Written for madscribbles , anyone who was in the ARC chat knows why... *grin*
Title: Lester’s Man
Pairing/characters: Becker/Wilder (Becker/Lester implied)
Warnings: Rape, language.
Disclaimer: Not mine. ITV and Impossible Pictures own them.
Word count: approx 700
Summary: A little AU if 3.6 had ended differently.
Becker’s first thought was, this is going to fucking hurt.
His face slammed hard into the lockers, rattling the metal and breaking the skin on his cheekbone. Rough hands reached round and yanked down his trousers.
As always, there was a moment, a split second when he considered fighting back. Captain Wilder was a big bastard, but he was slow, and Becker was 95% certain he could take the guy if he got the drop on him. But what would be the point? He had fought back once before, it hadn’t helped. It just meant there were more of them the next time. Three to hold him down, one to make him bleed. Except it hadn’t just been the one, it had been all four of them, taking it in turns.
After that time, Becker stopped fighting back.
Wilder’s cock ripped into him, hard, unlubricated, dragging at the barely healed tears from last time. Becker hissed, and dug his fingers into the handles on the two lockers to either side. His eyes squeezed shut and he pressed his forehead to the locker. With any luck it was going to be quick. Wilder hadn’t even bothered with the usual taunting this time.
“You’re quiet tonight, Lieutenant,” Wilder sneered in his ear.
Becker didn’t rise to the bait. Of all the things he hated Christine for, his demotion was the one that hurt the most.
Wilder slammed into him again, but Becker remained silent despite the pain. He wasn’t going to give the bastard the pleasure of that, at least.
“Nothing to say? No biting witticisms about how I’ll get what’s coming to me eventually?”
What would be the point of that? Becker thought silently. He knew it was his own damn stupid fault he was even in this position. If he hadn’t fucked up and got caught trying to smuggle the recording of Christine out to Lester, then all this would have been different. Now that bitch was in charge, Lester was out in the political wilderness, and Danny and the team were on the run. Becker hoped to god that wherever they were, Danny was looking after them, and they were figuring out what the hell was so important about that fucking artefact.
He wondered bitterly if they even knew what was going on back at the ARC. If they had any clue that he was still here, doing what he could to make sure they still had somewhere to come back to.
Wilder pounded into him, faster now. It meant he was getting bored because Becker wasn’t rising to his baiting. Becker had learned which ones to stay quiet with, and which ones would only make it worse for him if he didn’t answer back. Each thrust dragged painfully, and the sharp sting of old wounds re-opening made Becker want to whimper. He bit down hard on his bottom lip, determined not to make a single noise. By the time Wilder finished with him, Becker could taste blood in his mouth.
“Not so cocky now without Lester to protect you,” Wilder commented as he zipped himself back up.
And you won’t be so cocky when Lester is back in charge, Becker thought to himself.
He stayed where he was against the lockers until Wilder had walked out. Then he limped to the showers. As he let the warm water cascade over him, washing away the blood and soothing the bruises, Becker fixated on that one thought.
Lester will be back. I will make fucking sure of it.
That was the one thing that kept him going, the one reason why he let this happen. If he let the bastards think he was beaten, then sooner or later one of them would screw up, one of them would give him the evidence he needed to get rid of that bitch and bring Lester back where he belonged.
When Christine so mockingly called him, ‘Lester’s man’, she had no idea how right she was.