Prompt: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/5194.html?thread=1643850#cmt1643850 "Booker at the peak of his banishment and in the pits of his despair, getting drunk off of his rocker and agreeing to a gang bang which is consensual, but the filming of it is not. (Nile or Copley or the rest of the guard come across the video somehow and reach out to him.)"
Note: The initial gangbang, with it's major consent issues, is not described any great detail. Most of the fic is Nile helping Booker process, but there is some fun, fully consensual and negotiated sex at the end!
--- As per usual, Nile receives a message from Copley at 1500 hours GMT with a report on that day’s efforts eracing their footsteps from the ether.
Today’s report is not usual. All it says is, “Call me.”
--- “We are in Naples, haven’t done a mission in weeks, and I am about to have, and I’m quoting Nicky here, “the world’s finest pizza.” What the hell is going on that’s so urgent?”
“It’s Booker.”
“And?”
“He’s been video taped.”
“Scrub it like you always do.”
“I did.”
“So?”
“It’s- ah- a- um-”
“I am this close to--”
“Pornographic. In nature.”
“Shit.”
“I sent the video, Nile. Watch it and let me know what you want me to do.”
“No. I am NOT watching--”
The line goes dead.
And fuck you too, Nile thinks, uncharitably, at the now dark screen.
--- Later that night, Nile makes sure the others have gone to bed before she gets out her laptop and plugs in her headphones.
There’s no way Booker is that stupid, she thinks as she waits for the video to download from their secure server.
The video opens to several naked men, stroking their erections, ringed around one man laid out on a bench before them. The prone man is blindfolded, with one penis in his mouth. Another is lined up to penetrate his ass.
It takes Nile a minute, but the man at the center of all this attention? Even blindfolded, she can tell that it’s Booker.
Well that’s just--
She presses play because at this point, in for a penny, in for a pound. As her brain processes what she sees, a chill comes over her. Booker isn’t performing and neither are the other men: there’s no clever positioning or editing of any kind. This is real and raw and that’s unsettling for a start. Booker is demonstrably aroused, and moaning around whomever’s penis is in his mouth at the moment. But there’s something floppy and uncoordinated about his movements that really sends the dread down her spine.
Nile calls Copley back. “Where is he?”
“Amsterdam.”
“Get me there by tomorrow.”
“On it.”
“Don’t tell the others.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
--- Nile packs an overnight bag, makes her excuses -- Just really want to be by myself by the ocean for a couple of days. Headed to Capri. See you when I get back. -- and practically sprints from their villa into a waiting taxi.
One flight on a very small, very private plane later, she arrives in Amsterdam.
She texts him: “We need to talk. I’m coming to yours. Be there in an hour.”
He opens the door of his flat to her and she pushes inside. Rounding on him, she says, “Are you sober?”
He scoffs.
“Then I’ll wait.”
They sit, mostly in silence, for hours as the alcohol burns through his bloodstream. She watches him vigilantly to ensure he doesn’t consume any more.
“Are you sober?” she asks again.
“Regrettably.”
“Then let’s get started.”
She pulls up the video on her laptop and turns the screen towards him.
“I need to know what’s going on here,” she says and presses play.
Every muscle in Booker’s body freezes. She slams the laptop closed.
“Talk to me, Book.”
His head drops into his hands. The rest of his body is still poised to flee, to implode, to shatter at any more disturbance.
They are silent for a long time.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like that,” he says, barely audible. He doesn’t look at her, doesn’t move.
“Like what?” she asks, as gently as she can.
“Recorded.”
Shit.
She rises from her chair and is about to fling her arms around him, when she stops herself. “Is it alright if I hug you?” she asks.
He nods.
“I know it’s hard, but I need words Booker.”
“Yes,” he breathes. And then her arms are pulling him firmly against her and his face is turning into her neck and she’s rubbing circles into his back as his body is wracked by tear-less, sound-less sobs.
--- It is many hours on the sofa and many episodes of a cheerful British priest solving the many, many murders in his quaint little village when Booker finally utters a complete sentence. “Have the others… you know…?
“Seen it?
He nods.
“No. They think I’m basking in the Mediterranean sun on Capri right now.”
“And Copley?”
“Doing his job and sworn to secrecy.”
He nods again and falls silent.
God Nile doesn’t want to have to ask what she’s about to ask, and this isn’t really an opening, but there’s also never a good time and...
“I know these men violated your trust by filming it, but the rest of it, Book, was it…?” She chokes on the end of her sentence.
“Consensual?”
This time, she’s the one that nods.
“I don’t know.” He shifts his gaze to the ceiling, his fists clenched against his thighs. “I wanted it. I was desperate for it. But now knowing they did- this- I mean we’d all been at one of the nightclubs in the district and what else is there to do at a nightclub except drink and dance and…” he draws in a long, shaky breath. “I don’t know, Nile. I don’t know.”
His eyes flick to hers and she sees how haunted they are by this admission. She reaches out her hand toward his.
“May I?”
