Cleansing

Chapter Six

****
Being disturbed at nine in the morning was bad enough for Booker, but being interrupted from the woman he had in his bed made him terribly irritated. He had originally planned to ignore the knocks, though that did not work when the pounding became persistent on his apartment door. He shrugged on a bathrobe, tying the sash around his waist as he went to answer it. When he opened the door, Doug lowered his fist and gave a small smile upon seeing Booker’s annoyed expression.

“This had better be good because I was in the middle of something important,” Booker said testily.
“It is. I….I need your help.”
“With what?”
“Can I borrow three-hundred and eighty-three dollars?”
Booker cocked his head in disbelief. “Three hundred and eighty-three dollars.”
Doug nodded.
“For what?”
“Just….Can I? I’ll tell you later.”
The anxious glint in Doug’s eyes made Dennis soften a little. “Is it something having to do with Tom?”
“It, um….” He sighed and gave a slight shake of his head. “Yeah. Some guy called me at like, two this morning. Tom, he was right there, right there, and….I can visit him if I get six hundred bucks.”
“But there’s no chance you could get him to safety, is there? They told you to come alone, or else, right?”
“Yeah.”
“You think it’s a good idea to do this?”
“He’s going to die in six days; I just wanna see him one last time before he’s gone. Please.”
There was a pause before Dennis stepped aside and said, “Come on. I think I’ve got enough.”

Doug strode inside and voiced a quiet, “Thank you,” as he followed Booker into the living room. He waited there while the other cop disappeared into the bedroom. After a few minutes, Booker re-emerged and handed Penhall a wad of dollar bills.

“I’ll pay you back, man. I swear,” Penhall vowed sincerely.
“Don’t worry about it. Be careful when you go, alright?”
“I will. Thanks.”
“Hey, um….Tell him goodbye for me,” Dennis said softly.

Doug smiled a little and gave a sharp nod as he moved to leave, uttering another gracious “thank you” before walking out the door.

****
The entirety of the day was spent fretting over when the phone would ring. Doug kept the receiver with him every minute, no matter where he went in his apartment. Occasionally, he turned it on just to ensure that it was working. He could hardly stay in one place for an extended period of time. His nerves were on edge, and he incessantly thought about what it would be like to finally have Tom right in front of him – to hold him, to tell him in person all the things he had discovered that he felt for Tom ever since they had been parted, to relieve the younger man’s pain if only for a little while.

His self-control had caved early on, causing him to return to monitoring Tom intently like he had before; it was impossible for him to stay away from the site any longer. As if it had not been torn in half previously, his heart shattered from watching his partner endure a lengthy beating in the afternoon, followed by the five males sexually assaulting him. They let him take a short rest before dragging him into the bathroom and submerging him in the tub filled with hot water. He was held beneath the surface, water splashing over the side as he thrashed about. After a minute, they would allow him to sit up to catch his breath before pushing him under for another sixty seconds.

The hot bath was contrasted with a freezing cold shower five minutes later, which lasted an additional ten minutes. Though his body was washed clean of the blood and semen that had tainted his skin, it was soon replaced with more as they pummeled him with their fists and a wooden baseball bat and kicked him about on the cement floor. When they were done, he was barely conscious and breathing shallowly. He did not even seem to realize that he was being defiled again as Derick thrust wildly in and out of him. It felt wrong, but Doug could not help from wishing that he was the one on top of Hanson and experiencing the pleasures to be had from being inside of the younger cop. There would be a difference, however; he would be certain that Hanson wanted it first and make sure to provide him with as much enjoyment as he could. It would be because of love, not because of the hunger to dominate, nor the unwavering lust that Hanson’s captors seemed to share.

When ten o’clock at last arrived, Doug was pacing back and forth fretfully, gripping the phone tightly in his hands. It rang, making him stop instantly and look at it as if he had imagined the sound. The second ring confirmed that he was by no means dreaming. He pressed the button to answer it and raised it to his ear hesitantly.

