Authors Note: Made a few amendments to this chapter, nothing major.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

John couldn't help but think, once he came to, that really, Sherlock should have mentioned, alongside his habits of playing the violin and not speaking for days - "you'll get kidnapped so often you'll get used to it". He opened his eyes, but was greeted with darkness, and he now felt the blindfold wrapped around his head. Half a second later he also realised that he was naked, lying face down on a hard surface, and that his hands were tied above his head. Dread pooled in his stomach as he considered the possible reasons for this and he started pulling against his bonds. He drew a few deep breaths in an effort to calm himself, and stiffened as he heard a sound - he wasn't alone. Footsteps grew nearer, the rustle of cloth, another person breathing. He swallowed down the panic as he felt a hand ghost up his body, from his toes to the top of his head – fingertips brushing so lightly.

"What's going on?" he asked, but his question was met with silence. Then he heard more rustling of cloth, and realised with a sinking horror that the man was removing his own clothes. "Who are you, what are you doing?" he demanded, his voice betraying only a small hint of the terror he was feeling at the situation. The only reply was a tutting sound, and a hand pressed against his mouth. As the hand was removed he started to say something - anything - to make it clear he wasn't going to just obey, but was prevented as a mouth replaced the hand, tongue thrusting into his open mouth, hands grasping his hair, pulling painfully. He couldn't prevent the small sound of complaint from escaping. The man broke off suddenly, and ran his thumb across John's bottom lip. John flinched as he felt hot breath against his neck, and the hand still in his hair gave a yank. He heard the intake of breath as the man sniffed him, before kissing and nibbling at his collarbone. "Please, don't" John managed to get out, before the hand was back over his mouth, and the man leant down to whisper harshly in his ear "Hush". Just that, one word. John struggled even harder against the rope binding his wrists as the man moved his mouth down John's neck, and across his shoulders, kissing and biting as he went. John felt sick as he realised he was being marked. As soon as the hand over his mouth was removed he shouted "Stop, don't do this!", trying his best to move away from the man, but not succeeding in getting very far. His head jerked to the side as the man cuffed him, blackness creeping into his vision momentarily, as he was stunned by the force of the blow. He didn't have time to recover before he was hit again, and for a while he couldn't focus on anything. When he finally came back to himself, the man was running his hands over John's lower back as his mouth kissed and bit John's shoulder. There was cloth in his mouth, something soft, tasting vaguely of washing powder, and another strip of something tied round to keep it in place.

The panic hit him with force the moment he felt those unwelcome fingers trail down between his buttocks. His vision tunnelled and he thrashed as much as he could in his restraints. The gag prevented him from shouting, but it couldn't stop the keening noise he was only partially aware he was making. But his struggles and wordless complaints did nothing to stop the man currently violating him with his fingers. Part of John knew he should stop resisting, should relax as much as he could to avoid serious injury, and he tried, stilling momentarily, but when the man withdrew his fingers, and he felt the blunt head of his cock press against him, that sane, rational part was drowned by the more primal urge to get the hell away now, the fight or flight response fuelled by adrenaline and completely useless to a man tied up like this. The horror and the fear and the vile itchy feeling of the man touching him, taking him, marking him was too much for his rational mind to take, he tensed and struggled the whole time, repeating the word no in his head over and over, prevented from screaming it out had to fight back the desire to vomit as he felt the man shudder to his end inside him, but couldn't prevent the whimper that left his throat as the man pulled out of him swiftly, he felt like he'd been split wide open. The next thing he felt was a needle in his neck, and he fell into blessed darkness.

Author's note: Reviews would be very welcome indeed.