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Outfoxed

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"This is between you and me. Let her go, and we can talk." Harry inched closer to the doorway, finger light on the trigger of his gun. He just had to keep this bastard occupied long enough to take a shot.

"How about you come in here, and I’ll let her go?" Waits sounded too happy about that idea for Harry to trust him, but he wasn’t seeing any other options here.

"All right, all right, I’m coming in." He walked through the door, slow as he could manage, hands raised. "Now let her go."

Waits shoved the hostage towards the door, and damn it all, Harry was off his game, because he couldn’t stop Waits from grabbing him, and he couldn’t stop the blow to the back of his head either. Harry’s last thought as Waits hooked his arms under Harry’s armpits and began to drag him was that they hadn’t even checked the room for other entrances.

 

Harry’s head ached. It took him a moment sitting in the dark with his eyes shut to remember why. Something rough and foul-smelling was tied over his eyes, letting no light through. His wrists were zip tied behind his back, tight enough to hurt and no give whatsoever. His ankles were bound to the chair Waits had sat him in, zip ties again, no give there either. His gun was gone, and more disturbingly, so were his clothes. He felt like he was thinking through cotton, so the bastard must have drugged him too. All in all, not a great setup.

"You’re awake. Finally." That was Raynard Waits, his voice coming from somewhere to Harry’s left.

Harry jumped despite himself, almost tipping the chair over. Waits must have been sitting in here (wherever here was) for however long he’d been out, watching him. The thought made his skin crawl. "I wasn’t the one who hit me over the head with the grip of a gun," he tried to say, but it came out as a slurred mess. Whatever Waits had given him, it was the good stuff.

"I’d hoped we could talk, but that’s all right." Waits was walking towards him now, steps heavy on the linoleum. "There are other things we can do."

Harry didn’t like the sound of that. Waits was close to him now, hand on the back of his head, and Harry heard a zipper undo. Then Waits’ dick was in his mouth, forcing through his too-pliant lips as he tried and failed to protest. Waits locked his hand tight around Harry’s neck, digging hard into his skin. He rammed into Harry’s soft palate, making him gag, then further down his throat.

He couldn’t breathe. His throat was clenching around Waits’ dick and he couldn’t stop gagging and for a moment his thoughts got away from him and he imagined dying here, naked and tied to a chair and suffocating on the cock of a man he’d failed to collar.

All right, breathe. Panic wouldn’t help anything. He focused on breathing through his nose, leaning back into Waits’ grasp as Waits fucked him viciously, moaning every time Harry gagged. The zipper on his jeans dug into Harry’s chin, dragging down the skin every time Waits thrust. This wasn’t Waits’ MO, Harry reminded himself. He strangled his vics, always after anal intercourse. He wouldn’t kill Harry like this.

Some comfort that was, with Harry struggling for shallow breaths and on the edge of vomiting, but it meant he’d get another chance to escape.

Waits finished with one last deep thrust down Harry’s throat. He held Harry’s face against his crotch and murmured, "Swallow," and Harry did, barely even able to taste the bitterness.

Waits slid his hand up to the back of Harry’s head again, almost tender. He slipped his dick from Harry’s mouth, wiping the tip on Harry’s lip. Harry spat at him.

Infuriatingly, Waits only laughed. "Time for another dose, then."

Waits zipped his fly and walked away, and after a short time there was a hand on Harry’s arm, then the sting of a needle. His last thought before drifting off again was that Waits had better be using clean needles.

 

The next time Harry woke up, he was facedown on a bed, no blindfold, and there was a dick in his ass. Waits’ lips were pressed to his neck, his teeth scraping at the top of Harry’s spine. Waits was slow, gentle, his hand wedged under Harry’s body, locked around his dick, and Harry was hard.

Harry tried to move, but his whole body was heavy, sinking down into the mattress, and Waits was pressing his face into the sheets so he couldn’t even protest. He managed a few abortive jerks of his hips, only managing to let Waits know he was awake.

"Hello, Harry," Waits said, breathless. "Having a good time?"

Harry managed to slur out a "Stop," . He’d investigated rape cases. He knew the words detectives said to victims, the absolutions and consolations. None of them rang true right now. He was tied up, hands behind his back and legs spread, with a serial killer fucking him, and he was hard. Every one of Waits’ thrusts sent a thrill up his spine, mingling with the shame and horror that had settled deep in his gut. Waits stroked him again, thumb sliding over the head of Harry’s dick, and Harry couldn’t hold back his moan.

"I don’t think you want me to stop. All that talk, all that judgment, and you’re still begging for what I’m giving you." Waits sunk his teeth into the base of Harry’s neck, and Harry could tell that was going to leave a mark. At least it was in the back, some distant part of him thought, so he wouldn’t have to look at it in the mirror.

Waits pulled out, and for a moment Harry let himself believe they were done for now. But instead, Waits flipped him over, bending Harry’s legs up until Harry’s feet were up next to his own face. Then Waits was in him again, bending Harry up and fucking him at an angle that made him gasp with a disgusting pleasure.

Waits gave Harry’s dick one more jerk, then moved his hands up to rest on Harry’s neck. Lightly now, but Harry knew where this was going. He’d seen the marks on the first vic they’d found, the one who started all this. He knew what Waits did with the men he raped. His useless excuse for a department had better nail this bastard to the wall, or Harry was going to haunt them.

Waits tightened his grip, and Harry’s head began to spin worse than the drugs made it spin. He was gasping, struggling to get any breath in past Waits’ grip, and somehow he was still hard despite it all. He was going to die like this, and if he was lucky his coworkers would find him naked in some godforsaken room with Waits’ come dripping out his ass.

The door slammed open. Waits didn’t stop, even when the shouting started.

"Police!"

"Get your hands in the air!"

"Hands in the fucking air!"

Waits didn’t get up until they dragged him off Harry. He didn’t even grab for a gun – Harry took a moment to laugh to himself at that, before he started trying to sit up.

"Stay there, Harry, we’ve got an ambulance coming." That was Edgar talking, his hand on Harry’s shoulder, and fuck it all, he was going to have to go back into the office after this was all over and face the people who’d seen him getting fucked into the mattress and enjoying it.

"I’m fine," he tried to say, but he couldn’t make the words form. He slumped back onto the bed, waited for the EMTs to haul him onto a stretcher and into the ambulance. His statement was going to be a mess, he thought as they hooked an IV into him and he fell unwillingly back into unconsciousness.