Forsaken // { markson } ✅ COMPLETED

Chapter 2

Author's Note:

[ word count: 7,945w ]

Last chapter and those that are italicized are flashbacks.

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Even with eyes and body uncomfortably shifting because of fear, Mark remained wordless although he was practically carried like a sack of rice towards his room, thrown harshly on to the bed and immediately being tied with a rope to his metal bed posts. His arms were held down by a strong hand just above his tied wrists while his legs were spread with each ankle bruising against the rope because of his constant squirming. His heart was beating fast and his ears were ringing with every pump. His eyes were wide, too aware and too alert to his surroundings. He had never been in such a position before, not when the next thing that was about to happen is something new to him and surely disgusted him to no end.

He could feel hands roaming around his clothed body and he shivered at every touch. He did not like it. He hated it and there's absolutely nothing he could do about it when there are two people pinning him down on his own bed. It feels so different with Jackson. It was far from pleasant because he had a complete look at the others' faces. They wore business suits and looked like they were in their mid-40s. These men could be fathers now to adorable children. But he couldn't say for sure. All he knew was that these men are sickening.

"Don't worry, Mark," he cringed when the other purred on the mention of his name, the other's breath ghosting on his sensitive ears. He shut his eyes and moved his head to the side, away from the man hovering him. "Playing hard-to-get, eh? I'm sure you'll be moaning my name later," a tentative lick on his earlobe made him snap his eyes open and he smashed his head against the other while the latter groaned. "Shit, that hurts, you motherfucker!" A hand flew and made contact with his cheek with so much force, enough to twist his head to the side and his ears to ring louder. He could almost taste his blood at the tip of his tongue.

The one gripping his wrists gave his companion a reprimanding look. "John, be more careful with the merchandise. We don't want our boss to get mad at us."

John stood on his knees with his hand caressing the side of his head. "It was his fault. This asshole provoked me to hurt him. We should teach him his lesson," he stared down at Mark with complete hatred, like his ego was bruised and he's looking for revenge. But Mark didn't back down. He stared back with the same challenge in his eyes. John was about to swing his fist when the other held it with one hand. "What the fuck are you doing, Chris? Let go of my hand!"

"I just said that we should be careful with him, right? Why can't you follow the fucking orders?" Chris almost growled at the other and Mark could only watch in amusement. He should be afraid in such a situation because there wasn't anything that will give him any guarantee that he would be getting out of this trouble but he had been in so many life-threatening instances in his life that he's completely used to it even if a gun is pointed directly at his head. Thankfully, the two men weren't holding any dangerous weapons on them.

He could see how John thought about what Chris has said. He could see him lowering his fist just to be wrapped it around his neck. He tries to struggle free but the other could only chuckle darkly at his helpless state. "Alright, then I'll just teach you with another way." Mark squirmed until John had smashed their lips together rather cruelly because their teeth almost clashed against each other with John's tongue aggressively invading his mouth. The grip on his neck was getting tighter with each suck on his tongue and he almost wanted to puke at how filthy it was to be kissed with a man old enough to be his father.