A single word, spoken loudly, woke Wesley from a sleep he didn't even know he had fallen into. He remembered Matt sobbing for what seemed like hours, until he could barely stay sitting up, and then Wesley had laid him back on the bed.
“Don't leave me,” Matt said quietly, like a child about to be abandoned.
“I won't,” Wesley replied, as he removed his tie & glasses.
“YOU. HOW COULD YOU?”
Wesley blinked up at Fisk, standing over them. Matt was still plastered along Wesley's side, one arm thrown carelessly across his chest.
“HOW DARE YOU TOUCH HIM!” Fisk roared, and Wesley wasn't sure who exactly he was speaking to.
Fisk grabbed Matt's ankle and dragged him down the bed in one quick tug, waking him from his deep sleep.
“W-what's happening?” Matt stammered, his fingers twitching against the bare mattress.
Fisk opened his belt, and unzipped the fly of his expensive suit, and Matt twitched his head to the right, favouring his good ear.
“N-no. No, no, no, no,” Matt repeated, when he realised what was about to happen.
“No, sir, please,” Wesley said, raising a hand and sliding off the mattress. “Don't do this.”
“Shut up,” Fisk roared, as he pulled out his cock and started pumping it. He was hard in seconds, and he pulled down matt's sweat pants, and lined himself up. “I'm going to teach you a lesson you should have learnt long ago.”
Fisk entered Matt in one punishingly fast move. No preparation. No lube. Matt was screaming.
As Fisk pulled out Wesley could see his cock was already streaked with bright red blood, then he slammed back in again, and started pounding in and out of the writhing body below him.
“Sir, please,” Wesley shouted over Matt's agonising wails of pain.
“Shut up!” Fisk roared. “He has to learn. He has to learn who he belongs to. That he can't just take and take and take.”
Thankfully it was over quickly, and Fisk came with a grunt, as he ground into Matt one final time. He pulled out, leaving a trail of blood behind him, spilling down Matt's pale thighs, and then tucked himself back into his pants.
Wesley breathed out a shuddering breath. Matt was injured, still moaning with with every panting breath, but this was fixable. As soon as Wilson left the room he would call for the medical staff, and they would fix this.
Fisk raised his arm, his hand curled into a fist and with an angry scream he punched Matt in the back of the head.
Matt's body immediately went stiff, and a choked sound came from his throat as his muscles started twitching, and he slithered off the bed on the floor.
Fisk leaned down, one foot planted either side of Matt's seizing body, and grabbed him by a handful of his t shirt, lifting him up off the floor, and he started to punch.
Wesley sat on the folding chair, listening to the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor, and the life support machine that was pushing air into Matt's unresponsive lungs.
The repair bill the team of surgeons the medical staff had called in was astronomical, and it had taken them almost a full day to drain the blood from Matt's skull, and to repair the internal injuries Fisk had inflicted upon him.
Matt had remained in a medically induced coma ever since, and Fisk had still ordered the E-Stim team to visit him twice a day, even though he had been warned it could cause his heart to fail.
Wesley found himself wondering if it would be better for Matt if he never woke up. The doctors had warned them that Matt would likely suffer permanent, lasting damage from the bleed in his brain, and more than once Wesley had found himself holding his fingers to the off switch on the life support machine, contemplating what Matt would want.
“Don't do it,” Harry had said. “This isn't our choice to make.”
“We have to do something,” Wesley said, desperately.
“You know what we have to do,” Harry replied.
After two weeks Matt was woken from his coma, and although the doctors declared that he had no major brain injuries, it was clear to Wesley that he was still deeply unwell.
Matt slept for most of the day, and when he was awake he followed instructions without question or hesitation, but he never spoke unless he was asked a question, are rarely answered with anything other than whispered single words. It was like a light had gone out inside him, and it worried Wesley.
Harry's words kept playing over in his head.
“You know what we have to do.”
Harry was right.
“Get out of my apartment now or I will break your face with my fist!” Foggy shouted. “I'm not joking. I know Kung Fu and I'm not afraid to use it.”
“Calm down, Nelson,” Wesley said, as he strode across the room.
Foggy edged backwards, picking up a lamp, and holding it up in front of himself. “I'm warning you.”
