Please do not link to this story
|
|
A Dish Served Cold |
|---|
Disclaimers: None of the characters or places of The Magnificent Seven belong to me. No profit, other than guilty pleasure, was made from this story.
Warning: This story contains graphic details of a male rape.
Darkness morphed the town into a solid black shape. JD pressed against the corner of the building after hearing sounds of a struggle down the alley, his gun cold and heavy in his hand.They had two brothers in the jail accused of murder. The Simpson family had all been killed, their homestead burned to the ground. The trail had led the seven straight to a campsite, the two Mandrill brothers sitting peaceably around a fire, sipping coffee, talking quietly. They'd insisted they were innocent, but Chris brought them in anyway, deciding to leave the judging up to Travis. When old man Mandrill found out, he'd stormed the town with about a dozen of his men, demanding his sons be released. The town countered, forming a lynch mob, asking for Chris to give them the boys so they could hang. The seven had their hands full. Larabee wired the Judge.
Second thoughts of handling this newest threat on his own strung questions through JD's mind. Instead of listening to them he stepped boldly into the alley. Hands grabbed him before he knew there was anyone there. A palm pressed suffocating across his face, closed off his mouth and nose. He grunted, but the sound caught in his chest. Arms scooped under his legs and he was jerked off his feet. Something exploded against his skull, and the darkness of night closed over his head.
+ + + + + + +
He woke naked and shivering on a wooden floor. The instant his eyes opened, two men he recognized as some of Mandrill's ranch hands grabbed him by the arms and pulled him roughly to his feet. Two more men stood beside a strange wooden rack in the middle of the empty room.
They shoved him closer to the object. It resembled a carpenter's sawhorse, but the horizontal board was smoothly rounded, no sharp edges. A two-inch dull-tipped metal stud protruded upward from the center and it was to that he was being steered.
"Dammit, NO!" Awareness filled his mind with the danger he was in. He struggled to pull away, twisting his shoulders and kicking his feet with no effective results.
The men handled him skillfully but roughly and forced him to bend over the rounded board, lining the stud up perfectly with his belly button. They pushed him down, their hands firm against his back. When he felt the unwelcome stabbing of the cold protrusion into his belly, he sucked in his breath, straining to handle the pressure skewering through his navel. They stretched out his arms and quickly secured his wrists to the ends of the frame. He jerked against the restraints, his voice ripping through the room. "Let me go, damn you!"
He grunted in surprised reaction when a body enfolded over him without warning, weighing heavily against his back. The added pressure forced his belly hard against the horizontal beam and the two-inch stud felt as if it pierced his abdomen. Pain brightened when fragile skin inside his navel split. That pain was quickly ignored when hips slapped against his buttocks and a penis penetrated his ass.
JD arched, helplessly trying to escape the rape. His body grew taut with strain and the bottom edges of his ribs rolled painfully against the wooden frame. His attacker bore down harder, rocking him, plunging into him, pushing him open wide and thrusting deeper into his anus. Agony twisted his bowel with the unnatural intrusion.
The thick head of the penis brushed against his prostate. He weakened with the arousal that burst through his body. He struggled to lock his legs, keep them from buckling. The stud impaling his gut rolled against the tightly straining tissues and muscles in his abdomen. He threw back his head. Blood pulsed rapidly through straining veins corded in his throat. The rapist grasped hold of the wooden rack and pushed himself tighter against him. The protuberance in his belly felt as if it were ramming completely through him, and he screamed. The penis inside his ass swelled and grew.
The pain grew intense, became too much, dragging him down. He doubled over the board, his hanging body jerking uncontrollably with the powerful thrusting from behind. His attacker's heavy weight compressed his body tighter, forcing the stud deeper into his belly. His brain disconnected from his body. Details stood out like images frozen in a picture. He caught a glimpse of his attacker's boots through his spread legs. The man's jeans were pooled around his ankles, his brass belt buckle slung open, shining through the denim. A short handle of a concealed weapon extended from the side of the buckle. An embossed 'Z' stood out from the surface.
A bright explosion of pain erupted through his stomach. He screamed, frightened the intrusive projection had penetrated his body. His eyes rolled back in his head. Hot darkness surrounded him, sucked him under.
