"Never Mess With a Nightstalker"
by Osiris Brackhaus

 

When somebody knocked at the door of Ryan's trailer, he was too worn out and too drunk to really care. Whoever ever would get out to his trailer in this miserable weather at this time in the night surely would have a good reason.

"Come in!", he yelled, wondering whether to put on his shirt back again and then deciding against it. "Door's open!"

They had had their last official day at the set today, and even though everybody was sure there inevitably would be some pick-ups necessary, the team had seized the occasion for another party. Everybody had laughed and danced and gotten sufficiently pissed, so it had been a good time, Ryan assumed.
Of course, Snipes had hardly been there except for giving a thankfully short speech in which he thanked everybody for contributing so nicely to his film. Well, he hadn't really said that, but that was what he had meant. Fucking arrogant asshole. Probably would have spoiled the mood anyway if he had stayed.

"Hey Ryan", a sonorous voice from the door caught his attention. Dominic was standing there, his short-cropped hair glistening wet from the pouring rain outside.

"Dom", the actor replied, drowsily rubbing his face to get a little more awake again. "What's up?"

"Mind if I come in?"

Not even bothering to answer properly, Ryan only nodded, waving the other man into the trailer. There really wasn't one single reason he could currently think of why the burly actor would want to see him, but right now, he couldn't think much at all. It felt most of his brain was asleep already. Or busy dealing with the effects of having had a considerable amount of blueberry vodkas.

Letting himself fall down on the only piece of furniture in the crammed vehicle that remotely resembled an armchair, Ryan looked up at his colleague, scratching his beard. Tomorrow, he decided, this ugly thing would leave his face forever. Well, at least until he let it grow back, that was.

Dominic was just standing there, his chest bulging inside the dark sweater he was wearing. He must have been standing out there for quite some time, Ryan noticed, as his shoulders were drenched as well, tiny drops of water dangling at the other man's earlobes like pimply diamonds.

As after a while, Purcell still hadn't said a word, just stared at Ryan in his chair, the young actor asked:

"What's it, Dom, you haven't come here to stare at me, have you?"

Weighing his head, the other man seemed to ponder his answer before he replied.

"Wouldn't mind. I like the view."

Looking down his chest, Ryan for the first time wondered what it was that made people think him attractive. If he knew, maybe then he could finally stop the wrong people from 'liking' him.

"That's very nice, Dom. Do you have anything else? I'm tired, and I want to go to bed."

"I... I came to say farewell."

There was something in the actor's deep voice that made Ryan blink nervously. A rumbling, prowling quality he had never before heard in the other man, not even when he was acting the forefather of all vampires. Despite his pleasantly vodka-lulled condition, it made him shiver.

"You said farewell at the party, Dom", the younger actor reminded with a slight warning in his voice. "I think it's time to go, now."

"No, no, you don't understand." Wringing his hands, Purcell looked for a second like a giant boy trying to explain something for the first time in his life. Taking into account with what kind of a man he was dealing here, the fact made this moment all the eerier for Ryan.

"You are... special", the heavily muscled actor tried to make his point clear, his breath going hard. "You are... Remember that day when we shot the scene I take you hostage in?"

More confused than worried, Ryan nodded. It had been a whole day of being grabbed, choked, stabbed and discarded for him, over and over again. Nothing out of the ordinary, then, considering his role. At least, they had allowed him to keep his pants on.

"That day, when you were in my arms", Dominic continued, taking a step closer towards Ryan. "When I was choking you, and you held on to me for your dear life, it was special."

Arching an eyebrow, Ryan felt some of his Hannibal King persona awaken despite the hour. Or maybe, it was because of the hour. And the blueberry vodkas.

"It was the only time you were allowed to act cool", he consequentially replied, leisurely placing his feet onto the table next to him. "Sure it must have felt special to you."

"No, it was you." Now there was a definitely predatory ring to Dominic's voice, and for once Ryan wished he had some more of Hannibal's equipment in his room. "You surely must have noticed the effect you've had on me."

Now arching his other eyebrow as well, the younger actor remembered some detail he had thoroughly dismissed as an other actor's vanity. Until now.

"Oh, and I thought you'd stuffed your pants", he replied snottily, adding: "I mean, you ARE that kind of person, after all."

"Watch your words, Ryan", Dominic growled, once again stepping closer towards the young actor. "I'm serious."

"As am I." What ever in hell had made Dom come to the conclusion Ryan would consider his advances with anything less than repulsion, it was well beyond the young actor's grasp. "So you got a hard on from rubbing your dick against my ass a whole morning long. Very nice, but I am not interested."

"I...", Purcell replied, wringing his hands, the veins on his forehead suddenly clearly visible. "I was not making fun."

