Valiant Captive

Title: Valiant Captive
Author: Duchess Curry
Beta: Dark Knight
Fandom: X-Men
Pairing: Scott/Wolverine
Summary: What might have happened if Charles Xavier was never born/didn't exist. It is from Scott Summers point of view; and is mostly of his memories of how he got into his current predicament.
Rating: NC-17
Parts: 1
Status: finished
Disclaimer: I do not own either Scott, Wolverine, Jean Grey, or Gambit. They belong to the Marvel Entertainment Group.
Author's Notes: This is a one time fic that has nothing to do with anything else that I've written. As always I would like comments about it; both good and bad. If you don't like angst, don't read this because there isn't much other than angst in here.
Warnings: Little conversation; much angst. Alternate Universe. Adult Situations. Murder. Torture. Rape. Death.
Cool gray steel and cement surrounded Scott boxing him in like and animal in a cage; it made him shudder. The sounds of bombs exploding shook his mind as the actual bombs shook the building. Dust and tiny debris fell onto his head, making him shudder. A rocket whizzed past the building, making his head turn toward it's destination. The building next to his exploded, shattering the few remaining windows making it rain glass onto him. Scott staggered into the next room, clutching his abdomen. He leaned against a wall, then slid down it so he sat on the floor. Wincing, Scott moved his legs away from his swollen stomach and out in front of him. He closed his eyes as his saltwater tears stung the little cuts in his face that the glass had made.
A flash of amber light played in his mind. `These horrible memories'; he thought.
Being wheeled down a long corridor on a medical gurney by people who hated him. They shouted insults to his face. Things like `Bastard Mutant' or `Murderous Scum' or `Son of a Bitch' or worst of all `Monster Who Deserves Nothing But Death'. But Scott couldn't say anything back. The words stung in his heart like little daggers. They wheeled him into an overly bright room, and left him under a brilliant light than stung his eyes even through his goggles. Scott saw men in green suits with surgical masks and goggles over their faces. One came toward him, holding a needle, squirting a little of the clear fluid in it out, then stabbing him roughly in the arm with it. The flash of pain that followed was all that he could remember. His eyelids fell, and blackness washed over him.
Lying on a bed, unable to move. Scott's arms and legs felt like they were made of lead. Every breath made his stomach burn. Cyclops looked at his chest and saw a large, red scar covered in ugly black stitches. He closed his eyes a little, willing himself the power to move or to at least stop the pain. Scott closed his eyes. He knew that it didn't matter whether he looked or not because his normal visor had been replaced with a different one; one that let him see, though not allow his optic lasers to fire.
Scott's breathing slowed, as he labored to let the oxygen in. It felt like there was a heavy block had been placed on his heart, making everything harsh. His mind started to fail, and his senses blackened. Cyclops barely heard the harsh voices around him. His eyelids flickered up. Light barely grazed them. Everything failed, and Scott went cold and limp.
The smell of rotting flesh was the first thing that registered. Scott's nostrils twitched, hating the smell. He realized that the ground underneath him was very soft, and almost squashed underneath him. He didn't have to open his eyes to realize what he laid upon under the hot sun. Scott turned his head vomiting. He could barely open his eyes, but open they did. The green and yellow rotting flesh surrounded him. The smell was enough to turn any stomach, even his empty one. The slimy flesh clung to his skin as he waded to the edge. Bones broke as he moved, making slight sloshing noises as he passed. The broken bones rubbed against Scott's bare body, but he didn't care. Cyclops saw his target, closed his eyes, lifted the broken visor, then opened his eyes again. The spray of sticky, hot liquid that landed on him told Scott that he had hit his target, even before he heard the heavy thump as the guard's body hit the ground.
