Sinister Eccentricities by Penemuel Part 1 David Hume groaned and carefully opened one eye, shut it again as light stabbed harshly at his aching brain. Thoughts raced through his mind as he tried, unsuccessfully, to remember what had happened to him; how he came to be sprawled on a rich leather couch with his head threatening to explode... "Ah, Detective Hume. So good to have you join me again..." It was a male voice, quiet and dangerous -- one he recognized. He braved the light once more and saw that his suspicions had been correct. "*Collector* -- wonderful. Aren't you supposed to be on Luna? How did I get -- here? Wherever *here* is..." "You don't remember?" Collector asked, leaning back in his chair and raising an eyebrow questioningly. "Well, Detective, I'm sure you wouldn't believe *me*, no matter what I told you. After all, with the access I had until recently, I'm sure you suspect I've implanted some memories or taken some away..." "So you're claiming you haven't?" Hume asked, uncomfortably aware that Collector had sidestepped part of his question completely. He carefully sat up, praying that his head would just explode and get it over with... "As a matter of fact," Collector answered, "I have not tampered with your memory in any way." Hume nodded slowly and said, "Right. So, what about Luna; where am I, and how the hell did I get here? Make it good, because I'm just *not* in the mood for games." Collector leaned forward and picked up a carafe of water from the table before him, poured two glasses, then stood and picked one up. "Water?" He walked to Hume and offered the glass, which Hume accepted gratefully. "How's your head, Detective?" "It's killing me," Hume answered angrily, "now get on with it." Collector heaved a sigh and said, "You're in my apartment. From what I can tell, you were attacked in the street. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time..." Hume frowned up at him, squinting as the ceiling light behind Collector sent stabbing pains through his head again. Straining his memory to the breaking point, there was some vague recollection of an attack -- of someone trying to grab him; of a brief glimpse of a man dressed in black fatigues; of a sharp blow to the back of his head... "Okay," Hume rasped, pausing to clear his throat and sip some water. "The attack I kinda remember...But you honestly expect me to believe that you *just happened* to be driving by right then?" Collector shrugged and answered, "I already know there's nothing I can say to prove it to you, so why waste the time?" "Hell, it was probably one of your guys who did it, anyway," Hume muttered. "So why bring me *here*? Why not a hospital or the CPB?" "Well," Collector said quietly, "to tell you the truth, I've been wanting to talk to you -- in private -- I just took advantage of the situation." "I've got nothing to talk to you about," Hume said coldly, carefully standing and wincing as the throbbing moved to the back of his head. He probed gently at the back of his head, gasping sharply as he found a large, tender bump. "Well, at least you're not lying about *that*..." Collector smiled slightly and said, "I'm not lying about *any* of it..." Then the smile faded as he saw the colour drain from Hume's face. "Perhaps you should sit down again. *Would* you like me to call a doctor to look at that?" Hume looked at him blankly, then shook his head slowly, and sat down again. "Uh...*no*. Thanks. I'd just prefer to go home -- call my partner." "Actually, Detective, that's what I wanted to talk to you about..." Collector said, seating himself next to Hume on the couch. "About my partner?" Hume sipped some more water and turned to study Collector, trying to control his reaction and not betray his sudden apprehension. "*What* about my partner?" "Have you learned anything further about him?" Collector asked, studying Hume's reactions. When Hume's gaze darted away, he allowed himself a brief moment of triumph. Then Hume looked back at him with new resolve, and asked, "You honestly think I would tell you if I had?" "But you're curious about him yourself, aren't you, Detective?" Collector asked softly. "You know he wasn't made by one of the corporations and you're worrying that some part of the government or military is involved..." His voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper, drawing Hume closer in order to hear what he said, "And you really can't trust him if you don't know what he can do...It must be difficult not being able to trust your own partner..." Hume drew back, his brow creased in indignant rage. "I trust him -- he's my partner! He saved my life on Mars--" "Mine, too, Detective. But that's just standard android programming. It could even be a ruse, to make you let your guard down." "Why would he -- or the government even -- want to do that, anyway? There's nothing I know or do that would be worth this kind of..." He