TITLE: Torture

AUTHOR: Silvertongue

FANDOM: 24 TV

PAIRING: Jack Bauer, two of Kingsley's men

RATING: NC-17

GENRE: FPS

ARCHIVE: Go right ahead.

SUMMARY: Set during season two, when Jack was being interrogated and tortured by two of Kingsley's men. What SHOULD have happened.

WARNING: Male-on-male sex, bondage, torture, and some language.

DISCLAIMER: The character of Jack Bauer does not belong to me (dammit!), and neither do the characters of Kingsley's men (not that I would want them anyway). I make no money from this, yadda yadda. Just read it.

Torture
By Silvertongue

Jack's eyes fluttered open and he watched the concrete floor pass by uncomfortably close to his nose. He realized immediately that the gun he'd had tucked into his pants was gone, as well as the knife that had been strapped to his calf. Hands were under his arms, dragging him along the cold
floor. Images flashed through Jack's mind. He'd been in the parking lot of the hospital with Kate and Yusef, and they'd been followed . . . everything beyond that was vague and shadowy. He assumed he'd been knocked out.

Jack desperately hoped that he was stronger than the man dragging him, and gathered his strength. He threw his full weight against his assailant, knocking him off balance. The man cried out and loosened his grip. Jack used the distraction to pull himself to his feet. Disoriented, he tried to scan the room, only to be knocked flat from behind. He connected with the concrete floor with a thump.

Two sets of hands were on him, flipping him over onto his back. One man held him down and forced his forearms together. Rope abraded Jack's wrists as the other man tied his hands, attaching the rope to a pulley that yanked his arms above his head. Jack grunted as he was pulled to his knees.

"Who the hell are you?" Jack's voice was rough. The men didn't answer, and the one that had tied his hands punched Jack in the stomach. He doubled over in pain.

"O'Hara, give him this," said one of the men. He handed a vial of clear liquid to his accomplice, who was standing next to Jack. Taking the vial, O'Hara unstoppered it and held the vial to Jack's lips. Jack tried to turn his head away, but O'Hara grabbed his chin and forced the acrid liquid down. Jack's stomach convulsed. Moments later, he lurched against his bonds and vomited. His body sagged against the ropes.

Stark produced a metal detector and ran it over the puddle of Jack's vomit. He frowned. "Nothing," he said, placing the device on a nearby table.

O'Hara grabbed Jack's chin, forcing the man's head around. "Where's the computer chip, Jack?"

"I don't have it," Jack said. He grimaced and spat a mouthful of bile in O'Hara's direction.

"Strip him," said Stark. O'Hara complied, quickly divesting Jack of his clothing. Jack glowered up at him from his position on the concrete floor.

"Now, where's the chip?"

"I don't have it," Jack growled again.

"Bullshit!" yelled Stark, grabbing for the pulley rope and jerking Jack to his feet. His arms were stretched over his head, pulling them almost from their sockets. "Where's the goddam chip?"

Jack didn't speak. O'Hara grabbed a taser and jabbed it into Jack's side. The electric current flowed through his body, sending his muscles into convulsions. Jack threw his head back and howled with pain.

Stark advanced towards Jack, stepping up to him until their noses were almost touching. Jack was breathing hard, his face contorted with pain from the taser. O'Hara handed Stark a scalpel, glistening with fluid. Jack's eyes widened. Too often, his had been the hands wielding the scalpel, and he had a good idea what was coming. He also knew it would hurt like hell.

"I can break you, Jack," said Stark softly.

Stepping back, Stark slid the scalpel into the flesh of Jack's stomach. The ammonia on the tip hissed and burned its way through his skin. Jack screamed.

"Shut him up!"

O'Hara slipped a gag into Jack's mouth, muffling his cries.

A phone rang. Stark stepped back from Jack and pulled his cell phone from his pocket. "Yeah?"

O'Hara watched intently as Stark conversed with someone on the other end of the line. "Okay. Yeah, we've got it covered." Stark hung up.

"The boss," Stark told O'Hara. "He wants the chip. Now."

O'Hara grinned, eyeing Jack's nearly unconscious form dangling limply from the ropes. "I can do that. He's too used to the basic routine. He thinks he knows what's coming. Let's have a little fun."

Kneeling next to Jack, O'Hara began stroking the man's thighs. Jack's eyes shot open, staring in confusion down at the man before him. O'Hara's fingers traced soft lines down Jack's legs, then back up again, gently brushing against the patch of blond hair at his crotch.

"What the hell are you doing?" said Jack, his voice muffled by the gag. He tried to pull back from O'Hara, but the man reached around and cupped Jack's buttocks, pulling him forward again.

"There are many forms of torture, Jack," said O'Hara. "Not all of them are painful."

Reaching up, O'Hara stroked the point where the taser had struck Jack's skin. The bound man pulled against the ropes, but found them fast.

