Clover’s heart broke, and even the pain all over his body disappeared. Tears streamed down his face because he was bound and unable to join Drake and hug him. He’d always known Drake had a soft centre, but now, despite the position Clover was in, he wished to protect him. To take a hundred more strikes from a cane just to be able to crawl to Drake and close his arms around him.
Apollo kept talking over the music. “Didn’t take my people long to figure out who you are. To think that I imagined some intricate plot when all this attack had been was petty revenge. Too bad for you that you got wrapped up with the albino, because I will not forgive my sister’s murder. You’re too old for Mr. Arnie, but maybe he’d do me a favor. I can imagine he’d enjoy reconnecting with you on some level, regardless.”
The music came to an abrupt stop, leaving Drake’s frantic breathing to echo loudly on the empty walls. “That’s right. I was the one to do it. It was my fault. Clover happened to cross my path. If you leave him be, I’ll stay,” he said, and his warm hand brushed against Clover’s thigh.
Clover sobbed, hating every second of Drake’s pain.
Apollo took a breath so loud the speaker crackled. “I wouldn’t honor my sister’s memory if I let her last specimen go. And it was him who brought you to her, so it’s only fair both of you stay with me. I will keep you for a long time, but don’t worry, it won’t last forever. Everyone has an end.”
Drake squeezed Clover’s thigh, but nothing was left to be said. They were trapped and had no leverage. This horrible night was only a prelude to something so much worse, and neither of them knew how to stop the tide Apollo would unleash on them.
Clover wished he could hold Drake’s hand, but he was too afraid to make any suggestions in case they were used against them.
“How about a performance, Little Vampire? If you do well, I might even consider not throwing him to my men,” Apollo said, and Clover stared at the masked faces, at the anonymous people watching the prolonged torture from behind expressionless white features. He would have sworn he even heard an excited murmur.
Drake was panting when he rose and approached the glass with shaky steps. The mark on his shoulder blade, the A in the middle of a double circle looked like it was still burning, still hurting him even so long after it had been permanently etched into his skin.
“Fine,” he said in a dull voice and rested his hands against the window. “I want him patched up.”
Clover sobbed again, somehow still finding it hard to believe that he was in this position. That he’d left regular society behind and entered an underworld most people never even thought of.
He was strapped to a bench in a locked room, bleeding all over from caning, and his boyfriend was negotiating sexual abuse, just to get him medical attention. Even the two dead bodies didn’t bother him anymore. Those men hadn’t deserved to live anyway.
Apollo hummed with contentment. “Good. Fuck him then.”
Drake’s breath caught, and he glanced over his shoulder, his forlorn black eyes meting Clover’s. It felt like falling into a well filled with spiders. No matter how many they killed, they’d still be swarmed.
Clover gasped for air and stretched his fingers, reaching for Drake as much as he could. This would be masturbation fodder for sadistic freaks. His body wasn’t his anymore, but he still preferred Drake to do it than some nameless man who relished in Clover’s pain. The sole thought of being penetrated by a stranger for such hateful reasons made Clover want to curl up into a ball. But he couldn’t even do that, bound to the bench.
“With what? L-lube?” Drake asked but Apollo laughed into the mic he held up to his lips.
“You’ll work something out. Now give us a show.”
Drake turned around and leaned his back against the window, meeting Clover’s gaze. He was so very pale his skin looked gray, but there was no need for words. They both knew what had to be done.
Clover relaxed now that he knew what was to happen. Drake wouldn’t hurt him. He would never, not if he could help it. Clover was in pain because of the open wounds on his body, but Drake would do his best not to agitate those.
Clover still felt shame at the way his legs were spread for an audience, but maybe with time, pain could dull unnecessary feelings. After long enough in Apollo’s hands, he’d soon forget what shame was.
He let his head drop, and his wet hair covered his face. For the people watching, he was just a novelty, a body. All they cared about was the torment he was being put through, and they reveled in seeing Drake so reluctant.