Somewhere deep inside him, Ryan wondered if maybe he should really clamp down hard on his snotty Hannibal persona and act like a responsible adult for a change. Maybe Dominic was seriously trying to express the deep feelings he held in his heart for the other actor, and he shouldn't ridicule that. Then again, imagining Dominic as anything else but the taciturn hunk he had acted like so far was ridiculous in itself. And as soon as it involved romance, it only got worse.
At the image of Purcell kneeling in front of him with a flower between his teeth, Ryan burst into uproarious laughter. Stunned, the large actor took a step back, his face impassive but twitching nervously.

"Oh goodness gracious, Dom!", Ryan exclaimed. "Please, you're not really trying to tell me you're in love with me, are you? If so, I have to tell you that your taste isn't only pretty perverted, it also shows significant tendencies towards self-mutilation."

Significant tendencies towards self-mutilation? My, Ryan thought rather impressed, if I can still get out sentences like this, I can't be that drunk, can I?

"Don't... laugh at me", Dominic growled, his hands working the empty air as if trying to get a hold on words that constantly eluded him. "I tried to..."

"You tried to what?", Ryan replied, yawning heartily. Better to tell this pervert once and for all that he wasn't interested in the slightest. Else he'll start writing me letters or something. "Dom, I really respect that you try to bolster your low self-esteem by trying to make a real man love you, but it's not going to be me. You understand? Not. Me."

Still, Dominic was standing a mere two steps away from Ryan, his face a frozen mask of barely kept manners, his fists clenched at his side. With a certain warning, the younger actor noticed that Purcell didn't show any signs of leaving the trailer, though. The massive actor just stood there, unmoving, exuding... well, what actually? Anger? Spite? Ryan couldn't set his finger to it, but in the end, he didn't really want to know. All he wanted was to get that pervert out of his trailer, lock the door behind him and then sleep until hangover woke him.

"Dom, please", Ryan finally said, rising as smoothly as his intoxicated state allowed. "Let's keep this civilized, we'll stay friends."

Trying to underline his gentle insistence on Dominic's departure, Ryan tried to nudge the other man towards the door. Unfortunately, he hadn't ever in his whole life expected the violent reaction he received.

"NO!", Purcell suddenly yelled, grabbing Ryan's wrist. With an almost explosive shove, he slammed his free hand against the younger man's sternum, producing enough momentum to send Ryan stumble backwards onto the floor.

"You are not going to make a fool of me", he continued his rage, walking up to Reynolds. "Not this time..."

On the floor, Ryan found himself brimming with adrenaline after the sudden attack. What the fuck did he mean with 'this time'? Was this guy now turning fully delusional on him again?

But his thoughts were abruptly cut short as the other actor rudely grabbed him by his belt and neck, hauling Ryan up and onto the bed right behind him.

"What the fuck...", Reynolds growled, his senses rapidly clearing from the alcohol.

But Purcell apparently wasn't here to talk any longer. Again, the actor grabbed for Ryan's wrists, struggling with the young man for a moment.

Whatever this madmen had in mind for the rest of the evening, Ryan was sure he didn't want to be part of the show. Very sure.
In the close quarters of the trailer's rear end, there wasn't much space for a decent fight, but enough for violent shoves, grabs and some nasty knee and elbow-work. A few moments, one split lip and several ugly bruises later, Reynolds came to realize that if you hadn't the space nor the grounds to move, mass and mere strength were far superior to agility and endurance. And unfortunately, it seemed that none of the martial arts he had any training in had been conceived to fight off an opponent on a trailer mattress.

Right now, Ryan was lying on his stomach, his arm most unfortunately bent onto his back. Dominic was sitting on top of him, grinning and breathing hard, very effectively pinning the other actor down into the pillows. His training, apparently, had included this special kind of encounter, Reynolds thought, trying hard not to dwell on the implications.

"Not that cocky any longer, are we?", Purcell asked, his voice throaty and hardly intelligible with emotions. Twisting Ryan's arm some more, he managed to get a painful yelp out of the other man, which he accepted with another wide grin. "You always thought you're better than me, didn't you?"

Reynolds didn't answer, partly because he was far too furious to, partly because opening his mouth would probably give this madman another chance to hear him squeal like a girl.

Now what the fuck was happening here? Real life finally imitating art in a most unpleasant way? Ryan had always thought himself a little more stable than Hannibal, and living a far less dangerous life in comparison. As it seemed, karma had decided otherwise.

Deep inside of him, there was a voice rather annoyingly insisting on this being the moment to finally panic and scream for help. But Ryan wasn't inclined to listen one bit. Well, at least he wasn't until he heard the unmistakable sound of a cable-binder being pulled tight around his wrists.

What the...?! Had Dom already brought them along when he came to 'say goodbye'? Ryan could hardly believe what was happening around him. What was this brute trying to do there anyway? If he was here on romantic purposes, his approach definitely left a lot to be desired.

Not wasting time on words, Purcell continued tying up his fellow actor, this time using the cable-binders on his ankles.