abruptly calmed, looking up at Collector again. "Just *what* are you up to?" Collector ignored his question, instead asking, "Lieutenant Calley's been around a lot recently, hasn't he?" "So?" "So, why is the Assessors Office watching you, Detective? Your partner came to the CPB through them, didn't he?" Hume's lips compressed into a thin, hard line as the questions he had so recently asked were fired back at him by a man he considered an enemy. Collector smiled slightly, and observed, "So, you *have* been wondering about that." "It's none of your damned business, Collector. Now call my partner or get a car to take me home," Hume demanded, suddenly desperate to get out of there. A sense of foreboding settled over him as he realized Collector was sitting even closer than he had a moment before. "Perhaps, when your partner arrives, he would let me run some tests on him," Collector mused. "Somehow, I *don't* think so," Hume answered. "You just leave him alone and keep out of my business." "Are you *threatening* me, Detective?" Collector asked, only keeping the amusement from his tone with great effort. "I don't think you'd be able to stop me from doing whatever I want to him. Besides, he's just an android..." "If he was *just* an android," Hume said, standing again to put some distance between the two of them, "you wouldn't be after him." He downed the rest of the water, then turned and walked to Collector's desk to put the glass down. When he turned around, planning to repeat his earlier demand for a car; he gasped, finding Collector standing right there. His first thought was, _I must be worse off than I thought -- I never heard him move!_ which was rapidly followed by, _Something's very wrong here..._ "You're right, of course," Collector purred, taking a step even closer, "but then, if he were just an android, you would never be defending him like this..." Hume backed up, grunting quietly when he hit the solid wooden table. Belatedly, he realized he wasn't even armed, and Collector's cane was out of reach, leaning against the couch. _Something is really, *really* wrong..._ "So, Detective," Collector purred, "Just how far *are* you willing to go to protect your partner?" "Wha--?" The question came out as an incredulous squeak. Hume cleared his throat and tried again, "What?" "You heard me," Collector said, a slight edge entering his tone. "Is it that you don't understand the question?" With that, Collector edged closer again, stopping mere inches from Hume and staring into the pale eyes that regarded him with undisguised fear. He reveled in the power he held at that moment, smiled cruelly as Hume swallowed convulsively. "No-- no, I--" Hume tried to answer, his mind whirling as he grasped the full implications of the situation. "I understood the question -- I guess I just don't believe it..." "Then what's your answer, Detective?" Collector answered, breathing in Hume's scent and recognizing the sharp tang of his fear. "Will you do what I want, or should I invite your partner in for some experiments?" "But..." Hume protested, "I'm *married*." He realized just how stupid he sounded the instant the words were out of his mouth, but it was the look of *knowing* Collector gave him that really frightened him. "You're married *now*," Collector answered, "but there was that Deckard[1] fellow in school..." _How did he know about that?!_ Hume thought, but all he said was, "I was *sixteen*." Collector shrugged and murmured, "That doesn't really make a difference, Detective; You've had experience. So, what is your answer?" Hume took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment, trying to regain some control. He swallowed hard, then opened his eyes again and asked, "If I do as you ask, you promise you won't experiment on Farve?" Collector met his gaze and nodded. "No experiments -- I give you my word." "All right, then," Hume said, his voice little more than a whisper, "I'll do it." Collector smiled smugly and savoured the moment of conquest. He was fully aware of Hume's rapid respiration, of the thin sheen of sweat over the younger man's face, the vein in his neck throbbing with elevated pulse... The man's fear and apprehension was exhilarating -- he was going to *enjoy* this. He wasted no time, closing the final distance between them and pulling Hume tightly against him; rubbing hands roughly over the lean body, pausing to grasp the tight buttocks and squeeze. Hume gasped in his ear, and he could feel the beginning of a response where their groins were pressed together. "Ah, yes, Detective..." he purred, pulling back slightly to look at Hume again. "Come with me," he ordered, stepping back and closing a strong hand around Hume's wrist. "I should..." Hume started, his voice husky. "I should call Olivia, tell her I'm okay..." "I've already had a message sent to her telling her that you're fine and that you'll be home late," Collector