Control by Nehan Shinzui
A/N: Well, I decided to add another chapter despite getting no reviews for the first part. My story did get faved however, and that was inspiration to carry on! Thanks to iceyxstrawberry this is in part dedicated to you. I was going to continue it anyway but after you faved it I started thinking more about it. Like I said this one's gonna be in Peter's POV. I was watching Spiderman 2 the other day and that gave me ideas as well! :)! Disturbed rocks! Also, I may even add a third chapter in Mary Jane's POV even though I don't like her. It's more to get all three sides of the story. "Stricken" and "Remember" are great songs even though I just heard "Remember" just now it's an instant favorite! On with the story!
4/6/10: Oh, and thanks to the other peera who faved and i even got reviewed! Hearts and kisses!
Chapter Two: Peter
Peter didn't pay attention to it at first. He hardly noticed it. The boy figured it was just one of those best friend things--that it was natural for Harry to get a little jealous when Peter didn't have the time to be with him all the time. He supposed Harry just needed someone to unload on and when he didn't he could get frustrated. Peter could understand that and was glad to help.
He didn't really start to worry until the incident during the project. It had stung when Harry had called him a faggot not only because he wasn't gay and didn't think Harry should be so intolerant anyway but because the other seemed so quick and eager to hurt him, just because his eyes had lingered too long on MJ when Harry already knew how Peter felt about her! The argument had been quashed shortly, but not without leaving Peter to wonder if Harry had sprouted a budding crush on the redhead. Secretly, Peter hoped not--Harry would stand a far better chance of meeting his goal if ever he chose to pursue her.
The kiss had left Peter shocked and at a complete loss for words so that he found himself babbling. "....not like that...Harry!" he'd squealed and when Harry had seemed about ready to actually force himself on the orphan, Peter's mind had gone temporarily blank. Hearing the doorbell ring brought Osborn quickly down to earth and he'd begun apologizing profusely, begging Peter not to tell, his threatening demeanor gone. Not sure what to say, Peter agreed not to say anything. What kind of a friend would he be if blabbed to everyone about it anyway? Harry had looked ready to grab him again but instead went to answer the door, his fists clenched tightly. Peter put on a look of unconcern ans surprise at Aunt May's prescence. He tried not to shake so much as he hugged the old woman, fearing that she would start to ask questions. Harry looked grateful, but he hurried the two out of the house, citing he had work to do and he was sorry. Peter thought it was over for awhile. He was wrong. Very wrong.
Harry tried to force the issue several times after that particular incident. He went so far as to explain how he and Peter were more compatible than he and Mary Jane. He even attempted to force himself on Peter twice more, but both attempts took place in the wrong time for such things--Osborn had almost gotten caught both times. Peter took to completely trying to avoid the other at all costs. Harry knew Peter wouldn't tell on him because he knew Peter well enough to know that Peter wouldn't want to worry his aunt. Peter knew that if he didn't say anything to anyone, Harry would just use it to his advantage. Already he had claimed that Peter's reason for staying quiet was because he felt the same way--he was just in denial. After awhile, Harry looked as though he had given up--in fact, Parker hadn't seen hide or hair of the taller for a week. Peter kept watching his back however, and at last his fears came true.
Peter was bent over hastily packing his p.e. clothes when he felt something slam into him from behind, his head slamming into the locker in front of him. He felt dread crawl up his spine as he felt a strong hand begin to slowly rub his back. He was alone now---P.E. was his last period;everyone except him had left already. The teacher had held him for a word about something that lead to an extended conversation about his failing grade. Peter wished the teacher would've just called aunt May. He was pulled up and turned around so that he faced Harry's ecstatic face.
"You waited for me, Pete." Harry breathed, his fingers now gently rubbing against the other's cheek. "Oh, God, you--you waited!" The other paled at Harry's touch and tried to press himself into the locker, as though he was willing himself to melt into the wall. The shorter just clammed up; he wanted more than anything to disappear. Peter shook his head.