Wesley stopped, and said, “Matt's alive.”
“What?” Foggy gasped, dropping the lamp, which shattered across the floor. “He's alive?”
“You were right,” Wesley said. “Fisk kept him prison-”
He was cut off as Foggy landed a punch square on his jaw, which sent him staggering backwards.
“You had him?” Foggy sobbed. “You had him all this time?”
“I'm getting him out of there, but I need your help.”
“Anything,” Foggy breathed.
Wesley took out a sheet of paper from inside his jacket pocket and handed it to Foggy. “I need you to be at this address at midnight, tomorrow night, but you need to start planning now. You need to get him out of the country straight away. Take him somewhere no one will ever find him.”
“I will,” Foggy replied, running his fingers over the paper.
“Don't mess this up, Nelson. His life depends upon it.”
“I'll be there,” Foggy said, as Wesley began to move towards the door. “Wesley?”
He paused at the door and turned, then Foggy asked. “Matt, is he OK?”
Wesley shook his head, and said, “No, he isn't.”
“I need you to wake up now, Matthew,” Wesley said, as he gently shook the sleeping man.
Matt made a questioning sound, struggling to overcome the grogginess that had plagued him since his head injury, then asked, “What's going on?”
“I'll answer you questions later, now come on,” Wesley said, as he pulled Matt by the arm and towards the door.
“No,” Matt said, dragging his arm out Wesley's grasp. “I can't go out there. Harry has a family. Fisk will-”
“You let me worry about Fisk,” Wesley said, as he grabbed Matt's arm again and pulled him through the door, and out through the control, where David lay unconscious on the floor.
“Is he OK?” Matt asked.
“Drugged,” Wesley said, as he pulled Matt out into the corridor. “They'll find both David, and I, were drugged with a fast acting barbiturate that was placed in the coffee by your rescuers.”
“But what about Fisk?” Matt asked, as they walked swiftly down the corridor.
“I'm going to take care of him,” Wesley said, as they moved into the basement boiler room.
“You're going to kill him.”
“I am,” Wesley said. “When you are gone I'm going to take the service elevator up the penthouse and shoot both he and Vanessa in the head. It's such a shame that your rescuers took my gun after they drugged me and used it to kill my employer.”
They stopped abruptly, and Wesley bent down, placing his hands on the wheel that operated a hatch. He turned the wheel, and then lifted up the hatch. “Go down the ladder, and take the right hand tunnel. Follow it straight all the way. Do not turn. Do not go slow and do stop. Someone will be waiting for you.”
“Who?”
“Nelson knows you're coming. He's going to be waiting for at the other end.”
“Foggy,” Matt whispered. “Foggy's waiting for me.”
“He is, now go, Matthew. I only have fifteen more minutes before the cameras come back on. Harry can't keep control of the network for much longer.”
Matt climbed down onto the ladder, descending slowly, and then he paused, and looked up at Wesley. “Come with me?”
“I can't. Someone has to take care of Fisk, or you will never be free of him.”
Matt started to descend the ladder once more, and then stepped off it, into the stinking sewer water.
“Matthew,” Wesley called out to him, and he looked up. “Good luck.”
“Thank you, Wesley,” Matt replied, and then he was gone.
Wesley went upstairs, entered the penthouse, and shot Fisk and Vanessa dead.
The swiftness of the fall of Fisk's empire had surprised Wesley. He'd expected some kind of civil war, as criminal gangs fought for supremacy, but in the end it was all very quiet.
No one came for Wesley. He knew that several of Fisk's associates suspected that he had killed him, but no one seemed to care enough to do anything about it. Instead, Wesley had carried on with his duties of running of the facility.
He ordered that Matt's cell be dismantled and the doors to the rooms be boarded shut. He wanted no trace that it had ever even been there.
He heard from Nelson, who had somehow managed to get hold of an encrypted phone, on sporadic occasions. The first call was to tell him that they had got out of the country, and that they were safe, and then an enquiry as to whether Wesley had completed his plan, and Fisk was dead.
During the second call Nelson was obviously drunk and emotional.
“How could you stand there and watch them do that do him for THREE YEARS?” Foggy asked. “Don't you have a soul?”
