Title: settlement

Author: Anne Phoenix

AnnePhoenix@yahoo.com

Rating: R for violence and just a little sexual "overtones"

Classification: Rocketslash

Archiving: yes but please let me know.

Summary: Team-Rocket have crossed the twerps once too many

Yes yes, I know, too much foreplay, not enough action but that's the way we like it -so feedback both + and - is always most welcome!

Thanks to Ink for the beta'ing and for putting up with this once again!


The Internet made it possible and what once led to psychosis, pain, and death now starts in ...Fanfic.
The twisted voices of the Net are calling,
can **you** hear them?
-Inky



SETTLEMENT
by Anne Phoenix

James trod warily through the forest. He had given up his anxious calls for Jesse and Meowth a long time ago and faced the fact he would have to get out of this one alone. It was steadily getting colder and James was shivering slightly, yet he marched on doggedly, determined that this once, he would succeed.

Finally the night caught up with him and he curled up tightly on the moist forest floor, trying to retain as much bodily heat as possible, but he was trembling violently. Eyes squeezed shut, fists clenched into unyielding balls, stomach roaring in hunger, his body tensed in self-defence against the weather, James fell into a troubled sleep.

*

His eyes flew open in panic and immediately the light blue tint of dawn invaded his senses. Another twig cracked and he sat up straight, uneasiness clouding him. Jesse, Meowth or indeed any other living creature would have been welcome right now but he was alone. Almost alone. Brock seemed to appear out of nowhere and landed squarely on the young man, knocking him over roughly.

James shrieked in surprise before he recognised the boy; he wanted to shake him off but had to accept that although a year younger, Brock was of much heavier build than himself and his weakened body was just no match. Brock effortlessly pinned James down on the cold floor with his weight.

"Get off" James hissed angrily but Brock was enjoying the doubt in his eyes; his expression showed resentment and settling of scores and for the first time James felt true fear grip him.

"What's the matter, James. Can't take a little pushing around? I should think you'd be used to it by now!" The boy sneered and James froze as he took cuffs and a dog collar from his rucksack. He flayed uncontrollably, shouting out heated curses, even succeeded in momentarily unsettling his attacker with wild bucks but it soon exhausted him whereas Brock rode him out with a grim smile.

"Shhhh..." he mock-soothed the terrified face as he deftly slipped on the collar and tightened it around James' slender neck; he could feel the heavy breathing, the fear... and suddenly he was thrown clear as new panic gave James new strength. He even nearly managed to scramble away but was tackled from behind whereupon he hit the floor face first and felt Brock twist his arms high behind his back. Click.

*

"What do you want from me?" James whimpered, blinking back tears of terror and pain. Brock's laugh was bitter and dry: "I've had it up to here with you two. Its about time someone taught you a lesson." He yanked at the leash making James roll onto his back, not caring about the painful pressure this would cause in his captive's arms. He was rewarded by a lone tear rolling down the soft face and without forewarning Brock backhanded James brutally. The soft skin on the high of the cheekbone instantly split and a small trickle of blood sprang out. Red against white.

Brock caught his breath in delight, he had no intention of giving James the amity of a swift and painless death. In fact he didn't want to kill James at all. Just hurt him.. He stared down at the fine features coldly, keeping contact with wide innocent eyes.

"Tell me, James. How old are you?"

The team-rocket agent shuddered: "s-s-s-s-seventeen" Brock's eyes glinted and his mouth twisted into a cruel smile "and such a pretty boy too... Almost a shame -getup!"

*

James hastened to his feet, hurt eyes never leaving Brock, whose left hand was on the leash but right was out of sight and not to be trusted. He stood taller than Brock, but much thinner and when the boy pulled the leash, he almost lost his footing and just barely managed to stagger behind.

They walked right through the morning, James' threats, pleas and questions smartly ignored -he had no idea where they were headed. He often stumbled and every time the collar near to strangled him, he could feel those bruises on his neck already. Once he had fallen and crashed head first onto hard ground, unable to break that fall with bound wrists. Brock had kicked his ribs to force him to get back up and once in the head making his lip bleed.

Now James was famished and dehydrated, even the tears in his eyes felt dry. He feared his next fall already but could feel it coming through the fatigue. At last they stopped at a stream. "Go drink" he was ordered and James gratefully lapped up clear water until a hard drag on the leash brought him careering to his back and he stared up at Brock fearfully. Brock loved that expression of uncertainty.

"You are so beautiful" he whispered, wild images rocking his mind.

*

James quivered but dared neither move nor speak; the tears rolled silently down his face mingling with blood as he bit back sobs. He sat up facing Brock and eyed him distrustfully. His captor crouched down and wiped a tear off James' face with his sleeve, he drew his finger over the smooth skin and held the leash tighter as James subconsciously drew back straining against the grip.

"Don't..." he started pleading but this drew only a smile and an unexpected slap.

