A/N: I will be away this weekend, and my planned posting schedule would leave this story in a really bad place for a pause, so I'm speeding up the final editing to post daily this week.

This chapter and the next one are hard. Please proceed with caution.

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CHAPTER 3: The boy

They walked along a short hallway until John stopped by the solid oak door leading to one of the rooms.

"This is your suite for the night. There's a bathroom, of course, a mini-fridge with basic liquor cabinet and a stash of condoms and lubricants. If you need anything else, there's a phone connected directly to my office. Your date is cleaned up properly, of course."

Blaine shuddered inwardly. Proper clean-up meant enemas, which made sense and explained the time it took them to prepare the kid, but... Ugh. Let's add that to the list of humiliations the employees had to endure.

John smiled. "Let us enter and see if my choice is to your liking."

He opened the door with a key and invited Blaine in with a sweeping gesture.

The room was large and it had a huge bed. It was all Blaine noticed before his eyes fell on the boy kneeling on the floor with his head down. For a moment, he promptly lost his ability to process anything else.

John didn't even pause. "This is Toby. He will be your date tonight, unless you decide otherwise. You're lucky, too – he's sixteen and still untouched, a perfect little virgin. You get to be his first, and without additional payment. Let's call it your birthday present from us." He looked at the slight figure and added in a strict tone. "Toby, stand up so that your master can see you properly."

The boy startled, but didn't move, clearly paralyzed with fear. John came up to him, frowning, and with a harsh movement, reached out to grab him by the black leather collar on his neck. Blaine snapped back into coherence.

"Stop."

John looked at him, surprised, then smiled as comprehension dawned. "Oh, of course. No one touches your sub but you."

Blaine nodded stiffly and walked up to crouch by the boy. He prayed for his hand to remain steady as he gently tipped his face up. Pretending to take the moment to look at him and not just to calm himself, Blaine nodded at last.

"He's perfect. Thank you. You can leave us now."

"Of course. Enjoy your stay."

He could hear John's footsteps and the click of the door being shut, but Blaine's eyes never left Toby's face. He was beautiful, with perfect, pale skin stained with an intense blush, lean body, and a delicate, innocent face with light brown strands of mussed hair falling on his forehead. He looked like an angel robbed of his wings and thrown into this hellhole. The surge of protectiveness that rushed through Blaine's body was something he hadn't really felt that intensely, well, possibly ever.

The boy's eyes were exquisite – blue and green and grey like a swirl of sea water, and looking right at Blaine, wide and terrified. It was a picture so heartbreaking that all Blaine wanted to do was tell him that everything would be alright, that he'd find a way to save him, to take him out of here. And he would save him, he promised himself, and soon – that's why he was here. If everything went according to plan, this place would be shut down within days, at most. It was Blaine's job to make sure they had all the necessary evidence.

Except he couldn't tell Toby about it. Any rumor, any change of behavior, sign of anything being different and the people running the brothel would get suspicious, which would be a danger not just to the operation, but to all of the kids kept here as well. The FBI already had several dead bodies that were most likely connected to this group. They couldn't risk adding more.

Blaine just had to stay in character.

But who said Matt couldn't secretly despise his godfather's idea? When creating this persona, filling it with quirks and details, Blaine had decided that his character only acted out to punish his family for not accepting him, but inside, he was a good kid, if spoiled rotten. Matt might have slept with younger boys, but they had always wanted it – at least at that time. He wasn't comfortable with the idea of simply using other people, especially when he had serious doubts about their consent, like he had here. So Matt had accepted the gift, because he didn't want to lose his godfather's approval, but he'd never intended to act on it. He planned to just spend the night here, maybe talk a little with the boy he was given, and then go home in the morning, to preen and tell his badass friends about his adventure.

And that was exactly what Blaine was going to do.

Still crouching on the floor, he dropped his hand from the boy's chin.

"Toby, could you sit on the bed? Please?"

He received the tiniest of nods in response. "Yes, Sir."

Blaine straightened up and shook his head quickly. "No, please don't call me that."

The boy was standing now and Blaine had to admit that he really was perfect. Tall, a bit taller than Blaine, and lean, his body proportional and well toned in simple, close-fitting black pants and a snug black top. His voice was quiet when he spoke.