“Hello?”
“Did you obtain the six hundred dollars?” the person asked calmly.
“Yes I did.”
“Good. In two hours, go to Cessna Park and wait by the swings.”
“And you’ll be there with him.”
There was a trembling cry of pain in the background before Doug received a response. “We’ll be there with him.”
“What are you doing to him?”
“Three of us had to put out cigarettes, and there aren’t any ashtrays down here.”
“You heartless bastard,” Doug growled bitterly.
“He serves as a nice substitute for one. See you at midnight, officer. Oh, and, by the way, bring an extra fifteen dollars if you’d like to fuck him or have him suck you off. He’s amazing at giving oral.”

Malicious laughter was the last thing Doug heard before there was complete silence on the other end of the line. Without a second thought, he hurled the phone across the room. It collided with the wall and fell to the floor in several different pieces.

****
Tom was exceedingly nervous about being taken from his basement solitude. Roughly, he was dragged upstairs by his wrists, creating unimaginable agony for him due to the broken bones of his left one. The house was fairly empty, having only a couple of pieces of furniture here and there, solidifying his belief that no one lived there; no one could hear him if he ever called for help.

Handcuffs secured his wrists behind his back before they took him outside, and as he was hauled toward the trunk of a black car, he was able to spot the house number before being blindfolded.

663.

Dutifully, he committed the three digits to memory; there was a chance that they would be useful, he believed.

Once he was locked away in the trunk of the vehicle and felt the car moving, he wondered if this was finally it. Was this his day to die? Were they taking him to some secluded place to do the murder so that his body would most likely not be found anytime soon? He had not bothered asking these questions when they first started up the basement stairs because he knew better; his words just got him into more trouble.

Approximately twenty minutes later, they came to a stop, and he heard the back pop open. He was lifted out and flung to the ground. The night air was cold, making him shiver and long for heat. There were murmurs of low voices not far off, and they grew louder as he was brought closer to the sources.

“Where’s the money?”
“Here. I didn’t feel like bringing an extra fifteen.”
“What a shame.”
“How long do I get to see him for?”
“Ten minutes.”
“That’s it?”
“Would you like it to be five?”
“Ten’s great.”

The voices abruptly went silent when he was almost to them. He was released from the firm grips that had held his arms, and a strip of duct tape was placed over his mouth. His breathing became ragged with fear and uncertainty from the absence of anyone touching him and because of the utter quietness.

Doug fought away the tears that were brewing in his eyes as he knelt down in front of his best friend and took in his appearance. It was definitely Tom Hanson that he was gazing at, but the younger man he had known before all of this was hard to find: the starved frame, the numerous circular burn wounds adorning his skin, the horrendous bruises everywhere, the extraordinarily battered face, the grossly mangled feet and crippled left hand, and the look of total shame and pain that was painted on his countenance rather than the familiar composed and gentle look Doug had always known.

With trembling hands, he reached out and unhurriedly pushed the blindfold up to reveal Hanson’s closed and swollen eyes. He removed it completely to run his fingers through the young cop’s tousled hair a few times before cupping the beaten face in his hands. Still, Hanson did not open his eyes; his breathing merely became faster.

“Tommy?”

This was not possible. There was positively no way Doug was in front of him. It was his mind playing cruel tricks on him. It was just a joke to wound him deeply.

“Tom, look at me. Please.”

Tentatively, Tom obeyed, though with difficulty. When he discovered that it was indeed Doug Penhall touching him, his eyes widened and filled with tears. He tried to say his friend’s name, yet it came out as nothing but an incoherent sound due to the tape barrier. As the water droplets spilled down his cheeks, he threw himself at Doug, yearning to feel the protection the older male always seemed to provide. Penhall held him snugly to his chest, repeatedly kissing the top of Tom’s head. Tom frantically struggled to free his bound wrists to wrap his arms around the strong, muscular body, not caring about the tremendous anguish the endeavor caused him. He continually whimpered softly as he nuzzled his face against Penhall’s neck and attempted to have as much contact as he could with the person he loved.

Observing the effort Hanson was making to liberate himself, Doug questioned quietly, “Can’t you take those off?”
“It’ll cost an extra fifty.”
“I have it. I’ll give it to you before we get out of here, just do it now. Please.”

