Title: Kiss the Ground
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Josef Kostan/Mick St. John
Fandom: Moonlight
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2,323
Warning: Non-con.
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the lovely Josef Kostan or Mick St. John, unfortunately. Please do not sue.

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"On the ground, Kostan." The tall, dark-haired vampire's voice was like nails over a chalkboard; he didn't seem able to speak in a voice that was above a gravelly whisper, though that voice carried through the air more clearly than if he'd shouted.

Mick winced at the look on Josef's face; he knew better than to expect his boyfriend to put up a fight, though. His eyes met Josef's, pleading with the other man not to do or say anything than what he was told; their lives could both depend on his obedience.

He knew how hard it had to be for Josef to obey that command; his boyfriend wasn't used to being the subservient person in any situation. But this wasn't like anything Mick had ever faced before, and he wanted them both to come out of it alive.

The sword edge pressed harder against his throat; Mick closed his eyes, swallowing the lump of fear in his throat. Of all the times he'd ever faced death, none of them had ever been like this. And none had ever seemed so close to the edge.

"Do as I say, Kostan -- or you'll watch your boyfriend die before your eyes," the dark vampire ground out, his eyes on Josef. "I've been waiting for this a long time -- and I won't hesitate to cause you even more pain than I already plan to if you don't obey me."

Josef swallowed hard, sinking to his knees and looking up at the other man. "So do you plan to tell me to take my clothes off, or are you going to get your goons to strip me down?" he inquired, raising an eyebrow at his tormentor. "Which do you think would be more demoralizing?"

"I could have you stripped, but I think I'll have you remove your clothes yourself," the dark-haired man replied, after a moment of thought. "And I want you to look at your boyfriend while you do it. I want him to know that you're stripping to give yourself to another man."

"He knows I'm not 'giving myself' to you, Bartolomy," Josef sneered as his hands started to work at the buttons of his shirt. "He knows damn well this is rape, and nothing but a revenge tactic for you. This isn't going to turn him against me."

Bartolomy shrugged, casting a glance in Mick's direction. "He doesn't mean anything to me," he said, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched Josef pull his shirt off and cast it aside. "He's only here to insure your .... cooperation, as it were."

Josef didn't answer, but Mick could swear that his already pale complexion whitened even more as his hands went to his belt buckle and undid it, then unzipped his pants. He knew what Josef was thinking; his mind was reeling with the same thoughts.

Bartolomy knew what had been done to Josef on the night that he'd been turned. He hadn't been one of the men who did the deed, but he'd learned of it from the vampire who had turned Josef, and this was his revenge for some perceived long-ago slight.

Mick wanted to close his eyes; he didn't want to have to watch the man he loved being violated. But he knew that if he didn't watch, he could very well end up without a head -- and then Josef would be alone again. If Bartolomy decided to let him live.

He was going to do whatever he had to do to make sure that both he and Josef walked out of here alive. And then he was going to do anything that he could to hunt down Bartolomy and make sure that his head parted company with his body.

No one was going to hurt Josef -- especially not in front of him -- and get away with it. And this would hurt Josef far more than anything else possibly could. This would bring back his last night as a human, bring out his greatest fear, and possibly strain their physical relationship.

The only thing that could possibly hurt Josef more than having to relive his long-ago rape was if something were to happen to him, Mick thought, swallowing again and feeling the sword edge press against his throat. He'd just have to hope that it didn't go that far.

Josef was now kneeling on the floor naked, his face raised to Bartolomy's. He didn't look subservient at all to Mick; his dark eyes were smoldering with anger, his small fists clenched at his sides. It was obvious that this wasn't a man to submit meekly and willingly.

"Bend over and kiss the ground, Kostan," Bartolomy said, his gravelly voice sinking to an even lower tone. "I'm going to give you something that you've deserved from me for a very long time. Ever since the night you were turned, actually."

Mick wanted to struggle against his captors, to break free from them, pick Josef up in his arms, and get the hell out of here. But he knew that even attempting to do so would be certain death for them both. No, he had to stand here and force himself to breathe.

He couldn't keep his eyes open another second. He closed them, squeezing them shut, knowing that he'd be told to open them again if he didn't do so momentarily. But he had to block out the panorama in front of him, just for a few seconds.

When he opened his eyes again, Bartolomy was behind Josef, his fingers gripping the other man's hair and pulling him to his knees, exposing the slender column of Josef's throat. Mick knew what was going to happen next; his body tensed with the inevitability of it.

Mick didn't have to see Bartolomy thrust inside Josef; he could almost feel it when Josef screamed, the sound seeming to bounce off the walls of the empty room around them. The two vampires holding Mick actually chuckled, their gazes riveted to the scene in front of them.

He couldn't watch. He couldn't. But he had to; if he didn't, he could lose his head, and Josef could be made to suffer even more than he already was. Mick would do anything to avoid that, even though seeing this spectacle felt as though it was ripping his heart out of his body.

After the first scream, there was no sound from Josef other than pained gasps that came from his throat with each thrust. He steadfastly kept his eyes averted from Mick's gaze, staring at the wall, looking as if he was trying to divorce his mind from reality.

