Title: Bitter Sweet Pain
Fandom: Land of the Dead
Pairing: Cholo/Kaufman, Cholo/Riley
Disclaimer: Not mine.
A/N: Pretty dark stuff, but I don't think it's too bad. Involves rape. The good guys shall triumph though, never fear. Set as if they'd never gone to Uniontown.
Summary: When Kaufman goes too far and rapes Cholo one night, Riley decides it's time to step in and help his second in command.
The fairly large box of documents that Cholo had been commissioned to collect and bring to his employer was heavy in the raven-haired man's arms as he stood calmly on the escalator, listening to the familiar hum of the machinery. He drummed his fingers on the cardboard for a moment, then stepped off the escalator and strolled down the hall, boots clicking on the linoleum as he walked.
When he arrived at the door to Kaufman's penthouse, he jerked his chin at the watchman, a coy smile playing upon his lips. The guard swiftly opened the door, ushering Cholo inside before firmly closing it behind him. A shiver danced down Cholo's spine for some reason he couldn't explain, and he hesitantly stepped further into the flat.
"Hey, boss." He called, voice echoing about the large, bright room. "I brought you those papers you wanted." Cholo said, striding over to the armchair where Kaufman was sitting.
The older man slowly stood and accepted the box, eyeing Cholo coldly. "I expected this sooner, Mr. DeMuro." He said stiffly.
"I know, sir, it's just I've been busy with all the other jobs you've given me, and-" Kaufman cut Cholo off by brushing him aside and making his way over to the mini-bar in the corner.
Cholo watched Kaufman as he poured them both drinks, adding some sort of white powder into one of them. "What's that?" Cholo inquired curiously, smoothing his hands over the front of his jacket.
"Just a little something I picked up yesterday. It makes the drink a lot more…suited to your tastes." Kaufman responded airily, motioning for Cholo to come towards him.
Cholo immediately obeyed, taking his drink and sipping from it eagerly. "Mmm. That is good, boss."
Kaufman smiled somewhat nastily. "You're welcome, Mr. DeMuro."
Cholo suddenly felt woozy. He took a step backwards as Kaufman's smile became a malevolent, mocking leer of triumph. Cholo stumbled slightly, the glass slipping from his fingers and shattering upon the floor. White lights flashing before his eyes, Cholo felt the ground drop out from beneath his feet as he swayed, then collapsed. Kaufman's smile brightened.
When Cholo came to, the first thing he realized was that he was naked. And in bed. A bed that wasn't his own. The next thing he realized was that there was someone in bed beside him. That person was also naked. It was Kaufman.
The other man was fast asleep, snoring loudly. Cholo's eyes widened and he unsteadily scooted away from his employer. The small movement set the muscles in his legs on fire. Cholo made a small noise of pain in the back of his throat at this new development, cringing back even further from Kaufman.
Slowly, his drug-hazed brain made the connection. Cholo realized that Kaufman, for his own nefarious purposes, had drugged and raped him. Bile rose in Cholo's throat as he frantically scrambled to get out of Kaufman's bed and find his clothes.
Each article of clothing was tossed onto the floor along with Kaufman's, and with each passing second Cholo felt sicker and sicker to his stomach, the pain in his legs and ass not helping. There was a bit of dried blood on the sheets and on the insides of his thighs, also indicating that Kaufman had been far from gentle with him.
Oh God, oh God, oh God, please no, please, oh God…Cholo thought as he hurriedly stepped into his jeans, discarding his boxers, which had been torn down the seam in Kaufman's haste to disrobe him.
Cholo struggled to pull his shirt over his head, then shrugged into his jacket. Being in the same vicinity of Kaufman became too much for Cholo, the room heavily scented with the musk of a man's release, and the dark-haired man uneasily made his way to the door. As he opened the door and stepped out of the penthouse, he felt his stomach lurch, and he promptly vomited all over the watchman's shoes. "Sorry." Cholo muttered hoarsely, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and stumbling barefoot down the stairs.
The guard stared after him, eyes wide, but Cholo paid no attention to him or any other person as he exited Fiddler's Green and stepped into the crisp morning air.