Title: In My Command

Author: Heuradys (Fox)

WARNING: Trying something new here, folks... This story is definitely not my usual... Nothing funny here, and we're so far from canon we need the Hubble to see it... I'd say it slides straight to AU a couple years after Rafe appears for the first time on TS. This part's most definitely NC-17 .

In fact, it's dark where we're headed, so I'm warning you already that there's gonna be some squickiness in these posts. If Evil!Jim offends thee... read no further... but keep in mind this is a *love* story in the end.

Thanks to SM & SH for giving me the guts to post this puppy... whether they want that thanks or not and thanks for the tremendous outpouring of feedback, everyone!!!

Without further ado, the dark and twisted side of 'adys presents

"Hey, Chief, I heard an interesting story tonight."  Jim leaned against the kitchen island with assumed nonchalance.  He let the cap from his beer fall with a gentle clatter on the tile.  He watched his roommate type a bit more on his laptop, sucking on a pen.

Blair grunted an inarticulate response, hit a few more keys, and turned a page in the thick book beside the computer.  "Yeah, man?  Sorry, I gotta finish this.  Can't talk now."  He turned to look at Jim.  "Just give me half an hour, okay?"  He turned back to his work, fingers hitting the keyboard instantly.

Jim let a tiny smile escape, spinning the bottle-cap on the counter.  "Why didn't you ever tell me that you and Rafe have history?"

The response he got was the response he expected.  The pen fell from Blair's mouth, his fingers fumbled the next batch of keystrokes producing nothing but gibberish, his pulse spiked, and he obfuscated.  "What are you talking about, man?  Rafe and I don't have any history that you don't know about."  He didn't turn to face Jim, just backspaced over the chaos in his document with trembling fingers.

Jim rounded the counter slowly, deliberately.  "Oh, I know about it now, Chief.  Imagine my surprise, will you?  He thought I already knew."

"Oh?"  Blair was frozen, but Jim could virtually hear the wheels turning in his head.

"Yeah." He brought his hands down on Blair's shoulders, squeezing just a little; just allowing a little menace to glint through his façade.

"What did he tell you?"  Jim listened to Blair's breath catch and hold, still hopeful.

"More than enough."

"Jim, I can be out of here in two hours.  Gone, out of your life."  Blair made to rise, still not looking at Jim.  Shame and resignation seemed to radiate out of him almost visibly.

~~~

He ignored the statement.  "Yeah, imagine my surprise."  He tightened his grip, and pushed him back down in the chair with a quiet chuckle.  "He's quite the storyteller, our Rafe.  The stakeout just flew by while he reminisced."

Blair's pulse was racing, not yet dangerously so.  "Jim –"

He slowly slid his hands towards Blair's throat, continuing in the same tone.  "Of course, I couldn't let him know that I'd never… sampled your myriad charms."

"Jim –" Blair tried to stand again, and Jim shoved him down more roughly.  "Ow!  Cut it out, man!"

One hand slipping behind his back for his cuffs, he held Blair's left shoulder nearly hard enough to bruise.  "I couldn't let him know that I didn't know that my roommate was bisexual."  He pulled Blair's left wrist through the slats of the back of the chair, slapped on the cuff, and did the same to the right before Blair could react.

"What the hell are you doing, man?"  Blair's voice was full of barely restrained panic, hoarse and strident.

He tugged on Blair's ponytail, keeping him from turning his head.  "I'm conducting an interrogation, Sandburg, and I can't have the suspect running away until I'm done with him."  He tugged harder, listening to the frightened gasp.  "Understand?"

He felt the difficult swallow and the tremor that shot through his guide.  "Jim, I'm –"

"Now, I wonder why my roommate never told me that.  Huh?  You have any ideas?"  He didn't give Blair a chance to answer, just clapped a hand over his mouth, and moved his head in a nod.  "Thought you would."

Blair was fighting the cuffs.  He slid his free hand into Blair's back pocket, pulled the Swiss Army knife past the struggling fingers.  "Looking for this?  Not going to help, Chief."  He let the knife fall to the table in front of the now definitely scared younger man.  "You're not getting out of this one that easily."

He could smell his fear, a very real stench.  Heady stuff, and he planned to make the most of it.  He'd never been the focus of it before, but the sensation of being in control of Blair's very existence was incredible.  He took a deep breath, reveling for a moment before continuing.

"Oh, yeah, you're not getting out of this one."

~~~

He grabbed the back of the chair and started pulling it into the kitchen.  Behind his palm, Blair emitted a muffled yelp.  Once the chair was situated satisfactorily, he reached into the bag he'd left on the counter when he'd arrived home.  His fingers found what he was looking for, and he grinned ferally.  He removed his hand from Blair's mouth.

"C'mon, man, you don't want to do this!  Whatever it is!  Just take the cuffs off and let me explain!  I'll answer any –"

"You bet your ass you will."  He placed the thick cloth over Blair's eyes, pulling it tight and knotting it under the ponytail.

"You've got to believe me!  I'm sorry, man, I'm really, really, sorry, okay?  I'm sorry I didn't tell you that I'm bi."

"Oh, you will be, Sandburg," he promised.  "By the time I get through with you, you're going to be."  He ran a length of rope through his fingers, allowing himself the luxury of another menacing chuckle.

Blair started to reason with him again.  "Just let me go, Jim, and we can talk like two –"

"Sorry, Chief, but we're going to do this my way."

He neatly fended off the kick that Blair attempted, and pinned one leg to the chair while he stripped the thick wool sock off the other foot.  He tied that ankle tightly to the chair-leg, and methodically repeated the process with the other leg.

"Uh…  Jim?"  A gulp.  "Please?  Please, let me go?"

"No."  He stood back, eyes running the length of the bound figure of his guide.

Blair fought against his bonds.  "I know you're mad, Jim, but you can't –"

"Shut up, or I'll shut you up."  He dropped the conversational tone completely, practically growling.

Blair's mouth snapped shut and his trembling increased.  Jim could see his visible effort to keep silent, and smiled.  He knew it wouldn't last, but he'd planned on that.

He picked up his beer, and took another long look at his captive.  He leaned against the counter, twirling the bottle in his hands.  Returning to his light, conversational tone, he went on with his 'interrogation'.  "So, I guess I have a bisexual roommate, Chief.  Shall I tell you the stories that Rafe told me about him?"

Blair's adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, biting his lower lip, but he didn't make a sound.

He took another sip of beer.  "Maybe later."  He walked over to the couch, flipped on the TV, and sat down.  Ignoring the set, he watched Blair instead.  Blair's breathing settled, eventually, into the deep rhythms of his relaxation exercises.  Every time Jim shifted slightly, the breathing would hitch, and the young man would fight to control it again.

~~~

"Jim?"

He checked the clock.  Half an hour of Blair's silence broken by that whisper.  Cat-silent, he was at Blair's side in a heartbeat, his hand wrapping around the other man's throat and exerting pressure.  "Bad move, Chief."  Blair's pulse fluttered under his fingers, and he was rewarded with a shocked, choking gasp.  "I warned you."

He released his grip, and Blair drew in a ragged breath.  Tears slipped past the blindfold, a burst of bitter salt filling Jim's sinuses.  "I'm sorry."  The apology was almost a sob.  "God, man, what do I have to do to convince you?"  Barest whisper.

Jim slammed his bottle on the counter, and Blair jerked violently.  He yanked the chef's knife and the sharpener out of the block, and watching Blair carefully, proceeded to hone the blade to an even better edge.

"Oh, God, please don't kill me, please don't kill me," the younger man pleaded.  More tears, more fear, more anguish filled the voice on each repetition of this new mantra.  His face was white, and his terror was palpable.

Jim set the knife silently on the counter, reached into the bag without rustling it, pulled out more cloth and a roll of duct tape.  He wadded the cloth, and reached out to grab the begging man's chin.  "Open your mouth," he ordered quietly.

Blair resisted, and he pressed the proper nerve bundle on his jaw.  His guide's mouth opened, and a whimper of pain came out.  He packed the wadded cloth into his mouth and layered the tape thickly, pleased by the small, muffled noises that were all Blair could manage.

He picked up the knife again, and starting at the left cuff of Blair's jeans, set about systematically cutting off the young man's clothes.  Blair flinched roughly at the first touch of the knife.  "I wouldn't do that if I were you, Sandburg.  I don't want to clean your blood of this floor."  Blair definitely heard the emphasis; his breath came in short, harsh pants through his nose and more tears soaked the blindfold.

Jim adjusted his erection, admiring the now naked form of his guide.  Blair was trying, quite unsuccessfully, to curl to protect himself.  Now, Jim told himself, it was time to make Blair truly sorry for the wasted years.  Time soon to replace the reek of fear with that of the arousal Blair was trying desperately to control.  First, though, to bring the terror to a delightful peak.

~~~

He traced Blair's lower jaw with one finger.  "You know, I don't understand why the two of you broke up.  Sounds like the sex was incredible, and you got along out of bed, too.  It couldn't be just because he's a cop."

He tasted Blair's tears from his fingertips.  "I know it wasn't because you met me, because the timing's off for that – as far as I can tell.  I couldn't pry, remember, because he thought I knew the whole story.  Must have been something drastic for him to… give up ownership of you so easily.  Rafe hates losing his toys."

Blair's heart skipped a beat, and Jim laughed, not feeling the least guilt about the lie he'd just told about Rafe.  Rafe deserved it.  "Oh, yeah, Sandburg.  Toys.  As in plural.  Is that why?"

His guide shook his head, the hair that had escaped from his ponytail floating in a nimbus around his head.  Angry, pained sounds emerged from his gagged mouth.

"No, that can't be it, can it?  Otherwise you'd have been more… considerate to all your lady friends.  Too bad for them.  They're going to miss your… attentions, I think."

He started to pace in a slow circle around Blair, watching him struggle fruitlessly.  His vulnerability was so damned enticing, but he was going to draw this out as long as possible.  Blair's attention was focused on him, head swiveling to follow the sounds he made.

Jim stroked himself through his jeans, grinning.  The boxers he'd worn on the stakeout were currently overfilling Blair's mouth.  Time for the next phase of this little operation.  Unbuckling his belt, he pulled it slowly from around his waist.

Blair's muffled shriek exhilarated him; his violent reaction to the touch of the leather as it was wrapped around his throat.  Blair's panic increased exponentially the tighter Jim drew the belt.  He pressed his fingers to the younger man's carotid, allowing the pressure there to send Blair into unconsciousness while letting him still think Jim was actually going to strangle him.

The vivid scent of Blair's urine filled the air as the young man went completely limp, and Jim grimaced.  An interruption of the plan, but not entirely unexpected.  He cleaned up the mess, and quickly unbound Blair from the chair, moving the still gagged and blindfolded form to the floor by the front door.  A quick check of his vitals revealed everything still okay.

He took a deep breath, ran upstairs to his bedroom, most of his attention still centered on the unconscious man below, and collected several items.  He grabbed the bag off the kitchen counter, tossing the new things into it – except for one.  Checking Blair's vitals again, he unfolded the large canvas duffel bag beside the pliable body of his guide.  Quietly and carefully he rolled Blair onto his stomach, taking a moment to appreciate the beautiful ass that was, he thought gleefully, all his.

He stroked, ever so gently, the line of Blair's spine, planting a tender kiss at the place where his shoulders met.  A quick misting of hairspray on Blair's hands, wrists, and ankles came next; the duct tape would still hold, but why risk unwanted damage to his…property?  He taped Blair's hands together tightly, and carefully lifted the young man's head and torso into the bag.  It would be a tight, uncomfortable fit, but it would work.  Jim grinned.  Blair's yoga would pay off in a way he probably never anticipated.  As he started to tape Blair's ankles to his wrists, Blair started to regain consciousness.

~~~

Nothing that a little pressure to the carotid wouldn't solve.

Satisfied that Blair wouldn't be returning to the real world for a while, he finished packing him into the duffel, zipping it entirely closed and slipping a small padlock through the holes in the two zippers.  He stood, pocketing the key.  He had a while before breathing would become impossible for the tightly bundled young man.

He walked to the bathroom, pried open the vent, and slipped in his arm.  There, just beyond the bend, his fingers found the key he was looking for.  "Knew you'd never look there, Chief.  Not that you'd figure out what this is for."  He chuckled and returned to the living room to turn off the TV.

Freezing with his finger on the on/off switch, he heard the footsteps in the hall and smelled the reek of Simon's cigars.  "Fuck."

Hoisting the dead weight of an unconscious, bound Blair Sandburg, he carried the bag quickly into Blair's room.  He deposited him on the floor, closed the doors, and managed to make it back to the front door before Simon could knock.

"Hey, Captain, what's up?"

"I was heading home, finally, and thought I'd drop off the Castleman file for you.  Since you forgot it."  The last was said pointedly.  "How'd the stakeout go?"  Simon pushed past Jim, thrusting the thick folder into his hand in passing.

"No show.  We're going back out tomorrow night.  He's got to show up by this weekend."

Simon nodded.  "Where's the kid?  I know he wasn't happy about being left out of this one."

Jim dropped the file beside Blair's still open laptop with its psychedelic screensaver running.  "He's out."  He chuckled to himself.  No dishonesty.  "He'll get over it, Simon.  He knows that he's far too recognizable in that neighborhood."

Simon asked him several more questions about a variety of cases he and Sandburg were working on.  While he answered, he kept his hearing on Blair's vitals.  The young man stirred briefly, but the dearth of air in the duffel sent him plummeting back into unconsciousness quickly.

Cursing Simon's persistence in staying, he faked a yawn.  "Sorry, sir, but you caught me right before bed."

Simon took the hint, and started for the door.  "Yeah, I should be leaving anyway.  Only two hours before I can't fake out my body.  Keep me updated, Jim."

"Will do, Simon."

He waited until he heard Simon's car pull away before going into Blair's room.  He unlocked the padlock, unzipping the bag just enough to allow a fresh air supply to the young man, and breathing a deep sigh of relief.  The last thing he wanted was for Blair to end up dead today.  "Alright, Chief, onto phase two of Operation Blair Torture."

He picked up the heavy bag after refastening the lock, and collected the other bag from the floor by the door.  Laughing quietly, he took the elevator down, and installed Blair on the floor of the truck.  They had quite a distance to travel.

~~~

Blair was a squirmy bundle in the duffel bag.  He'd regained consciousness fully when they were about two miles from their destination.  Jim pulled over to the highway's edge and threw the truck into park.  He focused his hearing on Blair's heartbeat, ignoring the panicked sounds, the violent struggles, and the scent of extreme terror.

With one hand stroking his trapped erection, he used the other to close the small gap in the zipper that was allowing Blair his fresh air.  Sharp, burning pleasure surged through him as his captive fought for breath, his body gradually going limp again.  "Oh, yeah, baby, you're all mine."

He started the truck again, heading for the turnoff to the winding gravel road which would take them to their destination.  There, Blair Sandburg, lying little slut, would learn just who he belonged to.  And who Rafe belonged to… on many occasions over the years.

Breathing deeply, he relished the scent of pine and fresh, mountain air.  Driving with the window down barely diluted the intoxicating scent of Sandburg.

Rounding the final turn, the headlights illuminated the smiling figure of Brian Rafe sitting on the porch of the remote cabin.  As Jim pulled to a stop, parked the truck, and turned off the lights, Rafe stood and stretched.  There was enough moonlight to show, to Jim's eyes, the delightful patches of bare flesh revealed through threadbare, skintight jeans.  A tight rusty brown T-shirt and a brown suede jacket topped off the outfit.  Jim licked his lips, opening the door, as Rafe cat-prowled toward the truck.

"Took you long enough, Ellison.  I thought you weren't going to show."

"Simon showed up with the Castleman file."  Jim stood, leaning against the truck.  "Ten minutes earlier, and I'd have had a lot of explaining to do.  Yes, sir, I've got Sandburg in bondage in the kitchen because he clogged the shower drain with all his hair again."  He snorted.  "And then I'm going to take him to the cabin and rape him.  That would go over really well."

Rafe's eyebrows drew together in a frown as he looked into the darkened truck.  "Where is he?"

Jim grabbed Rafe by a belt loop, pulling him to stand in front of him.  "Where he's going to stay until I'm ready to use him."

~~~

"Ready to use me?" Rafe asked, his voice husky and enticing as he rubbed his crotch against Jim's.  "Ready to punish me and make me bleed for you?"

Jim stilled him.  "You're more than ready aren't you?  Hmm?"

Rafe whispered, "It's been so long, Jim…  Too long."

Jim met Rafe's eyes, pleased by the raw need there.  It had been too long, he reflected.  Their on-again/off-again relationship would never pass the limits of lust and friendship, but he'd missed what Brian so willingly gave him.

He held Rafe's jaw in both of his palms, and kissed him fiercely.  Rafe kissed back just as strongly, moaning into Jim's mouth as Jim captured his tongue, biting, not hard, and holding it for several heartbeats.  Releasing him, Jim watched Rafe's eyes open.  "Missed me, huh?"

Jim's hand found Rafe's cock, stroking him lightly, and Rafe's breath caught.  "Yes, sir."

Turning to press Rafe against the truck, Jim chuckled low in his chest.  "Knees, now, Princess."

Without hesitation, Rafe dropped to his knees, not hiding a grimace of pain as they hit the sharp gravel.  The tears in the fabric left his knees bared, and Jim smiled at the clear evidence of Rafe's desire to be truly punished.  Rafe looked up at him through his lashes.  "Yes, sir."

Jim spread his legs a bit more, bracing himself against the truck, gripping the door, glancing for a second at the bag containing Blair before he looked back at Rafe.  "Zipper."

Carefully, wincing as his knees shifted, Rafe lowered Jim's zipper and awaited further instructions.

"Hands behind your head; I don't want to concuss you.  And spread your legs wider.  I want to see your jeans straining over your hard cock while I fuck your face.  Spread them 'til it hurts."  Moaning softly, Rafe obeyed, keeping his eyes on Jim's the entire time.  Jim enjoyed the sight, the soft sounds, the ease with which Rafe endured what had to be agony in his knees, the strain in his thighs.

"Open, Princess."

A louder moan, this time, and Rafe's eyes closed as his mouth opened.  Ordinarily Rafe was an expert cocksucker, but this time Jim didn't give him the chance to use those talents.  He used the other man's mouth almost brutally, keeping an ear on his vitals and choked sounds of pain, the repeated thudding of Rafe's head and hands against the door of the truck, but focussing almost entirely on his own pleasure and Blair's returning consciousness.

It didn't take him long to come, anticipating the rest of the day, shooting his load in Rafe's throat.