"How many times have you wanted to hurt us? For me, its just this once." Brock waved his hand vaguely and James flinched magnificently. The dark haired boy had to wish that James was not so beautiful, so irresistible but the large green emeralds mesmerised him. Yet he wanted to hurt him and the very reflection of James' vulnerability sent a spark of heat into his groin.



SETTLEMENT 2/II

Sitting on a rock floor, leaning against a stinging cold rock wall, James stared into the distance blankly, trying to forget he was immobilised and chained to the wall by the leather strap. His exhaustion was apparent, blood, tears and dirt smeared on his usually soft white skin. he had not shed a tear for 24 hours now, the interminable 24 hours he had spent in this exact position.

In this freezing cave. Brock had not freed his wrists once and only occasionally hand-fed his prisoner a little.

Such humiliation!

And escape was unimaginable too; when he was left alone earlier, James had almost killed himself trying to wrench free. Now he carried welt marks along with the dark bruises on his neck. he was hurting badly: physically from the constant abuse by an angry enemy and psychologically from the fear and anguish, from the dark violence of Brock's hate and lust when he was watching James or letting his fingers roam around him in disconcerting caress. Then he couldn't help the sharp intake of breath and the distressed flinch. But Brock couldn't help the effect James had on him either, he bit those feelings back, not daring nor really wanting to act by them. For the desire to hurt James was still prevalent.

*

James shuddered as he sighed, he was seeing Jesse's silky hair and Meowth's sharp little fangs and cocky mouth.

"What's up... James?" Brock's mocking tone made him jump.

Every time Brock pronounced his name, he stressed it thoughtfully as though relishing its possibilities. James twisted to one side to stare back sullenly. The green eyes dulled at this submission he had been beaten into.

"Why are you keeping me here?" he whispered, his voice reflecting a world of pain. Brock hunkered in front of him and abruptly leant forward to kiss his arch-enemy. It was so sudden that by the time James had thrown himself back against the rock wall, Brock had already drawn away.

*

Brock's heartbeat got faster as he admired his captive. "Because I want you. Out of hate, anger, revenge. To prove you're not invincible, and that you're just as easily broken as any other... Maybe because I think you're so beautiful too." He smiled a little as the fire of alarm was relit in James' eyes.

"We never wanted to hurt you! All we wanted... was the Pikachu..." he stuttered, urgently wanting to make Brock understand and believe, but the boy merely shook his head. "Then you went too far to get at him." The words slid out easily and had an electrifying effect on James, whose heart jittered and skipped a beat. He wanted to back off but the cold wall prevented him from moving much.

The firm grip at the base of his leash too stopped his escape as Brock's hot lips were on him again. He shut his mouth resolutely, but Brock forced a passage with his tongue liking the cold sensation given by James' horror. He liked the taste of fear, and James was full of that, never giving up his struggle to twist away from Brock, only slowing as he realised how his squirming was turning Brock on even more. James could barely draw in the necessary air, suffocated by strength and choked by the pressure on his throat, he was completely overpowered.

*

Brock leant over the young man, licking the blood from the side of his mouth, and kissing his face profusely, the heat of his lips contrasting sharply with the iciness of James' skin.

Still holding him down, Brock nuzzled his neck, gently drawing his finger along the line of bruises and abrasions. Suddenly he drew back and sat on his haunches, lust evident. He observed the withdrawn expression carefully, James' eyes were shut in denial.

Brock unfastened one end of the leash and to James' horror wrapped the leather around his neck several times, tightly; the young man could now not move an inch without cutting off his own air supply. Wide eyes seemed to be pleading with Brock and for one split second the captor felt a surge of pity for the captive -no man deserved such treatment; James' crimes did not justify this, but he had to give in that a darker force inside him had taken over. His eyes ran over the young man "So beautiful" he whispered again, almost inaudibly, but James heard and shrank back coughing a little, eyes still averted.

*

"I want you to suck it."

*

The order came out of the blue and James' eyes flew open to find Brock had unbuttoned his jeans, giving way to an erect cock.

James nearly let his jaw drop in shock but checked himself in time and clamped his teeth together determinately. He looked down. Away. Anywhere to avoid the prospect. He felt Brock urgently push himself against his face, nudging at his mouth with the head, already wet from pre-cum. The contact made James turn away, no longer caring if this meant he couldn't breathe; in fact he welcomed the asphyxiation and forced himself further and further away, stretching his neck and lungs. They screamed but he didn't give in until Brock forcefully pulled him back looking a little concerned.

"Breathe." he ordered and James hysterically panted. "Just. let. me. die." he wheezed but Brock negated him: "Not like this. I am getting what I want from you, James." He jumped up again and taking advantage of James' snatches for air, pressed his way into his mouth.

*

Brock growled a little at the hot, wet touch. All James could do was gag, he wanted to use his teeth to battle the invader but it seemed impossible as the large organ thrusted in, out and ever deeper in again, the taste bitter, the whole situation worse than death.

