L
ogan, born one James Howlett, is nearly in tears. He has been chained to a cement wall, stripped of all of his clothing, and has not been given a damned thing to eat in three days.
And all this has been done by the hand of his own brother.
The very same brother who is now sitting just out of reach on a folding chair with a chunk of bread held in the claws of his left hand.
“You want to eat, don’t you, Jimmy?” Victor taunts, smirking at him. “You know what you have to do, and this bread is all yours.”
Nothing but water for three days, and Logan is beginning to grow desperate. All he wants is something to eat to calm this gnawing hunger. But his pride prevents him from begging. His stomach growls its protest at him over this foolish decision, wondering why he is fighting the inevitable. It knows he is going to give in. So why deny himself?
Six months ago, Logan had left Stryker and his team of killers in Lagos. Without so much as a glance back to Victor, Logan had walked away, leaving his dog tags in the dust behind him. Five months and two weeks later, his brother had tracked him down. Logan had been creating a life for himself in the little Canadian logging town when Victor appeared to put a stop at his attempt at independence.
Should’ve known Victor wouldn’t have let me go like that, Logan had chided himself the night that Victor had cornered him in mountain cave. Victor had chased Logan for six days, not letting him rest. Every time Logan had stopped to even catch his breath, Victor was right there to snap at his heels. By the end of the fifth day, Logan had grown sloppy and found himself backed into a cave.
Victor had refused to play by the rules and pulled a tranquilizer gun on his brother.
And Logan, exhausted as he was, had fallen so easily.
When he awoke, he was bound tightly in what must have been yards of rope, chain, and duct tape in the trunk of a large car. At that point, Logan was just glad to be able to breathe. With his head still spinning, he tried to twist and wriggle his way out of the bonds. His curses were muffled when the car swerved to a sudden stop causing Logan to roll forward and bump the front of his face against the spare tire.
Despite knowing that his efforts were futile, Logan had thrashed about when Victor opened the trunk with a large needle full of god only knew what in one hand. Victor merely shook his head and grabbed his brother by the neck to hold him in place while injecting him with the needle’s contents.
When consciousness found Logan again, he was chained by his neck to this gray cement block wall. He had been stripped of all of his clothing. There was only a single bare light bulb in the center of the room to give any light. There were no windows, no furniture of any kind to give distinction of any kind to the room. Other than Logan and the light bulb, the only distinguishing feature was a door that must have once had steps leading up to it in the upper left corner.
Logan didn’t know how long he had been left shivering in the cold, damp room, but eventually Victor opened the door and jumps down easily.
Thus Logan’s torment began.
Every so often, Victor would silently give him a paper cup of water. Then, he would leap back up and disappear through the door.
At first, Logan had been foolish enough to hope someone would rescue him. But, by the end of what he figured was the first day, he knew no one was coming. Logan had no real friends. And anyone who might have been willing to at least attempt rescuing him he had abandoned in Lagos.
Now it was all a matter of surviving his brother long enough to escape.
Pride had been the first thing to go, when his bladder threatened to explode and there was nowhere to easily relieve himself. Fortunately, the room had a drain in the middle of the floor, which Logan could reach at the very end of his chain.
He had dimly wondered if Victor was somehow watching him. Was this all a part of some sick game for Victor? Payback for leaving in the first place?
Victor never spoke to him, even when Logan demanded to know what was going on. Pleading to cursing garnered the same response from Victor. He would stay just out of reach to hand Logan his cup of water.
For three days this had gone on. By the end of the third day, Logan was desperate for something to eat.
And so Victor had miraculously appeared. Instead of a cup of water, he came with a chair and a chunk of bread.
And how Logan wanted that single chunk of bread, even if only to get a small bite.
But his brother wanted something in exchange.
Pride is a terrible bitch of a mistress.
Victor smirked at Jimmy, giving the bread a slight wiggle. His little brother was being so defiant, but that was what made him so much fun. Why bother trying to break something frail?
Victor could have a moment’s fun with the weak ones. They were nothing more than cheap toys that broke the first time you used them. But his brother held the promise of years of enjoyment.
Victor had longed for years to break Jimmy. Mold him into his perfect companion.
And Jimmy would break. Break into a million little pieces for Victor to scoop up and warm in his hands, reforming Jimmy the way he was meant to be. Not this foolish notion of Human-ness that Jimmy kept clinging too, trying to force Victor into.
Like a good big brother, Victor would strip away all illusions and leave only the truth: Jimmy was a creature of the wild. And, more importantly, belonged to Victor. Plain and simple.
