Alone in a Dark Place

 

Author:  Kinkyhobbit 25/4/02

Pairing:  ?/Casey

Genre:  The Faculty, PWP

Rating:  NC-17

Warnings:  rape. 

Summary:  Someone pays Casey a visit in the darkroom. 

Note:  I really like Casey. I do. No really…these things just come into my head and must be written. Actually, I think this one is hobbitonastick’s fault. She makes a passing comment and my brain pounces on it like a terrier.

 

 

Casey liked the darkroom. He could get lost in his pictures, and hardly anyone else used it anyway. He almost felt like it was his. He liked no-one being able to find him. It didn’t really dawn on him that he spent so much free time here it made it easy for someone to find him. A particular someone who wanted him alone in a dark room.

 

Not until today.

 

Today he was just messing about. Playing with filters. Wasting time. There wasn’t anywhere else to be. As usual, there was nobody else there.

 

He heard the door click closed and glanced around, thinking it was a teacher locking up.

 

“Hey, someone’s in here,” he called, then went back to his filters.

 

He was just about to fit one to the enlarger when the lights went. All of them. The enlarger was gone too. He sighed in frustration.

 

“Hey! I’m working here!”

 

Just as he finished the last word he heard a sound, almost obscured by his own voice. Maybe he hadn’t heard it. A quick, high squeaking sound, like a length of tape being pulled off a roll. Then there was silence.

 

“Who’s there?”

 

No answer. The room was pitch black and he felt a little vulnerable. He began to wonder if he imagined the sound. He began to wonder how he knew it was tape, and why it might not have been something else.

 

“Hey,” he called, trying to sound if not tough, at least not scared. “I’m trying to do some work here. Can I have the lights back?”

 

Nothing, except his own breathing. It was some idiot playing a joke. Had to be. He stared into the darkness desperately trying to see. If someone was here, he had to move fast. He spent so much time here he could find his way in the dark easily. He put the filter down, made his way quickly to the far wall and felt for the bank of light switches.

 

“Wh…?”

 

He felt tape. He ran his fingers across all the switches: the main red light, the lights over the developer, stop and fix baths, the switch that controlled all the enlargers. A wide layer of plastic tape covered them all, so he couldn’t turn them on. A surge of fear ran through him.

 

He was about to start pulling the tape off when he felt warm breath on the back of his neck, and froze. He felt it again, closer, and this time heard it too. Another breath and his heart was pounding, his body desperate to run.

 

He suddenly turned and went for the door, but only got a step closer before hitting an outstretched arm. He felt a body press quickly against his, pushing him against the wall.

 

“Wh-who are you? What do you want?”

 

The body pressed him harder against the wall, the breathing close to his ear. It was someone taller and bigger than him. He felt arms enclose him tightly, and whoever it was began to rub against him.

 

“Wh…what do you want? What are you doing?!” 

 

He felt something hard being rubbed against his behind and tensed, gasping in horror, panic beginning to rise inside him. He knew a hard-on when he felt one and could feel it now. Hands began roaming over his body, pulling at his clothes, sliding underneath over his skin. Pulling at his jeans.

 

“No!”

 

Something inside him snapped and he began screaming and struggling like an animal caught in a trap. It was no use, whoever it was had already gotten his jeans open. He screamed again, arching his back as he struggled. His head jerked back and hit something which gave under the impact. He heard a crack and a grunt, and then suddenly he felt himself picked up and turned in the air, thrown forward until he slammed against a bench and his head struck the wall. He cried out in pain, stunned long enough for his jeans to be pulled down below his knees.

 

Those hands again, and fingers on his skin, crawling all over him like spiders, finding soft places and squeezing hard, fingers finding his mouth and ass and roughly pushing in. Instinctively he bit them and tasted blood, but quickly let go when the man shoved his thumb hard into the soft spot under his jaw, pushing back into his throat. He made a soft choking sound and tried to swallow but couldn’t.

 

He felt the hand suddenly shift and grab him tightly around his neck, thumb still pushed into his throat. He could hear the man’s ragged, barely controlled breathing, feel his cock rubbing against him again.

 

Casey tried to keep calm and remember what he’d seen in a documentary about rape. What did they tell rape victims? Don’t fight back, you’ll make them angry and get hurt more? But if he didn’t, if he just went limp and co-operated, what then? Which was right? 

 

He remembered another documentary about sharks.  Navy trainers used to tell recruits that if they found themselves in the water, they should splash around because that would frighten the sharks away.

 

Casey didn’t know what to do.

