Matched Pt. 03

He could hear Elliot's breath becoming laboured now.

"Are you touching yourself?"

"Not yet sir," he breathed.

"Do it now," he ordered and Elliot moaned over the phone.

He knew the phone sex would not be enough to get him off, but he felt satisfaction at the idea of being able to at least satisfy Elliot's cravings even from miles away.

"Then I would move lower, and begin to gently tease you, my hand on your balls. It's so gentle that it makes you feel frustrated. Then just as you begin to relent, I will suck you deep and hard so that you moan. As I'm doing that my other hand is moving to your ass, lubing it with spit and precum. I turn you over and fuck you hard without any warning."

Elliot gasped down the phone, "oh I can feel it sir," he moaned.

He continued describing his fucking to Elliot until he gasped, "I'm close sir, don't stop."

"I fuck you deeper than ever before and cum deep inside you, as you cum at the same time."

He heard Elliot's telltale half grunt half moan and then a small embarrassed laugh.The embarrassment at the pleasure he had just experienced, the happiness coming out of him in a physical sound. It was music to his ears.

"Thank you that was incredible."

"Next time you will be back with me and it will be real."

"I hope so," he said, "I love you."

"I love you too, I think I will go to bed now. Speak tomorrow."

"Okay, goodnight."

*

It must have been 1am when Damien started awake again. The house was dark, but he heard loud noises from beneath him. Quickly dressing himself he used his phone as a torch as he left his room.

As he walked into the hall he found a shattered vase with water and flowers scattered over the tiled hall floor. The water reflected a shimmering light, as he padded down the stairs he saw the light in his study was on. Walking inside he found his father stood over his desk alone, his face shadowed.

"Father, what are you doing in here?" He asked. He saw piles of paperwork scattered on the floor, his glass whiskey decanter on its side, it's contents dripping onto the floor with a slow tap, tap, tap. He felt his chest fill with anger again.

"All my investments! You have sidelined them for this bloody dating app!" His father yelled.

"I've told you, it is making huge profits, I repay that by spending my time-"

"It's not about the profits. It's about your little boy toy, and don't pretend otherwise. You spend all your time there so you can be close to him. You even got him his job there for that reason didn't you?"

"Elliot needed a new job, I pulled strings. There's no foul play there."

"No foul play," he brandished the old newspaper which had featured his and Elliots relationship after the hacking earlier in the year. It still hurt to see those photos. "This! In national newspapers! The Parker name associated with... trash!"

"Take that back," he warned. "You do not talk about Elliot that way in front of me."

His father gave him a look of utmost disgust, "you repulse me. You are no son of mine."

"And you are no father to me," he snarled back, a bitter taste filling his mouth, "So just leave!"

"No, I will not just leave! You represent me here, in my house running my investments! You are sick in the head and I need to find someone prepared to fix you. God be willing they will take a retched boy like you."

"Enough!" He roared, "I'm tired of this. I am no longer a boy. You need to leave. That was the agreement made. Immediately! And I never want to see you anywhere near here again!"

"The way I look at it you've got three options." His father spat "The first option is you sign everything over to me, your investments, property, everything that is mine. I will let you keep your cash, but you start over, on your own not as Damien Parker wealthy spoilt child of Richard Parker, but as a common nobody."

Damien opened his mouth to argue but he spoke over him.

"Second option, you leave that boy behind you. You never speak to him or his family again. You go out of your way to defend the family honour, find a nice young girl. Marry her, make your mother happy with some grandchildren and follow my orders when it comes to your business decisions, ONLY."

Damien scoffed, both these options were ridiculous.

"Then thirdly. You ignore both of the above and carry on as you are, aware that I will do everything in my power to prevent this."

"Great, third choice it is," Damien said, moving towards the door. "You don't control my life father. There's nothing you can do to change how I feel about Elliot."

"Oh isn't there. Remember that I gave you a choice, won't you," he said maliciously as he threw the solid glass whiskey decanter at Damien's head before he had a chance to duck.