"What the fuck are you doing there?", Ryan hissed as Dom didn't do anything for a moment. "My lawyers will sue you to hell and back, you idiot. You'll be dead!"

Wow, he heard a voice in his head comment snarkily. Now that was real macho threat. Go, tell him more about your lawyers, he'll pee his pants, I bet. Who do you think you are, Barbara Streisand?!

Pretty much as it was to be expected, Dominic didn't even react on the remark. He did, though, start caressing Ryan's back, his broad hand gliding across the younger actor's skin with unsettling gentleness. Which once again brought to mind that there still were some options for tonight's entertainment that didn't require his consent. Rather unsettling options, actually, and for the first time, Ryan suddenly considered screaming not that bad an idea at all.

And yet, in the last moment, he bit his tongue. If he called for help, and help came, then this would involve the police. And that meant the public would know as well. And most unfortunately, it would have a most detrimental effect on his market value as a tough action hero if he got know as the guy who had been found beaten and tied up by a fellow actor in his own trailer. No need to mention the 'r'-word there, Ryan thought, if this came out, he'd be reduced to a mere joke in Hollywood.

And he really hadn't planned on playing rape-victims or gays for the rest of his career, if there would be any career left to continue with.

So I am on my own here, Ryan concluded grimly, trying hard to ignore Purcell's sweaty palms on his shoulders. Well, not exactly on my own, he added immediately, that would have been too easy. Being about to be raped by my colleague and thinking about its impact on my market-value as an actor.

Am I completely fucking nuts?

No, you're just more vain than you are proud, that snarky voice in his head commented, once again most unasked-for. Or you are more vain than you have self-esteem, but that's about the same in this case, isn't it?

But there was something else besides vanity Ryan had to take into consideration. Plain, old panic was eating away the far edges of his reason, a gray static haze that advanced further with every touch of Dominic telling him that there was no way out. It wasn't about pain, pain was only in his body, and he could ignore that. It wasn't about humiliation either, for that was in his mind, and Ryan was sure he could control that.

Panic was growing in his mind for the simple reason that he didn't want to. He was repulsed by even thinking what Purcell might have in mind next, much more than he should have been if he had been able to stay rational about it. But reason had very little to do with the whole thing, had it?

Bucking up wildly with a strength that was fueled by elemental fear, Reynolds managed to surprise the huge man sitting on his back. So much, actually, that Dominic got thrown off, hitting the fake-wood drawer next to the bed with the crunch of breaking plastic.

"You fucking sicko!" Ryan managed to hiss while he turned around as swiftly as his tied-up state allowed.

Purcell was still stunned by the sudden outbreak, blinking at the other actor without comprehension. Which gave Reynolds the necessary moments to place a well-aimed blow to the other man's face with his feet, punching him even deeper into the ruined drawer.

Unfortunately, the real pain caused by the impact of Ryan's still booted feet seemed to kick Dominic out of his surprised stupor. Once again with surprising swiftness, the massive actor managed to grab Reynold's ankles, yanking them down with a forceful grunt.

Tied up as he was, Ryan was suddenly all occupied with the task of struggling to remain on his back or side so that he had at least a nominal chance of fighting. But once again, Purcell showed a disquieting aptness at getting a bound and unwilling person under control. With a few, efficient moves, he was sitting on top of Ryan again, his face red with anger.

"You can't even accept one defeat with grace, can you?", he hissed at his victim, wiping some blood off his split lip. "Well, I've tried to do this gently, but it's your choice."

While Ryan still wondered what the fuck had possibly been gentle about Dominic's first approach, the other man hit his chin with a low right, so forceful Reynold's vision went black except for a few dancing stars. Apparently not satisfied with the results, Purcell delivered another blow, this time managing to knock out Ryan for a few seconds.

Alright, Ryan admitted to himself with fatalistic humor, this is indeed less gentle than the previous version.

Above him, though, Dominic grunted with frustration. After a few seconds of consideration, he grabbed Ryan's head, pushing him face-down into the mattress. What the fuck's he trying to do now, the younger actor wondered, panic once again flickering in his mind. Is he trying to choke me?

But even though Purcell's huge hands were closing around his throat, they didn't seem to be going to throttle him. Instead, the other actor seemed to look for some points of either side to his larynx, close to his chin, pressing there with no apparent effect in the first seconds. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Ryan could hear Dominic softly counting the seconds.
His arteries, Ryan suddenly realized, the fucking pervert was closing off his arteries...

And then his world went black.

-

First thing Ryan remembered when he came back to his senses was that he himself had put the cable-binders on the table. He usually used them to seal his luggage before he checked it in at the airport. It wasn't a foolproof method, but a useful deterrent for someone keen on sifting through suitcases in search of valuables.

Well, this time, the cable-binders by no means had had a deterring effect.

Numbly, Reynolds registered that he still was lying on the mattress of his trailer, his face down in the crumbled sheets. When he tried to move, something held his hands neatly above his head, his feet also tied neatly in place. Blind urgency made him yank at the binds, but to no avail.