"Harry,no." he babbled. "Coach just wanted to have a talk...that's all. Just a talk--"
"A-ha! But you made it longer because you knew I'd be picking up my clothes for the weekend! You knew I'd forget in fourth! You knew!" Harry let out a relieved bark of laughter. He held Peter's struggling arms in vice grips above his head.
"Osborn...you're fucking insane!" the victim shouts. Harry gives him a slightly reproachful look before diving and biting into Peter's neck. Parker let out a sharp gasp as the taller's teeth sunk into his sensitive flesh. A sensation filled him that left him warm around the ears and confused. He couldn't've liked what Harry just did. He had no time to ponder that however, as Harry began to fumble around with the boy's clothes. Osborn was becoming frenzied; he began to viciously suck at Peter's neck ripping the pants off of both of them. His precumming member rubbed against the victim's flaccid length as he began to rut the boy into the wall. Harry's burning hot fingers roamed across Peter's flushed body.
"Don't shake like that , baby," Harry whispered into the boy's ear, his hands pulling at their underwear. "You'll like it. Trust me." Wrapping Peter's legs around his waist and plunging his tounge into the other boy's mouth, he without hesitation, forced himself into Peter's unprepared body, tears streaming down Parker's face his yell unheard. Harry mounted him, fucking him standing up his moans echoed but unnoticed; he'd chosen the perfect time to do this. It was a few hours later before Harry was entirely satisfied with his gift.
Peter felt as though he were going to vomit. He wanted to. He really did. He wanted to get out of this car now. But Norman Osborn would ask what was wrong and he was already concerned with him. No one needed to know what a slut he was. Harry's father had picked them up when Harry called. The younger Osborn had claimed it would seem odd if Peter just suddenly decided he didn't want a ride. Besides, Harry couldn't let Peter walk home limping like that. He could barely walk as it was!
"How was school then, Pete?" Norman asked, sitting across from the two.
"It was alright," Harry answered for him, Peter feeling oddly grateful, unknowing as he was at the moment of how his day had been. "Well, at least me and Pete at least have spring break to look forward to, eh, buddy?" He gave Peter a subtley violent nudge with his elbow;Parker hastily nodded.
Norman frowned at his son." It wasn't you I asked, Harold." he said coolly. Harry's smile faltered; he glared at Peter as though it were he that had insulted him. The orphan's throat suddenly felt rather dry.
"It--it was fine," Peter agreed quietly. The oldest gave him a concerned look.
"You sound sick. And your eyes are red! Son, what's the matter?"
"Nothing, sir." Peter muttered avoiding his eyes and slumping slightly as the car turned a corner. Unconvinced, Norman reached out a hand to touch his forehead. His hand was intercepted however by Harry. The boy caught his hand midway between Peter's flushed cheek, shocking all of them.
"He said he's fine." Harry spat coldly. "Don't touch him."
If was angry he didn't show it.
"You'll be okay, Pete." Harry said consolingly. "Just rest for a few days." He sat next to his friend on the bed. Peter cringed, too sore and weak to do anything more. He curled into himself, his stomach feeling as though something were trying to tear it open.
"Why?" he croaked, his throat scratchy from all the screaming he had done. "How could you Harry?"
"Some hot tea'll fix that sore throat up real nice." came the answer. "Here, put on these." Harry proffered some pajamas he'd found in a drawer he'd rummaged around in while Peter took a bath. He'd told his father that he'd stay at aunt May's until she and uncle Ben returned. He had to literally dress Peter as the orphan was just sitting there as though paralyzed. Osborn took all this in stride however and kept up a steady pace of conversation.
"I'll getya some of that meatloaf Aunt May left for you. That should be good, right? And the note said that you had to wash the dishes; I'll take care of that for you since you aren't feeling well. The food should be done in a few minutes--I'll go check."
And at last Peter was left alone.