"You'd better swallow'", Brock threatened, the whole power game made him more ferocious, more eager; his face was flushed and he felt light, relishing the sensations, not one thought spared for the torture he was submitting James to. He felt he deserved this, they both did. He pulled the man forward, fingers entwined in blue hair, not caring that James could barely breathe and was bit by bit being strangled by the leather strap and suffocated by his own efforts. His cock was alive and on fire and suddenly he came with a guttural moan of intense pleasure.

James shrieked and ripped away spitting in disgust, tears streaming down his face in torrents. He didn't feel the slippery contact of the collar where he had rubbed the skin away, he had only one desire or thought: to die now, and he jerked at the leash hysterically.

*

Brock buttoned himself up and slapped him, "Get a grip" he snapped, immediately wiping the tear and blood streaked hand off on his trousers. But James was sobbing and a sudden pitch backwards cracked his head into the rock face; he fell frontward, hanging himself from the short belt. Brock quickly lengthened this, and James crumbled together in an unceremonious heap on the floor. Brock checked his pulse and, satisfied that the young man hadn't done himself any permanent harm, started off, leaving him on the floor, skin trembling against the cold and smeared with seamen and blood. His heart gave a little jump at the sight, he yearned to touch him again, but knew he mustn't.

*

When James came to his face has been washed with clean water. he was freezing and his teeth chattered uncontrollably, but his only thought was the revulsion of having been touched by Brock whilst lifeless. The cramps in his shoulders were almost unbearable, he knew he was frightened and fragile. He knew he was no longer in control of his own life, he knew he was nothing but an object now.

Summoning courage, he drew himself into a sitting position and pulled his knees to his chest, wishing his hands were free to hug them tightly. He opened his eyes later as Brock returned: "hungry?" he asked with a smile, making James shake his head resentfully. The movement sent new snarls of pain through his cramps and he winced and watched Brock cook his light meal on the fire.

*

Never before had James lost his appetite, but now his perky expression was broken and the sparkling green eyes dulled.

Brock sighed deeply and approached his prisoner, ignoring the latter's dismay at the proximity. He let an arm slide around James' shoulders, feeling the tensed muscles of the neck and shoulders, taken by the sharpness of the cuts and bruises on his face. James appeared to be looking through the floor.

*

"I've arranged for an exchange" Brock murmured into his ear. "Jesse wants you back. She's prepared to leave us alone, to ask for a reassignment in exchange for your safety." He wasn't sure if James even heard but suddenly the young man snapped "Bit too late then." voice dripping with the sarcasm of the martyr.

The pain in his voice made Brock swallow back a pang of guilt. "I wanted to kill you. I wanted to hurt you then kill you. After all you've done, I wanted to show you that we weren't just 'twerps'. And I wanted to see Jesse's face when she found out you were gone for good. I wanted to see if she's as insensitive as she makes out to be. But now I've done worse. You don't deserve to die, you deserve to be hounded and persecuted to hell and back."

"Congratulations..." humiliation and anguish answered.

*

"Is Jesse here yet?" Brock demanded of Ash as he approached the group with his hostage, of course now no longer wearing a collar. Ash shook his head and couldn't take his eyes off James. Their long-time rival had lost weight, and his already slender form had thinned out even more, even his cheeks were somewhat sunken in. His hair hung limply about his face in dirty strands. Red eyes and no cocky observation for Ash unsettled him. But his face and clothes! Dirt and blood splattered all over; he could see deep cuts, the worst of which were concentrated around the neck which showed raw flash in tints of black and blue.

"Brock, what...?" But his older companion shook his head, "Don't ask.".

*

"-PREPARE FOR TROUBLE!-"

*

All eyes turned to the skimpily white-clad woman and grinning Meowth standing a little off the group.

Meowth: "Make that doub-"

*

"JAAAAMES!" Jesse screamed; abandoning all illusion of grandeur, she ran to her partner and stopped in disbelief in front of him. Brock was opening the cuffs and once his prisoner was free, he pushed him towards Jesse.

James stumbled forwards without resistance, eyes filling with tears as they connected with Jesse's.

"I'm sorry", he whispered faintly but she put her arms around him in a warm embrace.

"Not as sorry as they'll be when I'm." She stopped and watched Ash walking away with Misty. They were glancing sideways at Brock, not just a little disconcerted. Pikachu was in tail, forgotten by all. James let himself sink to the floor and sat there, head buried in hands for a long time. Finally he raised his face towards Jesse and was stunned to see her trying to wipe her own tears away quickly before he saw them. She helped him to his feet and, clenching his hand tightly in her own, led him to their hot-air balloon. He followed, feeling more fragile than ever, but let her lead the way, away from this dreaded forest, away from Ash or Pikachu.

Away from Brock.


THE END
Anne Phoenix, 2000.