“Sure.”
Nile rubs her palm over his knuckles and then laces their fingers together. Her thumb strokes the back of his hand.
“I’m glad, at least, that you wanted it.”
He closes his eyes. At her touch or his memories, she can’t tell.
“Everything thing else goes away,” he says softly, “except for giving pleasure. And it’s- it’s nice- not having to think or decide or know.”
“Hey, Book, look at me.” He obeys and his eyes catch on her own serious gaze.
“Next time,” she says, still stroking the back of his hand with her thumb, “next time you feel like you need this, please, please call me. I don’t know how… these things… usually go but I’m sure I can learn and I can arrange it or be there or whatever, just please let me keep you safe.”
He tenses. “I’m not your responsibility, Nile.”
“I know. But you are my family. And families protect each other.”
He snorts and opens his mouth to object. “Don’t,” she says sharply. “The others might need 100 years, but I never did.”
--- Almost literally a life-time later finds Nile and Booker in the bedroom of a stupidly luxurious hotel suite.
She kisses him deeply and grabs his ass and runs her fingers over the base of a plug that’s been seated in him all day long.
“You ready for this, babe?”
Booker keens with pleasure as her fingers make quick work of his button down shirt and belt. Moments later she has him fully naked and pushed back onto the white expanse of the bed.
Still fully clothed, Nile kneels next to him and takes his face in both her hands.
“You still want what’s about to happen?”
He nods.
“I need words.”
“Gods, yes.”
“Safeword?”
“Massachusetts.”
She turns his head to the right. “I will be in that chair the whole time, watching you and taking pleasure in the sight.”
“I know.” His voice has gone breathy with arousal and Nile presses a quick kiss to his lips. She pulls the blindfold over his eyes and runs her fingers through his hair.
“I’m going to go get them now. But they won’t touch you until I tell them to.”
“Mmmmhmm.”
Nile opens the door to the bedroom and ushers in several mostly naked men. Many of them are already stroking themselves nearly to full hardness.
Her attention shifts back to Booker, who’s practically vibrating in anticipation. She runs a hand up his flank and then bends his knee back against his chest. She works the plug out of him and leaves a light kiss against his hip and then takes a step back.
“All yours, gentlemen,” she says as she settles onto her chair.
The men gather round the bed and one of them grabs Booker by the hips and lines his cock up to Booker’s stretched and pliant hole. In another moment, the man is buried to the root inside Booker and Booker moans in pleasure and abandon. Nile relaxes, a satisfied smile on her face.
Booker/Others Dub-con Gangbang (non-con filming) + Booker/Nile h/c
"Booker at the peak of his banishment and in the pits of his despair, getting drunk off of his rocker and agreeing to a gang bang which is consensual, but the filming of it is not. (Nile or Copley or the rest of the guard come across the video somehow and reach out to him.)"
Note: The initial gangbang, with it's major consent issues, is not described any great detail. Most of the fic is Nile helping Booker process, but there is some fun, fully consensual and negotiated sex at the end!
---
As per usual, Nile receives a message from Copley at 1500 hours GMT with a report on that day’s efforts eracing their footsteps from the ether.
Today’s report is not usual. All it says is, “Call me.”
---
“We are in Naples, haven’t done a mission in weeks, and I am about to have, and I’m quoting Nicky here, “the world’s finest pizza.” What the hell is going on that’s so urgent?”
“It’s Booker.”
“And?”
“He’s been video taped.”
“Scrub it like you always do.”
“I did.”
“So?”
“It’s- ah- a- um-”
“I am this close to--”
“Pornographic. In nature.”
“Shit.”
“I sent the video, Nile. Watch it and let me know what you want me to do.”
“No. I am NOT watching--”
The line goes dead.
And fuck you too, Nile thinks, uncharitably, at the now dark screen.
---
Later that night, Nile makes sure the others have gone to bed before she gets out her laptop and plugs in her headphones.
There’s no way Booker is that stupid, she thinks as she waits for the video to download from their secure server.
The video opens to several naked men, stroking their erections, ringed around one man laid out on a bench before them. The prone man is blindfolded, with one penis in his mouth. Another is lined up to penetrate his ass.
It takes Nile a minute, but the man at the center of all this attention? Even blindfolded, she can tell that it’s Booker.
Well that’s just--
She presses play because at this point, in for a penny, in for a pound. As her brain processes what she sees, a chill comes over her. Booker isn’t performing and neither are the other men: there’s no clever positioning or editing of any kind. This is real and raw and that’s unsettling for a start. Booker is demonstrably aroused, and moaning around whomever’s penis is in his mouth at the moment. But there’s something floppy and uncoordinated about his movements that really sends the dread down her spine.
Nile calls Copley back. “Where is he?”
“Amsterdam.”
“Get me there by tomorrow.”
“On it.”
“Don’t tell the others.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
---
Nile packs an overnight bag, makes her excuses -- Just really want to be by myself by the ocean for a couple of days. Headed to Capri. See you when I get back. -- and practically sprints from their villa into a waiting taxi.