He could've died; he felt filthy and contaminated--when he'd been in the shower he hadn't wanted to come out and had been dragged out by a beaming Harry. His insides burned; his body taken severe bruising and he felt exhausted but he couldn't sleep. The boy began to rock back and forth, burying himself into the blankets, ashamed to be seen, even by himself. This was all his fault...he should've told someone...now he couldn't tell anyone, not without revealing his faults. He must've done something to seduce Harry otherwise why would the man be so eager for him? Peter couldn't even cry anymore-he didn't deserve to. But Harry had to leave now!
"Open wide!" Harry burst into the room, a plate of hot food in his hand and a smile on his face. Seeing Peter buried under the covers though, his grin faltered. Setting the plate on the dresser near the bed, Osborn gave the hiding boy a quick nudge. When that earned him no response, he let out a soft sigh. Then, suddenly, he yanked the covers back and aggressively forced Peter into an upright position. The boy whimpered and he snatched him to his feet.
The pain in Peter's spine was unbearable; it felt as though someone were shoving a long rusty pipe into his rear end. He began to sob. Harry gave this no heed however and proceeded to force the point.
"Harry, please I can't!" Peter wailed, his legs crumpling beneath him. He recieved a cold smirk for his pleads.
"Oh, Pete, if you could see how pathetic you look right now! You weren't complaining before when you spread your legs for a whore for me a couple hours ago!" Harry's tone suddenly became harsh." Now sit your faggot ass down!" He shoved the shorter boy back onto the bed, a sharp, intense pain shooting up the boy's pain again. Peter whimpered and scampered under the blankets once more, flushing with embarassment. He was pathetic.
"Ah ah ah," Harry reprimanded wagging a finger. "Peter has to eat." He gently took the blankets off of his body and sat him up. Peter was given a chaste kiss on the cheek.
Peter saw no point in trying to resist.
How had he gotten into this situation? How had it come to this? All he could do at the moment was curl into a fetal position as the blows continuosly rained down on him.
Harry was screaming in his ear the broom serving as a belt on his bottom.
"Whore! Who else have you been fucking?! WAIT! DON'T TELL ME! IT WAS THAT FUCKING FLASH THOMPSON SON OF A BITCH WASN'T IT?! WASN'T IT?" Harry gave a particularly violent slam to Peter's legs; the boy yelped in pain. Harry snarled and grabbed Peter by the hair, forcing him into an upright position. "Answer me you fucking bitch! You fucking slut!"
"I don't know what you're talking about, I didn't sleep with anyone; I don't even know who you think I had sex with it!" Peter sobbed. Harry let out a roar of frustration and shoved the boy to the ground. He then sat on his bed and buried his head into his hands. They were at the Osborn home, in Harry's room alone. This was increasingly becoming the base of escapades such as this. He peered through his fingers to watch Peter rock back and forth.
"You can't think I like this, Pete." he mumbled. "I hate hurting you so much. It seems as though I die a little inside when you cry. But you just keep doing things that make me want to hurt you. It's not like I enjoy it. I'm not deranged."
Peter gave a quiet scoff. Harry smiled.
The taller patted his knee. "Come over here and prove you didn't fuck anyone else." Harry said huskily. "Let me show you how much better I am than those other men."
Peter's eyes widened. "No--I can't! We did it already, Harry!" he whined.
"You should've thought about that before you started looking at other men." was the response."Now the pants....take 'em off." Peter wavered for a moment, then grudgingly complied. That earned him a leering grin. "Now do me." Harry ordered. Peter rolled his eyes, then limped to the bed and collapsed onto his knees between Harry's long legs. He shuddered. Harry lifted the boy's chin and forced him to look into his eyes.