~~~

He stroked Rafe's hair absently as he pulled out of his mouth.  Zipping his pants, he strode to the passenger side of the truck, leaving the gasping, red-faced man kneeling where he was.  The crunch of the gravel under his feet went unheeded while he plotted the next event.  A thin smile touched his lips, and he opened the door.

Blair's struggle to escape stopped instantly when Jim touched his canvas prison.  "Good boy, Chief," Jim commented in the same light, conversational tone he'd used earlier.  "You're learning.  Fight, and you'll lose your breathing privileges again.  While I don't particularly care if you're conscious or not, I'm sure you're getting tired of it."

Blair squealed as Jim lifted the bag, and he chuckled.  "Just relax, Sandburg.  If you don't, I'll drop you."  Blair's heart rate slowed, just a little, just enough for Jim to know that the apparent relaxation was forced but there.

He picked up the other bag, slammed the door with his hip, and returned to Rafe.  Rafe's eyes got huge and his expression worried at the sight of the duffel.  "Not a word, Princess," Jim warned, "or you'll need hospitalization when I'm done with you."

Blair's false relaxation turned into bowstring taut tension at the revelation of someone else's presence and the severity of the threat directed toward Rafe.  Rafe bit his lip, and caught the smaller bag when Jim tossed it to him.

"Inside."

Ignoring Rafe again, he strode to the porch, setting his heavy burden carefully on the worn boards.

Jim's nostrils flared when Rafe stood and brushed the gravel from his knees.  Blood.  His own surged, starting to fill his cock again.  He turned to watch Rafe's progress, watching a narrow trickle of red seep from near Rafe's left kneecap to stain the well-worn denim.  He grabbed Rafe's arm as the other man passed, and Rafe gave a shudder, but remained silent, meeting his eyes with a smile that was a glorious combination of invitation and dread.

"You know what to do, Princess."

He waited, watching Rafe trying to make himself relax.  They'd not done this for months, and first blood always disturbed Rafe.  He chuckled quietly, enjoying the other man's discomfort.

Blair squirmed in the bag, and Jim shook it abruptly.  "Enough!"

Kneeling on the wooden porch on his unwounded knee, Rafe trailed his finger through the streak of blood, his breath coming in short gasps.  He raised his arm, not looking at Jim.

Jim grasped the offered wrist tightly, squeezing until Rafe looked up at him.  When he'd gotten the result he desired, he pulled the bloody finger to his lips.  Rafe made a quiet, whimpering sound, eyes locked on Jim's mouth, his pulse racing under Jim's fingers, and sighed, relaxing, as Jim's tongue delicately licked the blood away.

The iron-rich taste was wrong, just slightly.  A tang of tin.  "You've been drinking…" His grip tightened, and tears sprang into Rafe's eyes.

"Just one," he gasped, "and it was hours ago!  Don't send me home!"

Jim released him with a frown, disappointed with Rafe's use of liquid courage but pleased with Blair's sudden bout of trembling as he realized exactly who was with Jim.  A whiff of arousal that wasn't Rafe's or his own brought a chilly smile to his lips instead of the frown.  Rafe shook, obviously intuiting that the smile boded nothing good for him.

"Inside," Jim ordered again, thrusting the key into Rafe's hand.

~~~

While Rafe, inside, efficiently and automatically went about the duties expected of him, lighting a fire in the large hearth, turning on the generator, putting sheets on the bed, Jim set about extracting Blair from the bag he'd occupied for hours.  Fresh tears permeated the already soaked blindfold as Blair took his first truly unrestricted breath.

"Don't even twitch," Jim recommended.  He inspected the still bound form of his guide.  Blair was dripping with sweat, muscles trembling from the strain of the position he'd been forced to maintain for hours.  His hair had mostly escaped its ponytail, and with a chuckle Jim plucked the inefficient leather tie free.  He trailed the end of it along the ridge of Blair's spine, just barely touching the skin.  Blair's trembling increased, he whimpered faintly, but didn't fight.

"Good boy," Jim murmured, slipping his hand into his back pocket and pulling out a lock-blade knife.  Blair started violently at the click of the blade locking open beside his ear, and Jim pressed the back of the blade to Blair's throat, pressing lightly on the artery pulsing there.  "I told you not to twitch, Sandburg."

Blair stopped breathing, and Jim felt the strain as he held his breath.

He scraped the blade along the curve of Blair's chin, taking extreme care not to cut.  "Not *yet*.  Oh, not yet…" His voice sounded cold, even to himself.

He looked up at Rafe's harsh gasp.  Rafe stood in the still open doorway, just a few feet away, staring with wide, aroused eyes at Blair's bound figure and Jim.  Jim smiled inwardly.  Rafe was still under the mistaken illusion that Jim knew before that evening.  The younger man would soon know the truth, but only after earning it.  "Just what are you doing, Princess?  You know the drill."

Rafe flushed, turning away, hands already busy removing his jacket.  Jim watched him sternly until his shirt was off and he was folding it with shaky hands, then turned his attention back to Blair.

Quickly, he slit the tape binding Blair's ankles, wrists, and hands.  As he peeled it off, he knew that Blair was trying to gather his strength to fight.  He grinned; Blair would find out soon enough that the pain in his limbs would prevent it.  He pinned Blair's neck to the ground, gripping tightly there and around Blair's tape-marked wrists.  "There's nowhere to run to, Chief," he intimated, bending so his lips almost brushed Blair's ear.  "Nowhere you can hide that I can't find you.  We're hours from civilization, and I can do any damned thing I please.  Now, straighten your legs."

Blair started to lower his legs, stopping abruptly as the painful spasms started.  Jim kept him pinned, delighted by the tears, the noises of Blair's agony.  "Keep going," he ordered, tightening his grip as a counterpoint to the pain in Blair's legs.  It took quite a while, and when Blair was finally lying fully prone, he snatched the blindfold off, taking the few strands of hair caught in the knot with it.

Blair blinked at him, eyes full of pain, betrayal, and confusion.  More than a hint of anger.  Jim met those eyes unflinching, keeping his face expressionless. "I'll be inside with Brian.  For the time being, you're staying out here.  Don't remove the gag, or it will go very badly for you."

Blair shivered with more than pain and fear, and Jim let his expression soften.  "Cold?  Poor thing."  Blair's eyes shot venom at him, and Jim laughed callously.  "No matter," he said.  "There's only one place you can get warm, and until you accept that you're not going to try escaping, you're not getting that warmth."

Blair's heartbeat sped up, reflecting the inner struggle he was going through, and he eventually went limp in Jim's hands, meeting his eyes with an expression that implored him to bring him inside.

He released Blair completely, stood, and looked down at his prisoner.  "You say you're sorry.  You want forgiveness?"

Blair nodded weakly, closing his eyes.

Jim turned on his heels, and strode silently to the doorway.  He waited until Blair's eyes found him again before he spat, "Crawl for it," and went inside.

~~~~~

Another, stronger, scent of Blair's growing albeit reluctant arousal wafted around him, and he breathed it like an addict.

The inside of the cabin was significantly warmer, but his blood was heating him more than enough.  He crossed to the bed where Rafe lay naked, prone on the sheets that wouldn't be white for much longer, his face hidden by his folded arms, his shoulders shaking.  Lightly, very lightly, he trailed his fingers up Rafe's spine from the small of his back to the nape of his neck.  "Are you really ready for this, Brian?" he whispered.

Rafe's skin twitched under his fingers.  "I don't know," he murmured.  "God, Jim, what the two of you have…  It's absolutely amazing…  I couldn't give him that; I tried.  It's kind of intimidating that you can do it so well."

He tenderly brushed his lips over Rafe's earlobe, eliciting a shiver and a sigh from him.  "That's what you said earlier, too.  That why you drank tonight?  Hmm?  Suddenly shy of your needs?  Or is it performance anxiety?"  Still stroking Rafe's back gently, he sank his teeth deeply into the tender earlobe.  He grinned, not letting go, as Rafe tried to keep still.

When his earlobe was released, Rafe sighed again.  "I don't know, Jim.  I really don't."  The pounding of his heart could be attributed to excitement, arousal, fear, lying…  "You know I'm scared…  I love what you do to me, how you hurt me; you know that."  He rolled over to face Jim.  His eyes were glistening, but no tears streaked his cheeks.  "It's just…  It's just that he's never seen me like he will today, and I don't know if I can just take it without help, you know?"

Jim understood.  He nodded, and traced Rafe's lips with one finger.  "Oh, you'll take it," he promised, letting his voice grow sterner.  "But only after you give it to Blair."

Jim smiled when Rafe did.  "Oh, I can do that," Rafe said.  "It's the rest I can't deal with… by myself.  I need…" Rafe looked toward the doorway, falling silent.

Jim didn't bother.  He could hear Blair outside, still on the porch, his struggle between pride and fear and the cold continuing.  He made a silent wager with himself; Blair would be inside within five minutes.

He turned Rafe's face to his again with a tight hand on his jaw.  "What?  What do you need today?"  He kissed Rafe's eyes closed, tasting unshed tears and making them spill over.  Rafe's lips quivered, but he didn't speak.  "What do you need, Brian?" he prodded, stroking Rafe's chest.

"I…  I…  I need to… to be…  I need what Blair has… the help he has…" Rafe's eyes opened, and Jim felt his own heart flutter at the expression in them.  "I…"

"Tell me," Jim coaxed.

Brian's throat moved as he swallowed hard.  "I need to resist."  His voice dropped to a whisper so faint Jim wouldn't have heard it if he wasn't dialed up to listen to Blair.  "I need… to be… loved."

"I'll give you everything you need, Princess."  Rafe's lips parted to speak, and Jim pressed his finger against them to silence him.  "If you need to fight, to be gagged, to be restrained and raped, to bleed…" Brian trembled; Jim wrapped his free hand around Rafe's cock.  Rafe's breath caressed his finger in soft, quick bursts, and his heart rate sped.  "Instead of just spreading your thighs and taking it without a word, without struggle or protest, with the perfect submission you're capable of.  I'll give you that.  I'll scare the hell out of you, hurt you, punish you for your weakness…" As he spoke each word, he gradually tightened his grip until Rafe was whimpering.  "Treat you like the pain-slut you are…"

He licked the curl of Rafe's ear, covering Rafe's mouth with his palm and pinching his nostrils closed.  Rafe fought to breathe, and Jim bit his earlobe sharply before breathing, "I'll love you," into his ear.

He removed his fingers, claiming Rafe's mouth in a demanding kiss, relaxing his grip and stroking Rafe's cock.  Rafe arched into his grasp, utterly his, body and soul until they left the cabin.

"He's coming in," Jim murmured.  "It's show time."

~~~

He released Rafe, stood quickly, and got his breathing under control.  He stood between the bed and the door, listening to Rafe's harsh breaths even out and Blair's slow and very hesitant progress across the smooth, worn boards.  As Blair crawled through the doorway, looking down, tears splashing occasionally on his arms and the floor, and his face glowing red with humiliation, Jim moved with silent precision to close the door a hair's breadth behind him.

Blair froze, shaking, and his heartbeat leapt erratically as the heavy bolt slammed home.  "Hey, Chief," Jim said, "what took you so long?  Thought you hated the cold."  He chuckled a little, glancing at Rafe.  Rafe watched, licking his lips, his eyes hot.  Blair's trembling increased, but he didn't move.

"Kneel and look at me," Jim ordered, stepping in front of his guide.

Blair didn't; he curled in on himself, nearly going fetal.

Jim grabbed Blair's hair, tight, but close to the scalp, and yanked him up to his knees.  Blair's eyes were tightly closed, his forehead wrinkled in pain.  He didn't make a sound.

"I said," Jim hissed, "look at me."  He slapped Blair's face.  It felt strange, the impact of the tape on his fingers when he would have preferred striking skin.  Time enough for that later.

Blair's eyes shot open, and he blinked twice, looking at Jim with an unfocussed gaze.  Jim tugged hard on the handful of hair.  "I said at me, not through me.  Meet my eyes."

Jim tried very hard not to drown in the tears that steadily poured from Blair's eyes.  "Stop crying.  You're just embarrassing yourself in front of your ex-boyfriend," he sneered.  "Want to know what's going to happen next?  Hmm?"

Blair tried to shake his head, but Jim forced him to nod instead.  "Thought you wanted to earn forgiveness."

He snapped his fingers and kept his eyes locked on his captive's.  The soft sound of Rafe's bare feet as he padded towards them was almost overwhelmed by the thumping of Blair's heart.  "Brian's offered…  Well, I should be honest…  I asked him if he'd be interested in a couple hours with you, with his little fuck toy, since he missed you so much that way.  He offered to show me what he used to do to you, what you begged him for, slut.  I figure you owe me the entertainment, both of you, and since Brian did offer…  Why should I say no?  It saves me so much trouble to just let him hurt you, even if you get off on it."

He held Blair's head still for the thick, opaque latex blindfold Rafe held to be strapped into place by tightening his grip on Blair's hair and wrapping his other hand around Blair's throat.  Blair made panicked noises of denial, of protest, and both Jim and Rafe laughed.

"C'mon, Blair, for old time's sake," Rafe purred in Blair's ear as he worked a tiny padlock through the blindfold's buckle.  "It'll be fun.  I always wanted to fuck you with an audience."

Blair started to struggle again, trying to pull his hair out of Jim's grasp and hitting at him and Rafe with closed fists.  Jim casually avoided his hands, backhanding him across the face and letting go of his hair in one smooth motion.  Blair fell sideways, but didn't hit the floor.  Rafe caught him, holding him in an embrace that could only be considered tender.  The smile Rafe met Jim's eyes with could only be considered wicked.  Blair shuddered, tensing as his naked flesh collided with Rafe's and Rafe's cuffs latched around his wrists.

"I suggest you simply comply and try to get as much enjoyment as you can out of the experience, Chief, because I won't arrest him even if you insist he raped you.  Besides, the thought of that pretty mouth of yours wrapped around his dick… something about it appeals to me."

Brian's smile broadened, and he trailed a finger down Blair's forehead, his nose, and tapped the gag with his fingernail.  "Want this to come out?" he asked.  Blair nodded.  "It'll be replaced with my cock before you can say a word, slave."

Jim moved toward the fireplace, settling into one heavy, leather chair to watch the show.  Blair was still so reluctant, but his cock, twitching on his thigh, was saying 'yes' with every drop of precome that glistened in the firelight.

~~~

With his fingers, teeth, and tongue, Rafe teased Blair, and Blair tried ineffectually to resist him.  Holding the chain linking the cuffs in his left hand, he stroked Blair's inner thighs with his right, his nails leaving welts behind as Blair scooted backwards toward the bed.  Jim admired the way Rafe had gotten him turned around without him noticing, how he was skillfully arousing the unwilling younger man.  Blair's hands were still clenched in tight fists, and Jim unzipped his pants to start masturbating, groaning quietly, at the sight of Rafe forcing his tongue between the curled fingers.

This distracted Blair enough for Rafe to padlock another chain to the one connecting the cuffs.  Holding onto this makeshift leash, pinning Blair's hands to the floor, Brian sank his teeth deeply into the tendon on the right side of Blair's throat, biting hard enough to elicit a muffled scream.  He didn't do anything to soothe the bite that had to be incredibly painful, just licked his lips and picked up a collar that matched the blindfold.  Jim licked his lips, holding his breath.  Four inches wide, the collar would hold Blair's neck completely immobile and tilt his chin up into a perfect position to have his mouth fucked.

At the first touch of the stiff latex on his throat, Blair tried to back away, shaking his head frantically.  "Sssh, pet," Rafe purred.  "Just a pretty collar for my slave…" He jerked the chain hard, pulling Blair off balance.  Standing, he held the chain with his foot and captured Blair's tossing head between his knees.  He fastened the collar quickly, all three buckles, ignoring Blair's protests.

He let Blair go, allowing him to kneel up again, and looped the chain through the large ring on the front of the collar, attaching it with the clip of a heavy leather dog leash.  Blair's hands flexed desperately as he explored the limited range of motion he was allowed by this bondage.

Rafe petted his hair, just looking down at him affectionately while his breathing mellowed a bit, and then in a sudden move he lashed Blair's shoulders with the handle of the leash.  Blair jerked, crying out at the harsh, unexpected blow.

Jim watched the welt rise, squeezing the head of his cock, moaning at the pleasure of witnessing Blair's pain.  Five more strokes, five more welts.  He sighed, fighting the urge to come too quickly.

"You will behave," Rafe said quietly.  "This is going to happen, slave."

Blair's shoulders shook, and he was, to Jim's ears, obviously sobbing.  Rafe knelt in front of him, running a soothing hand over Blair's ribs and stomach.  "You behave, accept this, and you won't be punished like that."  He worked his hand lower.  "You remember, slave, what the rewards of being good for me are, don't you?"