The instant the handcuffs were gone, Tom snaked his arms around Doug’s torso; Doug cradled him tenderly, rocking from side to side ever so slightly. He quaked immensely in Penhall’s embrace as he sobbed hysterically. Comforting words were spoken gently into his ear with an occasional kiss being placed affectionately onto his cheek.

“I love you,” Doug wept sorrowfully. “I love you so much, Tommy. I can’t be without you. I want to spend my life with you – to wake up to you every morning and go to sleep with you in my arms every night. I love you. I hate that I realized it too late.”

Tom abruptly and hurriedly began tracing what could only be described as random patterns to Doug on the older officer’s back. The tips of his thumb and forefinger worked rigorously on their task, which simply confused Doug beyond all reason. When Tom stopped a moment later, he pulled away from Penhall and gazed at him anxiously.

“What? What is it?” Penhall asked in a whisper.

Tom buried his face against his friend’s chest and started the process again. This time, Doug concentrated intently on what was being outlined on him. It felt like letters, though whatever Hanson was spelling, it was spelled backwards from Doug’s point of view. It took one more try before Doug figured it out.

Clock.

“Clock? Like a church or something? There’s a clock tower nearby where they’re keeping you?” Doug spoke into Hanson’s ear.
Hanson nodded eagerly.
“Train tracks too?”
The response was the same.
“What else?”

Hanson pressed his fingers into Doug’s back to write out something else. It was only three characters long, and Penhall had absolutely no clue as to what it was. He stared at Tom with puzzlement, not understanding the marks.

“Tom, I don’t know what it is.”

It was plainly evident that Tom was growing upset as he made to repeat the action once more. His fingers moved at a faster pace as his heart pounded quickly in his chest. It was the most important piece of information he could offer, and he had to reveal it by using Doug’s back in order to not be seen by the five masked teenagers. He knew it would be catastrophic if any of them found out what he was doing.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to tell me,” Doug whispered helplessly.

Tom stared at him pleadingly, making distraught noises as he made to trace again. He was prohibited from doing so, however, when his arm was suddenly grabbed and he was pulled back. Frenziedly, he fought to return to where he had been sitting in Doug’s lap, though he was nowhere near strong enough. He was screaming behind the duct tape over his mouth, tears pouring from his distressed eyes. To quiet him, Travis delivered a few powerful blows to his head with a clenched fist. Tom went silent, save for a quivering whimper every now and then, the impact having made him slightly dazed. His vision was blurry for a minute or so, and when it cleared, he looked at his friend with intense grief clouding the brown eyes that Doug remembered as being full of life.

“That wasn’t ten minutes,” Doug protested adamantly.
“You want to be with him longer?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Then here.” Danny shoved Hanson to lie on the ground and said smoothly, “We’ll let you have a free fuck. That’s how much longer you can be with him. You want more time? Then I suggest fucking him slow.”
Doug glanced from Hanson’s motionless form to Danny’s shrouded face. “I can’t do it,” he voiced sadly.
“I don’t care if you can’t because you will. I quite like the idea of watching you give it to him hard, so go ahead and start fucking this whore.”
“I won’t.”
The teen pulled a gun out from where it had been tucked behind his belt at his side. He pointed it at Doug and informed him, “If you don’t, I’ll kill you, but not before I make you watch him be shot to death very slowly.”

Penhall gazed at his partner apprehensively, feeling thoroughly ill at knowing he really had no choice. Had Tom heard the exchange at all? Did he understand what Doug had to do?

As the older cop crawled toward him, Tom turned his head to see him advancing and exhaled a shaky breath. He blinked a couple of times, releasing a number of tears to creep down the side of his face. There was no mistaking the guilt already present in Penhall’s eyes; Tom expelled a chocked sob from realizing that Doug was going through with having him without his consent.

