Work Text:
“Come on out, Grace.” Titus hammers his fist against the glass door of the kitchen’s pantry, rattling it on its hinges. But the lock holds, keeping him safely on the other side of the glass, a dangerous animal locked away in the zoo. The only problem is, he’s not the only one out there.
Titus grabs Faith by the shoulder, rough hands shoving her up against the glass, her skull colliding with a loud crack. Faith cries out in pain, the blood on her face smearing against the surface as Titus holds her there, cheek squished against the door. He has her hands tied behind her back, shoulders straining in the uncomfortable position. She still fights him, even without a single advantage left.
“Come out or she dies.” Titus threatens as he did before. The same threat had brought Grace out of her hiding spot and back to the house. She hesitates, looking at the crazed man and then back to her sister. What’s to guarantee that he won’t kill her anyway? They don’t need Faith, she’s just a pawn that was placed on the board to complicate things. Titus only wins if he takes out the queen.
The Danforths only win if one of them kills Grace.
“That’s right, save yourself. Look out for yourself.” Titus taunts through her hesitation, grabbing a handful of Faith’s hair, using the grip to hold her against the glass even as she struggles and fights. Faith screams as he roughly tugs her into place. “Put yourself before everyone else, including your own fucking family.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Grace repeats with a shaky cry, trying to keep her eyes on Faith, to ignore Titus. He loses his leverage if he kills her. Maybe that will be enough to stay his hand. She presses her palm against the glass, hoping she’s calling his bluff.
Titus’ eyes go dark, realization of this stalemate settling into an eerie calm. “Fine. If you’re going to stay there until sunrise, at least let me help you kill the time with some entertainment.”
He pulls Faith away from the glass, taking her with him as he steps back towards the kitchen prep table, stopping when his backside hits the metal ledge. Faith twists and turns, screaming herself raw as he drags her back with him, keeping them in full view of where Grace remains locked in the pantry.
“Just remember. I could have made this quick.” his voice darkens as he shifts his grip from Faith’s hair to her throat. She sputters against the pressure, gasping for air. Grace watches as she tries to form words, to fight back with her tongue as much as she’s fighting with her body but Titus’ crushing grip steals them from her.
He squeezes harder, bringing Faith to an edge where she sees stars in her vision and then lets his hand relax. It’s enough to allow her air but not to set her free. She barely gets a full breath in before he shoves his other hand down the front of her jeans.
Now Faith finds her words, voice hoarse from screaming and the bruising pressure of Titus’ hand on her throat. “You sick fuck, get away from me!” she tries to pull from his grip but he uses both hands to hold her flush against him. Grace springs forward, slamming on the glass, fist pounding over where her sister’s blood stains the other side. “Let her go, you fucking creep!”
It only serves to encourage him, the echoed fight in both of them. He takes sick pleasure in taking what he’s being told he can’t have. Unceremoniously, he pushes his fingers past Faith’s underwear, roughly shoving two inside of her to the knuckle. His brows lift at how easily he’s able to slide in. “Already so wet for me.” he purrs into her ears as she cries out, pain turning to despair as he takes even more from her than he already has. Grace hammers on the glass again but it does nothing to stop him. Titus looks up, grinning. “I think your little sister likes being hunted.”
“Fuck you! Fuck you! Get away from me you fucking asshole.” with her hands tied behind her back, Faith has little defense against the man. There’s still so much fight left in her, even after all they’ve been through tonight, but she can’t slip his hold or get his hands off of her. Grace can’t help her either, all she can do is watch in horror as Titus claims her sister’s body with his hands, moving his fingers inside of her with brute force, letting her pull away a bit only so he can drive back into her.
“Go ahead, keep fighting.” he says, grabbing her by the jaw, keeping her facing forward so Grace can see the horror in her eyes as he pulls his hand back out of her jeans, fingers slick with her wetness.
“Stop.” Grace’s voice is too quiet, too small, as she watches Titus unbutton Faith’s jeans with the same fingers that have just violated her. He tugs at the zipper and then starts shoving them down her legs, leaving her in her stained white tank top and a black thong. The rumble from his pressed lips is one of approval as he slides his one arm around her middle, holding her secure as he reaches for his own zipper.
Faith knows what comes next and tears fill her eyes as the horror starts to sink in. It’s too much. Grace hasn’t called his bluff at all. He’s called hers.
“Stop!” she cries out, much louder this time. She slams her palm against the glass and holds in there. Her other hand is already reaching for the lock on the door, though she does not turn it yet. “Stop, please, I’ll come out, you can have me. Please stop, don’t hurt her.”
Titus pauses, hand resting on the waistband of his cargo pants. “Your life for hers?”
It’s just that simple.
“Yes.”
Grace does not hesitate, and neither does Titus.
“Deal.”