Whining, Blair tried to bring Rafe's hand into contact with his cock, thrusting fruitlessly.

~~~

"That's right.  You get to come."  With one long finger, Rafe teased the head of Blair's cock.  It bobbed in response, and Blair shivered violently.  "You want it already…" Jim zoomed in on the sight of Rafe's finger trailing lightly down the shaft to explore Blair's testicles.  Blair spread his legs, encouraging the touch.

"Such a slut," Jim hissed, following the identical route on his own anatomy with his own finger.

Rafe looked over at him, grinning, fully in control now.  "Isn't he just?"  He traced the top edge of Blair's blindfold with his tongue.  "Stand, slave.  Time to earn that orgasm."

There was a pause of several heartbeats.  Through the crackling of the fire Jim heard Blair take one deep breath and his heart slow.  Rafe tugged lightly on the leash, and Jim's breath caught and held at the grace and ease Blair stood with.  He knew that if it weren't for the collar Blair's head would be bowed in submission, acceptance, total surrender.

Rafe led Blair to the bed and arranged him, kneeling again, against the edge.  He set about securing him, humming under his breath.  Jim couldn't recognize the tune, and shrugged.  It didn't matter, not when compared to the weighty clink of thick chains.

Heavy, unlined, steel shackles, permanently attached to the bed frame, locked in place around each of Blair's ankles.  Jim grinned widely, and Blair shuddered at the sound of the locks closing.  Rafe's mind was delightfully wicked sometimes, Jim thought.  Chaining him like this meant that Blair would eventually be spread-eagled across the bed rather than in the more usual direction.  It would stretch him utterly taut, would give him no opportunity to move at all.

With gentle fingers Rafe began to peel the tape from Blair's face.  The edges had pulled away from Blair's skin somewhat, and the tape came off in one large piece.  It was good timing, Jim thought.  The gag wouldn't have been effective much longer.  Blair's constant drooling had loosened the tape directly around his lips, probably hours earlier.

Picking up a towel off the table beside the bed with one hand and holding it under Blair's chin, Rafe carefully extracted the mass of sodden silk from his mouth with his other hand.  He shot Jim a vaguely horrified glance when he realized what he held.  Jim shifted, waiting for a comment that never came.  He dropped the boxers into the towel, and tossed it on the table.  After another quick glance at Jim, he massaged Blair's cheeks and jaw, murmuring wordless comfort as Blair gasped through his mouth.  Another towel, this one wet, cleansed the remains of the adhesive away.

Rafe placed a plastic glass in Blair's cuffed hands.  "Drink," he demanded.  Blair's arms and hands shook as he raised the tumbler to sniff at the contents.  He drained the glass greedily when he decided it was just water.  "Don't drop that, either, no matter what I do to you."  Rafe refilled the glass, his voice full of dire promises.

~~~

Blair drank more slowly this time, obviously wary of Rafe's threat.  He was still flushed, both from embarrassment and arousal.  His body reflected his tension, his anticipation of what was to come.  Rafe was entirely focussed on Blair, his movements fluid and controlled; his confidence reflected in the easy way he tormented him.

Jim kept stroking his cock, just maintaining a steady, light pressure; his hands ached to touch both of the others, but he maintained his control.

Blair didn't spill when Rafe wrapped another chain twice around his waist and locked that to the bed, too.  His hands shook a bit more, but not a sound emerged from his lips.

"Good slave," Rafe praised quietly, his lips barely moving.  "Just relax, and I'll take care of you.  You've got no responsibility."  Another chain linked the back of his collar to the same ring.  "No guilt… no shame in what we're doing…"

Jim was so in tune with Blair and Rafe's bodies he could almost smell Blair relaxing as each new restraint was secured.  Rafe alternated gentle, loving touches with scratches and pinches.  Blair squirmed, moaning, but Brian obviously knew his ex-lover's body intimately still, not as intimately as Jim knew Brian's, but closely enough that he could drive Blair into a state of delirious arousal with those few, select touches.

And his words, as well.  "I've missed that sweet, tight ass of yours," he murmured, his fingernails lightly grazing the surface.  "Missed your clever tongue on my cock…"

Blair moaned loudly, and nearly dropped the mostly empty tumbler, as Rafe slipped a cock ring onto him, tightening the straps and locking the tiny padlock behind his balls.  "Careful, slave," Rafe chided, "Or I'll put the weights on right now."  Jim tugged on his own, staving off the inevitable climax a bit longer, biting his lip.

Blair's tongue darted out and brushed his lower lip, brushing a droplet of water away.  Rafe took the glass away, and grasped Blair's hands in his.  A tiny, breathless sigh was Blair's response to the gentle caresses Rafe gave them.  "Kiss me," Rafe ordered in a voice that belied the tenderness of his touch.

The first recognizable word out of Blair's mouth since the removal of the gag almost was Jim's undoing.  He listened to his guide's rich voice as he somewhat shakily and huskily said, "Jim –"

"Blair," Rafe whispered, "just pretend he's not here…" He brushed his lips against Blair's.  "I know you're his, but for the next hour or so…" He deepened the kiss, biting at Blair's lips.  "Pretend for me, please, that you're mine again…" Blair returned the kiss, hesitant at first, then with enthusiasm.

All three were breathing hard when the kiss ended.  Jim waited for Blair to speak again, to confront him even in his helpless condition about just what Rafe meant.  It didn't happen, and he breathed a bit easier as Rafe uncuffed Blair's hands one at a time, kissing each wrist before chaining it to the bed frame, and stood, stroking his cock in front of Blair's face.

"Open wide, slave," Rafe said calmly, slapping Blair's cheek lightly, his fingers lingering to caress.

~~~

He had to repeat himself with a frown, lightly tapping the thick leather of the leash handle on Blair's chin.  Blair was obviously having trouble obeying the order of his own volition with an audience.  His mouth opened slowly after Rafe's second command and a firmer slap.  Jim watched with a grin as the deep plum head of Rafe's cock nudged its way inside and Rafe groaned.  "Oh, that's better, slave…  So good…"

Blair was moaning.  Jim growled low in his throat.  Teasing himself by allowing what was his to be taken like that was sweet; the payments he'd extract from both of them would be all the sweeter.  Rafe would get more than he bargained for, asking Jim to love him like he did Blair.  He squeezed his cock more tightly, unwilling to come before Rafe did.

He wished he could see the muscles in Blair's throat work as Rafe thrust deep.  The sight of Blair's red, stubbled cheeks taut and concave with the suction he was applying was driving him too close to the edge.  His fingers itched to touch them, to feel Rafe's cock inside Blair's mouth.

Standing, he walked over to them.  Rafe looked at him with hot eyes, a tiny bit of anger there.  He grinned again, and Rafe tangled his fingers in Blair's hair.  Rafe pulled out, just a bit, and Jim traced a vein on his cock with one finger.  Rafe shuddered, a question in his eyes.

"Not taking your toy away, Rafe," Jim answered.  "Just wanted a closer view."

Blair tugged against the restraints, gagging, and Rafe turned his attention back to him.  "Breathe," he ordered, pulling out all but the head of his cock.

Blair's breath hissed through his nose and around the thickness still in his mouth.  The moist heat of it brushed Jim's finger as it explored Rafe's pubic hair.  Jim raised his hand, finger slick with Blair's saliva and Brian's precome, and tasted.  It was delicious, the bitter salt of Brian diluted by the flavor of Blair's mouth.

Rafe closed his eyes, and he shuddered again.  He thrust into Blair's throat without warning, and Blair's body stiffened.  Jim watched tears seep past the blindfold's edge, watched Blair's cock twitch and drip.

Rafe's thrusts mellowed somewhat, and his eyes opened.  "Use your tongue, slave, or you'll be punished."

A sigh followed by a groan informed Jim that Blair had followed instructions.  Rafe's face and chest were mottled with red, the deep flush Jim loved watching.  His breathing was getting thicker, faster, and Jim sped up his self-pleasuring, knowing what was soon to follow.  To his slight surprise, Rafe pulled out of Blair's mouth before he came.

Blair's tongue darted out, and he whined for what he wasn't getting.  Blair struggled in his chains, trying to regain the intimate contact, but the restraints and Rafe's hand in his hair held him firmly in place.

"Join me?" Rafe asked Jim breathlessly, his hand busily stroking his cock.

Jim nodded once.  He finally gave in, hissing.  "Slut…" His orgasm was blinding, and his semen splattered on Blair's face, the blindfold, and in the open, gasping, greedy mouth seconds before Rafe's.

~~~

Jim swiped his finger over the tip of Rafe's highly sensitive cock, watching Blair lick his lips.  Rafe gasped, stepping back and inadvertently pulling Blair's hair.  Blair yelped.  Jim chuckled, and sucked the dribble of semen off his finger.  He slapped Rafe on the shoulder, zipped his jeans, and headed for the bathroom.

Pausing in the doorway, he looked over his shoulder.  "Brian, join me for a minute?"  He didn't make it a command, not wanting, for the moment, to keep interfering with Rafe's control over Blair.

Rafe glanced at him with a raised eyebrow.  "I'll be right with you."  He picked a gag off the bedside table, and turned back to Blair.

Jim sighed almost silently, and smiled.  Finally he'd see Blair with a proper gag.  Rafe smoothed his fingers through the semen on Blair's cheeks and anointed the thick latex plug with it.  "Open your mouth again, slave," he addressed Blair quietly.  "Taste this."

Blair hesitated again.

"You're increasing your punishment, sweet slave," Brian purred.  "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were pushing me."

"No," Blair breathed.  "No.  Please… please, Bri –"

Rafe harshly twisted Blair's left nipple.  "Master."

"M-m-master," Blair stuttered through tightly clenched teeth.  "Please…"

Jim leaned against the doorjamb, crossed his arms, and watched closely.  This was going almost better than he'd expected.

"Please, what?"  The gag was once again on the table and Rafe twisted Blair's other nipple, too.  "Begging already, slave?"

"Please, Master, no gag… not yet… please…" Blair's voice was thick with arousal and pain.  "If you… if you ever… loved… me, Master… not yet…  God... hurt me!"

Rafe stood abruptly and walked past Jim into the bathroom, leaving Blair, gasping with relief, behind.  Jim spun just in time to watch Brian pull back his fist, intent on punching the wall.

Reacting immediately, Jim grabbed his wrist and spun him into a tight hug.  "Don't."

Rafe struggled in his arms.  "Let go of me, Ellison," he spat.

"No," Jim said patiently.  Pieces were falling into place, and the implication that Blair and Rafe's relationship was that deep at one point only made him want to put the balance of the puzzle together more quickly.  "He doesn't play fair, does he?"

Rafe sagged a bit.  "No," he sighed.  "No, he doesn't.  I don't want to hurt him while I'm this angry."

"Good," Jim murmured.  "You remember my rules.  No breaking his skin, nothing permanent.  Hurt him as badly as you need to, but don't cross those lines."

Rafe took a deep breath.  "Shit, Jim, my… my feelings for him were never a problem.  Never.  I know it's been a long time, but why is he bringing it up now?"

"It's because I'm letting you rape him," Jim thought.  "Regardless of his implied consent."  A pang of regret flashed through him, and was quickly stifled.  Aloud, he whispered, "You still love him, don't you?"

Rafe met his eyes after a long moment, his pulse fluttering wildly.  "Never stopped…  I'm such a fucking idiot.  Always wanting things I can't have."

Jim took a deep breath of his own.  "Jesus, Rafe," he began, stopping when Rafe looked away abruptly.

"Don't," Rafe said.  "Don't let him know.  Don't…"

Jim held him closely, stroking his spine.  "I won't," he said.  If anyone knew what unrequited desire for Blair was it was Jim.  Brian sighed, and relaxed into his touch.  "Contain that anger of yours, and I'll make it worth your while later.  You can fight me and lose yourself in it."  He kissed Rafe's temple and was rewarded with a tremble.  "I promised I'd love you today, and I'll keep that promise."  Jim looked at Blair, and then at Rafe again.  With only a tiny pang of jealousy he made a decision.  "Enjoy yourself, Brian.  I'll be back in a few hours."

"Where are you going, Jim?"  Rafe's voice and expression both revealed his wariness and surprise.

"For a walk," he replied.  "You know how I expect to find him when I return."  He let his voice fill with the sternness that always seemed to melt Rafe's spine, or so the other man had told him.  "Then it's your turn, Princess."

As he strode to the front door, passing by Blair who cringed back toward the bed as much as his chains allowed, he heard a whisper from the bathroom that almost halted him in his tracks.  "If only you knew, Jim…"

~~~

He stepped out onto the porch, squinting at the brightness of the day.  It would figure, he thought bemusedly, that the first day he was showing Blair how much he loved him it would be sunny.  The first day…

He spun on his heels and went back inside.  The sound of splashing and deep breaths from the bathroom let him know that Rafe was splashing his face with water, attempting to get his control back.  Pulling the padlock that had kept the zipper of the duffel from being opened by his guide's struggles out of his back pocket, he strode to the table beside the bed.

His and Rafe's mingled semen was mostly dry on the gag.  He shrugged, picking it up, and snaked his fingers into Blair's hair.  Blair trembled, the chains he was bound with rattling against the bed.  "Open your mouth, Chief," he requested quietly.  "Can't have you disturbing Princess like that anymore.  No disobeying him."

"Jim," Blair breathed through barely parted lips, "why are you doing this?  Why?  What the hell is wrong with you, man?  Let me go…"

Jim shook his head sadly.  Sandburg still didn't get it.  He would.  "No talking.  Open your mouth."

Blair couldn't shake his head, could hardly move.  He resisted by pressing his lips together tightly, the edges turning white with the strain.  His hands, in their shackles, clenched into tight fists.

Jim slipped his booted foot between Blair's legs, listening to Blair's heart and breathing.  He ran the top of his foot slowly along the hairless, white skin of Blair's right inner thigh, smiling at the renewed reek of fear emitting from him.  "You obviously have something you want to say to me, Chief."  Blair shook, a muffled whine making its way through his sealed lips, as Jim's foot got closer and closer to his testicles.  "So what is it?"  He nudged Blair's scrotum with his toes, pressing upward, waiting patiently.  Blair's cock twitched against his ankle, and he swallowed hard.  "Last chance."

"I can… understand… that you… why you want to h-h-hurt me for, for, for lying… to you," Blair still spoke in a sentinel-quiet whisper, voice shaking, panting, "but…"

"But?"  Jim tightened his grip on Blair's hair, tracing the lips he was waiting until later to kiss with the thick plug of the gag.

"B-b-b-but why have Brian… rape me, too?"

Jim smiled.  "Why do you think, Sandburg?"  He tapped Blair lightly on the cheek, his fingernails flicking away dried semen.  Blair's lips parted to answer, and Jim forced the gag into his mouth.

Blair moaned, and his pulse raced as he tried to push it out with his tongue.  Jim pulled the strap tight, so tight that Blair wouldn't be able to even move his lips behind the front panel.  With the padlock latched in place, Rafe wouldn't be able to remove it.

He brushed his fingers along the edge of the collar where it rested on Blair's collarbones, a touch of tender regard, reflecting about how utterly stunning Blair was in that condition.  Realizing he was only moments away from ruining the day's plans, he backed away and walked out the door just as Rafe emerged from the bathroom.

~~~

The woods were thicker than when he and Rafe had been at the cabin the last time.  Jim strode through the underbrush uncaring of the path of destruction he was leaving after he turned off the path.  He found the clearing he was looking for more by accident than any conscious thought or recall.

It had been years since the mind-blowing, deep summer afternoon he and Rafe had spent there.  He smiled absently in recall.  Rafe hadn't been able to walk back to the cabin, and his sated, dazed smile hadn't faded for hours.  They'd ended up sleeping in the clearing until a storm chased them back, Rafe in a fireman's carry over Jim's shoulder.

Pity it wasn't warm enough to bring Blair to where Rafe and Jim had shared their first real, unguarded and unplanned scene.  Maybe next summer.

He wandered aimlessly toward the stream at the clearing's edge, pausing as something caught his eye.  Detouring around a large, rounded boulder he'd fucked Rafe nearly senseless on, his smile deepened.  A weathered, unraveled strand of rope still knotted around a tree.  He leaned against the rough bark, fingering the harshness of the untwisted strands.

He took a deep breath, held it until he felt the burn in his lungs, and exhaled slowly.  His hand released the frayed rope, and he crossed his arms over his chest.

Rafe's whispered almost-admission echoed through his mind.  "If only you knew, Jim…"

Shaking his head, he moved toward the stream again.  He sat down on a fallen log, and with care not to zone, he watched and listened to the flowing water.  Half of him ached to be back in the cabin, but the change of plan to allow Rafe and Blair some time alone was important.  Whatever the reason for their breakup, the feeling, not to mention the attraction, was obviously still strong on both sides of the break.

History, he mused, was a tricky thing.

Obviously Blair didn't know about his and Brian's history, either.  He thought that was odd; Sandburg had dug up so much information about his life.  He massaged his temples, still smiling.  He'd never hidden his bisexuality.  Just, he supposed, his penchant for sadism.  It paired so well with Brian's deep needs for submission and pain, but he'd never thought that what they shared could lead to love.

"Guess this is just the day for revelations," he muttered.  His smile faded, and he sighed gustily.  "Oh, Brian.  Why now?  Why now?  Why couldn't you have decided you were in love with me years ago, before I fell in love with Blair?"

~~~

He didn't reach any real conclusions before returning to the cabin.  His two hours were, he reasoned, well spent, however.  Getting out of Cascade and into the forest always cleared his lungs and sinuses if not his mind, and the whiff of skunk musk he'd gotten on his hike would be wiped away by the overpowering scent of male rut in the cabin.

His hearing picked up the unmistakable sound of leather striking flesh before he was halfway back.  He'd been half-hard the entire time he was away, but the muffled moans and cries of his guide brought him to complete arousal in moments.

Tightening his grip on the handful of willow branches he'd stripped from a streamside tree, he picked up the pace.  The withies trailed behind him, leaves falling as they brushed against other foliage.

Outside the cabin, he paused and looked in the window, somehow not willing to interrupt the scene inside before it reached a logical stopping point.  What he saw made him wish he had thought to bring a video camera.

Blair was standing, his arms stretched taut above him, almost on tiptoes, struggling to escape the sting of the riding crop Brian wielded with expert precision on his ass and thighs.  A thin chain led from his cock ring to a ring on the bedframe where it was locked.  A series of weights dangled from the chain, shivering and glinting dully in the light as every motion of Blair's body tugged at the leather binding his balls.

Rafe's face reflected his concentration, his dedication to allowing Blair to experience every stroke to its fullest.  His skin was slick with sweat, almost more than his victim's, and, as Jim watched, a small smile graced his lips and one long-fingered hand wiped the sweat from his eyes.

"Had enough?"  Rafe asked breathlessly.  Not waiting for any reply, he struck one final blow to each ass cheek in rapid succession.

Blair's body arched away from the pain, and tiny, almost inaudible, sounds emerged from his still cruelly gagged mouth.

Rafe deposited the crop in its place on the bedside table, and stood there for a long moment, clearly considering his options.  His hand hovered over a smoothly finished, rectangular, wooden box, but as his fingertips grazed it, he shook himself abruptly – like a wet cat, Jim thought – and snatched his hand back.

"Good boy, Princess," Jim whispered.  "Anything but those.  You know those aren't your toys."

Rafe nodded once, firmly, and turned back to Blair with a grin.  "Spread your legs as far as you can, slave," he ordered.
Jim sucked in a deep breath as Rafe picked up a handful of clamps and Blair obeyed him without the slightest hesitation.