"Jack, don't fight me," said O'Hara. Stark muffled a laugh from the corner of the room, where he was watching the proceedings with an amused eye. O'Hara slid the side of his face along Jack's thigh, brushing the hairs lightly. "Poor Jack. You've been having such an awful day, haven't you? All that running around trying to save your foolish country. I'll bet you haven't had any time for . . pleasure."

O'Hara slid his hands around Jack's hips and closer to his crotch. Jack shut his eyes tightly, fighting against the ropes. His mind raced. What the hell was this maniac doing? O'Hara was right, of course. Jack hadn't pleasured himself in weeks, and just this morning he'd wished desperately that he could have five minutes to himself to relieve the ache in his groin. But the
day had been one hellish episode after another, and he'd forgotten all about it.

Now with this man's hands stroking nearer and nearer to his crotch, Jack was fighting his body's impulses. It was the most inopportune time to be fighting an erection that Jack could think of. These men might very well attempt to get him aroused and then cut the thing off.

But the gentle fingers kept moving ever closer, and Jack was losing the battle with his body. O'Hara bent closer, his breath warm on Jack's cock. Jack shuddered, gritting his teeth against the gag.

"I'm going to make you come for me, Jack," said O'Hara, again sliding his fingers around to Jack's ass. His hands stroked the taut muscles, dipping slightly into the crack between his cheeks.

Jack hissed under his breath. He refused to give this man the pleasure of seeing his body respond.

Suddenly O'Hara took Jack's still-flaccid cock all the way into his mouth. He licked the underside of the head gently, making long, sure strokes with the flat of his tongue. Jack's entire body stiffened, his muscles tightening.

Despite all of his attempts at control, Jack's cock began to swell in O'Hara's mouth.

"No," he gasped softly, eliciting a snicker from Stark. The man was still watching with interest, a telltale bulge growing his his jeans.

"Yes," whispered O'Hara, pulling off of Jack's cock. He stood, carefully removing Jack's gag, then returned to kneeling in front of Jack. He nuzzled at the man's cock with his cheek, reveling in the smooth heat of the hardening member.

Jack turned his head away, disgusted and unwilling to watch his body betray him. He jerked it back, however, when he felt a warm hand caressing his balls. He whimpered involuntarily.

"You like that, do you?" said O'Hara, stroking his fingers across the fine hairs on Jack's balls. Pleasure shot up Jack's spine, overwhelming him. He threw his head back and groaned. O'Hara grinned. "I guess you do."

Jack was disgusted with himself. He'd thought himself trained to endure torture. He could have managed the taser and scalpel dipped in ammonia, but put a mouth on his cock and he was as vocal as a harlot. "Stop it," he croaked.

"Stop it?" said O'Hara. "Are you sure?" His hand left Jack's balls and encircled his cock, already slick with moisture from his mouth. He drew his hand from root to tip in one long stroke.

Jack moaned, thrusting his hips forward.

O'Hara smiled. "You don't want me to stop. Where's the chip, Jack? Tell me and I'll finish this."

Beads of sweat were forming on Jack's forehead. His eyes were half-shut, and his hands, still tied securely, fisted over his head. But with O'Hara's words, he came back to earth with a thump. "I . . . want you . . . to stop," he growled.

O'Hara feigned surprise. "All right," he said, resigned. With one quick movement he cut Jack down from the ropes, and a moment later he and Stark had Jack sprawled on a nearby table.

Jack struggled against his captors, but his side was still oozing blood from the scalpel cut, and his ribs hurt where he'd been punched earlier. The two men easily held him down. Stark positioned himself behind Jack, holding the man's arms down. O'Hara was at the other end of the table, between Jack's legs.

Jack's face burned with humiliation. His cock was still hard, his balls pulsing, despite all of his efforts to calm himself. O'Hara shoved Jack's legs apart, and the man was too weak to fight. O'Hara produced a short rod, and gently prodded Jack's ass with it. He quickly realized what O'Hara was going to do.

"No!" He squirmed and fought in vain against Stark's restraining arms.

"Shhh," consoled O'Hara, stroking Jack's calf. "It won't hurt if you don't struggle."

Jack stopped his writhing, and braced his body against the intrusion. O'Hara lubed up the dildo and pressed it against Jack's ass. Slowly he slipped it in.

Jack tensed as his body was invaded. He bit his lip in pain and whimpered, trying not to cry out. Suddenly the dildo hit his prostate, sending lightning through his body. Jack's back arched and he groaned with pleasure.

O'Hara smiled. "Does that feel good, Jack?"

"God, yes!" Jack burst out before he could stop himself.

Stark's pants were uncomfortably tight now, watching this man being brought so close to ecstasy. He rubbed his crotch along the edge of the table, seeking some sort of relief.

Jack felt Stark shift behind him, and tried in vain to again loosen his bonds. However distracted he was, Stark held Jack's arms immobile.