Scott let the visor drop back over his eyes, then with his last vial of energy he lifted his smothered body out of that pit of death. He was panting, and rested his head on the guard's chest as his muscles went slack. Scott had blasted the guard's head off. He was a murderer. A murderer whose body was covered in the rank, decomposing slime of death; and the hot, sick smell of blood. But he was alive. He was alive, and that was enough. Scott dragged his naked body over the sharp gravel . He reached a small water pipe that gurgled, spewing gray water. He washed himself the best he could, trying to get everything out of the stitches, though they stung worse when he tried, as they were already infected. He breathed in sharply at the pain, then turned back to his task. Scott undressed the guard, then put on his blood-splattered, reeking clothing. They were too big for him, but at the moment that didn't matter. He was alive, and in clothes he could get into civilization and get help. He kicked the body into the reeking pit, and stood.
But that didn't happen, for just as Cyclops stood, he felt something clasped over his mouth and nose. He tried to struggle, but was too weak. Scott collapsed onto his knees, forcing the sharp stones into his skin as the smothering fumes knocked him out.
Scott felt his body taught and stretched before he opened his eyes. He could feel his hands bound above his head, which was slumped onto his chest. He really didn't want to open his eyes. Scott didn't know what new torture he was going to have to face here, but he knew that he was too weak and too tired to face anything. Scott's stomach ached, both from the dark stitches and from the fact that he was hungry. He hadn't been given anything for days now, making his stomach ache and the rest of him feel more tired than it should have.
Water that felt like a sheet of ice splashed onto Cyclops's back and shoulders. It stung his hot bruises like little daggers, and left him shivering. Scott suddenly realized that he was naked; and vulnerable. The cold drops trickled down his chest, making Scott shiver even more. All he wanted at the moment was to feel warm and full, both inside and out; though he knew that that probably wouldn't happen. Scott opened his eyes; not ready to see the world around him, but feeling that there was no other choice. There was nothing. The visor was still over Scott's eyes, but it didn't let the light in. The freezing darkness surrounded him. Scott tried to call out to someone, but his lips felt like they had been glued shut, and something soft and heavy was barring his tongue from moving.
Something else hit Scott. Something not quite as cold, but wicked sharp and lightening quick. When it was over, it stung, making him gasp in air. His chin went down to his chest as his breathing came deeply, raggedly. Something whipped away from Scott's eyes. Light flooded through the visor, making him wince.
Harsh laughter, as cold as the air invaded Scott's ears. He carefully opened his eyes again, letting them get used to the light. He saw a short, muscular man. The man was pale, but his dark hair stood up almost into two points at the top of his head. Scott was glad that the man couldn't see his eyes, because he was sure that he looked shocked and afraid. The man looked at him for a moment. It made Scott blush, he wasn't used to people looking at him naked. The man said nothing, but walked slowly over to him. The man touched the side of Scott's cheek. He traced his chiseled cheekbone, and followed it up to his temple, touching his hair. Scott didn't move or make any noise; but his breathing was heavier. Mostly out of agitation over the man`s movements; but just a little of Scott liked this. Scott wasn't used to people paying attention to him, so this was almost nice; except for the naked factor.
With a deviant grin, the man moved again. Scott didn't realize that he was being blindfolded again until it was too late and the cloth was over his eyes again. Scott tensed a little. It was extremely uncomfortable for him to not be able to see what was happening to him.
But the man soothed him. He gently touched Scott's face again. Scott tried to pull away, but it was no use. He couldn't talk, and couldn't move. And despite himself, he found it nice, almost like how a brother would touch a brother. The man's hands moved from his face to his neck and shoulders; kneading them both. Avoiding the purple and gray bruises that marred Scott's lightly tanned skin. It was a soothing touch, not meant to invade, but to lull the recipient into compliance. And Scott did comply. Unconsciously, he relaxed into the strange man's arms. The man rubbed lower on his back, the circles soothing Scott. Scott knew that he was wrapped in the man's arms; but he didn't care. The strong arm muscles made Scott feel safe for the first time since he had been grabbed off the street by the scientists who had eventually wheeled him on that gurney and cut him open.
The man massaged even lower, and Scott forgot where he was, and his current situation. He leaned into the man, and forgot what had happened to him and where he was. But Scott should have seen the man's face as it twisted into a grin. His hands that had been so low went lower. Two fingers invaded Scott's ass, and felt around the hole there.