"What should I call you then?"

"B– um, Matt. Just call me Matt."

"Okay." Gingerly, Toby sat down on the very edge of the bed. He took a deep breath and asked, looking down at his knees. "Matt. How may I serve you?"

There was an audible tremor in this voice, words choked out with difficulty, and Blaine hurried to reassure him.

"Oh, no, nonono, I don't want you to serve me at all! You don't have to do anything, I swear. I'm not going to hurt you, I won't even touch you. I... I had to come here, but I don't really want anything. I mean, I'll be here the whole night, so we can talk or something, but other than that –"

The look on Toby's face made him stop short. He was pretty sure there should be relief right now, not dread inching towards panic. This was the moment when the kid should relax and then slowly, Blaine could try to gain his trust and get as much information as possible. But maybe he didn't understand? Was he drugged? Slow, maybe? No, he didn't look slow, there was intelligence sparkling in his beautiful eyes. "Toby? Toby, I just said that I don't want to have sex. You can relax."

"No, you have to!" The words were blurted out, pleading. Blaine shook his head, confused, and Toby continued with wide eyes. "If you don't, I'll get punished for not doing what I'm supposed to do."

Oh. Of course, it made sense. Blaine smiled soothingly. "No, don't worry. I'll tell John that you were amazing, that I got exactly what I wanted."

But the boy was still shaking his head urgently. "You don't understand, he'll know. They... they check the rooms afterwards, and they will check me, too. To see if you... you know."

Toby looked like he wanted the earth to swallow him, the blush bright red on his face and down his neck, and for the first time today Blaine felt terror rise in his chest. Did it mean he'd have to... no, surely not, there had to be another option. He just needed to think calmly.

"What if I changed my mind and wanted, I don't know, just to look at you? Or touch you, without actual sex?"

"It would mean I wasn't good enough. It's my job to make you want me."

Shit. Don't freak out, Blaine. "What if... what if I couldn't get it up? It happens, right?"

Toby shook his head, sounding hopeless. "There are pills in the bathroom cabinet. I'm supposed to give them to you if it happens, and then seduce you. That's part of the job – to get the client there in any way possible. I... I'm new here, but I was specifically instructed about that."

Blaine was trying to think about anything else, any other way out of the situation, but he was coming up empty. There was no magical solution, no panic button to press. For a second he was certain that the team would burst in any minute now to extract him, because they heard it, right? And really, he couldn't be expected to do that. It changed everything!

But then, how could they... oh. Oh.

They knew.

They had to know. Bobby in particular had been undercover dozens of times. They knew. They had known before they sent him here. He was the only one who hadn't.

God, how could he have been so naïve?

The room swirled around him, his breath coming short and fast, not nearly enough air for his lungs, his heart speeding up in an uncontrolled staccato. He was trapped here. Undercover, without a chance to get out of this house and this game, and with a scared, teenage sex slave that he was supposed to deflower.

Oh god.

Panic hit him like a black wave of roiling water and it didn't matter that he was an adult man, law major, junior FBI agent in sex crimes department. It didn't matter that he'd seen crime scenes and autopsies, that he could deal with dead bodies, talk to victims and witnesses and grieving families. None of that had prepared him for this.

For being a rapist.

But then a cold hand touched Blaine's own and his eyes snapped wide open.

Toby was kneeling on the floor again, right in front of him, fear in his eyes substituted by a devastated look.

"Matt, is it... am I so ugly that you can't do it?"

Blaine felt some part of his brain return to its working state, but his fingers shook violently when he gently took the boy's hand. It was not the kid's fault, damn it, Blaine couldn't let him believe it was.

"God no, Toby, it's not that. You're really, really attractive. It's just... you don't want this, do you? You're not here because you chose to work for them." The stormy eyes escaped Blaine's look, and even without words, it was answer enough. "I can't do this – I can't imagine doing this to you without your consent. Especially... would it really be the first time for you?"

The nod was almost imperceptible, and Blaine had no doubt it was an honest answer.

Fuck.

The kid frowned and looked up at him, determined.

"But you have my consent."