~~~

More than the welts from the crop marred Blair's skin.  Long scratches, bites, and other, differently shaped welts decorated his back, shoulders and legs. Rafe's unblemished backside obscured Jim's view of the beautifully abused body, and he cursed, shifting to get a better vantage.

Rafe's thigh slid between Blair's spread legs, and Blair's body undulated toward him.  "Oh, yeah," Rafe murmured.  "So fucking gorgeous, so fucking needy."

His hands stroked Blair's ribs, the cold touch of the clamps making Blair twitch away.  The moans as Rafe tightened one pair on his nipples reflected nothing but deep pleasure.

Rafe trailed his fingers downward, and Blair's sounds got more frantic.  He nuzzled and licked at the bottom edge of the collar Blair still wore, rubbing his chest over Blair's straining and marred back.  "Gonna make you scream, slave," he intimated.

Jim wedged his free hand into his pants, not bothering to unbutton or unzip them.  He knew what was about to happen; had taught Brian the torment himself.  Blair was trying to avoid the clamps, but with a chuckle Rafe prevented it.  Jim tugged down hard on his own testicles as Rafe pressed the clamps against the tender skin and firm tendons where Blair's thighs met his pelvis and in one swift motion secured them there.

Blair did scream.  His taut body shivered with tension, pain, and arousal.

"Now," Jim whispered.

Without moving his leg or looking, Rafe reached for the table.  His hand encountered the tube of lubricant, and when Jim saw he had it, he turned away from the window and headed to the door.

Rafe looked over his shoulder at the sound of his entrance, blanching a bit when he saw what Jim carried, but not stopping the motion of his fingers in Blair's ass.  "Now?" he mouthed.

Jim nodded.  He set down his handful of willow branches and approached the couple.  Blair was keening his pleasure, undoubtedly unaware of Jim's presence.  Rafe's demeanor abruptly changed from confident, commanding master to obedient submissive.  Jim stroked his ass affectionately in passing, and grinned wickedly before claiming a kiss.  "You've done wonderfully, Princess," he whispered.  "Get on the bed.  I'll take over."

Jim moved in front of Blair, stroking a gentle line between his guide's pinched nipples, the sweat-soaked hair on Blair's chest catching on his callused fingertip.  The pounding of Blair's heart was strong there and the flexion of straining muscles just beneath the surface.  Blair's balance shifted when Rafe's thigh was no longer between his, and a yelp escaped the gag.

Jim watched Rafe set the lube on the table, but when he made to wipe off his fingers on one of the towels, he said, "No."

Rafe looked at him, surprised, but didn't say anything.  Blair froze at the sound of Jim's voice, the fear reek that had been missing when Jim came in returned.  Jim ran his finger down Blair's abdomen, flicked each clamp once, enjoying the muffled, choking screams this produced before addressing Rafe again.

"Get on the bed, Princess, and finger-fuck yourself.  You can bring yourself off while I take care of this slut."  He wrapped his hand around Blair's cock, fingers curling tightly and thumb brushing the slick tip.  He didn't look to see if Rafe obeyed him, concentrating on the hot, throbbing cock in his hand, the delirious shift in Blair's breathing, Blair's attempts to thrust into his hand, but the creak of the bed and the rustle of the sheets proved Rafe had.

His other hand slipped behind Blair's restrained testicles, tugging on the padlock.  Here, he thought, Sandburg was pure heat.  He left the lock there for the moment, unlocked but dangling.  He made a point of jarring the clamps as he removed his hand, and was rewarded with another howl.

Without releasing Blair's cock, he unzipped his pants and pulled out his own.  One-handed he reached for the still open tube, squeezing some of the gel onto his fingers.  Once his own cock was slick, he took a deep breath.  Trying to keep his face stern and expressionless, he removed the blindfold from Blair's eyes, flinging it aside.

Blair's eyes met his; wide, dilated to almost black, so full of heat and lust Jim felt it in his groin.  "Want to be fucked, huh, Chief?  Want to come?"

A frantic, pleading noise.

"I'll take that as a 'yes, sir'."  Jim worked his hand on Blair's swollen penis, flicking his thumb rapidly across the hypersensitive head.  Blair responded with the same noise, his eyes closed.  "Look at me, Chief."

Jim removed the lock from the cock ring, loosening the straps.  Blair's testicles took a few moments to adjust, drawing upward, and Blair's eyes flew open to meet Jim's.

"Come for me, Chief."

A hard stroke of Blair's cock, a hard flick of the clamp on the left, and Blair's body jerked spasmodically and he shrieked as his semen scalded Jim's fist.

Before Blair could even begin to recover, Jim quickly removed the clamps at his groin, dropping them to the floor, hoisted Blair's legs and drove his cock into the tight heat of Blair's ass with a groan.

~~~

The core of Blair was an inferno.  His ass was still in spasm from his orgasm, and it clenched Jim's cock tightly.  Fighting the urge to simply start thrusting, Jim slid his hands toward the ass he was impaling.

The welts left by Rafe's whipping were hotter under his palms than the rest of Blair's skin.  He pinched at them, loving the way Blair squirmed on his cock.  He spread his palms over Blair's hot, tight ass and spread his cheeks further.

Blair moaned almost constantly, trying to move, trying to encourage Jim to fuck him.  Jim lifted him nearly off his cock, leaving only the head inside.  He let Blair struggle a bit more, trying not to gasp as Blair's anus tensed and relaxed around him.  "Stop moving, Chief."

He let his fingers trace the distended muscle; the little twitches and whimpers of his guide transmitting themselves through his cock and fingers.  Then, without giving Blair any warning, he dug his fingernails deeply into the remarkably tender flesh around the stretched pucker.

Blair bucked, screeching his pain, nearly dislodging him.

"Wrap your legs around my hips, little slut," he demanded, increasing the pressure of his nails.

His eyes closed, shaking and his skin emitting heat that Jim thought would burn him, Blair obeyed.

"Good boy, Chief," Jim murmured.  He altered the torture he was inflicting with his nails to a caress.  Blair sighed.  "You see, if you do everything I tell you, I'll fuck you.  If you don't…" He scratched lightly, and Blair tensed.  "Understand?"

Blair grunted an affirmative, and Jim smiled to himself.

He pulled his hands away abruptly, and Blair's legs clamped around his hips more tightly.  He mewled in a combination of pain and pleasure as he sank on to Jim's cock, taking him to the hilt in one gravity-driven stroke and his arms were made to bear most of his weight at the same time, chains clanking.

With his hands gripping Blair's hips, knowing he was creating bruises there, Jim turned to watch Rafe.  He let go with one hand, trusting that Blair's legs would keep him in place, and reached for the switch that controlled the winch on the ceiling, allowing a bit more slack in the chains.  Blair's back arched delightfully as Jim changed his position to a more horizontal one; Jim watched his fingers scrabble desperately at the chains that suspended him.  He was entirely off balance, totally dependent on Jim, just how Jim wanted it.

Rafe was following his instructions, and he watched dispassionately as Rafe's fingers plunged in and out of himself, his other hand stroking his cock slowly.  Rafe's eyes met his, and Rafe shuddered.

"You're next," Jim mouthed, and started stroking Blair's reviving erection gently.  Rafe's motions faltered for a moment, and Jim smiled.

Blair trembled with the effort to remain motionless on Jim's cock, and Jim slid his free hand slowly up Blair's chest.  "Squeeze, Chief.  Do it until I tell you to stop."

It took Blair a second to realize what he wanted, but before he could inflict any pain for the hesitation Blair's body convulsed around him.  Delicious fire shot through Jim's groin, and he groaned aloud.  He held Blair in place, tugging at the chain between Blair's tortured nipples.  Blair whimpered, but continued to clench and relax his internal muscles.

"You love having my cock in you, don't you, Chief?"  He tugged harder on the chain, leaning down to touch the tip of his tongue to the tip of the left nipple.  An eruption of muzzled sound emerged from his straining captive.  "You love how I'm hurting you…" He tongued Blair's right nipple the same way, then nipped the tormented flesh sharply.  Blair's cock throbbed in his hand, heavy and thick, and his guide screamed.

A flurry of motion and a groan from the bed captured his attention.  He looked up from Blair's heaving chest in time to watch Rafe's orgasm.  He licked his lips, and focussed on Blair again.  It was getting harder and harder for him to maintain control.  His hips wanted to thrust, and he was finally willing to let them.

Blair's thighs were trembling with the strain of supporting his weight around Jim's hips, and Jim abandoned Blair's cock to stroke them.  He grabbed Blair's right ass cheek tightly, and using his right hand he yanked the clamps off Blair's nipples in one quick motion.  Blair shrieked.

Before the sound faded, echoing inside his skull, he had Blair's other ass cheek in his right hand and was slamming into him over and over.  Fucking Blair was everything he'd ever dreamt it would be.  He never wanted to stop.

"Mine, Chief… you're mine… never forget that…"

~~

Blair grunted at each impact, trying to gain some measure of control over his violation, but Jim wouldn't let him.  He maintained a hard, steady pace, keeping touch dialed down a bit below normal, until his guide's grunts changed to steady moaning.  Changing the angle just a bit, he bared his teeth in a fierce smile as Blair's entire body shook at the impact on his prostate.  It didn't take long to bring Blair to the edge of another orgasm.

"Oh, yeah, little slut…" Jim groaned.  He quickly dialed up touch, allowing the full impact of touching Blair hit him, and came.
His orgasm wasn't enough to take Blair over the edge, just like he'd planned.  Blair voiced his protest, and Jim laughed.  "You haven't earned it.  My rules are a bit harsher than Princess'."  He unwrapped Blair's legs from around his hips, still chuckling warmly, and pulled out.  He lowered Blair's legs, arranging him in a nearly kneeling position, and stepped back to look at him.  'Almost perfect,' he thought, taking in the uncomfortable position.  He pressed the button controlling the winch and raised Blair so he couldn't rest most of his weight on his knees.

Blair reacted by trying to get his feet under him to squat, but Jim stepped behind him and prevented the motion by the expedient method of kicking his ankles gently.  "Not even, Chief," he growled.  He ran his hands down Blair's arms, feeling the strain and tautness of the muscles.  "You can take it."  Jim started exploring each vertebra of Blair's spine, scraping with his fingernails, and worked his foot in between Blair's legs to stop him from swaying.  "You want to come again, don't you?"  Blair moaned his need.  "Then you'll endure."

He gestured abruptly to Rafe.  Rafe climbed off the bed immediately and stood beside it waiting for his instructions.  "Clean me up," he ordered.  Rafe hastened to do so, and Jim waited patiently until he was done, watching Blair struggle to stay still.  He tucked his cock back into his pants when Rafe was finished, waited for Rafe to replace the washcloth before taking him in his arms and kissing him gently and thoroughly.  Rafe returned his kiss with enthusiasm.  "Go run me a shower, would you?" he asked when they parted.

Rafe nodded, his eyes sleepy and full of desire.  "Sure, Jim."

He started across the room, and Jim smiled broadly at the view.  "Take a quick one yourself, while you're at it.  I can't sleep with you smelling like that."  Brian looked back at him with a smile that was nearly as broad as his own.  Jim laughed at Brian's eagerness and moved to stand in front of Blair again.

Blair dangled from his wrists, breathing hard, eyes open and locked on Jim's.  Jim stopped laughing, and traced the edge of the gag with his fingernail.  "Time for me to rest a while, Chief," he said quietly.  "But, don't worry.  I'm not done with you yet."  He trailed his finger up Blair's cheek, pressing it against his temple, feeling the thump of Blair's pulse there, then wrapped his hand into Blair's hair.  He pulled hard.  Blair's eyes teared up, but they didn't close.  "You've got a world of pain awaiting you."

As he lowered his face toward Blair's, Blair's eyes closed and his tears spilled over.  He licked the gag, leaving a trail of saliva there, then slowly and carefully tongued away the tears streaking Blair's cheeks.  Blair trembled at the gentle touches, breath fast through his nostrils.

"Your tears are delicious, Chief," he intimated beside Blair's ear.  "Should I make you cry some more?  Hmmm?"  Blair replied with a whine.

"Which would be worse, Chief, more tears or this?"  He relaxed his hand in Blair's hair, moving his hand so it cradled the back of Blair's skull tenderly, and started making love to Blair's ear with his lips and tongue.

~~~

Starting at the top curve, he used only the tip of his tongue to explore every cranny and surface of the cartilaginous part of Blair's ear before blowing into it gently.  He tasted Blair's earlobe, nibbling softly.

"Is it worse when I'm gentle, Blair?" he whispered softly.  "I can be very, very gentle."  He started unbuckling the high collar from the bottom up, moving his lips over Blair's cheekbone and up to his temple.  Blair's body shook, the chains he was bound with rattling at the vibration, and he sobbed.  He ran the tip of his tongue over the sodden ragged velvet of Blair's eyelashes and tasted new tears, breathing their salt with relish.

He undid the second buckle.  Blair's breathing fluttered against his cheek as he explored the texture of Blair's eyelids.  He slid his hand out of Blair's hair, kneeling in front of him without breaking the contact of his lips and Blair's skin.  Spreading his fingers widely, he ran his hand languidly down Blair's chest, feather-light touches that hardly ruffled his chest hair, barely teased his nipples.

"Open your eyes, and look at me.  Meet my eyes; don't look away," Jim breathed as he wedged his thigh between Blair's spread ones, taking some of the weight of Blair's arms.  Blair tried to rub against him as he opened his eyes, blinking new tears away, but Jim stilled his hips with his hands.  He stroked Blair's hipbones with his thumbs, enjoying the pulsing heat of Blair's testicles through well-worn denim, the steady throb and twitch of Blair's cock.  "Like that, do you?  Hmm, slut?"

Blair responded with an encouraging moan and a plea in his eyes.  Jim changed the tone of the moan abruptly, still meeting Blair's eyes, by digging in his thumbnails and drawing them harshly and quickly downward, following the v towards Blair's genitals, leaving welts behind.  "Or do you like that better?  Or this?"  He dug his fingernails into the tender skin where the clamps had been, pinching until Blair was fighting a scream and his eyes just couldn't stay open anymore.

"I know you liked that the best," he remarked casually as he released his grip, soothing the pain away with the pads of his thumbs.  "Little pain-slut.  Open your eyes again, Chief."  Jim caressed his way back up Blair's ribs, keeping his movements languid and tender.

The collar's final buckle was recalcitrant, requiring both hands to unfasten.  Blair shuddered at the collar's removal, his eyes tracking Jim's hands as Jim set it aside.  Jim traced the harsh indentations the firm latex had left under Blair's chin and where it had rested on his collarbones.  "You're never going to wear Brian's collar again, Chief.  Understand?"

Blair moved his head gingerly.  He met Jim's eyes, visibly unsure of whether he had permission to work out the kinks or answer Jim's question by either nodding or not, and gave an inquiring grunt.

"Understand?"  Jim decided for him, grabbing his chin and making him nod before letting go.  "So, how long has it been, Blair?  How long since a man's fucked you like that?  Owned you so utterly?  Too long?"

Blair hesitated again.  "Don't lie.  Has it been too long?"  Blair nodded slowly, his eyes wide and despairing.

"Answer more quickly.  I don't have the patience today, and I can leave you hanging here by your wrists until I leave.  Got it?"  Blair nodded hastily, his chains clinking.  "Good."  Jim stroked the bruise left by Rafe's teeth on Blair's throat.  "Brian was your last male lover, wasn't he?"

Blair agreed, clearly not pleased by the line Jim's questioning was taking, but unable, for once, to change the subject.  It was difficult, even tired as he was, for Jim not to gloat about that.

"Was what he did to you earlier rape?"  With his fingers on Blair's throat, it was impossible to miss the rush of heat and the speed increase in Blair's pulse.  He did, however, have to press on the bruise for several seconds before Blair shook his head.  "Because you still love him?"  Blair whimpered, but nodded.

So, Jim reasoned, they didn't break up due to lack of feelings between them.  Now, though, to find out if Brian had told him the truth.  He slipped his hand into his pocket, digging for the key to the padlock keeping the gag in Blair's mouth.  He held it up, waiting for Blair to recognize it.  Blair's eyes lit with longing.  Jim didn't blame him; the gag had been locked into his mouth for hours.