said softly. Then the look in his eyes hardened and he ordered, "*Come*." Hume followed him, startled by the strength of the grip on his wrist. _I'm definitely in trouble,_ he thought, realizing that this wasn't going to just be a quick screw: Collector was getting aroused by the power he held, and he wasn't going to give that up quickly. Collector pulled Hume down the hall and stopped in front of a door, then he finally released his wrist and opened the door. "After you, Detective," Collector said with just enough menace that Hume obeyed without question. He knew exactly how dangerous the man was and how vulnerable he would soon be -- he *didn't* want to anger him unnecessarily. He stopped in front of the large bed, staring at the deep burgundy sheets and the sturdy head and footboards. When his gaze settled on what appeared to be a strong metal ring built into the headboard, his mouth went dry and his resolve faltered. The sound of the door closing and locking behind him made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. And then Collector's voice came from directly behind him, his breath warm on his ear. "Nervous, Detective?" Collector asked, wrapping powerful arms around him and pulling him close. He smiled, feeling the sudden intake of breath. One hand roved down to grab Hume's cock through his clothes; the other up to rub roughly over his ribs, sliding into his shirt to fondle a nipple. Hume gasped, his first instinct to fight -- to break away. He struggled to control that impulse, knowing that fighting would only make things worse -- both for himself *and* for Farve. Collector continued the rough fondling until he felt Hume beginning to tremble. The detective's cock was responding eagerly to his ministrations, and soon the younger man was actually leaning back against him and beginning to pant. Suddenly, cruelly, Collector released him and shoved him forward. As Hume caught himself and gasped for air, Collector kicked off his shoes, removed his jacket, and walked to the bed where he settled comfortably. Lounging back against the pillows, he ordered, "Strip for me, Detective." _Oh god..._ Hume thought, trying to calm his pounding heart. "I'm not--" Collector frowned and cut him off, "I'm not *expecting* a professional show, Detective, but *try* to make it interesting..." Hume nodded, not trusting his voice to answer. He toed off his shoes, knowing it would be better to get them out of the way first; then he took a deep breath and slid his tie from his collar. He tried not to feel self-conscious -- this had always seemed so easy to do for Olivia, but... Collector smiled and unconsciously licked his lips, watching hungrily as Hume unbuttoned his shirt and trousers, then unzipped his fly. Next, the detective pulled his shirt free of the waistband, and Collector caught a glimpse of close-fitting briefs -- deep blue, it looked like. Then Hume was shrugging out of his shirt, and Collector sighed at the fit, lean musculature. "Very nice, Detective," he said with a predatory smile. "And now the trousers, please..." Hume repressed a shiver, thinking, _He's *not* going to let me forget that it's him and not Olivia..._ But, he had no choice but to continue, so he lowered his trousers and stepped out of them, feeling the colour rise in his cheeks as Collector made an appreciative noise and moved into a more comfortable position on the bed. The black socks were next, and then Hume was naked before him except for his deep blue briefs. Collector smiled hungrily and said, "Those, too, Detective..." _Oh god...Farve, you owe me,_ Hume thought, a tiny voice in the back of his mind wondering why he was doing this for an android. He silenced that voice viciously, thinking _Because he's my *partner*, and android or not, I can't let Collector hurt him!_ He refused to entertain the thought of any alternative reasons... Steeling himself, he removed the briefs; freeing his cock which was far from erect, but not entirely flaccid. Blushing crimson now, and more embarrassed because he was blushing, he shivered in the cool air of the room. "Very nice, Detective," Collector purred, his pupils dilated with desire. He licked his lips again and patted the bed beside him. "Join me on the bed -- I guarantee you won't be cold for long." Hume obeyed numbly, climbing onto the bed across Collector's legs, realizing the older man was still completely dressed. _More power games..._ He lay back against the pillows, making sure he didn't hurt the bruise on the back of his head. Collector turned toward him and asked, "Are you all right, Detective?" Hume swallowed and nodded. "As all right as I can be, I guess," he answered. Collector nodded and said, "Good," and Hume's impression was that it wouldn't matter *what* his answer was. The older man was still completely dressed but Hume could see his erection straining against the tailored trousers. He expected