Wesley started to ask himself that question too.
“Matt tried to kill himself,” Foggy informed him during the third conversation. “This isn't the first time, but he damn near did it this time. Did you know he wants to be castrated? The doctor he asked to do it said no so, yeah, he decided death was a better option, but who can blame him, I mean he was raped pretty much every day for three years...”
Wesley closed his eyes and listened to Nelson's word, knowing every single one of them was true. It was his fault.
It was nearly six months later when Wesley received a call again from the encrypted phone.
“Nelson, don't you think you should have called me before now and let me know if he was dead or not?” he snapped.
“Hi, Wesley,” a voice said softly.
“M-matthew,” Wesley stammered.
“I'm alive, by the way.”
“I'm glad to hear it. How are you?”
“I'm good,” Matt replied. “I am now anyway.” Then he let out a laugh and said, “It's amazing what doctors will do for you when you get hold of a rusty razor blade.”
“That isn't funny, Matthew,” Wesley sighed. “But you got what you wanted?”
“100% infertile,” Matt replied. “I'm no use to anyone now.”
“No one here is looking for you, Matthew. No one is going to come for you,” Wesley said.
“Maybe not from you, but you never know when anyone else might try the same thing,” Matt replied. “You set up quite the unique business model, so you never know when someone else might try to follow in your footsteps.”
“A good point,” Wesley replied, as he rubbed his forehead. He was quiet for a moment, and then said, “I'm sorry, Matthew. I'm sorry for everything that was done to you.”
“I know you are, and I wanted to thank you for letting me go,” Matt said quietly, but when he spoke again his voice took on a darker tone. “I also wanted to let you know that I'm training again, and if I ever, EVER, hear that you are doing something like this to someone else again, I will come for you, and I will stop you.”
“I can assure you, I have no intentions of making the same mistake twice,” Wesley said.
“I'm glad to hear it,” Matt replied. “Have a nice life, Wesley. Pray you never see me.”
The line went dead, and Wesley hung up the receiver.
He knew that he and the Devil would never cross paths again.
Re: FILL: Matt/Fisk/Vanessa. Matt/Others. Infertility. Non con. Self Harm. Suicidal thoughts. Part 4
A single word, spoken loudly, woke Wesley from a sleep he didn't even know he had fallen into. He remembered Matt sobbing for what seemed like hours, until he could barely stay sitting up, and then Wesley had laid him back on the bed.
“Don't leave me,” Matt said quietly, like a child about to be abandoned.
“I won't,” Wesley replied, as he removed his tie & glasses.
“YOU. HOW COULD YOU?”
Wesley blinked up at Fisk, standing over them. Matt was still plastered along Wesley's side, one arm thrown carelessly across his chest.
“HOW DARE YOU TOUCH HIM!” Fisk roared, and Wesley wasn't sure who exactly he was speaking to.
Fisk grabbed Matt's ankle and dragged him down the bed in one quick tug, waking him from his deep sleep.
“W-what's happening?” Matt stammered, his fingers twitching against the bare mattress.
Fisk opened his belt, and unzipped the fly of his expensive suit, and Matt twitched his head to the right, favouring his good ear.
“N-no. No, no, no, no,” Matt repeated, when he realised what was about to happen.
“No, sir, please,” Wesley said, raising a hand and sliding off the mattress. “Don't do this.”
“Shut up,” Fisk roared, as he pulled out his cock and started pumping it. He was hard in seconds, and he pulled down matt's sweat pants, and lined himself up. “I'm going to teach you a lesson you should have learnt long ago.”
Fisk entered Matt in one punishingly fast move. No preparation. No lube. Matt was screaming.
As Fisk pulled out Wesley could see his cock was already streaked with bright red blood, then he slammed back in again, and started pounding in and out of the writhing body below him.
“Sir, please,” Wesley shouted over Matt's agonising wails of pain.
“Shut up!” Fisk roared. “He has to learn. He has to learn who he belongs to. That he can't just take and take and take.”
Thankfully it was over quickly, and Fisk came with a grunt, as he ground into Matt one final time. He pulled out, leaving a trail of blood behind him, spilling down Matt's pale thighs, and then tucked himself back into his pants.