"I love you more than anyone else ever will. You remember that after I finish doing this." Harry kissed the boy passionately, then lifted his now too-thin body up onto his precumming member. It was delicious. Harry moaned as Peter screamed in agony. He wrapped his arm around thw boy's waist and began to harshly thrust upwards into him. The dominant began to rub his fingers around his gift's nipples, his tounge sliding up and down the boy's neck. His thrusts became more calculated and his fingers reached Peter's yelling mouth.
"Suck them." Harry breathed into his ear. Peter's lips tightened. Harry responded by hitting that sweet spot of his.
"Aaaaaagh!" Peter moaned in spite of himself. Sweat poured between their bodies. Harry snickered.
"You like it don't you?" he sneered. "You like it when I fuck you?"
Peter shook his head rapidly. "N-no. I don't !" he protested.
Harry began to viciously assault Peter's protaste in contempt. Peter was reduced to moaning and mewling in pleasure, despite his resolve to not enjoy it. Tears streamed down his eyes as the whorish moans issued from his mouth. His cock was hard. It was leaking. Harry was practically bouncing him up and down on his member. This time Peter sucked his fingers without protest. He finger-fucked his mouth soon fitting three digits in and out of his cavern. The bed creaked as the edge was covered in sweat of their activities and the cum f Parker's orgasm. Harry leaned back and collapsed onto the bed, grabbing onto Peter's hips, forcing him to ride him backwords, gettin a full view of Peter's ass. He let out a cruel laugh.
" I knew you liked it, you fucking lying cunt! You ride this shit like a fucking champion, baby!" Peter flushed. In a moment, harry's thick, warm semen filled him and the man jerked out, leaving a burning sensation in his rear.
Harry let out a few more satisfied chuckles, then shoved Peter off of him abruptly. He landed on the floor in a heap, in too much pain from the beating and the fucking to move. Already his vision was blurring into the bliss of unconscioussness. Harry stood up, pulling his pants back up and quite literally kicked Peter over onto his back. He gave him a leering grin and Peter whimpered.
"You shouldn't do that so much,Pete." Harry tsked. "You could have me fucking you for hours. But I guess a bitch like you would like that wouldn't you?"
Peter didn't answer.
Peter just wanted to melt into the ground and disappear.
"Fucking answer me you, bitch!!" Harry kicked him in the stomach causing the poor boy to retch. He wished he could say he didn't cave in. But he couldn't.
"Yes!" he sobbed.
"I'd let you fuck however long you wanted to! However long you needed!"
Harry frowned at him. "That's not what was asked. I asked if you'd like it."
Peter avoided eye contact. He wouldn't. He didn't. Even if he had hit that special spot of his. He couldn't. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he swallowed any pride he had left. He gave out a tentative nod.
Harry was upon him like lightning.
Harry's brown eyes looked into his blue ones. His face was blurry; Peter's vision was abominable without his glasses and it was dark besides. They were laying in the Osborn's bed and Harry was stroking his face, gently. A kiss was softly placed on his cheek and Harry rolled over seemingly pleased. Peter tried to go to sleep as well but he had a horrid headache. And anyway, his back was incredibly sore as well. But he had been stressed out all day and he needed to sleep to get away from it all. To get away from the man beside him. He hadn't been sleeping too well lately.
Peter had just about nodded off when he heard sniffling. At first, he believed he was hearing things because Harry Osborn just couldn't be crying. Not Harry Osborn! But as the sniffles turned into sobs it was evident that the man was crying. Sobbing. Peter was tempted to ingnore him. Let him suffer for a change. Let him see how it felt! But Peter had never been a cruel person and he didn't have it in him to start being one now.
"Harry?" he nudged the teen. "Harry? What's wrong?"
Harry swatted Peter's hand off of him in embarassment. "I thought you were asleep." he muttered.
"I was. Almost. But then I heard you crying."
Harry snorted up snot. "Yeah. Well." His composure fell and he began to sob louder than before. Peter, through lack of anything to say, wrapped his arms around him, burying his face into the taller's chest.
"There, there." he said consolingly.