Only Purcell, somewhere next to him on the bed, gave a throaty laugh.

"Don't, honey," he said dripping with sarcasm, "else you'll only cut yourself."

Opening his eyes needed much more effort than Ryan had expected, but he eventually managed. Right in front of him, he could see the cable-binder that held his wrists together being tied to the trailer with another one of its kind. Probably, his feet had been fixed in the same manner, tightly stretching him out diagonally across his bed. He could already see where the skin at his wrists got raw where the tight plastic of the binder had scraped it off, a smeared bracelet of blood already showing.

Hell, he'd have to wear sweatbands for at least a month to hide those marks, he thought grimly before reality caught up with him again.

Reality in this case was one of Purcell's huge hands, deftly slapping him across his naked ass, first bringing the urgency of the matter to his mind in all its ugly clarity and second the question of how the hell he had lost his pants. Ryan turned around his head, about to hiss something at his mad colleague, only to find out that he had been gagged rather efficiently with some adhesive tape over his mouth and around his neck.

With the choice of calling for help finally being taken from him, all that was left to do was to stare over his shoulder at Dominic. The massively built man had also lost some of his outfit in the meantime, showing off the muscle on his bare chest in the trailer's low light. Purcell was currently wielding a cutter, almost tenderly cutting off the last remnants of Ryan's denims. Seeing this, Dom's earlier comment about Ryan 'cutting himself' got a whole new, unpleasant meaning.

"Genetics is such an unfair business", Purcell sighed, apparently to no one in particular.

Gently caressing one of Ryan's calves in front of him, he pulled out the last bits of clothing from underneath his victim, smiling with a melancholy the other man found utterly misplaced in the context.

"So beautiful", Dom continued both his monologue and his caresses, finally dropping the cutter next to the bed. "so lean..."

Once again, a wave of panic rolled over Ryan, and wildly, he tied to rip off the makeshift shackles that held him immobile. But the only thing he managed was to make the trailer sway with his violent movements, and to make his wrists finally start bleeding. His ties didn't loosen up one bit.

Like vertigo, dread seemed to swallow up his mind. Why couldn't Purcell just knock him out, and have the same fun with his unconscious body? Why the fucking hell did he have to be all aware of what was going to happen? Why fucking, fucking hell on earth did he have to end up in such a helpless position?!

Nothing. No answer, so sudden idea, no surprise hero rushing to his rescue. Only Purcell next to him, caressing his ass, breathing hard with what now definitely sounded like lust.

No, Ryan thought, all his body cramping up despite a conscious effort to stay calm. He could feel tears stinging in his eyes, tears of anger, of frustration, of utter humiliation. This was NOT right, fucking not.

Purcell's hand left him for a second, only to return to his crack, this time with the distinct cool of lube on his fingers. Ryan recognized the scent, the subtle, almost medical scent of the lubricant he used himself in his lonely nights. Had that madman snooped through the whole trailer? Wasn't there anything sacred to him?

Apparently not. With rather gentle insistence, Purcell's hand slid along Ryan's crack, slick with lube and hot like a branding iron to the bound man. With a last effort of resistance, he tried to roll himself to the other side, trying to deny him access. But Dom only laughed at the attempt, a bitter, grunting sound that grated on Ryan's soul.

Now Ryan was lying with his stomach towards Purcell, and it didn't take the actor a real effort to place a blow right underneath Reynold's sternum that sent him wheezing for air. Roughly, he grabbed the helplessly gasping man and flipped him back onto his face. Not willing to give Ryan another chance to spoil his fun, Dominic knelt down on his victim, placing one knee on the other man's legs and the other one right above his waist with enough force to make Ryan fear his back would brake.

This time, the bound actor was hardly able to move at all. With Dom's respectable weight on top of him, there was just about nothing he could do to protect himself. With a clarity that made the whole thing all the more dreadful, Ryan felt Dominic once again force his hand down his crack, with noticeably less care than the last time. Deftly, Purcell's fingers searched for Ryan's entrance, prying their way inside despite anything Ryan did in hope to prevent it.

When he felt Dominic's finger move inside of him, dread and repulsion finally got the better of Ryan, and biting down hard, he felt tears running down his cheeks. All his universe seemed to contract to the sickening, unnatural feeling down his ass, the image of Purcell sitting next to him with a mad leer on his face. With every move of the fingers inside, pain flared up in a way Ryan had hardly thought possible, but then again, nothing happening here right now had ever seemed possible to him.

But the pain wasn't the worst. Pain was physical, and temporary. But the feeling of being used, of being broken and used like an item in the most demeaning way was far beyond that. Lying here, crying like a little child with another man's hand up his ass was worse.