The weight lifted from his back and hands fumbled at his wrists, unlocking the clamps. Hard gripping fingers pinched around his biceps and lifted him from the stand. The sucking pull of the stud as it wormed out of his navel shocked him awake. He gasped with the inescapable pain erupting in his body.
They turned him, forced him against the frame. The two men holding him stepped away and behind, pulling his arms back until he cried out.
He lay bowed over the stand in an exaggerated arch that pulled his ribs open and lifted his chest high. He heard movement, the slap of boot soles against wood, and a man punched him. Against his tautly stretched muscles, the fist had the force of a blade-tipped battering ram pummeling deeply into his stomach. He convulsed, lungs emptying with a sudden whoosh of air, and caught a glimpse of the man standing before him; his arm cocked back, big-knuckled fist ramming forward again. The punch came in low, scooping into his belly and digging into the darkly bruised area of his navel.
JD lost his breath again. His body went limp. He collapsed backwards, his body curving in an elaborate arch so that his head hung upside down. The man hit him again and again, hooking into his stomach, ramming under his ribs, straight into his navel, low on his abdomen just above his groin. Breath gushed from him in vomiting bursts, his voice lacing each expulsion with a heavy-throated groan.
Silence held the room still. Only JD's moaning gasps broke the strange calm.
"Knock him out. Dump him where Larabee'll find him." The voice spoke low and from somewhere far away. JD didn't understand what it was about, who they were discussing.
The hands gripping his shoulders pushed against his back and sat him up. The sudden change in position, the folding muscles in his gut, buckled his knees. The men held him up, wouldn't let him fall. He blinked open his eyes, found himself face to face with one of his tormentors. A sneer curled the man's lip. He drew back his arm and smashed his fist across JD's cheekbone. An explosion of black enveloped his brain and when he fell, no one caught him.
+ + + + + + +
Quiet voices floated on the surface of his conscience; warm brown tones that pulled him up gently from sleep. Words broke through and he heard Nathan. "--Bleeding inside. There's nothin' I can do, I don't know how to fix it."
"So you're tellin' me he's gonna die?" Worry and grief strained Buck's voice tight. "I cain't let that happen, Nathan. There's gotta be somethin' you can do. Somethin' *we* can do."
JD frowned, wondering who they were talking about. His body felt numb, weighed down as if his bones had turned to lead but for the ball of pressure in his stomach. He wanted to push the weight off, whatever was sitting on his gut, but he couldn't lift his arms.
"There's still a chance, Buck." The voice grew muffled, as if Nathan had shifted close to Buck and spoke near his ear. "If we can keep him still, give his body time to heal, what's broken open inside him might knit back together. I've seen it happen b'fore to men in the war."
The room grew still with silence. Someone sniffed, the sound heavy and wet. "Okay. Okay, we'll keep him still. He'll heal up, you'll see. He's tougher 'n he looks."
He heard shuffling steps nearby and turned his head, but couldn't force his eyes open. He felt empty, like someone had opened him up and drained him dry of bones, muscle and blood. Just get this thing off me, he wanted to say. It was getting heavier, forced against his diaphragm and beginning to take his breath. He opened his mouth, but produced a weak moan instead of the words he'd aimed for.
A palm pressed cool against his face. "Just stay still, JD." The words rumbled deep from Buck's chest and blew warm onto his forehead. He felt himself fading, grew aware of the voices scattering into sounds, and then falling away into nothing. He slept.
+ + + + + + +
"Why'd they do it?" Buck turned angry eyes to Chris. He straightened up from where he'd been bending over JD, and put both hands on his hips. "Why him?"
Chris shrugged, saw the dangerous way Buck's eyes glittered. He pushed away from the wall and turned to stare out the window. JD's body, crumbled, bruised and broken against the ground where they'd found him, drifted through his mind. He'd been naked, his attackers not even allowing him the dignity of clothes. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't rid himself of the image. "Because he was the one they caught, probably." He looked over his shoulder at Buck. "It could 'a been any one of you."
"But it was him this time, Chris." He took a step forward, drew one arm up to point at JD in the bed. "He's payin' the price for your pig-headed pride."
