were no witty comments, no quips anymore. Just the sound of skin slapping against skin, grunts of exertion, and muffled moans of self-hating pleasure. Logan felt like he was going to explode. Collapse. Combust. He didn't know anymore. It was all too much, and it had almost begun to feel like he was watching the scene play out in third person - as if someone else was having this happen to him... and not Logan himself.
As he felt a second orgasm crash through his body and his knees buckle, he thought it might be easier to believe it was someone else. Someone who wasn't the son of the man beneath their feet, whose engraved name was now sticky with semen. Someone who wasn't moaning like a bitch in heat as a murderer fucked him against a gravestone.
Someone worthy of this legacy.
Logan didn't recognize the word Pen said under his breath before the final thrust came, warmth spilling deep into Logan. He didn't know how long it took for the other man to pull back, and let that same warmth run down the backs of his legs and into his pants still bunched around his ankles.
Wasn't sure when his hands had come untied until he felt the clap on his back.
"Don't feel bad, kid. Everyone knows the original's always the best. Just one more way you don't measure up to dear old Pa."
The silence after he walked away was deafening.