It was such a helpless, worthless position he was forced to live through that Ryan could feel it erode his self-confidence, his self-esteem, the image of himself as a man, as a human. Whimpering behind his gag as Purcell showed another finger inside his ass, the actor caught a glimpse of his own reflection in the glossy finish of the trailer's walls. It was about the last thing he had ever wanted to see, and in the same moment, the image was burned into his mind with more force than anything else before.

His eyes wide with plain, animalistic terror, his face streaked with tears and blood from a split brow, pale and deep crimson at the same time, his whole body stringy with muscles cramping in panic that no reason any longer could control. Nothing was left of the man he had believed himself to be in that image, nothing at all.

And there was no hope in Ryan that he would ever be able to get that man back.

Through the muddled haze of pain and anguish, Reynolds suddenly realized that Purcell's fingers had left him, the stinging, stretching pain suddenly replaced by pain that was muddled, constant, hollow. Detached, he could hear himself sob, tears and snot smearing his face and the sheets he was lying on.
His whole body was shivering violently, and with another, wildly wheezing sob, another part of what had been Ryan Reynolds broke away, a Ryan Reynolds who would never have a thing like this happen to him.

With a certain detachment, he felt Purcell shift his weight on top of him. Opening his pants, by the sound of it, Ryan registered, lubing his dick and rubbing it until it was hard enough to enter him, not that it needed much of the latter.
The image didn't even cause any new repulsion inside of him. Ryan felt as if he had fallen down and shattered on the floor, lying there with no hope of repair and no fear of anything worse, for there was nothing. Only more of the same, demeaning treatment, but that only caused mild disgust as he felt too exhausted for more.

Still, the tears were running down Ryan's face, and when Dominic climbed off him, he didn't even try to look as if he was fighting back. Somewhere behind him, he heard two heavy shoes being kicked out of the bed, one by one. Then Purcell's black jeans landed in a crumbled heap in front of Ryan's face, bringing with them the scent of cigarettes and man. Like a black, slowly sagging mountain the piece of cloth was lying there from Ryan's perspective, glistening stains of generously sprinkled lube showing prominently all around the zipper.

With a huff and a deeply pleased groan, Dominic settled back onto Ryan, this time lying on top of him. The other man's weight pressed the air out of Reynolds, and despite his best attempts, his thoughts seemed only to be able to focus on the other man's cock, hard and hot and throbbing between the cheeks of his own butt. The hard piece of flesh seemed to have a life of its own, gliding along on top of Ryan even though Purcell hardly moved.

"Can you feel him?" Purcell whispered throatily, his breath hot and stale against Ryan's neck. As if to give a hint about what he was talking, he pressed his dick harder against the other man's ass, groaning with lust. "Yes, baby, that's right the way we love it..."

Somehow, this triggered a desolate spark of resistance in Ryan, and as forcefully as he could, he jerked back his head. With grim satisfaction, he felt the heavy impact of Purcell's face with his skull, almost laughing behind his gag at the other man's surprised grunt of pain.

"You fucking bitch...," Dominic hissed, retaliating Ryan's head-butt with a resounding slap square across the other actor's face. He sat up on his victim, and just for good measure hit him twice again, each time making sure he had sufficiently recovered from the last blow to be fully able to cherish the next one.

Vaguely, Ryan could make out some warm liquid dropping on his back, and it took him a moment to realize that he must have hit Purcell hard enough to give him a bleeding nose. Dominic, apparently, noticed by then as well, commenting the mess with a grunt of disgust.

"Now look at this mess," the heavy-set actor grumbled without any attempt to clean it up. Instead, he traced lines in his own blood along Ryan's back, chuckling with the look of it. "It's sticky..."

The last line had been delivered with something like dry amusement, and without warning, Ryan's head was grabbed by his hair and jerked back violently.

"Look at this!" Purcell roared at him, suddenly all furious. "Look at the fucking mess you've made out of this!"

Tied up as he was, Ryan could only see parts of the man sitting on his back, but Dominic's blood-smeared face, his white teeth bared in a demonic snarl was more than enough already. With the fire of unrestrained lust in his eyes, he looked more the ultimate monster than all special effects in the world would be able to make him look like. He was evil incarnate, and he was about to fuck him raw.

His mind having been reduced to rubble already before, Ryan found himself transfixed with the image. Unable to close his eyes, unable to think any thought of his own, he watched in terrified anticipation as Purcell's snarl turned into a calculating grin, leering at the fear the massive body-builder could see in the eyes of his victim. Very deliberately, Dominic pushed down Ryan's head again, making sure to twist it to the side that he could still see at least one of his eyes.

Snarling with feral lust, Purcell wiped away the last trickle of blood from his face with his free hand, smearing it across his chest with deep satisfaction. Continuing the motion downwards, Dominic reached for his dick, stroking himself, staring at Ryan all the time.