Anger rose hotter than the blinding guilt. Chris turned from the window, lining up to face down Buck. From the corner of his eye he saw Vin stiffen. "I shoulda let them take those men? Allowed 'em to hang 'em for somethin' they might notta done? What if that'd happened with Nathan, Buck? Hell, most of us wouldn't be here today if not for him."
"You don't know that!" Explosive breath gushed out of Buck. He stepped closer, swinging his arm to skewer his finger at Chris. "Maybe they *did* kill that family, burn their house. Maybe they *deserve* what's comin' to them."
"That ain't for us to decide, Buck, and you know it." Chris drew back, banked the rage burning in his gut, felt it smolder in his eyes. Answering flames burned in Buck's eyes and the trouble was, Chris wanted to side with him, wanted to go to the jail, yank those men out and hang them until they were dead. But no matter what he did now, JD was still hurt. It was too late to take that back, to make it right. "Ezra and Josiah'll take 'em out tomorrow mornin', bring 'em to stand trial like we've been told to do."
Buck spit, then curled his lips in and wiped his sleeve across his face. Everything froze on edge, waiting to see how Chris would handle the insult. "Don't recall the law meanin' that much to you before, Larabee." Words thrown low and sharp from Buck's hurt cut across Chris' heart. "We got one of our own lyin' here, maybe dyin' --" He stepped back, creating a wider gulf between them. His head dropped to hang between his shoulders, a burden everyone could see pulling him down. He lifted eyes heavy-lidded with weariness but edged with a dangerous kind of need to Chris. "He dies, someone's gonna pay."
Chris nodded once, short and sharp. "I expect to take care of that myself, Buck."
Buck's eyes narrowed, his stare sharpened to a point. "Not if'n I get to 'im first." He swung his head to glare at Nathan. "I'll be at the jail, let me know when he wakes up again." Without another word his boots thumped hollowly across the floor and he left.
Chris moved nothing but his eyes and pinned Vin across the room. "Go with 'im. Make sure he don't do something we can't fix later."
Vin ducked his head in a quick nod, then walked quick and silent as a shadow across the room. He was out the door and gone before anyone had taken a breath.
Chris turned to Nathan. "Is there anything else we can do for him?"
Nathan's wide shoulders lifted slightly, his eyes troubled. "Wait. All we can do is wait."
He tossed the cloth he'd been using to dry his hands with over one shoulder and left it hanging there. Walking across the room, he bent over JD. He folded back the faded quilt that had been pulled up to JD's shoulders and lifted the edge of the pad on the young man's abdomen. Chris joined him, watched over his shoulder. His teeth clenched and his jaw hardened anew when he caught sight of the wound. Someone had skewered him through his navel, for heaven's sake.
Mottled bruises colored his belly in spreading purple, black and yellow layers. Defining muscles through his torso quivered. A frown appeared between JD's brows. Nathan twisted to look over his shoulder. "Josiah, hand me that other bandage there. And the poultice beside it."
The kid's horse had run into town riderless, stirrups flapping against its sides. Chris, Vin and Buck went to look for him. Vin backtracked the horse and they'd found JD near the Simpson's place, curled in a thatch of long grass like he'd laid down to take a nap. The blood on his belly had flashed a fear bright as lightning through the men; they thought the kid had been gut shot. That worry was laid to rest just as another horror had been realized: JD had been raped.
Revenge pulled Chris into several directions at once. He watched Nathan tend to JD, his touches soft and gentle against the bruised flesh, offering hardly a whisper of pressure. His eyes drifted to the darkening window and the town outside. The Mandrill boys sat in the jail, protected by iron bars and rock. But there were ways of getting around any object. Chris aimed to have satisfaction, even if he had to go through hell and high water to get it.
A soft moan snapped his eyes back to the bed. JD's head lolled over weakly, his brow creased with a frown.
"I'll get s'more laudanum," Nathan muttered to himself, but Chris caught his arm before he could move.
"Just -- give him a minute, Nathan. He might be able to tell us something."
Nathan's frown told Chris exactly what he thought of that, but Chris gently pushed past him anyway. He leaned over JD. The nauseating smell of blood, sweat and sickness permeated his sinuses. The kid's eyelashes fluttered, then his eyes slit open.
"JD." His name seemed to wake him up more. JD turned his head. His breathing slowed, his body held still as if listening. Chris slid his arm along the top of the pillow and drew closer. "It's all right, JD. You're safe."
