Dark Souls
by elfin
 

“Oh, well… I guess the L.A. convention centre will have to do.”

He wanted to laugh – wanted to howl.  The pathetic, paranoid idiot had told him exactly what he’d wanted to know in a matter of seconds.

His hatred for both brothers rushed him, flooding his system with rage.  He put that into his expression, into his eyes as he stared at the small man standing beside him.

“Cass?”  Suspicious, worried.

Sean pushed himself off the wall and turned on his heel, closing the distance between himself and Pollux Troy.  For a second, he really looked at him.

Castor Troy loved this runt, his demented little brother, more than anything in this world.  Like Sean himself had been devoted to his young son.

That bastard had taken Mikey from him.

The irony of the situation curled the corners of Sean’s mouth into a sardonic smile.  Suddenly, with crystal clarity, he saw a way of taking his revenge, finally and completely.

Raising one hand, he combed his fingers gently up into the soft hair on the back of Pollux’s head.  Then he curled his fingers and pulled hard.

Pollux yelped in surprise, fear starting to cloud those big, brown eyes as he looked up through the round circles of glass.  “Cass?!”

Sean took another step forward, turning them and pressing the other man’s short body back against the cold, stained wall.  “How could anyone love you?” he spat, putting his hatred, his absolute abhorrence into his words, revelling in the terror and hurt contorting the other man’s face.  “You’re a weasel.  A pathetic, disgusting, weasel.”

There were tears now, welling up in Pollux’s eyes.  They just made Sean more angry.  How the hell did a master criminal like Castor Troy put up with such a snivelling sibling?

Stepping back, Sean tightened his grip painfully in the short, light brown curls, and started to push Pollux out of the mess hall toward the cells.  No one stopped him.  There were rules, but prisoners made their own hierarchy and Sean wondered briefly if Pollux’s ass had already been claimed, or if he’d been protected by the threat of his brother’s retribution.

Only… he knew that Castor was dead.  All but dead, anyway.  And before he revealed this terrible truth to the younger Troy brother, he was going to take some revenge for the mess Castor had made of his family’s life.

By the time they reached Sean’s cell, Pollux was muttering pleas, begging to know what he’d done to turn his usually loving brother against him.

“Please… Cass… what is it?  What’d I do?  Please….”

Slamming the cell door closed with one hand, Sean threw Pollux’s shaking form to the hard, filthy mattress with the other.  Immediately, he scrambled into the corner, curling himself into a ball, getting as far away from the madman as he could.

“Cass?” he tried again, “I’m sorry… whatever it is….”

Sean just smiled.  He moved slowly, kneeling on the edge of the bed and reaching for Pollux.  Twisting his hand in the front of the man’s prison shirt, he pulled him away from the pillows and into the centre of the mattress.

Pollux was still begging, like he knew somehow what was coming.

“Cass!  No!  Don’t….”  His terror was clear now in his low, rough voice.  He tried to fight as Sean tossed him over on to his front.  But Sean was stronger.

“You’re a runt,” he rasped, straddling Pollux’s trembling, thrashing body, pinning his hands above his head on the pillows.  “You’re an affliction.  An annoyance.”  Grasping the back of his victim’s trousers, Sean yanked them down.

Then Pollux really began to struggle.

He almost wormed his way out of Sean’s grasp as he roughly pushed the man’s underwear down over his hips, exposing his tight little ass.

But Sean twisted his tight grip of Pollux’s wrists, grinding the bones together, exacting a wonderfully rewarding cry of pain from the man beneath him.

Unzipping his own fly, he leaned down, putting his lips next to Pollux’s ear.  “You gonna scream for me, bro’?” he whispered softly, cutting through the other’s quiet sobs, “Or are you going to love every minute of this?”

Whatever had made him hard, he didn’t want to know, didn’t want to think about.

Forcing Pollux’s legs apart, he knelt with one knee next to the man’s right hip, the other high between his legs, pressing against his cloth-covered testicles.

He’d never actually done this before, and he hoped, in the same dark part of his soul that was making him do this, that Pollux hadn’t either.

Separating the tight, pale buttocks, Sean positioned himself.  He leaned heavily on Pollux’s wrists as he  forced himself through the tight ring of muscle.