Wesley breathed out a shuddering breath. Matt was injured, still moaning with with every panting breath, but this was fixable. As soon as Wilson left the room he would call for the medical staff, and they would fix this.
Fisk raised his arm, his hand curled into a fist and with an angry scream he punched Matt in the back of the head.
Matt's body immediately went stiff, and a choked sound came from his throat as his muscles started twitching, and he slithered off the bed on the floor.
Fisk leaned down, one foot planted either side of Matt's seizing body, and grabbed him by a handful of his t shirt, lifting him up off the floor, and he started to punch.
Wesley sat on the folding chair, listening to the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor, and the life support machine that was pushing air into Matt's unresponsive lungs.
The repair bill the team of surgeons the medical staff had called in was astronomical, and it had taken them almost a full day to drain the blood from Matt's skull, and to repair the internal injuries Fisk had inflicted upon him.
Matt had remained in a medically induced coma ever since, and Fisk had still ordered the E-Stim team to visit him twice a day, even though he had been warned it could cause his heart to fail.
Wesley found himself wondering if it would be better for Matt if he never woke up. The doctors had warned them that Matt would likely suffer permanent, lasting damage from the bleed in his brain, and more than once Wesley had found himself holding his fingers to the off switch on the life support machine, contemplating what Matt would want.
“Don't do it,” Harry had said. “This isn't our choice to make.”
“We have to do something,” Wesley said, desperately.
“You know what we have to do,” Harry replied.
After two weeks Matt was woken from his coma, and although the doctors declared that he had no major brain injuries, it was clear to Wesley that he was still deeply unwell.
Matt slept for most of the day, and when he was awake he followed instructions without question or hesitation, but he never spoke unless he was asked a question, are rarely answered with anything other than whispered single words. It was like a light had gone out inside him, and it worried Wesley.
Harry's words kept playing over in his head.
“You know what we have to do.”
Harry was right.
“Get out of my apartment now or I will break your face with my fist!” Foggy shouted. “I'm not joking. I know Kung Fu and I'm not afraid to use it.”
“Calm down, Nelson,” Wesley said, as he strode across the room.
Foggy edged backwards, picking up a lamp, and holding it up in front of himself. “I'm warning you.”
Wesley stopped, and said, “Matt's alive.”
“What?” Foggy gasped, dropping the lamp, which shattered across the floor. “He's alive?”
“You were right,” Wesley said. “Fisk kept him prison-”
He was cut off as Foggy landed a punch square on his jaw, which sent him staggering backwards.
“You had him?” Foggy sobbed. “You had him all this time?”
“I'm getting him out of there, but I need your help.”
“Anything,” Foggy breathed.
Wesley took out a sheet of paper from inside his jacket pocket and handed it to Foggy. “I need you to be at this address at midnight, tomorrow night, but you need to start planning now. You need to get him out of the country straight away. Take him somewhere no one will ever find him.”
“I will,” Foggy replied, running his fingers over the paper.
“Don't mess this up, Nelson. His life depends upon it.”
“I'll be there,” Foggy said, as Wesley began to move towards the door. “Wesley?”
He paused at the door and turned, then Foggy asked. “Matt, is he OK?”
Wesley shook his head, and said, “No, he isn't.”
“I need you to wake up now, Matthew,” Wesley said, as he gently shook the sleeping man.
Matt made a questioning sound, struggling to overcome the grogginess that had plagued him since his head injury, then asked, “What's going on?”
“I'll answer you questions later, now come on,” Wesley said, as he pulled Matt by the arm and towards the door.
“No,” Matt said, dragging his arm out Wesley's grasp. “I can't go out there. Harry has a family. Fisk will-”
“You let me worry about Fisk,” Wesley said, as he grabbed Matt's arm again and pulled him through the door, and out through the control, where David lay unconscious on the floor.
“Is he OK?” Matt asked.
“Drugged,” Wesley said, as he pulled Matt out into the corridor. “They'll find both David, and I, were drugged with a fast acting barbiturate that was placed in the coffee by your rescuers.”
“But what about Fisk?” Matt asked, as they walked swiftly down the corridor.
“I'm going to take care of him,” Wesley said, as they moved into the basement boiler room.
“You're going to kill him.”