In the low light, it seemed as if his eyes were catching fire, blazing red flames drilling holes into Ryan's mind, growing wilder with every bit of fear they found. And there was plenty of that in Ryan right now. Reason had completely left him, all his universe centered on the blood-smeared demon on his back, on the feeling of the other man's balls rhythmically slapping against his own ass.

Slowly, the snarl on Purcell's face lost it's grim undertone, more and more to be filled with lust and desire, mindless again and the perfect mirror to Ryan's unthinking, mindless dread.

"Here," Dominic whispered finally and bent down again without releasing his contorting hold on Ryan's head. Using his free hand to guide him, Purcell pushed his rock-hard dick between his victim's legs, pressing against the other man's hole with dark anticipation.

NO, was the only thought on Ryan's mind, all heavens, God Lord, NO!

But there was no god, not right now, only Purcell's mad grin, his sticky chest heavy on Ryan's back, his hard cock throbbing at his entrance.

For a heartbeat, none of the two men moved, both too caught up in the moment, though with diametrically opposed feelings about it. Then, in a surprisingly smooth motion, Purcell increased the pressure against Ryan's ass, his dick prying open its way up the other man's ass.

Pain flared up in Ryan's vastly reduced mental universe, searing hot pain as his ass was stretched and torn, as the biggest, meanest piece of manmeat he had ever seen got shoved up his rear. But whatever sound of his scream might have escaped his gag, it was drowned by the passionate howl of lust the Purcell gave the moment he felt himself enter his victim.

With Dominic's muscular thighs on either side of Ryan's he couldn't enter him all the way, but that apparently was no major problem for him. And Ryan, to be honest, wasn't in the mood to be grateful for that by any means.

With the first spike of pain slowly subsiding, the bound actor could feel the other man's dick inside him, making him feel swollen, bloated, invaded, used. Raped, to make it short.

Once again, Ryan felt tears welling up in his eyes, and this time, he didn't even try to bite them back. Still, Purcell held his head in a tight grip by his hair, but more and more, his concentration was slipping. With matte gratitude Reynolds felt his face slipping from his shoulder, gracefully taking the man fucking him out of his field of vision. At least now, he thought, I can close my eyes.

But closing his eyes brought the other sensations of his body most unpleasantly back to attention. Purcell's massive cock up his ass, moving slowly, the other man's whole body shaking with plain desire. Pain blossoming when the hot shaft of hard meat entered him, pain when it left, only to start all over again.

On top of him, Dominic groaned coarsely, completely absorbed in his fuck. By now, his broad hand was lying square across Ryan's face, his rhythm alternating between moments of frantic rubbing and long breaks where he moved as if in slow-motion. Ryan had hoped to be able to retreat into some corner of his mind, to sit there safe and oblivious and not caring about what happened to his body. But like so many hopes tonight, that one had been in vain as well.

More and more, he gained a sense of Purcell's body on top of him, more and more he could feel the other man's muscles contract and relax again, could feel Dominic's cock grow harder and even bigger when he approached his peak, only to relax again in his calmer moments. He was going to ride him for all it was worth, not wasting any second of it to rush. And there was no way for Ryan to escape into oblivion.

Purcell's calmer moments got less and less, his cock now constantly thrusting into Ryan with the frantic speed of a sewing machine, rapidly approaching his orgasm. Grunting and sweating, the heavy man was working on top of him, relentless and completely ignorant to the pain he caused. Only his own pleasure counted to him, whether it came to him by fucking, groping or biting the man he had so neatly submitted.

Finally, after what seemed like hours to Ryan, he could feel Dominic grew more and more rigid, his heavy muscles cramping with the force of his climax. Almost howling with lust, Purcell yanked his cock out of Ryan's ass in the very last moment, and sitting up again, his cum splattering across the other actor's back in hot, massive spurts.

Stretching until his hands pressed against the low ceiling, Dominic breathed in heavy huffs, his still rather hard dick sliding across the small of Ryan's back. Then, his breath bit by bit turned into a laugh, harsh and throaty, until he was shaking with mirth. The reason to his amusement was completely lost to Ryan, but so had been most of Purcell's motivation tonight.

For a long moment, Dominic remained sitting on top of his victim, apparently enjoying the view. Then, with a final deep sigh, he hauled himself off the other actor, crawling off the mattress without any kind of comment. Soon, Ryan heard his trailer's shower, and Purcell's deep voice humming some musical classic. Nothing happened while the heavy-set actor cleaned the blood and sweat from his body, but still Ryan's mind didn't kick back into gear again.

Neither when Purcell returned to the bed, gathering up his clothes and dressing again, smelling of Ryan's shower gel, any kind of distinguishable thought crossed Ryan's mind. Only numbness remained, a hollow shell that seemed to revolve endlessly around the appalling images he had been forced to witness, both denying and unable to turn away from them. Over and over again, Ryan seemed to relive the moments when Purcell's cock finally was forced inside of him, and when the man who had raped him found his howling release.