"Only a couple more questions, Chief."  Jim dragged the key through Blair's chest hair, pressing the metal into each nipple in turn.  "And, provided your answers are honest, you get some time without the gag."  He began exploring Blair's ass with his other hand.  "If they're honest and correct, you get to come."

~~~

Blair twitched at every delicate brush of Jim's middle fingertip on his anus.  Jim spread his cheeks wider with his index and ring fingers, hiding a smile at Blair's involuntary motions.  Blair was every bit as responsive, as sensual, as he had ever dreamed, perhaps more so.

The sounds from the bathroom indicated that Rafe was almost finished with his ablutions.  'Better hurry this up,' he thought regretfully.  Keeping up the slow, teasing motion of his finger, he drew the key deliberately on a path straight to Blair's cock.
Blair tried desperately to hump against Jim's hand, his leg.  "Don't," Jim ordered, steel in his eyes and his voice.  He pinched Blair's left nipple savagely, the key digging into Blair's flesh, twisting it until more tears streaked Blair's face.  "I will leave you hanging."

Blair stilled.  Jim stroked the wounded nipple with the knuckle of his forefinger and briefly smiled his praise.  "Now, Chief, don't move.  You won't, will you?"  Blair shook his head hesitantly, begging only with his eyes, and Jim could tell he was afraid he'd get more pain for even doing that much.  "You can move your head, Chief, to answer my questions, but try to get me to get you off before I'm ready…" He let the threat be implicit in his voice, unspoken but real, and sped up the speed and pressure of his finger against Blair's anus.

"Now, for my questions.  Pay attention and answer quickly."  He watched Blair for a long moment, enraptured by the way Blair's eyes reflected his pain, arousal, and the utterly futile attempt he was making to concentrate on Jim's words and ignore what was being done to his body.

He pressed his fingertip just barely into Blair's body as he spoke again.  "Are you still afraid I'm going to kill you for being bi, for your relationship with Brian?"  Blair trembled, and Jim smelled a quick whiff of fear, but Blair shook his head.

Jim twisted his finger, nudging it a little further inside.  "You're more afraid that I think you're a twisted, perverted, kinky, little slut for wanting to be treated this way, hmm?  Is that it?  Ashamed of what you are?"  Blair's nod abruptly changed to a protest; shame and anger at the accusation warred in his eyes.  "Honesty, Blair."  Jim rammed his finger deep.  Blair froze, and Jim waited.  Color flamed Blair's cheeks as he nodded meekly.

"Is what I'm doing to you rape?"  Blair's eyes closed, and he shook his head with almost an air of desolation.

Jim touched Blair's throat, feeling his fluttering pulse before pressing his lips to the bruise there.  He pulled his finger out of Blair, and took a deep breath.  He nipped at the black and blue mark, licked his way up to Blair's ear, sliding both his palms over the straining, marred skin of Blair's back.  Blair held his breath as Jim nipped at his earlobe.  "Because you're in love with me?"

Blair's breath burst out in a sob, and the gag scraped against Jim's cheek as he nodded, his forehead pressing to Jim's shoulder.  Jim smiled broadly, sliding the hand holding the key under Blair's hair.  He found the keyhole by touch, and unlocked the small lock.  As he unbuckled the tight strap, he shrugged his shoulder.  Blair, crying openly, looking broken and mournful of what Jim felt sure he thought he'd lost, raised his head.

Jim brushed saline-soaked hair out of Blair's eyes, not hiding his smile anymore.  He gently removed the gag, but pressed one finger over Blair's lips to keep him from speaking immediately.  Blair met his eyes in bewilderment, gasping as Jim removed his finger and replaced it with his lips.

"You get it now, Chief?"  Jim asked gently, his lips pressing lightly against Blair's slightly chapped and swollen ones.

~~~

"Oh, God," Blair breathed.  "Jim?"

Jim pulled back just far enough to meet Blair's eyes.  "Are you sorry, now, finally, for never telling me before?"
Blair's eyes shone with wonder, and Jim's smile got even wider.  "God, I…" Blair's voice was hoarse, dry, choked, but growing stronger.  "So sorry…" He smiled back at Jim, just a hint, tears still raining from his eyes.

Jim held Blair's skull in his hands, a thumb at each temple, fingers tangled in Blair's disordered curls.  He started tipping Blair's head backward, exposing Blair's throat, and his smile grew less happy and more feral.  "Whose are you, Blair?  Who owns your heart?"

Blair swallowed hard, moaning.  "Yours…  You…" His voice shook as Jim licked a spot directly opposite Rafe's mark on him.  "O-o-only yours!"

Jim bit hard, tongue flicking against the tendon he had captured between his teeth.  At the same time he ground his thigh roughly against Blair's testicles and his still erect cock.  Blair gasped and panted, his hips bucking uncontrollably.  Jim released his mouthful of flesh.  "Why?"

"Because…" Blair gasped as Jim flicked his tongue over his Adam's apple.  "Because you…"

"Because I what, Chief?"  Jim scraped his teeth over Rafe's mark, getting ready to cover that bruise with one of his own.

"You love me," Blair whispered.

Jim scraped with his teeth again, nipping a tiny bit of skin sharply.  "And?" he urged.

"I love you…"

He broke the skin with this bite, Blair's blood fiery on his tongue.  He sucked hard, sliding his hands out of Blair's hair, allowing Blair to give his submission willingly.  He did, turning his head further to allow Jim even better access for a larger, harder bite.  Jim accepted it as his due, his teeth piercing the offered flesh.  The blood flowed more freely from this larger wound, spilling around Jim's lips as he ran his nails down Blair's back.

Blair's moaning reverberated through his skull, transmitted by his skin, his teeth, his ears.  "Love you… hurt…  God…  Jim…  you… love you…"

He didn't let Rafe's return from the shower distract him from Blair.  At the moment, he didn't think anything could.  He listened only vaguely to Rafe's movement in the room, his sounds of appreciation, and knew without looking that Rafe was kneeling to watch them in action.

Without breaking his grip on Blair's neck, he grasped Blair's hips tightly and guided them as Blair rubbed and humped against his leg.  He raised his head after about a minute more and looked at Blair.  His eyes were tightly closed, face a mask of ecstasy, his teeth bared, breath hissing through them.  "Yeah, little slut, ride my leg, but don't come until I tell you too."

He glanced at Rafe, kneeling, as he'd thought, several feet away.  Rafe's expression was almost painful to see: a mixture of naked longing, appreciation, and arousal that changed to a mask-like smile when he noticed Jim's attention.  Jim licked Blair's blood from his lips, and Rafe was unable to disguise the shiver that ran through him.  "Soon, Princess, soon," Jim said quietly.  Rafe closed his eyes briefly, reopening them almost as quickly as he shut them.

Jim worked his hands around to cup Blair's ass, squeezing.  He gnawed at Blair's stubbled jawline, and slicked his tongue over Blair's teeth.  His guide was reduced to pure mammal, seething animal lust all that was ruling him.

Their teeth clashed as Blair parted his, and Jim kissed him with possessive and loving force.  Finally he could learn Blair's mouth, his tongue.  Blair sucked his tongue with some force, and Jim stopped him by returning the favor.  Blair whimpered, his body stiffening.  Jim stopped the kiss, regretfully but realizing that Blair could not hold back his orgasm any longer.

He quickly penetrated Blair's ass with two of his fingers, aiming unerringly for his prostate, and met Blair's blind with out of control passion eyes.  "Come for me, Blair," he murmured, twisting his fingers and capturing Blair's mouth with his again.

Blair did, his cries muffled by the gag of Jim's tongue, and Jim moaned right back.  Blair's semen soaked his jeans and the bottom of his shirt.  Jim held him as he rode out the pleasure, his body jerking and shaking, not relinquishing his lips until Blair was having trouble breathing.

Blair hung limply from his restraints, visibly drained.  He whimpered when Jim moved away from him, his head lolling forward in satiated exhaustion.  Jim kissed his forehead gently, and stood, gesturing to Rafe.

Rafe rose gracefully, approaching hesitantly as Jim lowered Blair's arms.  Jim held the chain loosely; Blair wasn't going anywhere in the shape he was in.  "He won't be joining us in the bed, Brian.  Tend his bites, and then I want him bound again, ready for us to use when we wake up."

Blair moaned, and Rafe chuckled.  "Where do you want him?"

"There," Jim pointed to the chair he'd watched Blair and Rafe from earlier.  "Use the soft rope.  Usual position for sleeping."  He didn't look down at Blair, just met Rafe's eyes.  He handed Rafe the chain linking Blair's wrist shackles.  Rafe smiled, his eyes growing hot.  Jim allowed a slight smile of his own to escape; knowing that Rafe was reminiscing about being awakened after hours bound to the same chair.  Jim turned away, and as he started across the room, Rafe tugged the chains to start Blair moving toward the fireplace.

Blair whispered to Jim as he walked away, "I love you."

Jim didn't turn back, just smiled as the words lodged in his mind.  "Gag him, Brian.  Nothing too harsh."  He went into the bathroom for his overdue shower.

When he returned to the main room, he checked to see that Rafe had followed his instructions to the letter.  He had.  Blair was already asleep.  The heat from the nearby fire, along with his unexpected hours of sexual torture, had probably made him nod off fairly quickly.  He brushed Blair's hair off his forehead and went to join Rafe in the bed.

Rafe welcomed him with open arms and a whisper of, "That was beautiful, Jim."

"Liked that, huh?"  Jim pulled Rafe closer to him, getting comfortable and pillowing Rafe's head on his chest.  "Wait till you see what I've got planned for you, Princess."  Rafe shivered a bit, but didn't reply.  "Get some sleep, beautiful.  We've got another long stakeout tonight, and I don't want you dropping off in the truck."  He kissed the top of Rafe's head, and stroked his hair as they fell asleep.

They'd slept several hours, Jim discovered, waking from his nap and checking the clock.  He stretched; trying not to disturb Rafe, who was sleeping, beautiful, warm and looking so very young, curled beside him with his back to his chest.

He looked across the room.  Blair slept, stunning in his bound nudity, skin pale against the dark maroon of the leather chair, cock quiescent between his spread thighs.  A line of saliva dribbled from the corner of his mouth where it had soaked through the light gag.  Jim propped himself up on one elbow, idly stroking Rafe's shoulder, and looked his fill.

He knew the moment Blair awoke, struggling briefly, and Blair's eyes snapped open in confusion which cleared to desire, understanding, and love as they met Jim's.  Blair smiled around the cloth, no doubt expecting that he'd be untied and used soon, and Jim returned it before turning his attention to the slowly waking Brian.

"How long…?  Is it…?"  Rafe's voice was thick with sleep, and Jim shifted as he rolled onto his back to look at Jim.  Jim stroked his hand over Rafe's chest.

Keeping his movements slow, careful, he sat up and smiled lovingly down at Brian's sleepy eyes, surreptitiously reaching to pick up one of the extra pillows.  Out of the corner of his eye, he could tell that Blair's attention was focussed completely on his face as he bent to kiss Brian tenderly.

"Go back to sleep, Princess," he whispered and waited as Brian closed his eyes with a smile of total trust.

Brian's shock and fear erupted at the same time as Blair's muffled scream of "No!".  Jim smiled as he covered Rafe's face with the pillow and held it there.

~~~

Rafe fought him hard with his whole body, trying to pull the pillow off.  Jim bared his teeth, neither snarling nor smiling, as Rafe's fist impacted hard with his ribcage.  He leaned down to press his weight on Rafe's chest, both hands still on the pillow.  "Oh, you're going to bleed for that, Princess," he hissed, his cock stirring to life with the physicality of the battle and the promise of it.  He chuckled at the feeling of Rafe's tension, the muffled gasps through the pillow.  Although he didn't need to do it to listen to Rafe's rapidly pounding heart, he pressed his ear on Rafe's sternum, dragging the stubble on his cheek roughly over Rafe's right nipple in the process.

The smothered moan this produced vibrated through his skin, skittering straight to his cock.  He sat up a bit, shifted his grip on the pillow, and sank his teeth into the nipple he'd chafed.  Brian's body tried alternately to arch into and get away from the pain, and without looking Jim knew that Brian's cock was rock hard.  Brian stopped trying to simply remove the pillow and Jim bit harder when one searching hand tried to get a grip on his hair.  It slipped away, Rafe emitted a louder sound of pain, and Jim sat up quickly to look at the imprints of his teeth on Rafe's skin with satisfaction.

As he pinned one of Rafe's flailing hands under his knee, he glanced at Blair.  Blair was fighting his own battle against the ropes that held him, failing to do more than shift them slightly.  The fleeting thought that he wished he'd allowed Blair to put up more of a fight against him earlier was dismissed with the promise of another time.  The sunlight hitting Blair's body dappled him with leaf shadows, bruising him intangibly.  Although the curses and pleas pouring from his lips were muffled, Jim could understand most of them.

Every sound in the room was exquisitely crystalline and precise.  From the sounds of Blair's skin on leather, the susurrus of Blair's harsh breath, his pounding heart to the more immediate and pained sounds of the struggling and very aroused man beneath him, hearing overwhelmed him.  His other senses were equally afire, and with no small surprise, he realized that only in this arena - not just the cabin but with both of the human animals in it, sexually - that he never zoned.

He had been reluctant to take what Brian gave him for several long months after his senses returned.  His protests had been for naught, however, and he had discovered that Blair's guidance with his unruly senses gave him even more precise control over his already submissive and ever so willing partner in sexual excess.

But, he had never zoned alone with Brian.  Interesting, but it was hardly the time to think about it.  It was time to use the power Brian had given him to both their benefits.

Jim straddled Rafe's hips, reaching down with his left hand to squeeze Rafe's erection.  "Oh, yeah," he muttered, "knew you'd like this, Princess."  It wouldn't take much, Jim realized, starting to stroke Rafe roughly, massaging the sweet spots he'd memorized years earlier with the pad of his thumb, randomly switching between them.

He clamped his right hand more tightly over his thrashing opponent's nose and mouth, pressing hard through the feathers.  The tiny quills of the down pricked his hand through the pillowcase, a feeling oddly painful as well as ticklish.

Brian's knees thudded against his back, his hips bucked underneath him in the dual effort of getting more stimulation and trying to escape his weight.  Brian's hand grappled at Jim's wrist futilely, his other trying to twist under his shin.

Jim sped up the motion of his hand on Rafe's cock, timing each stroke with expert precision.  Rafe's chest heaved desperately as the fight for air became deadly, and his struggles grew increasingly feeble as Jim brought him closer and closer to the edges of orgasm and death.

~~~

Rafe reached unconsciousness before he reached orgasm, just as Jim had planned.  His hand slipped off Jim's wrist, his body going slack.  His heart stuttered nearly to a halt before Jim released his pressure on the pillow.  Jim nodded once, pleased.  His timing was perfect; Rafe's breathing restarted without CPR.  He watched for several moments as Brian's chest rose and fell shallowly, shakily.

He knew from past experience that bringing Brian off while he was unconscious wouldn't revive him and would probably surprise the hell out of the still struggling Blair.  Three strokes were all it took, and Rafe's semen splashed over his hand, adorning Rafe's sparse, kinked but nearly straight pubic hair and his abdomen.  Blair moaned deeply in reaction to the evidence that Brian had enjoyed himself.  Without looking, Jim couldn't tell if it was jealousy or shock.  Jim's cock twitched in response.

Aside from his involuntary muscle movements, Rafe didn't respond in any way.  Jim smiled and removed the pillow.  There was blood on it, as he knew there would be, from Brian's nose and from a torn place on his lower lip where one of his teeth had pierced it under the pressure of the heel of Jim's hand.  He tossed the pillow aside, onto the floor, and was satisfied by the shocked gasp he got from Blair.  He shrugged inwardly; it must have landed bloody side up.

Jim ran a lazy finger through the semen on Rafe's abdomen, tasting it almost absently while he pondered his next move.  He leaned down, unable to resist Rafe's blood any longer, and delicately licked at the trail that streaked Rafe's left cheek.  He wrapped his hand around his own aching cock, starting to stroke as the taste hit him.  Rafe's cheek was smooth under his tongue, the arch of his cheekbone a firm presence.  Jim scraped his lower teeth through Rafe's sideburn; tiny droplets of blood spattered against the roof of his mouth.

He slid up Rafe's motionless body until he was straddling Rafe's chest.  Blair's sounds got frantic as he grabbed Rafe's hair.  He traced Rafe's lips with the head of his penis, dislodging the clot that had started to form there.  He groaned as fresh blood welled from the small wound and coursed against his skin.  "Oh, yeah, bleed for me, Princess," he whispered.  He watched his fingers spread Brian's blood along the shaft of his cock and parted Brian's lips further with the head.  He fucked Rafe's mouth for several minutes, relishing the absolute power, the sight of Rafe's slack jaws accepting his bloody erection.

Pulling out as he neared orgasm, he jerked himself hard and fast, tightening his grip on Brian's hair.  He managed to keep his eyes open as he came, semen mingling with the blood that still welled freely from Rafe's lip and marred the paleness of his skin, bespattering his dark lashes and brows with white.

He listened to his guide's muffled monologue as he took a moment to enjoy his post-orgasmic high.  He was chanting "Oh, my God," over and over.  Jim turned to watch him, keeping his expression one of mild interest.  "Something bothering you, Chief?"  His tone, as bland as boiled cabbage to his own ears, visibly stunned Blair.

Blair stopped fighting the ropes; his erection teased Jim's vision, brushing against Blair's stomach.  He met Blair's vaguely horrified, definitely aroused eyes, releasing Rafe's hair.  Rafe's head fell back to the pillow, lolling to one side.  Blair nodded hesitantly as Jim climbed off his willing victim.  Jim made sure Brian was breathing alright then grinned wickedly as an idea came to him.