“I am,” Wesley said. “When you are gone I'm going to take the service elevator up the penthouse and shoot both he and Vanessa in the head. It's such a shame that your rescuers took my gun after they drugged me and used it to kill my employer.”
They stopped abruptly, and Wesley bent down, placing his hands on the wheel that operated a hatch. He turned the wheel, and then lifted up the hatch. “Go down the ladder, and take the right hand tunnel. Follow it straight all the way. Do not turn. Do not go slow and do stop. Someone will be waiting for you.”
“Who?”
“Nelson knows you're coming. He's going to be waiting for at the other end.”
“Foggy,” Matt whispered. “Foggy's waiting for me.”
“He is, now go, Matthew. I only have fifteen more minutes before the cameras come back on. Harry can't keep control of the network for much longer.”
Matt climbed down onto the ladder, descending slowly, and then he paused, and looked up at Wesley. “Come with me?”
“I can't. Someone has to take care of Fisk, or you will never be free of him.”
Matt started to descend the ladder once more, and then stepped off it, into the stinking sewer water.
“Matthew,” Wesley called out to him, and he looked up. “Good luck.”
“Thank you, Wesley,” Matt replied, and then he was gone.
Wesley went upstairs, entered the penthouse, and shot Fisk and Vanessa dead.
The swiftness of the fall of Fisk's empire had surprised Wesley. He'd expected some kind of civil war, as criminal gangs fought for supremacy, but in the end it was all very quiet.
No one came for Wesley. He knew that several of Fisk's associates suspected that he had killed him, but no one seemed to care enough to do anything about it. Instead, Wesley had carried on with his duties of running of the facility.
He ordered that Matt's cell be dismantled and the doors to the rooms be boarded shut. He wanted no trace that it had ever even been there.
He heard from Nelson, who had somehow managed to get hold of an encrypted phone, on sporadic occasions. The first call was to tell him that they had got out of the country, and that they were safe, and then an enquiry as to whether Wesley had completed his plan, and Fisk was dead.
During the second call Nelson was obviously drunk and emotional.
“How could you stand there and watch them do that do him for THREE YEARS?” Foggy asked. “Don't you have a soul?”
Wesley started to ask himself that question too.
“Matt tried to kill himself,” Foggy informed him during the third conversation. “This isn't the first time, but he damn near did it this time. Did you know he wants to be castrated? The doctor he asked to do it said no so, yeah, he decided death was a better option, but who can blame him, I mean he was raped pretty much every day for three years...”
Wesley closed his eyes and listened to Nelson's word, knowing every single one of them was true. It was his fault.
It was nearly six months later when Wesley received a call again from the encrypted phone.
“Nelson, don't you think you should have called me before now and let me know if he was dead or not?” he snapped.
“Hi, Wesley,” a voice said softly.
“M-matthew,” Wesley stammered.
“I'm alive, by the way.”
“I'm glad to hear it. How are you?”
“I'm good,” Matt replied. “I am now anyway.” Then he let out a laugh and said, “It's amazing what doctors will do for you when you get hold of a rusty razor blade.”
“That isn't funny, Matthew,” Wesley sighed. “But you got what you wanted?”
“100% infertile,” Matt replied. “I'm no use to anyone now.”
“No one here is looking for you, Matthew. No one is going to come for you,” Wesley said.
“Maybe not from you, but you never know when anyone else might try the same thing,” Matt replied. “You set up quite the unique business model, so you never know when someone else might try to follow in your footsteps.”
“A good point,” Wesley replied, as he rubbed his forehead. He was quiet for a moment, and then said, “I'm sorry, Matthew. I'm sorry for everything that was done to you.”
“I know you are, and I wanted to thank you for letting me go,” Matt said quietly, but when he spoke again his voice took on a darker tone. “I also wanted to let you know that I'm training again, and if I ever, EVER, hear that you are doing something like this to someone else again, I will come for you, and I will stop you.”
“I can assure you, I have no intentions of making the same mistake twice,” Wesley said.
“I'm glad to hear it,” Matt replied. “Have a nice life, Wesley. Pray you never see me.”
The line went dead, and Wesley hung up the receiver.
He knew that he and the Devil would never cross paths again.