"Chris?"
Chris nodded with the whisper, then answered, soft and low in case JD wasn't seeing him. "Yeah. It's me."
JD swallowed hard, then seemed to choke. "Help -- help --" His eyes squeezed shut and his lips rolled inward against his teeth.
Instinct moved his hand to JD's face. He pushed his other hand beneath JD's head and held him carefully, gently. "Shhhh -- you're home, JD. Everything's gonna be okay." His words, strained and soft, stirred JD's hair across his forehead.
The choking turned to gulping breaths, then evened out into a more steady rhythm. Chris felt eyelashes flutter against his cheek. He pulled back and found JD watching him.
He grabbed hold of his resolve, reached past the hurt he found twisted his own gut with the pain he saw in JD's eyes. "Can you tell me who hurt you?"
JD's eyes closed. A tear slid slowly from the corner of his eye into his hair. He shook his head weakly, then opened his eyes. "Didn't see 'em."
"It's okay." He kept his face neutral, careful not to show disappointment or give in to the pull to let the corners of his mouth frown.
"But I do -- I remember something." JD's stare turned inward. He shuddered and squeezed his eyes shut again. "The one that -- one of 'em had a belt buckle with a 'Z' on it."
"Okay. That's good."
A deep sigh filled JD's chest before his breath caught and shuddered out of his mouth with a loud exhale. Rib bones expanded and contracted against Chris' chest.
"You go back to sleep now, kid. Get some rest. Let me take care of things for you."
JD's eyes closed. Chris waited until the creases in his forehead smoothed, then he pulled his hand from behind the kid's head and straightened up. Without a word of explanation, he walked quickly across the room and left.
+ + + + + + +
"Zack Mason."
The man from Mandrill's Ranch finished zipping his pants and stopped. He'd been returning from a small copse of trees just a few yards away from his horse. They were along the backstretch of the Ranch.
"Yeah?" He squinted through the moonlight and finally realized who'd called him. Chris Larabee. His face blanched and he backed up a step. He bumped into a tree, then put his hand back to steady himself. "Whada you want?"
Silver moonlight glinted off the fancy 'Z' on the beltbuckle at his waist. "Just wanna ask you a few questions is all." Chris stopped a couple of arm lengths away from him and leaned against another tree. "Can't help but notice that fancy doodad you got on your belt."
Mason looked down and touched the buckle. He looked back up at Chris, confusion pulling his features into a frown. "Huh?"
"Friend 'a mine noticed it the other day, too."
"Who?"
"JD Dunne."
A rough swallow jacked Mason's Adam's apple up and down in his throat. "H-he did?"
"Yep, sure did." Chris pushed away from the tree, squared off with the man. "You know I'm the law around these parts, Mason. I need to ask you some questions." He waited a beat, then decided to lay all his cards on the table, see what kind of reaction he'd get. "We both know you did it." He waited, watched Mason lick his lips nervously. "Nothin' I can do about it, though. I can't touch you. I gotta send you on to a judge." He watched tension melt away. "Was you actin' on orders?"
Apparently seeing a back door out of his troubles, Mason nodded. His shoulders slumped, relief slid onto his face. "Yeah." His lips thinned into a leer. "But I woulda done it to 'im anyways." He laughed, secure in the knowledge the lawman couldn't do anything to him.
"Why JD?" Anger burned just beneath the surface. Chris felt it simmering in his eyes but he kept it shored up, let it build and bubble hot through his blood.
"'Cause he's the one we caught." A short laugh huffed from Mason's mouth. "Hell, I wanted to get my hands on that gambler. Had a bet with Trudy that under all those dandy clothes he'd have skin as pale and creamy as buttermilk. A good poke'd make a man outa him, wipe some of that uppity-ness off his face. Turns out the kid's ass was just as sweet, though."
Chris pulled his gun from the holster that slung low against his hip.
"Might as well put that away, Larabee." Mason slouched, hooking his thumbs into his pockets, not even bothering to draw his own gun. "You're the law, you cain't kill a man in cold blood."
He thumbed the hammer back, felt the click of the chamber falling into place through the fine, strong bones of his hand. "You see a badge anywhere?"