 

He clawed at the hand clenched tightly around his neck, the cold edge of the bench grinding against his hip bones. A strangled cry escaped his lips and he sensed the man’s other hand fumbling around behind him. He realised too late what it meant as he was pushed harder against the bench and felt the man’s cock being shoved inside him.

 

Even with that hand gripping his throat he managed to scream, a choked, desperate sound that hurt as it left his throat. He felt like he was being split open, hot fire driving mercilessly into him. The man growled and kept pushing steadily while Casey screamed again.

 

The man stopped. Casey hung there, impaled, hips shoved hard against the bench, trying to hold himself up. 

 

“Why are you doing this?” he whimpered softly, his voice cracking.

 

The man wrapped his arms tight around Casey’s body, breathing hard in his ear as he slowly fucked him.   

 

Casey started to cry. He could feel it moving inside him, feel it pushing deeper, his insides tightening with pain each time.

 

“Oh god…please…st…stop…”

 

The man groaned and fucked him little faster, Casey’s desperate cries becoming incoherent sobs.

 

But it still went on for ages. Casey thought it would be quick. He almost wanted to beg for it, just to make it end. Get it over and done with. The searing, stinging agony was too much and he thought he might have passed out. He could see nothing, his hands moved helplessly in the darkness, over the bench and the wall which was only inches from his face.

 

Everything else intensified: the tight grip of the man’s arms holding him, the bench against his hips, the agony inside him, hot breath on his neck and in his ear. The sound of the equipment rattling on the bench as he was shoved brutally against it, and his own crying punctuated by the animal behind him grunting and panting. It seemed so loud he was sure somebody outside could hear them.

 

Suddenly Casey screamed again as the man slammed into him, savage thrusts shooting fire and pain deep inside him.

 

And then nothing. No hands on him. No-one touching him. Nothing.

 

Casey fell backwards and hit the floor hard. He scrambled forwards to where he knew the bench was, crawled underneath it, putting his back against the wall. He sat there, exhausted and humiliated and still frightened. He almost passed out again, but he stirred when he heard a sound.

 

A scrape on the floor, soft and almost inaudible.

 

He tried to quieten his breathing so he could listen, staring into the darkness still desperately trying to see. The fear was still with him, clinging to him, cold like the floor. It made his heart start pounding again, kept his breathing rapid and shallow.

 

He was shaking with the effort to control his breathing, but finally he managed.

 

Silence.

 

His mind was frayed and his concentration faltered. He started thinking about how sometimes when he was dreaming and woke up, he could never be sure whether or not he was really awake. Sometimes on holidays as a kid he’d wake up in the middle of the night and forget momentarily where he was. His aunt’s house was pitch black at night. Was he dreaming this? Was he really in a dark room in bed in his aunt’s house? Was he going to wake up soon?

 

He shifted and pain stabbed through him. The sound of panting and snarling was still fresh and he fought to block it out. He was cold. His neck was wet. His insides hurt like hell. He didn’t know what was real anymore. He started to cry again, thick choking sobs he fought to control. He was five years old again and terrified of the dark.

 

Casey shut his eyes tightly, tears spilling down his cheeks. As his sobs quietened he became aware of another sound. The same sound that had terrified him at the beginning of all this.

 

Steady, slow breathing. Close to him.

 

The man was still here.

 

Casey jerked away as something brushed his cheek. He shuffled back a little further until he was wedged well and truly in a corner under the bench, up against the wall like a cornered animal.

 

“Who are you?” he sobbed.

 

“You’ll never know,” breathed a voice he didn’t recognise. “But I’ll remember.”

 

He didn’t know how long he lay there. He’d heard the door open and close, but still wasn’t certain he was alone. He finally got up, stiff, sore and cold. He pulled his jeans up and walked slowly, painfully to where he knew the door was. He found the light switches and angrily tore the tape off them. He flicked the end one, the dull red light bright after the pitch darkness of the last…hour? He had no idea.

 

He thought about what the man had said. “But I’ll remember.” He swallowed as he realised what it meant.

 

He couldn’t stay in this room forever. Sooner or later he would have to go outside, into the light. Sooner or later, he was going to be walking down a corridor, and he was going to walk right past the man who did this, and he would never know it.  It left a horrible, prickly feeling creeping up his back, and he suddenly turned and threw up on the floor.

 

He staggered out into the corridor and people stared at him. He knew he looked like shit. He didn’t really want to know what they saw. He slid along the walls and outside into the sun.

 

He didn’t go into the darkroom again for a long time.

 

Kinkyhobbit 2002

 

Sign My Guestbook

Home / Five Go Mad in Middle-Earth / Elijah Fiction  / RPS Fiction / LOTR Fiction