Grace didn’t know that striking a deal with the devil was so instantaneous. She expected more negotiations and games after all of this Mr. Le Bail shit but Titus accepts the simplicity of the exchange, shoving Faith away from him, down to the ground before stalking forward towards the pantry once more. Taking advantage of how close he gets, Grace quickly unlocks the door and throws it open towards his face. But he anticipates the attack and catches the side, quickly stepping back to throw it open further. She’s not even able to take a step out on her own before he’s grabbing her wrist and pulling her into the kitchen.
She’s in the lion’s cage now, the safety of the glass between them gone.
Titus pulls her forward to him with one hand, the other opening to catch her by the throat. The scream is choked out of her as he turns them and slams her down against the kitchen prep table, the metal clanging on impact. Half of her body hangs off the side of the table and he shoves himself between her legs, coming to lord over her as he places both of his hands around her neck. He drools like a dog, salivating as her pupils dilate and her vision blurs.
“Wait!” Faith cries out. But it’s less of a cry and more of a command. In her spotted vision, Grace sees her sister’s hand clasp over Titus’ shoulder as she steps up behind him. But when did she get her hands free from her binds?
Faith moves to the side so his larger body can’t completely block her, drawing Grace’s gaze, as well as Titus’. “I want her to know, before she dies.” Faith says.
Titus nods, his grip loosening enough that Grace is able to gulp back air, filling her deprived lungs once more. Her head sags, blurred vision only seeing the ground and Titus’ boots in fuzzy shapes.
“Anything you want, baby.” Grace’s head snaps up, tensing like a deer hearing the crack of a branch under a hunter’s boot. Had Titus just called Faith ‘baby’?
“Tie her up.” Faith commands, taking a step back to give Titus room to work. Grace struggles as he hauls her up off the table, trying to get her line of sight back on Faith but Titus is in the way. Grace pulls one way then the other, not even trying to get free any more, just trying to see past him. With swift execution he finds Faith’s discarded binds and uses them to tie Grace’s wrists to an exposed kitchen pipe. Thick, study, too strong to pull out of the wall. Not what Grace was hoping for.
When Titus finally steps out of the way, she finds Faith just standing there behind him, arms folded over her chest, looking triumphant.
“You really thought I’d just come running back to you because I was still your emergency contact?” Faith’s laugh is low and taunting, the kind of laugh that echoes in your head years later, a little voice in your head reminding you of how worthless you are. She tilts her head to the side, taking in Grace’s surprise, eating it up like it’s a full fucking continental breakfast.
“You really are a stupid bitch.”
“Faith.” Grace says her sister’s name but it feels like she’s speaking in a foreign language. It’s impossible to reconcile her sister with the woman that stands before her now, stripped down to minimal clothing, covered in blood, smiling even though she looks like she’s been in a fucking car crash. She’s not the girl that Grace had left behind, she’s not even the Faith that she was reunited with just hours ago, the one who had run through this resort with her, who hadn’t run when she was told. Faith had saved Grace again and again in the last few hours, only to damn her here. “Faith, you can’t do this. He’s a monster.”
Titus moves to stand at Faith’s side, his dark gaze cast down upon the younger woman. Like he’s waiting to see if Faith has changed her mind and agrees with Grace’s assessment. “Wrong.” Faith intones clearly, turning her gaze up to the man who stares down at her. She bites her lip, the action making Titus grin, his whole body swaying forward towards her. “He’s my god damned salvation.”
“More like Satan damned.” he corrects before taking Faith’s face in his hands, pulling her up to him for a bruising kiss. Grace screams in protest, fighting against her binds, seeking to break free and shake her sister out of this madness.
The guttural sounds of Grace’s screams are ignored completely as Titus claims Faith’s mouth with his, enjoying what he had previously feigned to take by force. Faith grabs at the material of his shirt, now pulling him to her instead of shoving him away. The only fight left now is a battle of their tongues and a shared need.
“Let’s finish our little show.” Titus suggests as he breaks the kiss. His hands shift down to her hips, pressing against exposed skin aside from the small strings of her thong. “Give her something to remember us by.” He guides her over to the edge of the work table, leaving Grace tied up on the other side. He’s set this up like the table is their stage, their play being set for this audience of one.
Hands still on Faith’s hips, Titus curls his fingers into the straps of her thong, moving down her body as he pulls the small undergarment down her legs. Grace watches in horror as her sister just stands there, stepping out of her underwear and widening her stance so Titus can kiss a hurried trail up the backs of her thighs. She no longer fights to be away from him, no longer recoils from his touch. She tilts her head to the side, watching as Grace takes it all in. The look invites a comment but Grace finds herself speechless.
Titus kisses his way from ankle to shoulder blade. When he stands to full height once more he presses up against Faith, the steel prep table rattling as her body meets the edge. Strong hands slide over her bloodied white tank. As he reaches her breasts, Titus squeezes each in his palms, gathering handfuls of material that he then proceeds to rip off of her, leaving her in nothing but a plain red bra.