One flight on a very small, very private plane later, she arrives in Amsterdam.
She texts him: “We need to talk. I’m coming to yours. Be there in an hour.”
He opens the door of his flat to her and she pushes inside. Rounding on him, she says, “Are you sober?”
He scoffs.
“Then I’ll wait.”
They sit, mostly in silence, for hours as the alcohol burns through his bloodstream. She watches him vigilantly to ensure he doesn’t consume any more.
“Are you sober?” she asks again.
“Regrettably.”
“Then let’s get started.”
She pulls up the video on her laptop and turns the screen towards him.
“I need to know what’s going on here,” she says and presses play.
Every muscle in Booker’s body freezes. She slams the laptop closed.
“Talk to me, Book.”
His head drops into his hands. The rest of his body is still poised to flee, to implode, to shatter at any more disturbance.
They are silent for a long time.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like that,” he says, barely audible. He doesn’t look at her, doesn’t move.
“Like what?” she asks, as gently as she can.
“Recorded.”
Shit.
She rises from her chair and is about to fling her arms around him, when she stops herself. “Is it alright if I hug you?” she asks.
He nods.
“I know it’s hard, but I need words Booker.”
“Yes,” he breathes. And then her arms are pulling him firmly against her and his face is turning into her neck and she’s rubbing circles into his back as his body is wracked by tear-less, sound-less sobs.
---
It is many hours on the sofa and many episodes of a cheerful British priest solving the many, many murders in his quaint little village when Booker finally utters a complete sentence. “Have the others… you know…?
“Seen it?
He nods.
“No. They think I’m basking in the Mediterranean sun on Capri right now.”
“And Copley?”
“Doing his job and sworn to secrecy.”
He nods again and falls silent.
God Nile doesn’t want to have to ask what she’s about to ask, and this isn’t really an opening, but there’s also never a good time and...
“I know these men violated your trust by filming it, but the rest of it, Book, was it…?” She chokes on the end of her sentence.
“Consensual?”
This time, she’s the one that nods.
“I don’t know.” He shifts his gaze to the ceiling, his fists clenched against his thighs. “I wanted it. I was desperate for it. But now knowing they did- this- I mean we’d all been at one of the nightclubs in the district and what else is there to do at a nightclub except drink and dance and…” he draws in a long, shaky breath. “I don’t know, Nile. I don’t know.”
His eyes flick to hers and she sees how haunted they are by this admission. She reaches out her hand toward his.
“May I?”
“Sure.”
Nile rubs her palm over his knuckles and then laces their fingers together. Her thumb strokes the back of his hand.
“I’m glad, at least, that you wanted it.”
He closes his eyes. At her touch or his memories, she can’t tell.
“Everything thing else goes away,” he says softly, “except for giving pleasure. And it’s- it’s nice- not having to think or decide or know.”
“Hey, Book, look at me.” He obeys and his eyes catch on her own serious gaze.
“Next time,” she says, still stroking the back of his hand with her thumb, “next time you feel like you need this, please, please call me. I don’t know how… these things… usually go but I’m sure I can learn and I can arrange it or be there or whatever, just please let me keep you safe.”
He tenses. “I’m not your responsibility, Nile.”
“I know. But you are my family. And families protect each other.”
He snorts and opens his mouth to object. “Don’t,” she says sharply. “The others might need 100 years, but I never did.”
---
Almost literally a life-time later finds Nile and Booker in the bedroom of a stupidly luxurious hotel suite.
She kisses him deeply and grabs his ass and runs her fingers over the base of a plug that’s been seated in him all day long.
“You ready for this, babe?”
Booker keens with pleasure as her fingers make quick work of his button down shirt and belt. Moments later she has him fully naked and pushed back onto the white expanse of the bed.
Still fully clothed, Nile kneels next to him and takes his face in both her hands.
“You still want what’s about to happen?”
He nods.
“I need words.”
“Gods, yes.”
“Safeword?”
“Massachusetts.”
She turns his head to the right. “I will be in that chair the whole time, watching you and taking pleasure in the sight.”
“I know.” His voice has gone breathy with arousal and Nile presses a quick kiss to his lips. She pulls the blindfold over his eyes and runs her fingers through his hair.
“I’m going to go get them now. But they won’t touch you until I tell them to.”
“Mmmmhmm.”
Nile opens the door to the bedroom and ushers in several mostly naked men. Many of them are already stroking themselves nearly to full hardness.
Her attention shifts back to Booker, who’s practically vibrating in anticipation. She runs a hand up his flank and then bends his knee back against his chest. She works the plug out of him and leaves a light kiss against his hip and then takes a step back.
“All yours, gentlemen,” she says as she settles onto her chair.
The men gather round the bed and one of them grabs Booker by the hips and lines his cock up to Booker’s stretched and pliant hole. In another moment, the man is buried to the root inside Booker and Booker moans in pleasure and abandon. Nile relaxes, a satisfied smile on her face.