He swiped two fingers through the mingled blood and semen on Rafe's lips and walked slowly toward his aroused and trembling guide.

~~~~

He detoured to where his semen stained jeans hung over the chair opposite Blair and retrieved his lock-blade knife from the pocket with his unbloodied hand.  He flicked it open casually as he moved to stand in front of Blair.

Blair held himself tensely, fear and arousal saturating the air around him in an aura Jim could almost see.  He flinched as Jim reached to tug the gag from his mouth with the hand that held the knife.

Jim chuckled.  The blade wasn't even facing Blair fisted as it was.  "I'm scaring you again, aren't I, Chief?"  He pressed his thumb against Blair's lower lip, stroking, pressing it against Blair's teeth, feeling their edges through it.  His thumbnail scraped against the back of Blair's upper incisors as Blair nodded slowly, and the light caught the edge of the blade in a scintillating burst.  Blair's eyes focussed on the moving blade.  Jim watched the reflection in his pupils, watched them contract as the glare hit them.

Jim moved his thumb down to rest on Blair's chin, and Blair whispered, "Tell me you didn't kill him…  Please tell me you didn't kill him."  He looked at Jim with the stark fear on his face.

Jim shook his head, smiling.  "No.  I haven't killed Princess," Jim slid his thumb, nail catching on Blair's stubble, to press against Blair's adam's apple, "yet…" He held the pause long enough for Blair to swallow hard and a tremor to run through his body.  "He hasn't given me enough reason to."

Blair closed his eyes and shivered.  Jim's grin grew broader.  He released the slight pressure and quickly flipped the knife in his hand.  Before Blair could open his eyes again, Jim rested the flat of the blade on Blair's lips.  Blair's eyes pinched more tightly closed, and he shivered again, violently.  "I'm going to untie you now, Chief, and you're going to do exactly what I tell you to do…" He tapped the chilly steel lightly against Blair's lips.  "Aren't you?"  He waited until Blair opened his eyes to move the knife far enough away that Blair could nod or speak safely.

Blair opted for the nod.  It was shaky and tentative.

"Open your mouth," Jim suggested.  He held up his other hand, the remnants of his orgasm and Rafe's blood drying on his fingers.  Blair blanched, but obeyed, his eyes closing tightly again.  "Good, Chief."  As he slid his fingers slowly into Blair's mouth Blair mewled.  Using his thumb under Blair's chin to hold his lower jaw, he started tilting Blair's head back.  "Don't move anything but your tongue."

After allowing himself the luxury of simply feeling Blair's nimble tongue on his fingertips, Jim slipped them deeper, swallowing a moan.  His erection, already reviving, twitched as he watched the look of pained concentration on Blair's upturned face as he worked at cleaning Jim's fingers.  Blair's jaw jerked in his light grip, and as Jim slipped the knife carefully between his skin and one set of the ropes binding his torso to the chair he moaned deep in his throat.

Jim released Blair's jaw when he couldn't reach the remaining ropes without straining.  Blair's upper body and arms were free, but he'd obeyed Jim's instructions and not shifted his position.  He knelt in front of the chair, trailing his wet fingers down Blair's chest to tease Blair's right nipple as he cut the ropes keeping Blair's thighs spread.  He pinched hard with his nails, and Blair gasped sharply, his hands clenching the armrests tightly as he fought to remain still.  "Oh, very good," Jim praised.  He switched nipples, pinching the left with no preamble.  "Now look at me, Chief."  Blair's erection bobbed, precome glistening on the head, as Blair met his gaze with passion drugged eyes, tears just beginning to form in their corners.

Jim dragged his nails down Blair's belly abruptly, leaving Blair panting as he tried not to move.  With Blair still riding out that shock, he reached between Blair's quivering legs and cupped Blair's testicles in his hand.  Blair shook his head wordlessly, his pulse racing and a mingled look of terror and despairing trust jolting Jim to the core.  Jim clenched his hand once, judging the pain he doled out precisely; Blair cried out, arching out of the chair only to subside again as Jim's grip slackened.

Jim licked his lips as Blair met his eyes again.  "Whose are you, Blair?" he growled.

"Yours," Blair hissed as Jim brushed his left thigh lightly with the back of the knife and wrapped his hand around Blair's cock lightly.  "Oh, Jim… oh, fuck!"  Blair's breathing sped as Jim glanced down and tightened his grasp.

"Never forget that," Jim warned, then, in one smooth, precise motion, he pressed the flat of the blade to the tip of Blair's cock, disturbing the pearls of precome and slicking the blade with them as he carefully drew it across the surface.  Blair whimpered as Jim raised the blade to his own lips, and the whimper transformed into a thick moan when Jim licked the blade clean, meeting Blair's eyes.  Bitter, rich, Blair's flavor twined with the steel's.

He quickly cut the last of the ropes, freeing Blair's ankles from the chair legs, and stood.  "Crawl to the bed now, or I'll drag you there by your hair."

~~~~

Blair stood shakily before falling to his hands and knees on the large, worn, deep mossy green hearthrug, moving slowly.  Jim grinned down at his back, walking slowly beside his frightened and wounded lover.  For surely they were now, he reasoned, lovers.  Declarations had been made.  Blair was his.  Most of the welts had faded in the past hours, but several still stood out lividly on his shoulder blades and on his lower back.  Jim watched the movement of those welts, the movement of Blair's obviously stiff and aching muscles beneath his skin.  Blair's ordinarily fluid motion was choppy, slow, but he was following Jim's order.  He hesitated as his palms hit the chill of the bare floor, and as Jim watched him closely, gooseflesh sprang out on his arms and back.

Jim let him pause, waiting for him to move again.  He didn't.  Jim reached for a handful of long, tangled curls, grinning even more broadly as he wrapped the hair around his hand and tugged.  Blair didn't move even as Jim pulled harder.  "Crawl," he growled, the strands of Blair's hair sliding and shifting between his fingers.  Jim trailed the tip of the knife he still held along Blair's spine, still careful not to draw blood.  Hot pleasure coursed down his own spine, anticipating the torment to come for both Blair and Rafe.  "You're disappointing me, Chief."  He shook his head, still grinning, knowing Blair couldn't see his expression, couldn’t read his delight in the opportunity to give Blair more of the sexual pain he craved.

"Jim, I can't."  Blair's voice shook.  "I'm – I'm trying, but I can't."

Jim closed the knife, dropping it on the rug, and slapped Blair's ass hard enough to leave the imprint of his hand behind.  "Yes, you can.  Crawl to your pretty ex-lover.  See for yourself that he's still alive."

Blair's left hand slid forward slowly, stopping again only inches from where it had been.  "Please… please…  I can't!"

He gathered another handful of Blair's curls.  "You want me to hurt you, don't you?"  He ran his fingers through them, letting his voice grow colder with each word.  "To punish you?"

Blair shook, more gooseflesh breaking out over his body, his heart racing.  "No," he whispered, pleaded.

Jim released him, leaving him there, shaking on his hands and knees.  "Why else would you be pushing me?"  He chuckled as he strode quickly to the bedside table where the equipment was kept.  "I warned you what would happen, didn't I?  Warned you that my rules are far stricter than Princess'."  He looked over his shoulder at Blair before turning his attention to choosing how he'd hurt Blair further.  "Since you won't obey a simple command, you're going to be punished for it.  If you won't crawl to the bed, stay right where you are, and I'll make your trip to the bed an agony."

~~~~

Blair had stood and backed to the fireplace in the few moments Jim spent selecting a few choice items from the table.  Jim shook his head as he approached him, amending his planned torment suitably as he did so.  "That was a serious mistake, Chief.  Every time you disobey, you're making it worse for yourself."

Blair looked back with a spark of defiance in his eyes along with very real fear.  "So?"  He edged away further, and Jim heard the scraping sound of his heels brushing the stone of the fireplace.  "I'll walk over there, but that's it.  You hurt him too much, man…" Blair glanced toward the bed's still unconscious occupant.  "I…  I can't think of playing any more right now.  Game over, man."

Jim chuckled warmly.  "This is no game; it stops when I say it will."  He took one step forward.  Blair stood his ground.  "On your knees."

Blair tried to brush past him.  "No, Jim.  I'm done.  I'm –"

Jim dropped his handfuls of toys on the hearthstone, ignoring the small clanks and thuds to listen to Blair's pounding heart instead.  He grabbed Blair's wrist hard and twisted, yanking Blair off balance and pulling him against his chest.  "No, you're not."

"Ow… Fuck!  Yes, I am."  Blair's eyes burned angrily.  "Let go of me.  I'm safe-wording, man."

Shaking his head, Jim brought his free hand up to cup Blair's jaw.  He slid his fingers slightly upward, Blair's sideburn teasing his fingertips as they brushed over it and he smiled as they encountered the tender, hairless skin at the verge of Blair's ear.  He stroked lightly there, and Blair relaxed perceptibly.  "No.  You're nowhere near your limits."  He shifted his grip on Blair's wrist, and drew Blair's face closer to his own with the other hand.  "And, anyway, that's not an option."

"What?"  Blair tried to pull away again, tensing.

Pressing his forehead to Blair's, still smiling, Jim murmured, "What makes you think you have a choice, Blair?"  He released Blair's wrist and quickly thrust his hand between Blair's thighs, gripping hard on Blair's soft penis.  Blair's hands came up to Jim's chest, shaking, trying to push him away, and his nails dug into Jim's skin.  "Don't even try to hurt me."  He clenched his fist, and Blair gasped, his fingers stiffening as he tried to ride out the pain.

"Jim… stop…" Blair panted.  "Let me go!"  His pulse was spiking, and his eyes closed, leaking tears through his lashes.  "Let… me… go… please…"

"Fine," Jim purred.  He released Blair, pointing to the closet by the bathroom.  "You'll find some of Brian's clothes in there.  Take his car."  He moved toward the bed.  "He won't be needing it."

Blair stood where Jim had left him, blinking in confusion at his apparent change of heart.  "Jim?"

"What are you waiting for, Chief?"  Jim picked up a pair of leather cuffs from the table and unbuckled one of them, not looking at Blair.  "Stop worrying about Princess and worry about yourself.  Go."  He lifted one of Rafe's wrists, slapping the cuff around it and buckling it tightly.

"What…" Blair cleared his throat loudly.  "What are you doing?"

Jim lifted Rafe's other wrist and cuffed it.  "Giving him what he wants.  What he needs, obviously."  He looked over his shoulder at Blair, keeping his face emotionless.  "He obviously lied about your obedience… and he's going to pay for that.  I'm letting you go. So go."  He shrugged, turning his attention back to Rafe, outwardly relaxed but willing Blair to stay.

The only sound behind him was Blair's breathing, unsteady and fast.

He rummaged through the chains on the table, choosing one, and linking Rafe's cuffs together with it, fastened it to the headboard with a heavy padlock.  He tugged on it, and nodded, satisfied.  It would give Rafe slight freedom of movement, but not much.  Still ignoring Blair, he picked up a blindfold.

Blair's footsteps were loud in his ears, and he had to fight to hide a smile.  They were moving toward him.

It was still several seconds before Blair spoke, his voice full of worry but even.  "What happens to us if I walk out that door, Jim?"

Jim turned to face him, crossing his arms over his chest.  "Not a damned thing, Chief."

Blair's face reflected his distress.  Jim knew that he wanted to stay, wanted to experience the pain, the pleasure, but he was scared.  The stench of fear poured off him.  But would the fear of losing Jim outweigh his fear of what Jim would do to hurt and degrade him?

"I won't touch you ever again."

Turning away, he closed his eyes to the stunned look in Blair's eyes.  He ran the blindfold's soft leather length through his fingers, took a deep breath, and leaned over Rafe to strap it in place.  He gently brushed Rafe's hair off his forehead, making sure none of it would be under the blindfold and smoothed the deerskin across Rafe's eyes, second-skin tight, tying it behind his head in a firm knot.

Blair's fingers brushed his shoulder.  "Jim…  why?"

"Why, Sandburg?"  Jim pulled away from the heated touch and joined Rafe on the bed.  He kept his face averted from Blair's, focusing on Rafe.  He pressed his body against him, resting his leg over Rafe's thighs, and stroking Rafe's face gently.  He licked his lips, then very slowly, relishing every different flavor, began to lick his semen and Rafe's dried blood off his face.

Blair's breath caught, then sped up.  He shuffled from foot to foot, but Jim kept ignoring him.

"Time to wake up, Princess… time for me to love you…"

A breathless whimper and Blair's breathing got even more distressed.  "Jim…"

"Mine.  Always mine."  Jim slid his tongue into Rafe's ear, the buttery softness of the blindfold caressing the tip of his nose as he did so.

"Jim…"

With one fingernail, Jim scratched a sinuous line down Rafe's chest.  Rafe stirred, a pained groan escaping his parted lips.  "That's right, Princess."  Jim's hand skated lower, Rafe's cock already responding to his touch even in Rafe's disorientated state.  He knew that Rafe was nowhere near coherent yet, but his body responded automatically to Jim's touch.

Jim heard the rasp of Blair's tongue against his lips, his breath coming in shorter pants as Jim stroked the line of Rafe's hip, could smell Blair's tension and the faint tang of Blair's arousal.

He turned to face Blair.  "Have you forgotten already whose you are, Blair?  You are mine in everything you do and everything you say, or you're nothing to me."  He stroked Rafe's cock tenderly.  "Princess, here, understands.  Give up everything you are to me, or it ends here."
Blair was silent, his face pale.  He bit his lip, wrapping his arms around himself, a single tear streaking down his cheek.  As Jim kept meeting his eyes, Blair turned away, his shoulders shaking.

Jim watched him for a minute, idly fondling Rafe's cock as he let his vision fill itself with the lines of Blair's muscles, the play of light on his skin.  His own arousal was growing, and impatient, he got off the bed and stalked to the closet.

He opened the door, glanced inside, and, after a second's debate, chose a set of Rafe's sweats.  Not Rafe's favorites, the ones he would no doubt be wearing home, their fabric softened to near baby-blanket texture, but they'd do.

Rafe was regaining consciousness quickly, discovering his bound wrists and blindfolded eyes.  The clank of the chain and padlock against the headboard almost drowned out his whispered, "Sir?" and his happy sigh as he realized what Jim had done to him while he was unconscious.

"Don't move a muscle, Princess," Jim ordered, walking toward Blair.  He didn't have to look to know Rafe obeyed.

Blair still faced the door.  He turned, though, as Jim dropped the sweats at his heels.  Jim waited, but Blair didn't speak, just looked down at the pile of clothing.

"His keys are on the hook by the door, as I'm sure you noticed."

Blair looked up quickly.  "Jim – " he began.

Jim shook his head and softly ran his finger along the track of one of Blair's tears.  "Goodbye, Blair."  He walked toward the bed, licking his finger dry, and shaking his head.

As he murmured, "I'm here, Princess," he could hear the nearly inaudible brush of cloth on the floor.  Ignoring Blair, he climbed into the bed, running his hand very slowly up the inside of Rafe's left leg.  "Beautiful… very good…" he praised Rafe as Rafe struggled not to move.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jim watched Blair unfold the sweatshirt with shaking hands.  As he lifted it, starting to pull it over his head, fresh tears streaked his cheeks.

Rafe whimpered as Jim's hand got closer to his cock, his legs trembling.  Jim leaned down and parted Rafe's lips with his tongue, his hand passing Rafe's cock and skating over his stomach, pausing for a brief pinch at the edge of Rafe's navel.  Rafe moaned into Jim's mouth, accepting the kiss passively.

Jim pulled back, listening to Blair.  He'd hesitated half into the sweatshirt, his pulse thundering, and as Jim waited breathlessly, a sob escaped him and he tugged the shirt off again.

"You can kiss back, Princess."  He ran his knuckles up Rafe's ribs, and smiling, claimed Rafe's lips again while hesitant footsteps let him know that Blair was moving back to the rug.  Rafe returned the kiss enthusiastically, squirming as Jim's fingers teased his armpit and moved up to his elbow.

To the near-silence of Blair's sobs, Jim broke the kiss and trailed his tongue over Rafe's chin and down his throat to his collarbones.  Rafe's breath caught and he tensed, knowing what was coming.  Jim didn't disappoint him; he sank his teeth into the juncture of Rafe's left shoulder and his neck.  "Mine," he snarled.

"Yours, sir," Rafe moaned.  "Yours."

Jim stopped biting and covered Rafe's lips with his hand.  "Sssh, Princess."  He looked over to the fireplace.  Blair knelt there, his hair a chaotic tumble around his down-turned face.  "And so is Blair.  Aren't you, Blair?"

Blair didn't look up at the sound of his name, just nodded, choking back another sob.

Jim licked his lips and chuckled warmly.  "Crawl, little slut."

~~~

He didn't watch Blair, knew that Blair needed to cover the fifteen or so feet alone.  Listening to the small sounds he made, the light brush and thump of Blair's knees and palms as he left the relative safety of the rug, he turned most of his attention back to Rafe.

"Oh, Princess, I'm gonna hurt you both," he whispered into Rafe's ear.  "Gonna whip him bloody for you."  Rafe made a tiny sound in his throat, and Jim chuckled again.  "Like that?"

Rafe's tongue teased his palm, his lips softly parted, as he nodded.  Jim lifted his hand away, smiling fondly at him.  "Yes, sir," Rafe breathed.

"Thought you might," Jim chuckled.  "But before I do that, beautiful, there's the matter of thoroughly punishing you to attend to.  And you're not going to like that at all."  He leaned down, tracing Rafe's lips with his tongue.  "I'm going to make you beg for the pain to stop…"

"Sir…"

"But it won't stop, Princess."

Rafe's breath caught in his throat, and Jim kissed him firmly, leaving him gasping when he was finished.  Rafe's chest was already mottled with the flush of his arousal, and Jim lightly palmed the ruddy area, watching Rafe's tongue flick over his lower lip.

"Now," he purred, "you're going to roll over, spread your legs, kneel, and wait."

Rafe hesitated.  "Sir," he said again.

"Now, Princess."  Jim sat up and moved to grip Rafe's hips, ready to bodily roll him over.

"I need the bathroom, sir, please," Rafe said hurriedly, the reddish hue of his cheeks and torso deepening with his embarrassment.

"Oh you do, do you?"  Pleased, both by Rafe's condition and his tacit acknowledgement of Jim's control over all his bodily functions while at the cabin, Jim traced the edge of Rafe's pubic hair with the pad of his left thumb, pressing down and testing the fullness of Rafe's bladder.  Rafe's breath hissed between his clenched teeth as Jim increased the pressure, the chain and padlock clattering against the headboard as he tensed.  "Should I make you piss yourself, Princess?" he asked, his voice light, reflecting his amusement at the idea.

Rafe bit his lip, knowing better from past experience than to reply.  Jim moved his thumb in a clockwise circle, maintaining the steady pressure, feeling Rafe's muscles tremble in response, watched the semi-circle of Rafe's lip whiten around his teeth as he thought about what to do with the contents of Rafe's bladder.  Rafe started shaking his head, silently protesting, and Jim grinned, massaging another slow circle with his thumb.  Whether the protest was conscious or not, he knew that Rafe would do precisely what he decided.  He released Rafe's hips and moved to sit on the edge of the bed, Rafe twitching as the mattress shifted.