Abrupt fear rounded Mason's eyes. He fumbled for his gun and ended up on his butt trying to run at the same time. A bullet pinned him to the ground through his belly. His body folded in on itself, cradled around the pain. He rolled to his side, arms clutched to his torso, and twisted his head to look up at Chris. "You -- you're the law, mister."
"I'm also friend to the man you hurt. No law's gonna keep me from gettin' satisfaction."
He pulled the trigger again. The shot echoed away into the darkness.
+ + + + + + +
Buck's voice, loud and angry, almost guttural, vibrated muffled from the jail. Chris hurried up to the porch and crashed through the door. He found Buck pressed against the bars, his gun waving wildly at the prisoners, Vin barely keeping him from pulling the trigger.
"Buck!" Chris grabbed handfuls of Buck's jacket at his shoulders and hauled the man back. Buck whirled on him, his gun pointed at his gut. "Damn it, Buck, it's me!"
Vin stood at Buck's shoulder, breathing hard, his eyes wide. He held his hands ready to grab Buck again if it looked like he'd go for Chris.
Anger bled red and bursting in his friend's face. Veins bulged and pulsed in his forehead and neck, spit flecked his lips and chin, but recognition swam in his eyes. Moving stiffly, he slowly reholstered his gun. "I managed to loosen the bastards' tongues." He hooked his thumb behind him, indicating the prisoners. "They say Zack Mason did it -- h-hurt JD." He swallowed hard, took a stumbling step toward the door. "I gotta go after him, get him for what he done."
Chris caught him, held him when it felt like he'd fall. "You don't need to worry about Zack," he whispered quietly.
Buck's head turned until his eyes were level with Chris'. He stood there for a long moment, reading Chris' face, seeing the smoldering satisfaction in his eyes. He nodded. "Okay, pard. Okay." Patting Chris awkwardly on the shoulder, he pulled out of his grasp. "I'm gonna go check on JD."
Chris let him go.
+ + + + + + +
JD lay still, his chest rising and falling beneath the blanket with his soft breathing. Buck watched anxiously as the kid's breath abruptly caught in his throat and he moaned. His legs shifted restlessly beneath the covers. He pulled one hand from his side to press against his stomach. A swallow tightened his throat. He frowned, gasped once, then settled back to his steady breathing, the furrows across his brow smoothing out.
Buck blew out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. A hand touched his shoulder. He glanced up at Nathan. The healer smiled at him, gentle and kind. "He's gonna be all right, Buck."
Buck nodded. Nathan had told him as much half a dozen times already, but he felt grateful for the repeated reassurances. "I know. Thanks, Nathan."
Nathan patted his shoulder, then moved away.
Buck shut his eyes, then quickly reopened them when images of JD's body flashed against his lids. He doubted a week's worth of whiskey would ever erase that impression from his mind.
He sighed and leaned forward to prop his elbows on his knees. They'd only addressed the wound in JD's stomach. No one had mentioned the other, and he knew no one ever would. Men just didn't talk about that sort of thing, preferring to pretend it hadn't happened until it faded out of their memory. But he'd never forget, and he knew JD wouldn't, either.
JD had been stripped of something vital, something he'd have to fight to get back. A young man still trying to prove himself to others who had already accepted him, still trying to test his mettle and forge his own reputation; that tenuous balance JD held between youth and adulthood had been yanked out from under him. Buck aimed to make sure he didn't kill himself trying to get it back. He knew of only a few men he'd heard of who survived the kind of attack JD had been through. Some of them ended up shooting themselves or drinking themselves to death over it, others were never the same, turned into an empty shell of who they'd been. JD had too many years ahead of him, had too many promises sewn into his future to quit.
Buck knew the next few weeks and months, hell, possibly the next few years, would be rough. First JD had to get past his physical injuries, then he could deal with the other. All he needed was a friend to stand by him, someone to offer that support when everything crumbled around him. Buck straightened his spine and pulled his shoulders back. His back was broad enough to carry JD's burden, and he had to make sure JD knew that in some way without coming out and telling him.
"I'll stand by ya, kid." His whisper startled him, he hadn't meant to say anything out loud. He glanced around the room and found it empty. Smiling to himself, Buck settled back in his chair. Looked like he had a long road ahead of him, and he needed his rest for the trip.
The End
Comments to: pfps@hotmail.com