"Here." His voice flat, neither showing any particular remorse nor amusement, Purcell threw the cutter back onto the sheets, mere inches away from Ryan's hand. "Cut yourself free, if you want to."

But the young actor didn't react. Still there were only images of his body being violated in his mind, of Purcell forcing himself upon Ryan.

"Farewell", Dominic said, and this time there was something like sadness in his voice. "Farewell, Ryan, maybe it would have worked if things had been a bit different." And without waiting for any kind of reaction from his victim, Purcell left the trailer, disappearing into the pouring rain.

On his mattress, Ryan lay without moving. Even the endless loop of his thoughts seemed to slow down, and yet still no spark of life moved in his mind. Staring at the wall next to him, he didn't care whether his hands grew numb with the lack of circulation, or the throbbing, burning pain in his ass. Nothing. No returning to his former life, no thought to start with.

How long he remained motionless, Ryan couldn't have said afterwards. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours. He didn't care.

Only when a drop of cold liquid suddenly moved on his back, pearling down his side with increasing speed, something awakened inside of him: repulsion. Repulsion at Purcell's slowly liquefying semen on his back, disgust at what he had done to him, sickening repugnance at his own weakness.

His first twitch sent even more drops of cum rolling down his sides, cold points tracing cold lines on his skin. And the disgust made them burn like fire. He had to get it off, had to get rid of it, had to purge those stains on his body, on his soul.

Suddenly almost frantic, Ryan pulled at the sheets underneath his bound hands, ignoring the millions of pinpricks and the caustic burn of his sore skin. He had to get this fucking cutter, had to get these binders cut, had to get away from this bed, this crime-scene, the deathbed of what once had been him. Finally, he got hold of the tool, and with stiff fingers, he fumbled to get free.

The first cable-binder that gave in to his attempts was the one fixing Ryan's wrists to the wall, and immediately, the actor rolled onto his back in a mindless attempt to get rid of the pooling slime Purcell had left there like a mark of ownership. Wincing with the pain that shot through his body at the sudden movement, Ryan had to hold still for a few heartbeats, waiting for the worst to subside. Above him, there were two bloodied handprints on the ceiling where Dominic had stretched after he had finished his job.

The image once again conjured up memories of what had happened in Ryan's mind, and that renewed his fervor to get rid of his makeshift shackles. Grabbing the cutter between his knees, the actor tried to open the binders across his wrists, cutting himself as often as he did not. But eventually, also the second binder surrendered with a distinct snap, the returning blood making Ryan wince again behind his gag.

He could see large flaps of his skin hanging loose where the binder had been, raw flesh glistening underneath. His chest suddenly constricted with the stress, but there was still the gag on his mouth preventing him to catch a deep breath. With a panicking fear of suffocation, Ryan ripped at the tape around his face and chin, only to find that it was far more difficult to get off than he had feared. Wound around him in several layers, it had no distinguishable beginning or end, and tight as it was, it couldn't be peeled off either. For a several moments, the actor ripped mindlessly at the restraint, harming himself in the process more than the gag. But finally, even this fiendish contraption had no chance but to surrender.

Taking in a deep breath like a man coming up from a deep dive without oxygen, Ryan filled his lungs, only to cramp up with the unexpected pain that exploded in his larynx. Screaming at the top of your lungs was about the worst thing you could to your vocal chords, even if nothing of them could be heard. Coughing violently, the young man lay in his bed, the gag's adhesive tape still around his neck like some ugly necklace.
When he managed to stop coughing, Ryan wiped the renewed tears from his face. Tears of pain, this time, not of fear, but far too close already.

Never, never again, he thought, never ever.

Swiftly, he managed to untie his feet without cutting himself, grimacing as he found his ankles just as damaged as his wrists. Slowly, he managed to get out of bed without looking back and stumbled towards his bathroom. On second thought, he carefully closed the bedroom door, not sure if he'd ever be able to open it again.

The shower, he thought fervently, his wobbly feet leading him there with as much speed as they could come up with. The only place he could get this filth off his skin, where he could get clean again, where he could wash off this stinking touch of a monster in human guise.

The trailer's tiny bathroom was still damp with the moisture from the shower Purcell had taken before he had left. There were even the towels he had used, lying in a heap on the floor, looking so pathetically discarded as Ryan currently felt.
But the narrow shower was still a place of deliverance in Ryan's eyes, of cleansing, of forgiving. In the pain-fogged haze of his mind, those notions actually made sense, and the young actor actually trembled with gratitude as the first, warm water emerged from the shower. The first waft of moist air calmed him more than any drink could have had, and despite the biting pain of his sore skin, Reynolds stepped underneath the shower with a shaky smile on his face.

Hot, almost scalding, the water felt to him, but he didn't dare to have it any less scorching. Nothing of that man should remain on his skin, not even the memory of his touch, even if that meant boiling off the first layers of his skin. With deep relief, Ryan realized how much the moisture soothed his sore throat, and for the first time since he had taken off his gag, he was able to take a deep breath.