Scott gasped in surprise and tried to pull away. The stranger held him tighter, which made Scott struggle harder. The two fingers quickly went up a little more, stroking the inside of the hole. It made Scott wince and try to thrash. He felt so invaded, so vulnerable. It was awful, making his stomach churn. The little contents of it suddenly came up on the man's shoulder; making the man immediately pull away. Since it couldn't come out his mouth, it came out his nose, making every breath reek. Scott smelled the bile, which made him lean forward a little, coughing up nothing into the air.
The blind was whipped away. Scott looked up, feeling miserable. He saw something that made him feel worse. The other man furiously wiped away the bile, glaring at him. Suddenly the man stood with his legs spread, and his arms and fists clenched, making his muscles ripple. Scott watched in horror as three long claws emerged from each hand. He felt fear rise up in him, knowing what was coming next. He watched the man come toward him; and felt the flesh of his stomach rip as the metal met it. He leaned forward a little, gasping, and hearing his blood drop onto the cold floor. He didn't look up to see the man walk behind him; ready to attack again.
Scott felt the cold metal slash into him. He winced as his blood flowed freely. Though he tried, he could not scream out in pain; his mouth still being bound. He felt weak, and terribly vulnerable. Behind the visor, Scott only let his eyes open a little. He felt tired, as though he hadn't slept for a week, and his eyes wanted to shut out this horrid world to let him fall into comfortable rest. But the man who stood, and seemed to exist only to torture him would not let that happen.
The man stared into his visor, letting Scott look into his stone cold eyes. The man seemed disgusted with what he saw, and walked to the other part of the room. `Thank god.' Scott thought as he felt his blood drip onto his hot, bruised back. The thought sickened him, but the action felt virtually nice. He closed his eyes all the way, and let the cool air and flow do it's trick, making him want to shiver a little.
He opened his eyes again, just in time to see the dirty piece of cloth wrap around his eyes again. Scott's head jerked back a little as it was tied roughly. He was at the appalling man's mercy again. He could see nothing but darkness. It made all of his other senses stand on end. The hot, sick smell of blood and sweat graced Scott's nostrils. He heard the man rummaging softly. Scott shivered again. The room felt like it was freezing. Scott heard the man coming back softly toward him. He felt something tie around his left knee, and left ankle, then his right knee, and right ankle. Scott felt himself jerked forward, and his legs spread, and tied to something long, thin, and cylindrical. Scott's back was arched making the claw marked wound ache even more, and his arms stretched as he tried to remain erect and his arms were still bound over his head. It was an awkward position, and both men in the room knew it. small saltwater tears leaked out from under the visor and the blindfold. The dangerous man laughed.
Scott felt the blindfold jerked off suddenly. Even the pale light of the cold room stung his eyes. But through the haze he could see the man next to him. Scott felt his hot breath on his cheek, and felt the tongue taste his tears. Scott shivered involuntarily. The man's booming laugh came again, the Scott heard him whisper into his ear
"Do ya know what they use young men like ya for, little mutant?" Scott felt him caressing his right buttocks. Scott tried to move away, but because of how he was tied down he couldn't. His face contorted as he arched his back even higher, wracking his whole body with pain. Scott felt one of the open claw wounds come alive as it's length was pressed into. The unconscious cry of pain tried to escape his gagged mouth, but only made a slight, high groaning sound. The man's hands abandoned Scott's lower region, letting him fall back a little, letting his arms take his weight. Scott watched as one of the man's metal claws came out. He watched, almost fearfully, as the man let the tip of the claw trace the single line of stitches on Scott's stomach. The voice next to his ear rang out ominously. "They use male mutants like ya as test subjects to give female body parts to." Behind the visor, Scott's eyes opened wide. The soft, wet tongue traced the outside of Scott's ear. The claw disappeared from Scott's range of vision. "And do ya know where they place these parts?" Suddenly the long metal claw forced it's way up Scott's ass, opening the hole, and making the skin that came after it burn. It didn't cut into him, but it was the worst feeling he'd ever experienced. "Struggle if ya must. Your pain only gives me more pleasure." Scott hadn't realized that he had jumped up when it had entered him. He slowly relaxed his body. `I'm not giving in to this fiend.' He thought. The metal shaft inside of him poked, and burned worse, but Scott wasn't giving in.