Collector to order him to undress him, but instead the older man propped himself up on one elbow and reached over to caress his hip. Hume gasped at the contact, his body tensing involuntarily. As Collector began to caress him, though, he found tense muscles relaxing -- much to his unease. Collector's hand was very warm, his skin very soft. As his hand slid down to squeeze a butt cheek, Hume moaned softly; although he silenced himself the instant he realized the noise had come from him. Collector chuckled and said, "Go ahead, Detective, enjoy it. Things will go much better -- for *all* involved -- that way." Hume shivered, knowing that the whole situation was wrong, but as Collector continued his caresses he found himself relaxing into it anyway. By the time the older man's hand closed around his cock, he was fully aroused. Collector leaned closer, nuzzling his throat, then purred, "Yes -- your body remembers all of it, doesn't it. You've missed this kind of touch..." Hume moaned inarticulately and continued thrusting into his hand as Collector shifted on the bed. Hume opened his eyes to see him sitting up now; a flash of metal briefly visible in his hand. Then the attention to his cock intensified and he arched back, groaning. He raised one arm above his head, moaning slightly when Collector's free hand grasped his wrist-- Suddenly there was a metallic click and something heavy and solid around his wrist. Even as he tried to pull away, another click followed, and with a look of absolute horror, he remembered the metal loop in the headboard. Now one wrist was chained to that loop with old-fashioned metal handcuffs... "What the--?" "Don't be alarmed, Detective," Collector whispered, continuing the attention to Hume's cock. "I'm not about to injure you..." Hume tried to protest but his body seemed to have other ideas. Collector smiled triumphantly and said, "Yes -- that little spark of fear, the jolt of adrenaline...It can make things *most* interesting..." Hume's brain had shut down, his body in full control now, thrusting eagerly up into the tight hand manipulating him. And suddenly; abruptly, he reached the point of no return. He moaned loudly and came, his body arching up off the bed with the intensity of his orgasm. Collector chuckled softly and, once the spasms faded, released his cock. Then while Hume lay dazed and panting, he stood and quickly stripped off his clothes. It barely registered on Hume when Collector stood up -- that tiny voice in the back of his mind was screaming at him to escape *now*, but his body ignored it completely; instead soaking up the delicious lassitude that stole through his limbs. When Collector, now totally naked, returned to the bed, Hume's eyelids flickered and at first he thought the detective had fallen asleep. Then Collector laid a hand on Hume's far flank and pulled to roll him closer, and the pale eyes shot open in shock. "Interesting how readily you relax in my bed, Detective," Collector purred, moving into a more comfortable position next to him. He could see Hume's gaze settle on his erection, and smiled as a flicker of lust passed across the attractive face. Just as quickly it was gone, Hume once again trying to regain his composure. _No, I don't think so, Detective. I will make you scream your throat raw before this night is through..._ The hand on Hume's hip began to roam, up his side and over to toy with his nipples. Hume gasped at the touch, biting his lip as Collector gently pinched his nipples until they were both erect. When Collector bent to lick and nibble at them, he groaned and whispered, "No -- please..." Collector tugged gently on one erect nub with his teeth and chuckled deep in his throat. From the way Hume was pressing into the torture, 'no' meant anything but... Continuing to distract Hume with the nipple play, Collector slid his hand down the detective's back and squeezed a butt cheek. Hume moaned and pressed up against him again. Taking that as encouragement, Collector probed between Hume's asscheeks, fingering his anus. The detective moaned and shuddered against him, and he could feel the puckered opening twitch at his touch. _Oh yes,_ he thought, feeling Hume's cock begin to stiffen again. _You *have* missed this, haven't you..._ He worked the tip of his finger into the tight opening, then released the nipple he was tormenting, giving it a gentle lick before he pulled back. Hume looked up at him, pale eyes clouded with hunger, and tried to say something. When all that came out was a husky "What?" he cleared his throat and tried again. "What are you waiting for?" "No matter how badly you want to get fucked, Detective, these things should never be rushed," Collector answered, pulling his finger out of Hume and reaching over to the bedside table. As Collector reached over him, Hume took the time to study the older man. He was powerfully built and still quite fit -- Hume could see no actual injury or deformity so he suspected the cane was more of an affectation -- or a weapon. He was certain that Collector would be a formidable opponent in a hand-to-hand fight. However, they were not fighting now, and try as he might, Hume couldn't keep his eyes from roving back to Collector's impressive erection. The head was already glistening with precum, a small droplet leaking from the eye as he watched. He was horrified when he realized the hand reaching out to stroke the organ was his own. Collector hissed at the unexpected contact, then settled back and showed Hume the tube of lubricant he had retrieved. "I know it's been a while for you," he purred. "I wouldn't want the experience to be unpleasant..." Hume swallowed hard and nodded, uncomfortably acknowledging the fact that he was not *just* doing this for Farve...He watched as Collector lubricated his fingers, then lay, waiting, for things to resume. Collector smiled darkly, seeing Hume's surrender. _Oh yes..._ he thought, once again fingering Hume's anus. This time it was much easier, his finger sliding past the tight ring of muscles with little effort. Hume groaned and writhed against him and Collector leaned over him, whispered in his ear, "There's nothing quite like it, is there, Detective..." He eased the second finger in and continued, "And it's something you've really been missing..." He began to fuck Hume with his fingers, sliding almost all the way out and then pushing back in. He could feel the detective meeting each stroke eagerly; pressing back as he thrust in, reaching... Collector chuckled and said, "Calm down, Detective. I know what it is you're after. Good things come to those who wait..." He thrust deeper on the next stroke, pressing in to find Hume's prostate. Hume cried out as Collector's probing fingers hit the sensitive gland and pleasure tore through his body like an electric charge. At that moment, the remaining shreds of rational thought fled. He reached out with his free hand to stroke Collector anywhere he could reach, urging him on. Collector nodded and purred, "All right, calm down, Detective..." He withdrew his fingers and retrieved the lubricant; relishing the hunger in Hume's eyes as he used only a tiny amount to coat his erection. _Yes, Detective,_ he thought, _I want you to *remember* this experience..._ Then he sat up and ordered, "On your back, Detective." Mentally, he added, _I want to see the look in your lovely eyes..._ Once Hume was settled comfortably on his back, Collector moved to kneel between his thighs, knowing that Hume's hungry gaze was focused on the cock that was about to impale him. Hume raised his legs and with Collector's urging rested them against the older man's shoulders. Then Collector grasped Hume's hip with one hand and guided his cock to its target with the other. Hume groaned as Collector pressed forward, sliding in to the hilt in one devastating stroke. He knew he was lost; knew Collector could read in his face how he enjoyed and had missed this kind of sex -- and that Collector would use this information to his own advantage no matter what. And, for the moment, spitted on that rock hard cock, he knew he didn't really care. _Damn. Never knew I was that much of a slut..._ he thought. Then Collector leaned down over him and began to pump, and all thought fled once more. Collector started slowly, pulling nearly all the way out and then sliding smoothly back in, making certain to nudge Hume's prostate every time. The soft gasps and louder moans of pleasure coming from the detective all served to spur him on and his thrusts became harder and faster. Realizing the position was hard on Hume, Collector moved so that the detective's right leg slid down to wrap around his side. Adjusting his angle, Collector slammed into him hard, pleased to see the pale eyes widen in surprise as he slid that much deeper. Hume arched up into his brutal thrusts and groaned, giving himself completely over to sensation. The repeated assault to his prostate sent shudders of ecstasy through his entire body, making him helpless to do anything more than clutch at Collector and urge him on. His own erection was trapped between their bodies, throbbing *almost* painfully from the friction. As Collector grew even wilder, he knew he wouldn't even need to touch himself. The mingled pain and pleasure reached deep into his center and suddenly his body was exploding in pleasure so intense he screamed. That scream, and the pleasure glazing the pale eyes were all Collector needed. He thrust once more into his conquest and let himself cum, growling with the intensity of his own release. Hume was so beautiful helpless in the onslaught of pleasure, and his anal muscles clenched so tightly around the impaling cock as he shuddered in orgasm... As Hume's spasms faded, Collector withdrew and collapsed next to him on the bed, allowing