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His dream had been pleasant. A different room, a different time. Silk sheets and feather-stuffed pillows. The sound of rich laughter, the pastel warmth of morning sunlight, and the soft caress of hands that knew him far too well.[break][break]
He was ripped violently from that dream by a sudden sharp pain. He cracked one eye open, and found himself disoriented and nearly blinded by harsh artificial light. His head pounded. His skin prickled.[break][break]
The last thing he remembered was being at the Ancient Tomb with Isaac Merlo. A sudden dread filled him. Where's Isaac? He thought frantically. Is he okay?[break][break]
The panic caused Caleb to thrash, attempting to shift his body, but he found that his arms had been uncomfortably forced behind his back by a metallic vice grip. Something cold and heavy weighed against his neck, as well. He could barely move at all, fastened soundly to a wall behind his back.[break][break]
He was chained. He was captured. And...he was naked?[break][break]
"Where the hell am I?" He rasped. His voice came out hoarse and gravely to his own ears. He tried to clear his throat, but doing so only made the collar around his neck feel that much more noticeable. That much more oppressive.[break][break]
Then a beautiful, hauntingly familiar voice spoke and Caleb's gaze snapped to the man sitting across from him, his brilliant sapphire eyes stark against the otherwise plain, sterile appearance of the room.[break][break]
Not a room, Caleb realized. A cell.[break][break]
"I know you," Caleb blurted out, an onslaught of competing emotions assaulting him out of nowhere. His head spun, the headache intensifying.[break][break]
"You're the man I – "[break][break]
( - loved is too simple a word - )[break][break]
" - fought in the Ultra Deep Sea."

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Caleb Harcourt [break]
MAKE IT DOUBLE

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Naughty little brother.[break][break]
Right. Zev Harcourt had put Caleb's name back on the Rocket hit list. Every time Caleb stepped outside his home, he was technically at risk. Going to the Ancient Tomb had been a mistake. He'd known it could get him captured - or worse, killed - but he'd gone anyway.[break][break]
Masochist, a voice hissed in the back of his mind. You think you deserve this.[break][break]
"I'm surprised Zev would let someone else do his dirty work," Caleb rasped, glaring defiant eyes at Barnaby. "I must have really pissed him off."[break][break]
Zev aside, Caleb knew the true identities of some of Rocket's other members: the Rangers all knew Cillian Quinn, for example. Rowan Wrynn had made sure of that. Oddly, however, the man before him was not someone on record, his face absent from the League government's "known criminals" list. And yet, it was an extremely familiar face. Caleb knew it like the back of his hand: every angle, dimple, crease. The beauty of those eyes, a smile that could devour Caleb if he let it. Silken hair the color of midnight.[break][break]
Caleb's hand twitched.[break][break]
The man's name was BARNABY FINCH. The media personality, who's disguise would normally be just good enough to keep his civilian and Rocket lives separate. Except, Caleb didn't actually know him from his talk show. Sure, he'd maybe seen it in passing on television, but Caleb had a nagging feeling that he and Barnaby had (hands around a slender neck, squeezing just enough to tease) talked in-person before.[break][break]
Caleb grinned, wolfish and hostile. Noncompliant. A man with absolutely nothing to lose could not be cowed.[break][break]
"Zev wants me dead. What is it that you want, Barnaby?"

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Caleb Harcourt [break]
MAKE IT DOUBLE

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Caleb narrowed his eyes.[break][break]
So, Zev had discarded him, then? The man was truly done with his younger brother, according to Barnaby. Something about that didn't feel quite right to Caleb. Zev was a possessive, controlling man who liked to see a task through to its intended end. He might not care what happened to Caleb during his capture - allowing anyone to torture him - but if Caleb's ultimate fate was death, he had a feeling Zev would not tolerate the news well should Caleb somehow find a way to escape.[break][break]
He'll show up eventually, Caleb thought.[break][break]
Barnaby shifted in his chair, and Caleb's gaze was drawn like a magnet to the man's lithe, graceful figure. A strange, familiar thrill coursed through him at the sight of Barnaby's legs parting, ever so slightly, inviting him in.[break][break]
Caleb almost moved closer. Almost gave in. But that wasn't right: that wasn't their script. He had never really spoken with this man before, but Caleb had a nagging feeling that Barnaby would be disappointed if Caleb didn't make this challenging.[break][break]
And anyway, he wasn't a dog. Not the League's, nor Rockets.[break][break]
"Well, whatever it is, if you want it badly enough, you'll come and claim it."[break][break]
His expression was defiant as he resisted Barnaby's request.

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Caleb Harcourt [break]
MAKE IT DOUBLE

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Barnaby wasted no time reprimanding Caleb for his defiance.[break][break]
Caleb grunted in pain as he was lifted against his will into the air. Dots of black crept into the corners of his vision as he began to lose oxygen, until everything was coated in a haze of suffocating darkness. His muscles burned and his body screamed for air, but no relief came.[break][break]
Some distant part of his brain - what little cognitive function he still had - whispered that it was far too early for this to be the killing blow. Knowing that, however, did not make the experience any less terrible.[break][break]
And then, abruptly, it ended.[break][break]
Caleb moaned weakly, throat throbbing. He tried to push himself upright with aching arms, but Barnaby yanked on his chain, slamming him unceremoniously into the metal frame of the dresser next to the bed. Sharp corners bit into exposed skin, and Caleb clenched his teeth, feeling the bruises begin to form in real time.[break][break]
And then long, slender fingers grabbed a handful of Caleb's hair, and pulled.[break][break]
Your life belongs to me.[break][break]
Heat rose in the pit of Caleb's stomach, something carnal quivering to life within the chained man. He shuddered, and it had absolutely nothing to do with pain: the ghosts of all the countless ways the two men had toyed with one another haunting Caleb's every ragged breath.[break][break]
The mirror reflected the way his body was reacting to Barnaby's touch: tensed and erect.[break][break]
Still, however, his mind refused to give in. He snarled, taunting Barnaby.[break][break]
"So, is that little psychic trick the worst you can do?"