Chapter Six - Empty

Elliot

Elliot frowned at his phone. He had taken some annual leave to stay with his mum for a few days, under Damien's suggestion. But he felt a long way away up in Manchester and couldn't seem to sit still without having an uneasy twitchy feeling. He had texted Damien this morning, but it had been left unread. It wasn't like him to not reply, the last time he had done that was when the whole Matched hacking scandal had happened, he knew how pissed off Elliot had been and had been careful not to leave him unanswered again.

He wasn't overbearing he could understand Damien was a busy man, but he had sent the text at 8am in the morning, and now almost 12 hours later there was still no reply, no sign he had even been active on his phone. He called several times, but immediately his calls went to voicemail.

"I'm sure he's just busy with those parents of his," his mum consoled. "He'll reply."

But the evening ticked on. When it hit 11pm and still nothing he got panicky and called Harvey.

"Hey Harvey, look, I'm sorry to call late. But Damien isn't replying to any texts or calls. Have you heard anything? I'm getting worried."

"What? No I haven't spoken to him since Friday. Although it was our monthly shareholders meeting this morning. It's not compulsory to attend but it's not like Damien to do a no show without emailing in advance."

"Somethings wrong, I've had this bad feeling all day," Elliot muttered, running his hand up his neck, the hairs still stood up, he felt sick with worry, and nothing he could do would settle his nerves.

"Calm down, I'm sure his phone is just broken or something."

"No. He was worried, yesterday he told me his Dad was acting weird. What if he has done something?"

"His dad? What do you mean?"

Elliot explained the situation over the weekend and Harvey sighed.

"I knew Damien had a difficult relationship with his parents but...damn. Ok, how about if you haven't heard anything tomorrow, jump on the train to London and I'll meet you at the station, I have the afternoon available. Then we'll go over to the house and check everything is ok?"

Elliot breathed out, "yeah, okay. Thanks, that sounds like a plan."

The next day there was still nothing from Damien, and his mother finally relented that perhaps he should go and see what was going on. She drove him to the train station, and Elliot met Harvey at the other end still riddled with worry, his nails bitten to stubs. They drove towards the Estate and even before they pulled up Elliot knew there was something terribly wrong.

The house was shuttered, the curtains had all been drawn. When he knocked on the door there was no reply. Where was Hector? Or Mrs Crows? The house was never ever empty in all of Elliot's visits here.

"I think I know where he keeps an emergency key," Harvey said, running towards an outhouse and returning a few minutes later with a small brass key. "We were drunk, got locked out once... long story."

Elliot jumped up the steps two at a time and slid the lock into the door, with a rattle he heard a low click and flung open the door. Inside it was dark, and empty.

"Damien?" He called, but his voice only echoed in the silence. In desperate hope he searched the rooms one by one, but there was nothing. The only one that made him pause was the study.

There were papers everywhere, and on the floor there was a broken glass whiskey decanter, with a dark liquid stain around it. His eyes drifted to the desk and fell upon Damien's phone, he walked towards it and found all his messages unopened on the home screen. He frowned, turning around to look closer at the room. What had happened here? He saw all the papers around him and guessed that there must have been a quarrel about work between Damien and his father, he tried to imagine the scene. He imagined Damien running through the door angry, stopping in his tracks and conversing with his father. Elliot's eyes dropped to the decanter again smashed right in front of the doorway where his imaginary Damien had stood. He crouched to look at it closer, touching the stained carpet that was still damp and sticky, he lifted his fingers away and recoiled.

"Harvey," he called, feeling sick as he looked at the dark red stain on his fingertips. "Is this blood?"

Harvey ran into the room and his face turned pale.

"I'm calling the police right now," he said, dialling 999. An operator answered and he began talking quickly, walking away from Elliot back into the hall. "Hello, yes I would like to report a missing person..."

Elliot stayed rooted to the spot, his back pressed against the wall, his eyes glued to the darkly stained carpet. His legs gave way and he slid down to sit against the wall.

"Where are you Damien?" He whispered to himself.

Chapter Seven

Damien

He became aware first of pain. There was a throbbing in his temple as he awoke that seemed to be trying to break his skull in two. He opened his eyes and winced against the brightly lit room. He tried to lift his hand to his head, but felt pain shoot through his hand. He saw a canular in the back of his hand, the tube leading from it to a machine beside him. He lifted the other hand instead and felt thick bandages around his head.