Still, he was struggling to comprehend what had just happened in the perceived safety of his trailer. That man had entered his place, beaten him down and... raped him. Ryan swallowed hard as he forced himself to face it. He had been raped. Raped.

Raped.

With a sharp motion born of nothing but the sheer notoriety of his survival instinct, Ryan slammed his head against the shower wall. And once again, just for good measure; and again until his forehead left a bloodied smear on the fake tiles. But the fresh pain was sobering, he realized with newfound clarity as he watched the blood being washed off the wall.

Dwelling on the fact would lead nowhere, he told himself harshly, except maybe for depression and suicide. Following the pale red drops on the wall down to his feet where they mixed with all the other reddish water from his back, Ryan knew that he had to go on. Even if it was only to get that man the punishment he deserved.

How could this have ever happened? And why to him? Giving another deep sigh that was more a sob than anything else, Ryan leaned his head against the shower wall, this time without the intent to mutilate himself. What the fuck had he done to deserve this, what the fucking hell to invite that man to do what he had done? Would tonight have been any different if he had said yes? Or would that man have taken him by force anyway?

With a disdainful snort, Ryan registered that he refrained to think of the man who raped him with his proper name. What a silly notion, he chided himself, and yet it was so terribly hard to do so. Dominic had been if not a friend, then a rather dear colleague, and by no means anything Ryan had seen of him before had had any connection to the man he had gotten to know tonight in his bed. The man tonight had been a demon, devoid of any human trace, and not the man he had worked with for the last weeks.

With another sob, Ryan gave up pretending he was fine. Slowly, he sank down until he was sitting in the shower, crying with the sheer stress, hugging his knees until he had no more tears left. Silently, he pulled off the pieces of skin the cable-binders had scratched loose on his wrists and ankles, cursing with the pain. Carefully, he cleansed himself of the blood and cum and snot and everything that covered his body. With all the time underneath the hot water, even the makeshift gag started to fall apart, and after quite some time, nothing remained on Ryan that he possibly could get rid of with a simple shower. His body was clean as it could be, but he still felt like a heap of shit.

Why me, was the question running constantly through his head. Why not Jessica? Would Hannibal King be beaten down and raped as well? Why the fuck him, of all people on the set?!

Not having any answer to those questions, Ryan turned off the shower, looking down his legs, expecting to see a small trickle of red to run down his thighs. Nothing, even though the constant pain would have justified half his entrails hanging out.

At least, he thought with ambivalence, I wont be dying on the spot.

Standing in front of the misted bathroom mirror, Ryan hesitated for a long moment before he had gathered the courage to wipe it clean, only to regret his decision immediately after. Staring at him from out of the mirror was another man, by no means related to the man he had seen there this morning. A split brow wasn't the problem, nor the pitch-black rings underneath his puffed eyes. Both could have been signs of an extremely wild night, and would be gone in a matter of days. Another matter all together were the scratch-marks that ended in a straight line above his mouth, and the countless little bloody spots where he had ripped out follicles with the tape that had gagged him. Or the bite-marks along his throat, for that matter.

But the worst was the hollow look he was seeing in his eyes, this kind of beyond-terror emptiness that reminded him of how shell-shocked soldiers were supposed to look like. Ryan wasn't too sure if that would go away ever again.

What had that man done to him? What had he done to deserve this, what in all the world?

However often he asked himself that question, he still had no answer. But he knew he had to do something, anything or else he would go mad, break apart under the unspeakable knowledge of what he had been forced to endure.

Staring at the strange man in the mirror, Ryan wondered where to turn to. The police? Surely not. He had already been raped once, he wasn't going to make it a subject for talk-shows and pathetically sympathetic radio call-ins. As much as he wanted to see Purcell tried and condemned for what he had done, Ryan wasn't at all willing to sacrifice his career in return. Not even remotely so, the actor decided grimly, wondering if there maybe wasn't another way.

What would Hannibal do in such a situation?

He'd go and take justice in his own hands, killing the bastard.

But he wasn't the Nightstalker. Neither was Purcell the father of all vampires, though.

What would Hannibal do?

He'd go, gather his team.

Only, he was Ryan Reynolds, and he had no team.

At least, not yet.

Something like the hint of a mean smile tugged at the corner of the actor's mouth. He had to take care of the worst of his wounds, and then he would have to get dressed again. He was one of the good guys, and they were always working in teams.

Jessica would think the same, once he told her about it. And Ryan didn't mind talking to her about what had happened to him. She was a colleague, she knew about the dangers of publicity. And also, she was a woman, which made it a whole different matter all together.

Opening the drawer with sudden resolve, Ryan searched for some spray-on wound sealing agent and some plasters. He'd talk to Jessica, and then they'd get back to Purcell for what he had done.

You never mess with a Nightstalker.

 

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Osiris Brackhaus

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