Mick didn't blame his boyfriend at all for trying to hold himself aloof from what was happening. He wished that he could do the same, but his heart was being twisted and torn far too much for him to make his mind go blank and tell himself that this would be over soon.

He was aware of every movement, every gasp, every breath. It was almost as though he was attuned to what Josef was feeling -- except that he couldn't take any of his lover's pain away. If only he could, he'd do it willingly, Mick thought, his muscles tensing.

He'd had to sink his teeth into his lower lip to keep himself from screaming; he could taste his own blood, feel the skin that had split under the pressure. If only he could do that to Bartolomy, sink his fangs into that bastard and drain him dry, then slice off his head .....

Mick shook his head, focusing his gaze on the pair in front of him again. His mind had wandered for a few moments, and mercifully, the torture seemed almost at an end. Bartolomy was breathing heavily, Josef's gasps reduced to moans, their bodies straining to completion.

With a cry of triumph, Bartolomy threw his head back, laughing as he raised his face to the ceiling. Without another word, he thrust Josef away from him, standing up and zipping his pants with a look of disgust on his face as he backed away.

"I've had what I want from you," he spat, looking down disdainfully at the man on the ground in front of him. "I won't harm your boyfriend, but remember that I've showed you a degree of mercy where you showed my brother none. That is your punishment, Charles Fitzgerald."

"What?" Mick's attention was riveted on Bartolomy, his mind reeling from those words. "What do you mean, he showed your brother no mercy? Who was your brother?" He waited to hear a name that he knew from Josef's past, a name that would fit into place in this puzzle.

"I believe you know what happened the last night he was a human," Bartolomy told Mick, arching a dark brow. "My brother was one of those who took their pleasure with a servant boy. And one of those who that same boy dispatched after he was turned."

Mick couldn't keep back his gasp of surprise. Had Josef known that he was killing this man's brother when he'd gone on his murderous spree, something that he opened admitted to doing? But Josef was shaking his head, speaking in a hoarse, cracked voice.

"How many times do I have to tell you that I didn't know one of those guys was your brother?" His voice wasn't the weak thread of sound that Mick might have expected it to be. Instead, it rang out through the air, as if daring Bartolomy to refute his words.

But the other man merely shrugged, heading for the door. "It doesn't matter if you knew or not. I've waited centuries for revenge. And now that I have it, our business is at an end. Au revoir, Charles. Or should I say .... Josef? It's been my pleasure."

His laugh was almost a snarl as he gestured to the two vampires who held Mick. They moved away reluctantly, following Bartolomy out the door. Mick didn't dare to move until it slammed behind them, and he was sure that they were gone.

Mick rushed forward in a flash, kneeling on the floor beside Josef and wrapping his arms around his lover. If there had ever been a time when he wished that his vampire physiology was capable of tears, it was now -- though he was sure that he couldn't cry enough tears to express how he felt.

"Are you okay?" he asked, knowing even as he said the words that they were ridiculous. Josef had just been brutally raped by a vampire who was probably even older than he was -- and dry, at that. Of course he wasn't okay. He might not be okay for quite a while.

Josef didn't answer; he only levered himself to his feet, gesturing wearily at his clothes. "If you can help me get dressed, I just want to get out of here and go home and soak in an ice-cold bath. And then try to forget this ever happened."

"You can't just forget it, Josef," Mick told him, his voice soft and compassionate. "It happened. You've got to face that. You ran away from what happened nearly four hundred years ago, but you can't do it again. If you do, it'll eat away at you, just like before."

Josef sighed, his gaze finally meeting Mick's. "At least he didn't hurt you," he whispered, raising a hand to his boyfriend's face. "I'd let him fuck me a million times as long as nothing happened to you. It was worth the pain to know that he didn't touch you, Mick."

"Let's just get out of here. We can talk about all this later, when we get home." Mick just wanted to get Josef safely to his penthouse, to a place where Bartolomy wouldn't have access to either one of them. He wanted to feel that his boyfriend was safe.

Would either of them ever be safe when a monster like Bartolomy was roaming around freely, able to take any kind of revenge he chose on whoever he decided to toy with? Mick didn't want to contemplate that question. He knew the answer all too well.

He knew that Josef would recover from his rather quickly in the physical sense; his vampiric body would heal within hours at the most. But it wasn't the physical aftereffects that Mick was worried about, though he knew that it might be a while before Josef wanted them to have sex again.

No, it was what this could do to Josef emotionally that scared him to death. He definitely wasn't going to back away from Josef, just as his lover had said. But he wouldn't be able to blame Josef if he started to build that wall around himself again -- and shut Mick out along with everyone else.

He helped Josef pull his pants up, letting the other man deal with the button and zip while he buttoned up the front of his lover's shirt. Now, he just had to get Josef back to the penthouse -- and with his preternatural vampire speed, that wouldn't be hard to do.

Any other questions could wait until later, when Josef was comfortably settled in his own bed at home. Bending down to slide an arm behind Josef's knees, Mick picked his boyfriend up in his strong arms, then took a deep breath as he began the journey homeward.

***