He made his voice hard, repeating his previous instructions, and punctuating them with firm slaps, two per side, to Rafe's thighs that left his palm tingling and Rafe gasping, moaning, and hastening to obey.  Struggling, with his limited mobility and insufficient leverage, Rafe rolled over, trying and failing twice to kneel.  Jim stood, taking a handful of Rafe's hair in one hand and his testicles in the other.  Pushing down on Rafe's head and squeezing as he lifted Rafe's hips provided Rafe with enough painful incentive to succeed on his third attempt.  "Spread 'em wider, Princess…  Wider…  Better."  He released his grip on Rafe's hair, stroking it instead, the disordered, shiny strands sliding under his palm, the knot of the deerskin blindfold and its trailing tails providing an interesting contrast.  Massaging Rafe's balls lightly, to soothe the pain he'd just inflicted, he slid his thumb between Rafe's ass cheeks, applying light pressure over his anus.  Rafe sighed, trying to urge Jim to increase the stimulation.  Instead, with a harsh laugh, Jim took his hand away.

The sound of Blair's heartbeat, steady and fast, drew him to look away from Rafe.  Blair had almost reached the bed; only a distance of about three feet remained between them.  "Stop there, Chief," Jim ordered quietly.  "Hands behind your back, knees spread wide, forehead on the floor."  Blair obeyed with only the slightest hesitation, the ease of his assumption of the dictated position belied only by his ragged breathing and shaking shoulders.  Jim watched Blair for several long seconds.  Despite his seeming acquiescence, Jim knew that how he treated Blair in the next few minutes would affect the rest of the day's events, the rest of their lives together.  The salt of his tears filled the air Jim breathed.  "Good.  Very good."

He crossed the small patch of floor, then squatted beside Blair, running his fingers through his hair, gentling him.  "See, now, that wasn't so bad, Chief," he murmured, moving behind Blair, slipping his right hand under Blair to rest over his heart, and gathering Blair's hair into a ponytail with his left hand and using it to hoist Blair's head off the ground.  Once Blair was upright, Jim released his hair.  "You made the right choice."  He cupped Blair's chin in his left hand; the skin there was tacky from partially dried tears, and he brushed his lips against it to taste.

Blair was silent.  His fingers twisted together against Jim's stomach as Jim licked a path to his ear.

"Do you agree, little slut?"  Jim ran his thumbnail along Blair's lower lip.  "Finally ready to admit that this is what you need?  What you crave?"

"Yes," Blair whispered.

"Yes, sir," Jim instructed.

"Yes, sir," Blair repeated, a shudder rolling through his body.

"Look at him," Jim pressed the side of his own face to Blair's, resting his chin on Blair's shoulder.  "He's convinced he's going to explode, shame himself in front of you by pissing without my permission."

"What – what would you do to him if he – he does… sir?"  Blair's tentative question probably hadn't carried to the bed, if Rafe's reaction was indicative.  He was squirming as much as he could without being too obvious about it; the pressure in his bladder was no doubt increasing by the second.

Jim ignored the question, letting his right hand slide down Blair's stomach.  "My Princess isn't nearly as miserable as he's going to be."  His fingers encountered Blair's pubic hair, and he smiled as Blair moaned softly.  "Neither," he plucked a single hair with a sharp motion, "are," he plucked another, "you."  He rolled the second hair between his forefinger and thumb, and nuzzled Blair's ear for a moment.

Releasing Blair completely, he stood and returned to the bed.  "Or," Jim addressed Rafe again, in the same light, amused tone he'd used before, "should I make you piss on Blair?  Hmm?"

~~~~

Trailing a finger along Rafe's spine, eliciting a moan from that and his words, he grinned. "Oh, you'd hate that, I can tell." He sat on the edge of the bed, idly petting Rafe's backside with his right hand; a chill of sweat lent slickness to Rafe's flesh and gooseflesh erupted beneath Jim's palm and fingertips. Tremors passed through Rafe's body, not soothed by the caresses.

His face impassive once more, Jim glanced at Blair for his reaction to the idea. A hot flush colored Blair's cheeks, and the color deepened as he met Jim's eyes. Blair's lips parted slowly, but he remained silent as Jim raised his left forefinger to his own lips in a warning gesture. It was obviously difficult for him to do so. The attractive and the repellant natures of the concept, allure and revulsion, they were evident in that blush, the trembling that was as clear to Jim as the quivering of the man whose ass he stroked, and the growing erection that lifted between Blair's widespread thighs.

Yet, if Blair were to say please, to beg with just that one word, would he follow it with yes or no?

No matter, Jim decided, it wasn't going to happen right now. As badly as he'd like to tangle his fingers in Sandburg's hair and hold his head steady, to feel the first heat of Rafe's urine hitting Blair's scalp like the first trickle of hot water from a dripping showerhead, to tilt Blair's face into the stream and watch the urine splash his forehead only to trickle over his tightly closed eyes, over his cheeks, to part Blair's lips with his thumb… he wouldn't do it. Not now.

There was no way Rafe would last long enough for Jim to get Blair restrained how he'd like him, to bind Rafe so he couldn't miss. No time to interrupt his plans for the hours they had remaining before returning to Cascade for either a bath or shower for a piss-sodden Blair.

Maybe next time. If there was a next time as a threesome. He set that thought aside for later musing as a violent shudder passed through Rafe's body.

Jim let his ring finger slip between Rafe's cheeks to delicately tease his anus. The muscle twitched, and Jim lightly dragged his fingernail over it. "Good, Princess. Does it hurt yet?" he murmured. "About to burst?"

"Ye-e-es, si-ir," Rafe gasped, the single syllables broken with each flick of Jim's fingernail, more sweat trickling around Jim's finger as Rafe fought to keep control of his bladder.

For a moment, Jim wished Rafe would lose that battle. If he did, his punishment would be sublimely humiliating and painful… like the last time. That instance had led to three agonizing days for Rafe, days he'd allegedly spent at home with the flu. In reality, he'd spent those days as a prisoner in a storage room three floors below Jim's apartment; the room was small but more than adequate for the torture he had inflicted on his partner there. Had inflicted and would again.

He took a deep breath. Instead of the remembered aromas of sweat and latex, fear and arousal, cement spattered with blood and semen, the air wafted the scent of wet deerskin to him; Rafe wept in his struggle.

As his fingers teased their way over Rafe's perineum and testicles, he gestured to Blair with his other hand. Beckoning him nearer, he pointed under the bed.

Blair's eyes reflected his confusion and apprehension. He didn't move.

Jim felt a burn of anger starting to spread through himself, his lips thinning as he glared and repeated the gestures. "Now," he mouthed silently and fiercely.

Blair's blush paled at Jim's visible anger; he crawled quickly to the bed. The confused expression cleared as he looked under the edge. He leaned into the gentle caress Jim rewarded him with for retrieving the antique, ceramic chamber pot hidden there, holding the utensil with its decoration of pink roses crazed with tiny cracks in his shaking hands, and watching with wide eyes as Jim tightly pinched the head of Rafe's penis.

Rafe's body jerked hard, and he tried to pull his legs together.

Jim smiled, his left hand leaving Blair's cheek immediately and yanking Rafe's left leg into its previous position. "Not wise, Princess."

"Please, please, sir," Rafe choked out.

"What," Jim asked lightly, his voice loud enough to carry to Blair's ears as well as Rafe's, "you don't want a repeat of your basement vacation? Don't want to watch me catheterize you while you're being mummified? Don't want me to use your own urine as a weight on your balls?" He paused and indicated to the visibly shocked and aroused Blair that he should get the chamber pot into position. When this was accomplished, he continued, "Didn't like swallowing that naso-gastric tube, did you? Didn't like knowing that there was a constant flow of water into your stomach?"

Rafe's head thrashed back and forth in mute denial, his cheeks a vivid scarlet.

"Yeah, that's right," Jim chuckled. "You didn't like it. You loved it, Princess." He released the tip of Rafe's cock, swatted his ass once genially, and slid his hand up Rafe's back once more. "Now, Princess."

~~~

It took several seconds for Rafe to obey the permissive command, and Jim split his attention between his humiliated Princess and Blair, who was about to let go of the chamber pot. "Make sure he doesn't miss, Blair," Jim purred. "One drop of urine on the sheets and I'll take it out on your hide."

Blair closed his eyes, his muscles shifting as his hands tightened again on the porcelain. "Yes, sir," he muttered so quietly that his words were almost covered by the sound of Rafe's urine splashing against the pink roses and Rafe's relieved gasp.

Gently stroking Rafe's back with his right hand, enjoying the way Rafe's goosebumps subsided under his fingertips now, Jim slipped his foot between Blair's thighs and gave his testicles a gentle prod. "Pay attention, Chief."

Blair's eyes shot open just as Jim chuckled, sliding the fingers of his left hand quickly up Rafe's left thigh. Rafe's body jolted at the first clench of Jim's fist on his testicles, and the tone of his urine's stream against the porcelain changed. Blair reacted fast, shooting Jim an angry glance, and the tone settled again.

"Jealous, Blair?"

Blair didn't respond, but the flush mottling his cheeks deepened its red.

Jim clenched his hand more slowly, letting his fingernails sink into the tissue of Rafe's scrotum. As he increased the pressure, Rafe shook, not even a whimper escaping his lips until Jim began to twist his fingers. Rafe's urine flow was tapering off quickly. Jim smiled sweetly at Blair, then parted Rafe's buttocks with the fingers of his right hand. Releasing Rafe's testicles, he flicked Rafe's anus hard with his left middle-fingernail; the audible impact had the effect of making Rafe's body jerk abruptly.

Blair gasped as if he'd been scalded. Jim laughed; he hadn't heard liquid hitting fabric, but he'd definitely heard it hitting skin. "Better make sure it doesn't trickle off your hand onto the sheets…" As he watched intently, idly circling Rafe's anus with his fingertip as a prelude to the next pain he'd inflict on it, Blair pulled his left hand from under Rafe's body. "Or the floor," he continued impassively, hiding the arousal he was feeling with firm control.

With the same type of rapid mood change he'd been displaying all day, Blair's mostly-dazed expression transformed to a toothy, hungry grin. A trickle of heat ran down Jim's spine as Blair met his eyes, but he maintained his stern expression and kept idly tormenting Rafe.

Blair raised his hand to his lips quickly, his tongue snaking pinkly between his teeth, its tip just brushing the back of his wrist where a line of moisture was making its way through the hair. His smile vanished, of necessity, as his mouth opened further and he flattened his tongue, licking over the back of his hand in one broad, slow stroke, his eyes closing in evident pleasure.

"Good boy," Jim said, listening to the last drops of Rafe's urine spatter into the chamber pot, the slick surface of Blair's tongue against his own skin. "Good boys." He dragged the nail of his left forefinger from the base of Rafe's tailbone to the tender skin at the base of his scrotum, not varying the pressure as it snagged on the delicate ripples of his anus, then took his hands away, leaving Rafe to moan and tremble at what Jim knew, to him, was a delicious burn.
Blair's lips were fastened over the webbing between his forefinger and thumb, and as Jim watched, he opened his eyes again, lowering his hand to his side. Jim prodded Blair's scrotum with his toes again. "Make sure the chamber pot's steady," he ordered.

As Blair steadied the porcelain receptacle, Jim grabbed Rafe's right hip hard with his right hand. He worked his left hand under Rafe's left knee. Rafe yelped as Jim hoisted his left leg off the bed and his balance was stolen from him. "Don't struggle, Princess," Jim suggested, "Keep your leg's muscles locked." He canted Rafe's body to the side quickly, holding him poised on his right knee, the chain and padlock scraping the headboard. "Clean him up, Blair. Just your tongue."

As Blair's head moved toward Rafe's crotch, Rafe's body tensed even more, shaking in Jim's tight grasp. "Relax, Princess," Jim whispered, trailing his toes along the length of Blair's cock and eliciting a shudder from Blair as well. "Just enjoy it."

"Yes, sir," Rafe gasped as soft, wet sounds emanated from his groin; Blair moaned as he tongued away the last drops clinging to Rafe's penis.

"Enough, Chief," Jim said after several seconds.

Blair didn't obey.

Jim glared at what he could see of his guide's body as he continued to nuzzle at Rafe's crotch. "Blair," he thundered warningly. "I said enough."

Blair pulled back, meeting Jim's eyes with a sullen defiance that shot sparks of mingled anger and arousal through him.

"Set the chamber pot on the floor," he said stonily, waiting until Blair had obeyed his directive before settling Rafe the way he had been. "Crawl to the rug, Blair, and wait for me there." Caressing Rafe's taut thigh muscles, he continued to watch Blair, then pointedly turned his face away as Blair lowered his palms to the floor and started to crawl away from the bed.

Standing, he pushed the chamber pot carefully out of his way with his foot, gliding his hands up over Rafe's ass cheeks, along his spine, then over the taut and strained muscles of his arms. He sighed and started to unbuckle the cuffs.

"No," Rafe breathed, clenching his fists around the chain, his dismay and disappointment both extremely evident to Jim.

"Yes, beautiful. We're running out of time, and I need you to get things ready for me, since I can't rely on Blair to do it." He paused to carefully uncurl Rafe's fingers. "Don't resist now, Princess."

"Sir," Rafe whispered shakily, "sorry, sir." He let his hands hang limply, accepting that he was going to be unbound.

"Not your fault, Princess," Jim murmured in reply, leaning down to place a tender kiss on the nape of Rafe's neck. "Not your fault; you've been so very patient, so very good for me. I'm sorry that we've got to stop so I can attend to this." He finished unbuckling the cuffs and helped Rafe to kneel back so his buttocks rested on his heels.

A clinking sound from the hearth caught his attention, and he shot a glare in Blair's direction. "Not one more sound, Blair, not one more undirected move before I get over there, or you won't be leaving this cabin when Rafe and I do. Now, drop the chain, sit your ass in the middle of the rug, clasp your hands behind your neck, and wait." The tone of his voice did the trick; the chain he'd been toying with fell from Blair's hands, and he backed to the middle of the rug quickly.

Shaking his head, Jim turned his attention back to Rafe. He cradled Rafe's face in his palms, kissing him thoroughly, channeling all the anger he was feeling towards Blair into passionate gentleness with Rafe. With one last flick of his tongue over Rafe's lower lip, he unknotted the blindfold. Removing it slowly, he whispered, "I had no idea he was such a jealous, selfish little whore. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

~~~

Rafe's pupils constricted as he opened his eyes, and he blinked twice before meeting Jim's. "I know you will; you always do," he replied softly and with a tinge of bitterness. "Eventually."

With an inward chuckle, Jim brushed a stray eyelash off Rafe's cheek. It stuck to his finger and, smiling, he held it in front of Rafe's lips. "Make a wish," he whispered.

Rafe's eyes darted from Jim's eyes to his fingertip then back. "Wha -?"

"Your birthday's not for a couple more days, Princess." He dropped the blindfold on Rafe's thighs, chuckling at Rafe's confusion. "Make a wish."

"But I thought…" Rafe's voice trailed off as his smile grew. "Thank you, sir," he murmured as he closed his eyes.

"Good boy," Jim whispered, sliding the fingers of his free hand into Rafe's hair. Rafe's breath, warm and humid, hit his finger. The eyelash landed on the rumpled sheets, and Rafe opened his eyes again. "I hope that wish involves your birthday present from Grandma," Jim teased mildly.

"Partially," Rafe admitted with a light flush beginning high on his cheekbones.

"You bring it today, Princess?"

Rafe nodded, the silky strands of his hair sliding between and teasing Jim's fingers. "It's in my car."

"Good." Jim tightened his grip, leaning down and running his tongue from the corner of Rafe's mouth to his ear. "I can't wait to fuck you with Waterford crystal," he purred, chuckling a bit at Rafe's shiver. "I've been wanting to since you opened the damned stupid thing at work." He tugged on Rafe's hair, urging him to kneel more upright so his ass was easily accessible, and wedged the fingers of his free hand between Rafe's cheeks. As he worked the tip of his middle finger into Rafe's anus, he bit Rafe's lower lip, worrying the torn spot until it bled freely again, letting Rafe's blood coat his tongue before kissing him. Rafe kissed back hungrily, tiny moans vibrating against Jim's teeth and tongue. When Jim couldn't taste the blood any more, he broke the kiss and stopped teasing Rafe's ass.

Time… he was running out of time.

Jim released Rafe's hair and turned, picking up Rafe's watch from the table and handing it to him after glancing at it. "Put it on." Rafe's forehead creased, but he didn't ask, just kept meeting Jim's eyes as he slipped the gold band around his wrist and fastened it. "I'm not sending you home, Brian," Jim reassured him, chiding him at the same time, "I told you, you haven't done anything wrong."

Rafe's expression cleared, absolute trust the only thing registering in his eyes. "What do you need me to do, si - Jim?"

With a chuckle at Rafe's slight difficulty in adapting to his rather abrupt transition from depraved sex toy to ordinary guy, Jim extended his hand; Rafe took it with an easy, self-deprecating grin, allowing Jim to help him stand.

Jim looked down at their linked hands, thinking about love, trust, friendship, lust, and lies. He turned Rafe's hand over, trailing a finger along the supple, hairless skin of his inner arm up to where a paler, raised scar marred it just below his elbow. How much had Rafe bled that day? Plenty. Not just from that wound, either, he recalled; he'd hurt Rafe badly enough for a two-day hospital stay. He traced the scar, the eight year-old memory of slicing into the vein crystal clear. Moving on from there, he wrapped his hand around Rafe's upper arm, feeling the uneasy shift of biceps and triceps, remembering the feeling of dislocating Rafe's shoulder, Rafe's gagged scream, his tears.

He raised his head, searching Rafe's face. Yeah, it was there, now that he knew to look for it, had been there all along… Love - hidden behind the mask of uncomplicated friendship, of lust.

And from the way Rafe had admitted so reluctantly earlier to still loving Blair, Rafe's fond stories of the past with Blair relayed on the stakeout, he knew what had brought on Rafe's request that day, so very long ago, to make him hurt enough that he didn't hurt anymore. He'd been furious at the time, enraged that someone had hurt his Princess so deeply, broken his heart so utterly, but who had done it was none of his business.

"Blair," he murmured soundlessly, hardly moving his lips.

There had been nothing casual about Rafe and Blair's relationship, despite Rafe's efforts to hide it from him. Giving up Blair after four years had done that to Brian…

Giving up Brian…

Jesus, did he love Rafe?

"Jim? Is something wrong?" Rafe whispered, his hazel eyes, looking a bit greener than usual in the early afternoon light, troubled.

"Nothing." Shaking his head and trying to clear his mind of the disquieting thoughts haunting him, Jim released Rafe's arm. "I need you to run an errand. Since Blair's decided rules don't apply to him…"

"Errand?"

Jim nodded, then walked away, bending to pick up the sweatshirt Blair had abandoned on the floor. He tossed it to Rafe with a grin. "Breakfast. The old bitch still keeping your other cabin fully stocked?"

Rafe laughed. "Always. I swear she wastes more money on food for that place than I ever could on clothes." The sweatshirt muffled his voice as he continued, "Anything in particular? It's not the weekend, so I can't guarantee fresh fruit…"

While Rafe spoke, Jim walked to the closet and pulled open one of the drawers that lined the left side. "Nothing heavy for either of you, you know that. Anything else is fine." He glanced over his shoulder, his fingers entangled in the leather, metal, and plastic the drawer contained. "Come here," he said sternly, and Rafe hurried to his side. "This drawer's a mess, Princess. The next time -"

"Sorry, Jim," Rafe entreated, "I haven't -"

Jim's hand stung from the slap he silenced Rafe with before he lowered it, and Rafe was looking at him, duly chastened, with a reddening mark on his cheek and his left eye half-closed and tearing. "Oh, you know better than to make excuses," Jim growled, raising his hand again, pleased when Rafe didn't flinch, and brushing his fingers over the red mark, collecting the tears on his fingertips. "I know just how busy you've been. Should have stopped at 'I'm sorry', shouldn't you? Shouldn't have interrupted me at all, right?"

Rafe nodded, looking down, his knees starting to bend, ready to make amends as he'd been taught.

The loose neckline of the sweatshirt tightened satisfactorily as Jim bunched it in his hand, the label a minor annoyance to his ring and pinky fingers, to prevent Rafe from dropping to his knees and cleaning Jim's feet with his tongue. Rafe gasped, his lips parting either in protest or shock at the sudden constriction around his throat. Jim didn't know which, and he didn't care. "Not now, and not you." Leaning in close enough to feel the heat of Rafe's breath against his lips as he spoke, he whispered. "I was going to make your trip comfortable but interesting… Now it will be hell."