The claw ripped out of him, making Scott shudder at the void that it had left in him. He felt the warm fluid trickle out, and realized that he was bleeding. He didn't look at the man's angry face, but he knew that it had to show the predator's fury at his prey's not playing with him. Scott looked strait ahead of him, staring at the blank wall. But the game wasn't up. Because Scott hadn't been paying attention, the predator had moved. Scott felt his balls being picked up, and squeezed tightly. With a gasp of pleasure and pain as suddenly Scott felt his stomach recede , and his breath come only in gasps. He looked to the wicked form, and saw it's fiendish grin. His balls were dropped, as though the master had said "Ya're gonna pay attention to me … Or else!"
The man walked back to where Scott's head dangled; watching him. The man stooped by his head again, but let his palm glided over Scott's chest, down ward. Scott's head turned toward him in instant obedience.
"And do ya know where they plan on having the child come out of ya?" Scott's eyes were almost fearful behind his visor. He suddenly felt his cock grabbed, and kneaded … over and over. Scott's breath came in gasps, as he rippled in pleasure, then released his sticky white fluids over his nether-regions. The hand was taken away, and the fluids that had landed there were smeared on Scott's chest. Scott breathed deeply, almost panting. He dropped to the floor, landing on his head. Dazed, Scott took in the next events. His hands had been cut, which had caused his fall. Scott was jerked up, and over the metal pole that connected the two that his legs were bound to. He lay flat on something that was almost soft. His arms were jerked up, and over his head before he could move them otherwise. And being dazed, he had no idea to fight back. His arms were spread, and bound; making Scott's body into a backward spread- eagle form. Scott blacked out for a moment, just a moment though. When he woke up; he felt a thick, cold cream being spread around him ass. Scott had no thoughts other than `Just let him have at it, and let it be over. I can't fight, I can't do anything. Just let it be over.'
The cock that entered him was larger, thicker than any claw or finger ever could be. It made Scott want to squirm away as it was slowly forced even deeper inside of him. It went slowly almost all the way out; then was suddenly thrust back into him, making him gasp. "Ohhh, you're so tight." Scott felt the harsh metal of his tormentor's pants bite into his ass. Silent tears streamed down his face as he accepted the act that he couldn't say no to; and that he didn't want. Slowly the cock entered into him, and was taken out. It pushed Scott into the pole he was bent over, burning the pole's mark into his own cock as the jarring movement hit it, arousing it. With each thrust into him, Scott's penis came more alive. It spewed over him again; more quickly this time. But he act seemed to take forever. The other man's cock stretched him, making Scott groan and cry at the same time. The predator said nothing, but with every light groan from Scott, he deepened his harsh movement. The lubrication seemed to have disappeared, and the pounding movement made Scott ache, and wish that he could cry out for it to stop. But he still could say nothing. He turned his head to the side, and accepted the harsh movements while tears streamed down his face blurring his vision again.
With one last great thrust, penetrating deeper than any other, Scott felt the release. He felt the sticky fluid seep into him, and out around the shaft that lingered there. It made Scott shudder a little. Then he heard it. The little click over his right ear, the ear that was on the bed. The click signaled the release of the visor over his eyes. But without some movement to take it off, it would stay in place. Scott breathed deeply, not moving his head. `I can't move. When he leaves, I'll cut the bonds with my vision, and I'll get out of here.'
The deep seated movement that the predator used to slowly remove his cock from Scott's swollen ass made Scott gasp. It felt like he was tearing something out of him as he went. Scott gasped. The man came next to him, and licked Scott's wet cheek. "Good Boy" he murmured.