He struggled to open his eyes for long, the light caused them to blur and spin, so he would shut them again until he regained his strength enough to keep the open fully. Slowly the room came into focus and he frowned. He was in what looked like a hospital room. It was clean and sanitary, and he lay in a hospital bed with metal bars either side.

His head throbbed, and he lay back against the pillows, falling in and out of consciousness. Had he been in an accident? He couldn't seem to put his finger on where he was or why he was there. What could have been a minute or maybe an hour later he heard noises and opened his eyes again.

A young male doctor was making notes on a clipboard at the end of his bed.

"Where am I?" He managed to slur out and the doctor looked up.

"Mr Parker, you're conscious at last, how are you feeling?"

"My head, it hurts," he moaned and the doctor nodded.

"You had a bad hit to the head but it's all bandaged up and healing nicely."

"Is this a hospital?"

"We're a clinic. We will explain more when you are fully rested."

They gave him some food and some drink which he worked through slowly and then left him to sleep.

It was an hour or so later, or maybe more, it was hard to tell, that the doctor came back and helped him into a sitting position. The doctor was talking but it was hard to focus on what he was saying.

"...we are a Christianity lead mental health clinic. We help people like you."

Damien scowled, "I don't understand. Is this because of my head? Was I in some kind of car accident?"

"No, no that was an unfortunate mishap, this is about you Damien. We're here to fix you."

A cold chill went down his spine, "I still don't know quite what you mean."

"Your father has paid an extortionate amount of money for a course of aversion therapy."

His head span. Aversion to what? Then it clicked. The mental illness they were referring to was his sexuality.

"No. No way, that's not even legal!"

"Oh I assure you t's very legal, and we have had so many successful patients move from here to have very healthy relationships with not only their lovers, but with God."

The doctor made a cross on his chest and Damien clenched his fists.

"I do not consent to this," he growled and the doctor blinked innocently.

"But you signed the contract," he said holding up a document with his signature on it.

"I didn't write that! It's forged!"

"Don't be silly Mr Parker, of course you wrote it. Because you know this is for your own good."

He tried to get out of the bed but the doctor pushed him down with ease. He felt weak, and the small amount of exertion made his head spin.

"Now then, since you're still a little weak I won't make you go to the chair. We will start our first session right here."

Before Damien could react the doctor took his wrist in a padded cuff and attached it to the bed.

"Get off!" He said as the doctor reached for his other wrist, flailing his arm around. But with one wrist already cuffed his movement was limited, and before he knew it both his wrists were restrained.

"Really it's for your own good, some people find the first time hard," the doctor smiled.

He moved a curtain by the bed revealing a large tv screen, and by that a mirror. He saw himself for the first time and felt dizzy. His head was covered in bandages, his clothes replaced by a simple hospital shift. Restrained in the bed he felt small and so out of control. He hated that feeling. He wondered if the mirror was just a mirror, or whether his father stood on the other side. He imagined him watching him, as helpless as a child, laughing.

The doctor fiddled with something behind him and he suddenly became aware of liquid travelling up towards the needle in his hand. It stopped just shy and the doctor came around to him again.

"Now, I'm going to give you something that will make you feel nauseous. You need to keep looking at that screen, if you can't do that I can have your head restrained and your eyes held open, but I don't think you'd like that too much. Here's a bucket, you may need it."

He put a plastic tub on Damien's chest, his right hand had just enough movement to hold it still. He knew the drug hadn't entered his system yet but he already felt sick.

The screen lit up with images of women, they flicked through in various states of undress. Nothing happened. He watched the images with minimal interest, more preoccupied by his own precarious position. Then it changed to a very handsome young man, he looked a bit like Elliot. His heart lurched. Elliot. In his unpleasant predicament he hadn't spared a thought. Where was he? Was he okay? Had they taken him too?

Suddenly a wave of pure nausea overwhelmed him driving all thought from his mind, he felt as if his whole stomach had done a somersault. His throat burned like acid was pouring down it.

