Dark as Pitch

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Draco twitched and groaned as the transport hit another bump, jolting his knees against the aluminum floor. He was leashed again and his ankles were cuffed together, so he couldn’t brace himself. They went around a corner and he felt himself sliding sideways.

He was kneeling on the ground, his naked ass pressed against his heels. He still had the shirt tied over his face and the metal bit in his mouth. Why hadn't Snape untied him? Why hadn't he arranged for transport through the flu? Why was he trussed and shipped like livestock in a cattle car?

He felt them come to a stop and the engine was cut. Draco straightened and peered sightlessly forward, hoping they'd come to Spinner's End. He flinched at the sound of a door opening close to his head, felt a rush of cold air. "That him?" someone said.

"That's the one to be dropped off here," replied another voice Draco didn't recognize. A strong hand curled around his jaw, lifting his face up. Fingers slipped into his mouth, curled his lip back, apparently to examine his teeth around the bit. One finger skimmed over his gums as he grunted helplessly, trying unsuccessfully to pull away. He could taste something those hands had apparently handled recently, something with a tang like onion.

"He's doing alright," said the man who was holding him, letting him go. Draco panted and tried to huddle back in a corner, but hands were grabbing at him, closing around his limbs. He was hauled out of the van, dangling helplessly between two sets of grip, his head hanging down as he was carried. Finally he was set down none-too-carefully on what felt like grass. He rolled on to his side, thankful to regain his bearings; up was the direction of the light he could make out through the blindfold. Down was the cool blades tickling against his face.

"Right," said Onion, "here we are. Do you want to wait with him or try pounding at the door?"

"I'll stay with him," said the other voice. Draco felt cool fingers trace up his thigh, pushing up the sheet he was dressed in. He twisted away from the touch.

"Don't try to start anything," said Onion, "this Hanover chap is around here somewhere. There's plenty of others in the truck."

"But I like this one."

Onions laughed. "Be good," he warned, apparently moving away.

"Be good," the Pervert mocked under his breath as Onions dropped out of earshot. "Sodding wanker." Hands caught the edge of the sheet and tugged it up, so Draco was exposed below the waist. He tried to squirm and found himself easily pinned - his face pressed firmly into the soft earth as he was turned onto his belly. His bound hands were used like a handle to keep him down.

The only sound he could make was his huffing breaths.

"Be good," said Pevert.

Fingers slipped between the cheeks of his ass, spreading him open. He heard a grunt of approval. Draco couldn't any leverage to push away, squirming uselessly in the dirt. He knew what Pervert must looking at, felt himself clenching and releasing under the scrutiny. He finally managed a soft sound, like a whine.

He waited.

Nothing happened. Pevert just held him spread open and helpless, occasionally stroking over his thigh with one finger, but nothing more intrusive followed.

"Oy! Rogers!" That was Onion, at some distance. "I've got Hanover here, if you want to bring the merchandise."

The grip on his wrists relaxed. The fingers on his cheeks relented. The sheet was pulled back down over him. "Up you go," said Pervert casually, hauling him to his feet. Draco felt an erection being rubbed against him momentarily, then he was being half-carried, half-dragged. "Right-o," Pervert called. "Got him here."

"Thank you," said Snape.

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