"Only because you don't want to be punished. That's not consent, that's survival. How can a punishment be worse than this, anyway? Maybe it's just their way of keeping you in check? Empty threats?" He knew it was a futile hope – people like that never stopped at words. But he so badly wanted it to be true, to find a way out...

Toby sank his head and got up, taking his hand out of Blaine's. He turned his back to him and embraced his middle before he spoke.

"No. I shouldn't tell you this, but... one of the others, um. His client was unhappy with him yesterday. They took him last night, and brought him back hours later, naked and... and torn up, and beaten really badly. They said that's what the first and only warning looks like, the second failure means we're out, and I'm pretty sure they don't meant sent home. Philip... he's still unconscious most of the time, and coughing up blood when he's not, and no one will take him to the hospital. It's just..."

Blaine froze; there was another kid in this house that required immediate help. Toby turned to him, his eyes wet and terrified, but determined.

"I want to get out of here alive. I don't know when or how, but I need to survive until then. I don't know why you're here if not for the obvious, Matt, or why it feels like I can trust you, but please, please help me. I can do it, whatever you need from me, I know I can." Toby's words were frantic, his face pleading. "It's just sex. And you are young and good-looking, and you seem kind. It could be so much worse – it will be so much worse, otherwise. I'll have to go through this anyway, so... let it be you. Please."

Blaine's heart was shattering from utter helplessness. There was no good way out of here – the only choices were different levels of terrible. He knew that his team was out there and already aware of the urgency of the situation, but he doubted they'd manage to be here with a rescue mission before his twelve hours were over. He couldn't risk Toby's safety, his life. If the kid could brave the circumstances and do what he needed to do, Blaine could, too. He'd deal with the aftermath later.

Holding Toby's eyes, he nodded solemnly. "Okay. How?"

There were tears on the boy's beautiful face again, now that his fate was sealed. He looked so young and vulnerable, the burst of strength and determination from the moment ago gone, spent.

"I don't know. You're the client," he said in a small voice before sitting back on the bed with his face hidden in his hands.

Blaine closed his eyes and focused on centering himself. Toby was right – he was the adult here, the one who should know what to do. He couldn't expect a traumatized teenager to tell him how to hurt him so that it was the least severe. And no matter what the boy said, it would hurt him, take what no one could give back. It would change this kid forever, Blaine knew that – it always did, having your innocence taken by force; he'd seen what it does to people. And now he had to do it.

It wasn't a question of if anymore, only how – just how bad would this be for the boy, who may not really be sixteen, but couldn't be much older either. Blaine remembered himself at that age, his first times that had been slow and beautiful, and right. That he'd been ready for, that he'd experienced with a person he'd been in love with, at a time he'd chosen.

He couldn't give all of it to this beautiful boy whose place was in someone's loving arms and not in a brothel, but he could give him something. He could make this experience as good as it could be under these circumstances.

He called forth all his courage and strength, and his acting skills; he may feel like a helpless kid in the situation himself, but he was the adult. And Toby needed to believe that Blaine knew what he was doing, so that he could focus solely on surviving this night as unscathed as possible.

Blaine took off his glasses and vest, and set them on the small table close to the bed, careful to direct the cameras away from it. His team needed to hear everything, in case Toby revealed anything important, but they didn't have to see it. Any video could be used in court later, and if Blaine could spare Toby the trauma of having this night filmed, he would. Any shred of respect he could grant him counted.

Taking a deep breath, he walked towards the bed and took the boy's hand, pulling him up. Before he did anything, he needed to know.

"Toby, please tell me you're not really sixteen."

Toby shook his head. "No. I'm nineteen."

"Thank god."

Blaine may not have had a detailed plan ready in his head, but now that he forced himself to think calmly, he knew what he needed to do. John or someone else would interview Toby about this encounter in the morning, and check him and the room to see that he didn't lie. So Blaine had to create and act out a scenario that wouldn't be too traumatic and at the same time would be easy for the boy to report truthfully and for the people checking him to believe. It didn't matter what they'd think about Matt after he was gone. He could afford to be judged harshly – laughed at for being vanilla or a sentimental fool. He could afford to not live up to John's expectations of him.

Toby couldn't.

Next chapter: The deed