"Keep looking at the screen," the doctor reminded him. He glanced back to see another image, this time a dark haired man in swim trunks. The next, a naked man, his penis in his hand.

He wretched into the bucket, shuddering. The waves of nausea kept coming and his eyes filled with tears of anger and pain.

"This is barbaric, it's never going to-" he broke off as he vomited again.

"Screen, or I will get the restraints,"

The doctor said. Growling an insult under his breath he looked up to see a familiar image. It was a photo of Elliot, it was from two nights ago. He had taken it when Elliot had knelt before him, blindfolded in his bedroom. As a keepsake for the next time they were separated.

"No!" He cried as the nausea hit him again and he shuddered more violently than ever as he vomited into the bucket.

After what felt like hours of assaulting his mind and body, an image of a woman returned. Almost in sync he felt a heady calm wave roll over him. A sweet taste filled his mouth and overtook the taste and smell of sick in his throat and nose. It felt nice, like lying in candyfloss.

Half conscious he struggled to keep his eyes on the screen and slowly they closed. His last thought was a silent prayer to Elliot.

'Please my love, help me.'

Chapter Eight - The Search

Elliot

Harvey came running towards him with his phone in hand

"It's Hector. He went to my house, Ella is with him."

Elliot took the phone, "Hello Hector, are you okay? What's happened?"

"I don't know Elliot. I wish I could tell you but all I know is that something bad has happened. All the staff in the house were dismissed by Damien over email in the middle of the night. He wouldn't do that, I've known Damien years, I trust him. He wouldn't let any of us go like that, not without a warning. Then when I go back to the house in the morning to see what was going on there was no sign of him."

"Yeah we're here now, Hector... there's blood in the study. He's hurting, I can feel it."

Anxiety and dread threatened to choke him. He desperately needed some sign of where to go next. But he couldn't pull himself away from the bloody patch on the carpet. He wanted to scream, but he knew that would be no use. He tried to emulate Damien, the way in the past he had been able to push his emotions to one side and focus on the task at hand in a crisis. Out the window he saw a police car pull up and Harvey begin talking to them urgently.

"You know it's his father don't you Elliot?" Hector said in a dark voice, "I was not a member of staff in the house when Damien was a boy, but I know people who were. They talk about that man. He was awful to him, to anyone who annoyed him. And Damien in the last few days has certainly annoyed him more than ever. I told him it was a bad idea to invite them back here. I think he hoped he could finally have the upper hand, but there is no such thing with that man in the house. He's dangerous."

"I know. I just have no idea where they are."

"If anyone can find him it's you. Let me give you my number in case you find anything..."

After getting off the phone with Hector, Elliot considered going out to join Harvey who was raising his voice in frustration.

"There's blood on the floor for crying out loud! You're saying that means nothing?"

He decided he had it covered and headed up the stairs towards the bedrooms again. This time however he went past Damien's room and headed straight for the room his parents had been staying in. He searched the room from top to bottom but it had been thoroughly cleared of any clue or hint of where they could have gone. He sat on the floor and put his head in his hands.

After all the chaos of the hacking he had hoped to never be parted from Damien again. But now this made the previous events seem nothing. At least then he had known he was safe, that he loved him, that he was... He couldn't bare to think it. His own father wouldn't have, would he? No. He was certain he was still alive, he could feel in his heart that he was out there somewhere.

He got to his feet, standing straight and brushing his tears away angrily. He had to be strong, he had to help him. Just as he was leaving the room he saw something just beyond the doorway in the hall. The antique dresser sat snuggly between the door and the opposite wall, a dark wood large piece of furniture that Elliot hadn't paid much attention to before. But at the foot he saw a hint of colour, something that could have fallen out of a bag in a hurry. Crouching down he reached under the dresser, retrieving a passport.

It belonged to Mr Parker. He wasn't going to get very far without this, which meant he still had to be in the country. It was a start.

*Two weeks later*

"You need to eat something, please Elliot" Ella begged but Elliot ignored her. He hadn't slept for days and had only eaten when Ella had managed to force or guilt trip him to. His eyes burned from strain as he gazed resolutely at the computer screen.