When Jimmy had left him Lagos, he had wanted to charge after him. Rip. Tear. Claw. Force Jimmy’s face into the dirt and Show Him Who Was Alpha. Who did that little shit think he was?
But pride had kept Victor from doing any of those things.
So, when five months later, Stryker had ordered him to bring Jimmy back Victor gladly accepted the mission. Victor asked if he would be allowed to do whatever was necessary to bring his little brother back into the fold.
A knowing gleam had come into Stryker’s eyes then. “Just bring him back, and make sure he will do as he is told this time. I will make certain that no one questions your methods as long as you bring him back in one piece.”
Victor had been given all the time he would need, no questions asked. Stryker hadn’t even raised an eyebrow when Victor had put in his materials request.
Finding Jimmy had been easy enough. Like all good pups, his little brother had gone home, just as he had begged to do over a century before.
Victor found Jimmy in a barn that passed for a bar in this part of Canada. He was surprised at how close he was able to get before Jimmy had recognized he was there. A split second later, Jimmy was out the door and the chase was on.
Binding his brother had been fun in the cave- and oh, it had been so tempting to take a little taste right then. Jimmy’s head thrown back on the stone floor, so willing, unable to say “no”. All Victor needed was to tear off his brother’s pants and push his cock inside-
But no, he wanted his brother to ask- no, to beg him for it.
And Jimmy would beg.
Tonight would be his first lesson in begging.
Victor sat on the cheap folding chair and held up the chunk of bread.
“Beg me, Jimmy, and this bread is yours,” he had offered. “And make me believe that you’re begging.”
Logan glared at the bread. If only he could get Victor to come a little closer.
But Victor, and the bread, stayed just out of reach.
Victor suddenly leaned forward. He ripped off a smaller chunk of the bread with his other hand and held it out. “Just say the right words, Jimmy, and I’ll let you eat.”
Logan glared. He tried to take a step back, but faltered and fell to his knees cursing under his breath. Glancing up from lanky hair, he noticed that his brother had a single piece out far enough that Logan could damn near taste it.
Logan wanted to lunge and devour the bread. But he knew he was too weak to take his brother. Least of all with this collar that apparently welded shut.
Gritting his teeth, Logan bit out, “May I please have the bread?”
Victor chuckled. “You can do better than that, Jimmy.” He rose from the chair, setting the main chunk on the seat behind him, and leaned fluidly down the whisper in his brother’s ear, “I don’t think you really want to eat, Jimmy.”
The bread was right there, just a few inches from his mouth. All he had to do was beg. Logan shuddered to feel his brother’s teeth lightly gripping the flesh of his throat.
But he was so hungry, and pride does not fill one’s belly.
“Please, Victor,” he whispers. “Please let me have the bread.”
Logan stiffens when his brother licks up the tendon in his neck, Victor’s free hand traveling to the small of his back. Victor’s lips hover over the pulse point behind his ear. “Better,” he hisses.
“Please, Victor, please, I have to eat.” There is hint of desperation in Logan’s voice now. He will play his brother’s damned game if it will get him some food.
Victor grins wickedly as he places the bread against Jimmy’s lips. He quickly pulls the bread back when Jimmy tries to bite the bread out of his fingers. “No, no, Jimmy,” he admonishes into Jimmy’s ear. “Gentle now. The only food you’ll be getting will come from my hand. And you wouldn’t want to make me nervous about feeding you, would you?”
Victor watches the emotions that flicker through his brother’s eyes. He knows that Jimmy is momentarily giving serious thought to going hungry a little longer. But, just as Victor knew it would, rationality wins out.
Logan slowly, carefully leans forward to take the bread from Victor’s fingers. He sucks the bread and fingers into his mouth. He tries not to gag when Victor begins to nuzzle his neck. He pulls his head back and swallows the bread as he brother starts to suck on the pulse point just below his ear. Logan groans, but the rest of the bread is being offered to him. Pushing past his own revulsion, he eagerly feasts on each bite from Victor’s fingers.
When the bread is gone, Victor roughly threads his fingers in Jimmy’s hair with enough claw to let the pup know who is in control here. He bites and sucks on Jimmy’s throat, grinding his body against Jimmy’s side. He pulls back the first time Jimmy tries to grind back.
“Careful, little brother,” he admonishes with a wicked grin. “Someone might think you are enjoying this.”
Victor drops his brother to the cold concrete floor, snags the chair and disappears through the door.
His little brother’s training will take time. But Victor plans to enjoy every minute of it.