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Caleb Harcourt [break]
MAKE IT DOUBLE

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Caleb winced as he was thrown roughly onto the bed, a sharp pain traveling through his shoulders as his entire upper body slammed into the headboard. He nearly snarled a biting comeback to Barnaby's arrogant claims, but stopped himself as the other man's fancy leather shoe made sudden contact with an area the Ranger would rather not injure.[break][break]
Caleb froze, muscles straining, blue eyes - a shade darker than Barnaby's, ocean depths meeting gemstones - glaring up at his captor with real fury colored by a desperate frustration.[break][break]
And then Barnaby unzipped his pants. The other man smirked as he casually pressed himself against Caleb's cheek, unabashedly flaunting himself with a dominance that sent a shiver of desire through Caleb. A primal hunger temporarily overrode the pain, and Caleb's chest hitched as he sucked in a breath.[break][break]
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.[break][break]
He shouldn't do it. He should turn away. He should insult his abuser - even at the risk of genital harm - in order to assert that he was not so easily bought.[break][break]
I want to taste him, Gods but I want to.[break][break]
"You don't deserve this," Caleb muttered dryly. Then he eased his aching body forward towards Barnaby and lowered his mouth. With tongue, he teased the other man - slowly, languidly - the heat of it intoxicating, drawing out every sensation.[break][break]
It was odd, but he felt as if he knew what Barnaby might like - and despite the suffering and the anger and the need to resist, Caleb couldn't help but embrace it.

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Caleb Harcourt [break]
MAKE IT DOUBLE

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Whatever memories and impressions gnawed at Caleb's heart like hungry Weedle through an Oran did little to deter Barnaby in his relentless pursuit of Caleb's continued suffering. Perhaps Caleb had imagined the connection he'd felt between them: wished it into existence out of some desperate attempt to convince himself there was a way out of his current predicament.[break][break]
If Barnaby felt anything remotely similar for Caleb, he was doing a hell of a job masking it.[break][break]
Caleb's eyes watered and his jaw ached as the Rocket admin slammed Caleb's face forward to meet his hips, over and over. All the while, mocking sapphires glittered dangerously down at him, daring Caleb to try and pull away.[break][break]
When Barnaby said his name aloud - like a master to a favorite pet - Caleb wanted to hate him for it. All he could really hate, however, was the way his own body responded to the velvet purr of Barnaby's voice. A shiver of pleasure passed through him even as he choked, finding that it was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe properly.[break][break]
It didn't take long for Barnaby to find the release he'd been seeking, filling Caleb's mouth with the hot, sweet taste of him. After a brief moment of respite - almost tender, though Caleb knew that was an illusion - the Ranger was thrown roughly back onto the bed, discarded like a used rag. He sucked in air, sputtering and coughing, trying to regain his composure. To his utter shock, the manacles around his wrists were opened, causing them to fall harmlessly away.[break][break]
His arms were no longer bound behind his back. Tentatively, Caleb flexed them. His fingers tingled as proper circulation returned in sharp waves. He shifted himself so that he was leaning back against the headboard again, more comfortably this time, bare chest heaving from exertion.[break][break]
His desire to thoroughly humiliate his captive momentarily sated, Barnaby should have felt content to leave for a time. To Caleb's dismay, he did not. The Rocket Admin remained, staring intently at Caleb - or so it seemed. What more could he possibly want?[break][break]
It was not lost on Caleb that he was still...aroused. Naked, exposed, he knew Barnaby could see it. He ought to say something, but what could he say? His throat was sore, eyes stinging, cheeks flushed, body bruised and battered...the witty comebacks weren't exactly surfacing as quickly or as readily as they had before.[break][break]
"You don't strike me as the sort of man who hands out rewards so easily," Caleb muttered, voice somehow even more hoarse than before. "Unless that was truly mind-blowing." His eyes flashed with some of their initial rebelliousness, tone laced with further challenge. "Well? Was it?"

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Caleb Harcourt [break]
MAKE IT DOUBLE

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Barnaby wasn't entirely wrong about Caleb.[break][break]
Here was a man who felt he deserved to be punished for the sins of his past, acts of violence he thought impossible to absolve. In that sense, he did not break as easily as a man who believed himself undeserving of pain and suffering might: the typical hero who cannot fathom why the universe might see fit to put him through hell.[break][break]
Caleb belonged in hell. He knew it intimately, frequented it on the regular. Better him than someone wholly undeserving.[break][break]
Like Isaac.[break][break]
But the arousal - that wasn't exactly because of the punishment, what it stood for, what it meant. It was because Barnaby, specifically, was the man enacting it. Despite every aching bone in his battered body screaming at him to reject Barnaby in every sense of the word, Caleb could not help but feel attracted to him.[break][break]
This is fucked, he thought, eyeing the closed door. The Alakazam. The stark white-washed walls of his prison. Hatred oozed from his glare, but fizzled out before it amounted to anything actionable. It wasn't directed at his captor, no. It was for himself.[break][break]
For the part of him that looked forward to Barnaby's return, the part that wanted Barnaby to continue touching him. Using him.[break][break]
His gaze slid away from the door, back to the bed, settling warily between his own legs. His fingers opened and closed, flexed, fidgeted. He wasn't supposed to. He'd been warned not to. And yet...[break][break]
The world went dark with pain.

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