Grace squeezes her eyes shut, trying to save herself the sight of her sister’s betrayal. But she hears it all the same. The slide of Titus’ zipper, pants shoved down off his hips. His lips pressing against skin again, frantic wet kisses earning an unholy moan from Faith’s lips. Hands slammed down on the metal tabletop, the screech of metal legs against the floor.
“Take me, I’m yours.” Grace hears Faith say, and she knows it’s for her more than Titus, a cruel confirmation from the little sister she has lost.
The next sounds are a horrific symphony of metal scraping and the slap of skin on skin. Titus groans as he sets a relentless pace from the get go, fucking Faith hard against the prep table. Grace squeezes her eyes shut tighter, desperate to will her imagination to cease. She does not even want to picture the scene in front of her.
“Open your eyes Grace.” Titus growls low. There’s a jolt of something slamming against the top of the counter. Grace can’t help herself, she looks to see what it is. She keeps her eyes focused down, trying to ignore the scene in the background, looking only long enough to spot the silver hunting knife he’s placed in front of Faith’s left hand.
Grace squeezes her eyes shut again, instantly earning Titus’ disapproval. “Ah, ah, ah, open them back up and look at us.” Titus demands. Grace shakes her head, turning her face away as if having her eyes shut is not nearly enough. It’s not. The shadows of them still dance beyond her vision, crafted from the sounds that won’t stop. Faith gasps out a moan that has Grace rubbing her wrists raw in her bonds just from trying to twist away more fully.
Titus slams his hand against the metal table, the blade rattling with the nearby impact. “Open your eyes or I’ll open them for you.”
The threat holds the weight of that sharpened blade, and though Grace knows she’ll be dead soon enough, she cannot stand the thought of any more pain. She opens her eyes, gaze finding a spot on the table that she can put her focus on. The reflective surface is a damn curse she wasn’t expecting, the blurred visage of her sister being thrust into painting the picture in her head with more colour.
But Titus wants her to see more than just the primary hues, he wants it vibrant and full, stamped into her brain in permanent ink. Even if that brain has so little time left. One of his hands leaves Faith’s hips, pressing himself flush against her back to reach for the knife. Grace raises her gaze to them before Titus can take a pause to come cut off her eyelids. The reflection fills in as Grace takes them both in.
Her sister has planted her hands against the steel prep table, pressing so hard that her palm prints will need to be wiped away from the surface. She bends at the waist, abdomen thrust against the table’s edge with every hard, relentless thrust from behind. Titus grips Faith’s hip in one hand, holding her steady, as the other now lays over the handle of the hunter’s knife. Grace wants to vomit at the image of the two of them and instead lets out a pained sob.
“See how well I take care of our little Faith?” Titus grins as envelopes Faith with more of his body, looming overtop of her so he can rock deeper into her, claiming her with every thrust. Grace watches as his wicked smile is hidden against Faith’s shoulder, opening to scrape his teeth against her skin. Faith cries out as he bites down, writhing beneath him, pushing back as if there’s any more of him to take. Grace looks at her sister, looking for fear and disgust, looking for some sign that she doesn’t want this.
But when Faith meets her gaze, her lips pull in together, a wicked smile forming.
“Stop, please, stop.” Grace begs, not sure who she is asking this of. If it’s Faith, it’s no use. She pushes back against Titus, meeting his thrusts while also getting him to straighten up. Her hands leave the table, reaching up over her head, fingers threading in his hair.
Titus follows, the hand over the blade now grasping the handle, pulling it back with him. He slides the dull edge over Faith’s abdomen, up under her breasts, teasing her with the cool metal as he thrusts into her from behind. His other hand smooths down over her hip, palm slid under her thigh, guiding her knee and calf up onto the tabletop, giving himself a deeper angle.
“Fuck.” Faith moans in approval as he thrusts deep, burying himself inside of her once more. He drops the knife back to the table, a flattened palm replacing it on her skin, pulling her back towards him as if he hasn’t claimed enough of her. He slides his hand down her torso until his fingers find her clit, rough circles building up her pleasure. Faith cries out yes repeatedly like she’s starting some ritual, calling to their satanic gods.
“Faith, please.” Grace doesn’t know what else to do but continue to beg, to hope that the girl she left behind is still in there somewhere, that she’ll snap out of it and realized how fucked this is. “You don’t want this.”
That draws a laugh, cruel and pointed. “All I ever wanted was a family, Grace.” Faith spits her sister’s name out like it is poison. “You abandoned me so I had to build myself a new one. And we’re going to rule the fucking world.” She twists to look back to Titus, inviting his attention, his adoration, his obsession. He captures her lips in his once more, a hand on his jaw to keep her right where he wants her.
Right where she wants to be.
It is Faith that breaks the kiss this time, pressing against the hold Titus has on her so she can look back to Grace. She gets the last words in on bruised and bloodied lips. “Too bad you won’t be around to see it.”