"Where's the chip, Jack?" O'Hara's words pounded into Jack's consciousness, shattering his pleasure.

"I don't have it! Goddam you, I don't have it!" Jack yelled, fighting against his bonds with renewed vigor. It was almost the truth - he didn't know precisely where the chip was. He knew that Kate and Yusef had it, but he wasn't sure of their location. Somewhere in the back of his mind, it occured to Jack that the whole situation was utterly ridiculous; he was lying on a table with a raging erection and a dildo up his ass, being interrogated about a fucking computer chip. Jack fleetingly thought this might be something to leave out of the inevitable case report.

With a flick of his finger, O'Hara sent the dildo vibrating against Jack's prostate. The man groaned loudly, closing his eyes against the sensations and shoving his body down onto the vibrator as hard as he could.

"God, please," gasped Jack, his cock straining into the air. His balls were drawn up tight against his body, and he felt his orgasm building. Jack was beyond caring about the computer chip or bombs or anything else. All that mattered was the intense pleasure that was building in his groin. It had been weeks since he'd jerked off, and he knew that he would explode any moment. Just a few seconds more . . .

O'Hara stroked the vibrator over his prostate one more time, and then removed it from Jack's ass. He laughed when Jack moaned in desperation.

"Tell me where the chip is, and I'll finish," said O'Hara.

"I don't have the fucking chip," groaned Jack. His eyes were glassy. "Please! God, I'm so close!"

Jack was panting now, trying vainly to grind his hips onto something. O'Hara gripped Jack's cock and danced his fingers along the underside of the head, bringing Jack to the brink of orgasm, then backing off. Jack thrust his hips upward, groaning insensibly. His bound hands were fisted above his head, his fingers digging into his palms so hard they drew blood.

Stark motioned for O'Hara to stop, and Jack moaned at the loss of his hand. "The chip, Jack. Where's the chip?"

Jack closed his eyes in frustration. "I don't know! Goddam it, I don't have your fucking chip! Please, just let me come!" He was almost sobbing.

O'Hara sighed with disgust. "He really doesn't know."

Stark nodded. Studying Jack's strained features and swollen cock, Stark's groin twitched. He gestured to O'Hara. "Even if he doesn't know . . . go ahead. I want to see this."

O'Hara slipped the dildo back into Jack's ass, flipping it on. Jack's body convulsed and he groaned, spreading his legs to give O'Hara better access. He was past caring how lewd he appeared; the only thought in his mind was of his delayed orgasm that threatened to overwhelm him.

Stark still held Jack's arms, which were spasming against the table. His eyes were shut tight, his entire body shaking under O'Hara's ministrations. O'Hara stroked the vibrator along Jack's prostate again, making him writhe.

"Oh, Christ . . . please . . ." Jack pleaded with O'Hara, thrusting his hips into the air. O'Hara complied, wrapping his hand around Jack's cock. He stroked up and down, rubbing his thumb over the swollen head. Jack was almost crying with pleasure, shoving his cock up into O'Hara's hand.

The dildo rubbed Jack's prostate again, catapulting him over the edge. "Oh, God! Fuck! Yes!"

Jack groaned loudly, thrusting up into O'Hara's hand. His cock pulsed, spewing come onto his chest and stomach.

"Oh, fuck . . . fuck . . . yes . . ." Jack thrust up again on every word, spurts of come spattering his body. O'Hara milked the last drops from Jack's cock as the man fell back onto the table.

Stark was now holding Jack's arms with only one hand. The other was occupied with rubbing the spreading dampness on the crotch of his jeans. He caught his breath and then released Jack's arms. The man lay on the table, his chest heaving, eyes closed. Stark pulled a gun and whipped Jack across the face with it, knocking him unconscious.

"Leave him here," said Stark roughly. O'Hara nodded and headed for the door, Stark close behind.

As the door clicked shut behind them, Jack stirred. His hands, still tied together, went to his face, where his cheek had been torn open on contact with the handgun. After determining that the cut would eventually need stitches, he sat up slowly. He worked at the ropes for a few minutes, finally managing to slide them off. Jack threw them to the side, and stared down at his body.

His ribs were bruised from being punched by Stark. The area where he'd been hit with the taser was sore and red, and the scalpel cut was still seeping blood. The front of his body was a veritable landscape of damage. Continuing to inspect himself, Jack couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry. The entire area of his chest, stomach, and abdomen was draped in come, and his cock was still not totally flaccid.

"Holy shit," said Jack. He sat up slowly, grimacing as his ribs objected to the movement. Gritting his teeth, he got to his feet and stumbled to the pile of his clothes on the floor. Jack pulled on his pants and scanned the room for a rag. He found a cloth tossed in a corner, and used it to wipe the
come from his body. Tugging on his shirt, Jack left the room.

END