There was a banging noise from somewhere else, and Scott watched the man leave. `Now's my chance.' Scott closed his eyes, and flicked the visor off his head. Keeping his eyes closed, he aimed at where he thought his arm was tied. Scott opened his eyes momentarily and with a snap, pulled his arm free. Scott grabbed the visor, and put it back over his eyes. He pulled the heavy silver tape off his mouth, then pulled the plate in it out. It scrapped the inside of his mouth, making him taste blood; but Scott didn't care. For him this taste of blood was a taste of freedom.
Looking this time, Scott aimed again and removing the visor freed his other arm. Scott stood on unsteady legs. His ass ached, and it was difficult to stand with both his legs tied as they were. Scott took careful aim, and freed both his legs. He stumbled backward, but didn't fall. Catching his balance, Scott leaned on the frame that had bound him, and looked around for a way to escape. The window. Scott heard voices from the other room. First an unknown voice, then that of his captor.
"So Wolverine, what do you think of him."
"He's good, and young. It can be done with him, and …"
Scott didn't want to hear any more. He summoned the last of his energy, and ran at the window slamming his shoulder into it.
Down Scott fell. Farther and farther. `This is it. I've escaped life as a sex slave to die.' But he was granted a softer landing. A plastic awning awaited him, breaking his fall. Down Scott tumbled, the eight feet to the street below. There, a van waited. People pulled him in, and it screeched off.
"Are you alright?"
Scott looked up and saw a pretty red-haired woman watching him. He could feel himself redden at her glance. Scott tried to cover himself up, and had luck at it when a man with dark, red-brown hair and dark eyes handed him a blanket. "We know what they have done to you. It was very brave for you to escape like that." The woman spoke again. Scott just nodded, looking at his cloth covered lap. He felt a hand slip into his, and looked up meeting Jean's eyes. "We all have been through things like that. And we are fighting back at all of them."
"What's your name?" Scott asked softly.
The woman smiled, pureness and pleasure radiated from it. "My name is Jean."
Scott smiled at that. That was the good part to the memory; the first time he had met Jean. A bomb whizzed over him, and the building shook again. Scott covered his head as dust fell on top of him.
"Are you alright?"
Scott looked up, and saw the tired female figure. He nodded as his mouth went dry. "Yeah. They're gettin' worse though." Jean nodded, and lay on the floor placing her head on his lap.
"We have gotten you out of here earlier."
"I wouldn't let you. I'd never abandon you Jean."
She took his hand. "I know." Scott suddenly leaned over gasping. Jean looked up at him with concerned eyes. "Scott, what is it?"
Scott let out an indecipherable animalistic noise. "I think it's time." He gasped out.
Jean's eyes grew wide and she sat up quickly. "Now; but …"
"There's no but. It's now."
Jean nodded. "What can I do?"
Scott looked at her, unzipping his pants and pulling them down. "Just hold my hand and let nature happen." She nodded, and took his hand. Scott looked forward, then put his chin to his chest, clenched his mouth, grabbed Jean's hand and squeezed it as he pushed.
Scott felt the pain before he could see anything happening. It was harsher than anything he had every felt before. His cock started to tingle, then ache, then burn, then it felt like it was going to explode. It quivered, becoming erect. But ejaculation was the last thing it would release that day. It quivered again, then engorged. Something the size of an orange formed a blob in his shaft, making him scream out in pain. Jean too screamed in pain, as her hand started turning purple from Scott's grip.
The tip exploded; revealing a head. Neither could say anything, as with great force the rest was pushed out with a rush of blood. Scott was left hunched over and panting. Jean picked up the child, and it started bawling in her arms.
"Scott; Scott it's a girl." She looked at her lover; and with wide eyes saw his anguished face. "What is it?"
Scott shook his head a little. "Something feels funny. I know there should be an afterbirth, but I can't feel anything." He huddled over again; and both knew that the placenta had burst within him. Scott fell onto his side.
"Scott!" Jean's soft, anguished voice came.
Scott's shaking hand reached up and touched her cheek; then that of his daughter. "Take care of her for me." He whispered. Through her tears, Jean nodded. Scott's hand slumped to the floor with a soft thud. Jean's body wracked with her anguished sobs as she clutched the screaming child to her chest.