him to straighten his legs. The detective groaned as he did so, eliciting a smug smile from Collector. They both lay quietly, catching their breath and allowing their heart rates to return to normal. Collector recovered first and rolled onto his side to study Hume. The detective was starting to doze, unaware that he was being watched, and Collector had to restrain the chuckle that rose in his throat. While Hume continued to relax, beginning to snore softly; Collector reached for an item on the bedside table. "Roll over, Detective," he whispered in the man's ear. When Hume did so without surfacing, a shiver of delight went through Collector. He raised the item he had taken from the table and brought it down on the exposed butt cheek. "Ouch!" Hume gasped, startled out of his light sleep by the sting of a short riding crop. He rolled back over and glowered accusingly at Collector. "What the *fuck* do you think you're doing?" "Whatever I want to, Detective," Collector purred. Hume swallowed hard, well aware that his captor's words were the absolute truth. Collector could do anything he wanted, and unless he was willing to risk Farve, he had to allow it. Then he realized that Collector was fingering the crop suggestively, and becoming aroused once more. _Jeez -- I thought it was supposed to take longer when you got older,_ he thought uncomfortably. "Lie on your stomach, Detective," Collector ordered. His tone was that of a man very accustomed to having people obey his every word; and Hume found himself doing just that, rolling onto his stomach. "Very good, Detective," Collector purred, using the tip of the crop to stroke up and down Hume's legs. Hume tried to restrain a shiver as he felt the tip of the crop flicking gently back and forth on his balls. He heard Collector chuckle and the crop left his skin for a moment. An instant later, Collector brought it down lightly on his buttocks. He yelped, much more from surprise than pain, and glowered back at Collector. The older man raised an eyebrow inquisitively, then, holding Hume's gaze brought the crop up and smacked him again. "Sonofabitch," Hume hissed, as Collector licked his lips and smiled appreciatively. "What's wrong, Detective?" Collector asked, raising the crop and smacking him again. This time there was more force behind the swing, and Hume's gasp was caused partially by pain. Feigning concern, Collector asked, "Was that too hard?" and then he brought the crop down across both buttocks, striking Hume on the fleshiest part of his rump. "I can't believe you're actually doing this," Hume murmured. He saw Collector slide his free hand down to his heavy cock and stroke it, then cried out as Collector smacked him yet again. He was horrified to see the older man becoming more aroused with every blow that fell. But even worse than that was the realization that the pain of each blow didn't last, instead melted into a lingering throb of heat that was gradually overwhelming him. "Endorphins, Detective," Collector murmured, seeing the shock in Hume's face as his body betrayed him, "the body's way of dealing with pain or extreme stress..." The blows from the crop continued to rain down on his buttocks, his thighs, his back; but now Hume was groaning and writhing every time the crop struck. He could hear Collector panting, realized that the older man was jacking off, as aroused by Hume's reaction as he was by wielding the crop itself. And he couldn't bring himself to stop what was happening, either... Ashamed, but painfully aroused, Hume reached down with his free hand and gripped his own swollen cock. "Oh yes," Collector hissed, seeing what he was doing. He reached deep for the concentration needed to continue the stinging blows as the detective masturbated. The sight of the younger man, totally lost to sensation, writhing and crying out and shooting his cum all over the bed was all he needed to send him over the edge, too. He brought the crop down one final time across Hume's rump, and let loose a roar as he came all over the beautiful body before him. The last thing that registered on Hume was Collector collapsing on the bed next to him, drenched in sweat and panting for air; and then darkness wrapped him in its embrace... To be continued in part 2 [1] I like to play what I call 'Fun with Names' -- anyone familiar with "Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep" or "Blade Runner" will recognize this name. Due to the timeframe of "Total Recall 2070" this obviously can't be the same Deckard, but possibly a decendant. Of course, that's if you believe Deckard was human and not a replicant, but that's a subject for some other time...Just think of Hume's Deckard as looking rather like a young Harrison Ford... Total Recall 2070 is (c) 1999 Alliance Television, TEAM Communications, PolyGram Television, and the Showtime cable network. Sinister Eccentricities is (c) 1999 Penemuel.