In an effort to prevent the inevitable, Hanson attempted to push Doug away as the larger man moved atop him. He shook his head, crying uncontrollably as he weakly attempted to shove the other cop off of him. With desperate, beseeching eyes, he gazed up at Penhall, and emitted sounds of protest while refusing to lie still. Penhall tried to block the fragile hands hitting him, being careful not to aggravate the injured left one.

“Tom, shhh….It’s me. It’s me; I won’t hurt you,” Doug murmured soothingly. “I promise. You have to trust me.”
Hanson closed his eyes, shaking his head more quickly than before.
“Hey, come on, Tommy….Just think of what it was like when we did it for the first time. There’s no one else here; it’s just you and me here outside under the stars, okay? I love you, Tom. I’m so sorry for this, but I swear to god I won’t hurt you. Please trust me.”

It was evident that Tom was giving up and had been conquered when he let his arms drop to his sides and became motionless. The only movement he made was due to his unrelenting sobs that racked his whole body and made him shudder. He posed no hindrance to Doug as the other man pulled his boxers off of him. A whimper filled with humiliation came from him when fingers glided over his hip and the inside of his thigh. It was hard to remind himself that it was no one but Doug who was caressing him, that Doug would never want or mean to cause him any sort of mortification.

“Do you have protection I can use?” he heard Penhall ask in a quaking voice.
“I think you’ll be fine bare-backing him.”
“What about-”
“Lube? Here you go.”

Doug caught the small, plastic bottle, took one last apologetic look at Hanson, and unbuttoned his jeans to pull them lower, along with his boxers. He filled his palm with the slick liquid, being sure that he had plenty in order to make it easier on both of them and lessen whatever pain Hanson would endure upon him penetrating the younger man. Reluctantly, he coated himself with it and settled between the slim legs that were wrapping themselves around his back. Tom opened his eyes, though refused to make contact with Doug’s. He stared off to the right vacantly, seemingly trying to detach himself mentally from the predicament. Doug saw this, and gingerly, he brushed away the few strands of hair that were obscuring Tom’s left eye.

“Can you look at me, Tom?” he questioned kindly. “Please? It’s just you and me, remember?”

The fact that Tom showed no signs of comprehending other than blinking slowly made Doug hate himself. His friend could not bear to meet his gaze because of what he was about to do, making him believe Tom despised and loathed him; if by some miracle Tom was found before the execution date, Doug knew there would be absolutely nothing between them after this – not even a friendship, nor civil interaction.

“I love you, and I’m so sorry, Tom.”

There was no reply, not even a tiny movement from Tom. Wanting nothing more than to get it over with, Penhall began to ease his semi-erect cock into the other male’s body. He paused from feeling his partner tense up and hearing him emit a quivering whine.

“It’s okay. Relax, alright?” Doug comforted gently. “Just like the first time.” He smiled when he felt the clenched muscles give way after a moment. “That’s it. Just keep calm. It’s only me. I won’t hurt you.”
Hanson sighed and at last turned his head to stare into the other officer’s soft, benevolent eyes.
“Hey, baby,” Doug breathed almost inaudibly.

The sight below him made his heart flutter; there was a change in Hanson’s gaze that disclosed his gradually building trust for the man above him. It suddenly vanished, however, when a bright flash shown from the left. He glanced over to where it had come from, Penhall doing the same, and started trembling with anxiety and disgrace. His dilated pupils darted back to Penhall to look at him fearfully as if Doug had betrayed him. Hurriedly, Doug placed a hand to Hanson’s left cheek and let his other comb through the young cop’s dark hair.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he assured quickly. “Forget it’s even there. Forget they’re even here. You and me, remember? Trust me, Tommy. We’ll get through this. Don’t pay attention to them taking pictures. Don’t let it get to you. You’re alright.” Timidly, he bent down and put his lips to Hanson’s forehead to bestow a chaste, affectionate kiss. “Let me make love to you, Tom,” he whispered into his partner’s ear.

The words caused Hanson to burst into another set of tears. He laced his arms around Doug’s neck to keep him close enough to where the older male was slightly pressed against his chest. Judging by the mild reaction, Penhall took it as permission to continue, and he thrust upward gently, gaining a deep moan from his friend.