~~~~

He both felt and heard Rafe's hard swallow, felt the first stir of Rafe's arousal against his bare leg. Releasing Rafe's collar and placing his hand over Rafe's steadily beating heart, he pushed him
gently away. "Sir," Rafe breathed, "I am sorry..."

Jim smiled indulgently, then planted a gentle kiss on Rafe's cheekbone. "Not as sorry as you will be. Now, go wash your face, beautiful. We don't have much time."

Rafe turned, heading into the bathroom, and Jim, still smiling, returned his attention to the tangled mess in the drawer. He sorted quickly through the assorted cock toys, chastity devices, ball stretchers, discarding the simple and comfortable ones from contention. His fingers encountered a box wedged in the back of the drawer, and his smile changed to a wicked smirk. No doubt Rafe had thought he'd forget it existed. He tugged it out, setting it on the closet shelf.

Closing that drawer, he opened the deeper one beneath it. The heady mingled scents of talcum powder and latex greeted him, and he took a deep, greedy breath. The chilly, soft rubber slithered through his fingers, and it took concentration to keep his arousal from becoming obvious. He couldn't send Rafe out in public, well not exactly public, but close enough for it to be moot, dressed head to toe in the dusky, skintight stuff, but he'd tormented Rafe with it under his clothing before. He chose several articles, calculating what their effect would be when combined with other subtle tortures he could inflict.

"'Jealous, selfish, little whore...' God, Brian, you're such a fucking asshole!" Rafe's voice, a vicious whisper in the bathroom, clearly audible even over the sound of running water, drew his attention to Blair.

Blair had shifted slightly, drawn his knees up and rested his forehead on them. His hands were still clasped behind his neck, so Jim couldn't fault him on that score. Jim licked lips gone suddenly dry, picturing Blair stringently bound in that position with heavy leather straps, impaled with a thick, long vibrator; imagined himself whipping Blair's bowed back until his blood trickled down to stain the rug, then tipping him ass upward, jerking out the toy and slamming his own cock home.

He shook himself, glaring down at his now obvious erection, his fists clenching around the silky rubber, and closed the drawer with his hip. The scene in his mind might take place someday, but not today. Angered at his loss of self-control, he snapped, "Brian, get your ass out here before I come in and get it!" He snatched the box from the shelf and strode to the bed to deposit his chosen items. "Sandburg, stand up."

Blair stumbled to his feet, wary, his ass imprinted from his sojourn on the rug; Rafe appeared in the bathroom doorway, hair damp around his forehead and ears, a bit flushed, and looking crushed at possibly disappointing Jim further.

"Sweatshirt off, Princess." As Rafe complied hurriedly, Jim walked slowly toward Blair with a length of thick, rough rope in his left hand. Blair met his eyes defiantly, and Jim frowned. Why couldn't Blair just let it all go like he had with Rafe? Why couldn't he give up his need to control Jim for just a few hours and just relax into the submission and pain his body so desperately craved? Stop pushing him? No matter, he supposed, Blair would soon - he'd have no choice. "Move the ottoman over to the post, Princess, about a foot from it," Jim said distractedly, reaching for Blair's wrists. "I want you on it, on your stomach, in the next thirty seconds, facing the post."

Blair didn't resist the binding of his hands, sullenly watching through his hair as Jim checked the knot, but Jim suspected he'd balk at walking to the pole of his own volition. The rope seemed to calm Blair's heartbeat, however, and Jim caught Blair's sideways glance to the small pile of latex garments on the bed as he pushed Blair to his knees - and Blair's hungry expression as his face was nearly against Jim's cock.

A possibility of what was behind Blair's recalcitrance occurred to Jim suddenly. The trappings of Jim's dominance, in Blair's eyes, had essentially been discarded when he'd removed his jeans hours earlier; he recalled the times, years ago, when he'd had similar problems with his Princess. He'd grown too used to well-trained obedience over the years, hadn't dealt with someone so absorbed in the external, ritualized embellishments to his preferred sexuality in too long. Figured Sandburg would be, he thought with a sigh. Anthropology. It was an easy thing to fix, for the time being, however, and wouldn't change his plans at all.

"Stay, slut," he ordered, spinning on his heel and heading to the closet again. He watched them both as he pulled on a pair of leather pants, hissing a bit at the chill of the lining on his overheated skin. Blair looked happier. Although his head was bowed and he twisted his wrists gently in their bonds, Jim could see, through his rat's nest of hair, a smile curling the corners of his mouth. Rafe shifted on the ottoman, its oxblood leather creaking softly against his skin. As Jim watched, he spread his knees a bit further, pressing the tops of his feet more firmly against the floor, pointing his toes.

Jim buttoned his fly, adjusting his still partially erect cock. He turned to face the closet, pursing his lips and brushing his fingers against them as he checked out his selection of boots. The aroma of
latex clung to his fingertips and palms, along with the blended scents of Blair and Rafe. Should he? Indulging himself, he opened the drawer of latex, taking out a pair of short socks as he picked up a pair of heavy, steel-toed boots from the floor with his other hand.

~~~

With a silent chuckle, he walked to where Brian waited tensely on the ottoman, dropping the boots beside it, and without announcing his intention, sat on Brian's back, facing Blair, to pull on the socks. Rafe grunted as he bore Jim's full weight, but he didn't move, and Jim sighed at the first touch of the stretchy, cool, opaque white latex on his right foot. The powdered interior let it slip on easily, clinging to his skin with softness. He pulled the edge away from his calf, allowing the air trapped in the toe to escape in a talcum-scented waft as he squeezed there.

Rafe's back cracked when Jim shifted his weight to stamp his foot into his boot. Rafe groaned; Blair looked up, his eyes meeting Jim's. Rafe grunted again as Jim resettled himself, and Jim stroked his ass gently with the second sock, eliciting a shiver and a dreamy moan. "Sssh, Princess, almost done," Jim murmured, watching Blair's eyes track the motion of his hand.

Then Blair's eyes were locked on his again, and Blair was laughing almost silently. "*White* rubber socks, Jim? Man, you *are* kinky." His whisper carried to Jim's ears easily, the laughter in his voice warming Jim's spine.

"Watch it, Chief," Jim growled half-heartedly, sliding his left foot into the other sock.

Blair obediently lowered his eyes, but his shoulders were still shaking with laughter. It became audible, loudly and a little hysterically, when the air escaping this sock did so with a soft, farting noise.

Jim ignored him, working his foot into his other boot, but Rafe didn't. "Blair, shut up!" he urged, his voice husky from both passion and Jim's weight on his back. "God, just shut up!"

"He'll learn, Princess." Standing, Jim swatted Rafe's ass with his right hand. "Oh, he'll learn." He strode across the intervening space to tower over Blair's kneeling form. He didn't say a word, just glared down at him, waiting. Still consumed with hilarity, Blair rocked, half-sobbing; he raised his bound hands to his mouth, trying to muffle his laughter, tears starting to run down his cheeks.

As Blair's mirth subsided slowly, Jim nudged his knees farther apart with his right boot. When Blair was reduced to gasping, apologizing in an almost breathless whisper, Jim grabbed a handful of his hair, forcing his head downward to press Blair's nose hard against the steel toe of his boot. "This," he hissed, "is how you apologize. Start licking, Blair, and don't stop until I tell you to."

Blair's motion was tentative, his head fighting Jim's grasp, but he was trying. Jim wiggled his toes, listening to the hushed, moist caress of Blair's tongue on the stiff leather. Releasing a bit of the pressure, but keeping his hand tangled hard in Blair's hair, he catalogued the items he'd dropped on the hearth earlier. With a slight alteration to what he'd originally planned for Blair's trip to the bed, he would carry out that earlier threat, he decided, grinning.

He let go of Blair's hair as Blair's tonguing grew more active, more avid. When Blair began to moan, Jim laughed. Blair froze. "Did I tell you to stop?" Jim laughed again at the frenzy of licking the thought of his displeasure encouraged. "You've been wanting to do that for a long time, haven't you, Blair," he stated more than asked. "Wanted to clean my boots with that dirty tongue of yours..."

Blair moaned more loudly in response, nodding as he continued, pressing his face tightly against Jim's ankle.

Jim allowed him to worship for another minute, then pulled his foot away abruptly. Blair's forehead hit the rug before he could brace himself with his tied hands. "Stay just like that, Chief. Don't move a centimeter." He walked to the hearth, looking down at the drying swirls of Blair's saliva on his boot.

The metal and leather bits he'd left on the hearth were chilly; the fire had died. Gathering them and moving back to Blair, he knelt behind him. Blair shivered at the first touch of Jim's hands on his ass cheeks, shivered more strongly as Jim tested his anus with one fingertip. He wouldn't need more lube just yet, Jim decided, sliding his finger a bit deeper and twisting it once back and forth. Ignoring Blair's noises, he removed his finger, replacing it dispassionately with a thin, metal plug, careful to keep the trailing wires free of the thin leather straps he fastened around Blair's thighs and waist. Blair rolled his hips; Jim slapped his ass hard, leaving a faint handprint behind. "Stay still," he ordered, reaching between Blair's spread thighs and squeezing his scrotum with his left hand and picking up a long piece of thin leather lacing with his right.

Blair's body shook as Jim started wrapping the lace firmly around the base of his scrotum, the delicate flesh with its sprinkling of hair a soft weight in his palm. He tugged lightly, watching as the flesh below the binding plumped and tightened. When he was satisfied, he knotted the lace tightly, then picked up a pair of pliers and a dozen lead sinkers. He trailed the open jaws of the pliers up Blair's right leg from his Achilles tendon to the back of his knee. Blair tensed even
further, moaning deep in his throat, panting as Jim slowly closed the pliers on the hairless, sensitive skin there, tightening them until he saw a bruise starting to form.

He released the pinched flesh, next targeting the crease where Blair's buttock met his thigh. Four quick, harsh clenches of the pliers had Blair yelping and jerking away. Chuckling warmly, Jim tugged him back with by the trailing ends of the lacing. Six sinkers per side wouldn't be much weight, Jim thought, but this was merely an appetizer, a way to both reward and torture his Princess, a simple beginning to what he was planning to do to Blair when Rafe left the cabin.

~~~

Once the sinkers adorned the leather, he dropped the pliers beside his leg, leaning down to run his tongue along the edge of the strap that parted Blair's buttocks, following it up to the o-ring where it split to wrap around his waist. He traced the inside of the ring with the very tip of his tongue, teasing the vertebra it sat over, grinning at the goosebumps he raised on Blair's skin, at his gasp and tremble. "Just a couple more things, Chief, and you're going to the post," he murmured against Blair's spine. Raising his voice and sitting back on his heels, he said, "Kneel up."

Blair did, hissing a bit as the plug moved inside him and the binding around his scrotum shifted. Jim arranged him just the way he wanted him, holding his hips and caressing the pliers-marks with the pad of his thumb. "Hands up, like you were praying... Beautiful, good boy," he praised. He reached around Blair with his left hand, running his fingers up Blair's stomach, circling his navel with his middle fingertip. Blair's stomach muscles twitched, so he did it again before continuing upward.

With his right hand, he picked up a pair of tweezer clamps connected with a thin but heavy chain. Blair sucked in a deep breath at the touch of the chain on his ribcage; Blair's nipples, obviously still very sensitive from earlier, were already erect when Jim's fingers grazed them. "You're so needy, aren't you, Chief? Your body's willing to admit it, even if you aren't... It's so ready for me, so responsive." He placed the black rubber-coated tips of one clamp on Blair's left areola, letting the other clamp dangle on its chain to brush against Blair's stomach, tightening it gradually then tugging hard. Blair groaned, trying to press back against Jim. "It was made for me..." he breathed in Blair's right ear. "Mine to give pleasure or pain however I want." He drew the second clamp's tips along Blair's sternum, twisting it in the hair scattered there, feeling Blair's heartbeat transmitted through his fingers. Repeating the same, slow clamping he'd done to Blair's left nipple on the right resulted in another loud groan; Jim smiled fiercely. "Slut."

The heat of Blair's blush warmed Jim's face through the clingy strands of his hair that caught on Jim's own stubble. "Stop thinking and enjoy it, Blair," he suggested casually. "It's nothing to be ashamed of." Blair took a breath, preparing to reply, Jim knew; Jim's hand clamping over his mouth prevented it easily. "Don't. Just... don't. I have more uses for your mouth right now." He loosened his hand, just a little, relishing the humidity of Blair's quick breaths on his palm. "Going to behave?"

Blair nodded slowly.

"Good."

Taking his hand away, Jim backed up a few inches. He waited, not touching Blair for several long moments and letting the arousal he'd been banking swell. As his cock grew erect once more, he tied one of the trailing ends of leather lace around Blair's left big toe, knotting it tightly. Blair tensed. Jim ignored that, quickly tying the other lace to the other foot. He tested the slack; there was enough, he decided, getting to his feet.

He stretched while he took the few steps necessary to be facing Blair. Caressing his cock through the now body-warm leather that covered it, he looked down at his bound lover. Blair's gaze was riveted on his hand's action, on the hard bulge he touched. "Raise your chin, Chief. Look at me." Blair's eyes were half-lidded, looking drowsy with passion but glittering, too. Still fondling himself through his pants, Jim brushed the tip of his forefinger over Blair's lower lip. "You want it, don't
you? Want to taste my come?"

Blair's lips parted slightly as he nodded, begging with his eyes.

"Open your mouth," Jim purred.

Blair complied, and Jim wasted no time sliding his forefinger and middle finger inside, pressing down on Blair's tongue. Every taste bud felt like velvet to Jim's touch, and he squeezed his cock once, hard, before dialing down. He twisted his fingers to explore Blair's hard palate, his teeth, inserting his ring finger, too. Blair gagged a little as Jim teased his uvula with the tip of his middle finger. Jim frowned a bit, pulling his fingers out a bit to let Blair cough. "I'll train it out of you," he commented, returning them and adding his pinkie. Blair was still trying to meet his eyes; Blair's tongue undulated against his fingertips. "I promise you that." Blair whined quietly, deep in his throat, gagging again as Jim thrust his fingers slowly in and out, fingernails scraping against his soft palate, his eyes closing.

Jim opened the fly of his pants with a practiced flick of his wrist. He removed his fingers from Blair's mouth, taking one step forward and replacing them with the tip of his cock. Blair's lips closed around it, his cheeks hollowing as he moaned happily and started to suck, trying to lean forward to take more of Jim's cock into the heated, moist depths of his mouth.

Jim worked his fingers into Blair's hair, grasping two large handfuls of it, close to the roots, holding it loosely to restrain his head. He thrust a little further, breathing deeply, letting the thought of what
he was about to do hit him full-force. "Blair," he said quietly, conversationally, massaging Blair's scalp with his fingertips, "do you remember what I said I'd do earlier when you wouldn't crawl to the bed?"

Blair's eyes shot open, and he tried to back away, tried to spit out Jim's cock, but Jim tightened his grip, preventing it easily.

"That's right." Jim grinned ferally, Blair's sudden fear and his own absolute power burning along every nerve. He drove his cock into Blair's mouth as deeply as he could in one stroke. "Bite me," he warned, "and I'll break your little finger."

He clamped down on the clumps of hair, starting to back toward the post where his Princess awaited punishment, ignoring Blair's pained protests and his struggles.

Blair resisted, snarling and choking, but he was no match for Jim as he carried out his threat. Blair's hair dug into his hands he was holding it so tightly, and he felt the strands popping as they snapped in places. Blair's hands locked tightly around his wrists, fighting him for the several feet to their destination, his knees sliding on the worn, polished wood of the floor as he tried to get to his feet and back away heedless of the pain he'd inflict on himself.

~~~~

END PART 38