Pollux screamed, sobbing and pleading with the man he still thought was his brother.  But Sean had quickly established a violent rhythm that he was going to dance to until the end.

It wasn’t exactly pleasurable.  Pollux wasn’t making it easy.  But with each deep, raping stroke of his cock inside the man’s anus, Sean exorcised his vicious hatred for Castor Tory.

When he did come, it was hard and fast.  He emptied himself inside the quaking body and remained there for a second or two, getting his breath back.  Only then did he realise that Pollux had gone absolutely still beneath him.

Pulling himself up, pushing himself away from the bed, away from the little man who lay on it, Sean stumbled back until the hit the far wall of the cell.  He tucked himself away and zipped up, flexing his fingers.

For a second there was nothing but silence in the tiny concrete room.  And then Pollux lifted his head and turned it to look through tear-filled eyes at his ‘older brother’.

“Why?” he whispered, desperately trying to understand.

Sean shrugged, a smile touching his lips.  After a moment, that smile turned into a laugh.

Scrambling to his knees, Pollux awkwardly pulled up his underwear and pants, not even glancing at his rapist.  He hesitated on the bed, and then stood, stumbling slowly and painfully, toward the door of the cell.

Sean just watched, making no move to stop him.  Pollux opened the door with shaking hands and stepped outside.

Then he did turn, heartbroken expression on his face.  He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came.  Devastated, he shuffled away.

*

.
.
.
Sean could barely catch his breath.

The man standing, talking in front of him had his face!  His own face!  Not the terrifying apparition he’d seen when he’d looked in the mirror that night at the medical facility.

Castor was grinning from ear to ear – from his ear to his other ear.  Was that what he really looked like?

He didn’t hear much of what the other man said, in his own voice.

But he had pulled himself together enough to hear.  “I am boning your wife!”

Then he smiled.  That dark part of his soul overwhelmed the humanity he usually lived with, and he locked gazes with Castor.

“That’s nice,” he murmured softly.  “Because I’m screwing your baby brother.”

The terrible anger and pain that flitted across the so-familiar face in that moment rounded off his perfect revenge.

*

In a small room outside the main prison, Pollux was freed from the weight of the magnetic shoes and handed his own clothes.

Subdued despite his release, he pulled off the prison clothes and shrugged into his own.

When the door opened, he started, expecting to see his brother standing there.  Hoping for it and dreading it all at once.

When he saw the cop who’d started this whole nightmare, he could only stare.

“I won’t tell you anything!”  He stated, voice slightly higher than usual, coloured by confusion.

The face of Sean Archer broke into a gentle smile.  “I don’t expect you to, bro’.”

Castor Troy recognised the expression of complete confusion on his brother’s intelligent features and stepped toward him.  “It’s me, Poll.  It’s Cass.  I know this is difficult to believe.  They took my face while I was in a coma.  They put it on Sean Archer and sent him in here so that you would tell them where the bomb was.”

A glimmer of hope sparked to life in Pollux’s wide eyes.

“When you were eight years old, our father let a friend of his take you for the evening.  I found you afterwards, took you into my bed and held you all night.  I promised you I would protect you from that moment on, and I never told a soul what that bastard had done to you.”

Pollux took a hesitant step forward.

“When I was fourteen I found the guy that our Dad handed you to, and I blew his genitals all over his nice leather couch.  Now you know… I wouldn’t have told anyone that part.”

Another step.  Then Castor moved, rushed forward as quickly as he dare and gathered his young brother into his arms, hugging him tight.

Pollux’s own, skinny arms came around his neck and he buried his face in Castor’s neck.  “Cass….”

Castor could feel his brother’s tears on this skin that wasn’t his own.  He hated this face, now more than ever, and hated with a passion the man it really belonged to.

With tender fingers, he combed through the soft curls on the back of his brother’s head.  “I’m sorry for what he did to you, what he made you think of me,” Castor murmured.  “I would never, ever hurt you, Poll.  Tell me you know that,” he grated the words, “tell me you believe me.”

But the younger man’s belief and trust was obvious in his actions, in the desperation with which he clung to his brother’s neck.

“I will kill him for hurting you,” Castor vowed.  “No one will ever, ever hurt you again.”
 
 

fin
elfin