“Alright?”
Tom nodded before rubbing his face against Penhall’s neck in a loving manner.
As he withdrew from the smaller man’s body, Doug murmured quietly, “You’re beautiful, you know that, Tommy?” He re-entered him, uttering more kind words and compliments.

Doug set an unhurried pace of rocking his hips back and forth to move in and out of Tom, wanting nothing more than to have Tom enjoy it as much as he could. The faint sounds he drew from Hanson with every movement sent waves of pleasure throughout his entire anatomy, which soon made him become more forceful and faster with each thrust. The perspiration forming on Hanson’s skin glittered in the moonlight alongside the tears his eyes incessantly released. Doug glided his tongue over the cop’s cheek, erasing the droplets and making Tom shake from the bolt of ecstasy that went through him at the sensation. Observing the effect it had, Penhall kissed his way down to Tom’s neck to suckle and nibble on lightly. Tom sighed contently and wound his fingers in Doug’s hair.

Just think of this being like the first time. It’s okay that this feels good; something like this is supposed to.

The flash of the camera off to the side grew more frequent as Doug got rougher, and Tom found it increasingly difficult to believe in such thoughts that he attempted to keep running in his mind. It was all just a show, one that was meant for the entertainment of others and to heighten his sense of degradation. Even if Doug did not intend to cause him pain, he felt it happening nonetheless. The snide comments and snickering from the crowd that he had tuned out previously now filled his ears, and the occasional low groan Doug made simply caused him even greater shame.

Listlessly, he withdrew his arms from Penhall and let them fall to the cold ground at his sides. His eyelids flitted shut, knowing that if he were to stare at his partner any longer, he would be sick. Already the repulsion he felt for himself was extreme, and it had only become worse because of what Penhall was doing now; he did not deserve for Doug to touch him in any way or even speak to him. He was the one defiling Doug by letting the older officer make contact with his monstrous and spoiled body.

The whirlwind of self-loathing emotions went unnoticed by Doug, whose propulsions had intensified a great deal. He pounded into Tom’s frame overpoweringly, taking Tom’s wounded vocals as noises of bliss. It was not until after he spilled his seed inside of Hanson several minutes later that he realized how miserable and distressed the younger male was. It was plainly written in Hanson’s dark eyes that shyly gazed at him.

If his gun had been on him at that moment, he would have had no problem with shooting himself; the anguish Hanson conveyed made him wish that he had never acquiesced to what could merely be described as raping the person he loved more than anyone else he had ever been with.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, appalled with himself. “Tom….I-”

He went silent when he felt a quavering hand push him tiredly. The brown orbs were begging him to go away as Tom pressed against his shoulder with all the strength he had. Doug swallowed to loosen his tight throat, nodded, and shifted to the side to re-adjust his clothing. Before he stood up, he dressed Tom with the single garment the younger cop had worn and mumbled another apology.

“Very nice demonstration, gentlemen,” Danny said callously. “I’m sure the press would pay big money to get a hold of these photos. Put him back in the trunk. We’re out of here.”

Three of the teenagers strode to Tom’s exhausted form and started pulling him toward the parked vehicle several feet away. The fifty dollars that had been agreed on to free Tom from the handcuffs was collected by the two who remained, and Doug observed them retreat to the black car as well. He winced as he watched them dump Hanson’s limp form into the trunk and jumped at the loud clang that sounded when it was shut.

Once they vanished on the darkened streets as they drove away, Doug sat down and cried. An hour went by before he was able to get to his feet and onto his motorcycle. He did not know where he was headed; frankly, it really did not matter to him. Absentmindedly, he found himself parking in front of a familiar building five minutes later. Leisurely, he went inside and traveled up the flight of stairs. He knocked a couple of times, waiting for an answer with his head lowered, depression overwhelming him. A minute later, the door opened, and he lifted his eyes to look at a wearied Dennis Booker. He opened his mouth to speak, though nothing but a stifled sob came from him.

Booker stepped forward, put his arms around the deeply upset man to hug him consolingly, and Doug fell apart all over again.