"Oh God, Pete, he hates me! He fucking hates me!"
"Who, Harry?" Peter asked startled. Harry didn't usually get this upset over fights at school....
"My father!" he replied. "He thinks it's my fault mom died! And he never thinks I do anything right!"
"He doesn't think that."
"Yes, he fucking does! He spent the first twelve years of my life beating the shit out of me everytime I made a mistake, and he's tryna spend the next twelve keeping me out of every position short of a fucking janitor." Harry breathed heavily. "He cut me out of his will!"
Peter gaped at this. Even though Harry had done all those awful things to him, he still forgot those things for the moment to feel sorry for him.
"Well, then you can just get rich off your own talents. You're value will be twice as much.:"
"Fuck you, Pete. You hate me just as much as he does!"
"No I don't."
"So you love me?" Harry asked, eyebrows raised incredulous, knowing himself what kind of a person he was. "Seriously?"
Peter took a moment to answer that. Then, deciding it would prevent any beatings in the near future he gave a resigned nod. He had let Harry do every awful thing imaginable to him and didn't hate him. Somehow. But he wasn't sure if he had meant what he had just answered to.
(He wasn't sure if he didn't.)
"No, Harry, please don't!"
Harry's only reply was to tuck the blade under his tounge with a smirk and continue on his way, shutting the door behind him, leaving Peter chained tightly to the radiator in his basement. He was going to hurt MJ. And he could do nothing! He sobbed. He kicked. He yelled. He nearly pulled his arm out of it's socket tryin to rip it out of the chains. All he'd done was look at her! Look at her! And Harry had seen him. He was going to kill her. He pulled at his arm a final time and knocked himself on the head and passed out.
Day after day, Harry would send strands of MJ's red hair down to the basement and Peter cried. She was dead. He was sure of it. He wanted to be dead too.
When Harry finally let him up(because the boys' spring break "getaway" was over) he told Peter to take a long bath and that he'd have dinner ready by the time he got out he wanted him to look nice for their guest. Peter did as he was told. There was nothing worth living for anymore.
At 7:30 that night the doorbell rang. Peter was nudged from his slump on the couch to answer it.
It was Mary Jane her hair cut in a short bob. She looked beautiful. She giggled at his shocked face.
"Do you like it? Harry did it for me!" She did a dainty twirl. Then she stopped.
"Peter? Are you okay? You're pale! Peter?!"
His life was over. He was never going to get away from Harry's clutches now that Norman was dead and the will had been suddenly been modified so that Harry now owned all of Oscorp. The man's influence stretched too far now. It was over. Over. As Peter stood looking over the ede of the building he thought of all the things taken from him in such a short time. His aunt and uncle, murdered under mysterious circumstances by hitmen, after they had refused to send Peter over to /harry's home for another week. His freedom. His dignity. His love. But mostly, his will to live. He wanted to die so badly. The fall would be terrifying at first, but he guessed it wouldn't hurt for more than a very breif moment when he hit. There'd be a short, bright and blinding burst of pain and then he'd die.
It would be over. The pain would end. He would be free from Harry forever.
Just a short moment of pain.
It was starting to rain, fresh droplets landing on his face.
Peter turned and limped back downstairs into the building. It was getting cold.
You fucking love it!
He couldn't do it.
A/N: That was a fucking drag wasn't it? Not as good as the first one I don't think but...yeah. I wanted to leave the ending somewhat mysterious as to their exact feelings for each other but I'm pretty sure Peter doesn't like it. I'm thinking of writing a spinoff sequel to this where it depicts Peter's life with /harry and his eventual rescue from him. I wanted the hero to be Spiderman. Which of course will be AU because Peter isn't Spiderman in this universe--someone else is! Bum,bum,bum! That sound interesting? Hit me up if you think it is because I need to build up a pretty heavy fanbase before I get it off the ground. I may add just one more chapter in MJ's POv to get me in the mood. Please read and review!