Finding Home - 1/7
See part 0 for warnings:
Part 0 = Here
Finding Home
By kendermouse
The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. - Lao-tzu
Rossi watched as his friend and boss slowly exited his office. Aaron Hotchner’s 6 foot 2 frame was stooped with something more than just fatigue, it was a bone deep weariness that was as much emotional as it was physical. Their last case hadn’t been an easy one on their young leader, but not because of the unsub. The local LEO’s had taken exception to the ‘FBI interlopers strong-arming into their case.’ It hadn’t been the BAU that had ‘strong-armed’ their way in, that had been the local field office and their eager to make a name for himself chief. But that hadn’t mattered to the locals and SSA Hotchner had been left to soothe the bruised egos while still attempting to work with his team to help stop a killer. He’d managed admirably, but it had taken its toll. It wasn’t until they were on the plane back to Quantico that Dave had realized the other reason for Hotch’s quiet introspection; today would have been Hotch’s wedding anniversary.
Even though they’d been divorced, Aaron had still loved Haley deeply. Rossi, along with the rest of the team, had heard the admission of love and affection between Haley and Aaron just before her death and he knew the vibrant young woman’s death had nearly destroyed his friend. Luckily, there was Jack, and the team and Aaron’s sense of responsibility toward their job - otherwise Rossi doubted Aaron would have survived Foyet’s madness. However, this would be Aaron’s first anniversary since Haley’s death. Rossi knew how hard the anniversary had been when the couple had simply been divorced. How much harder must it be for him now?
“No, it’s alright, Jessica. Let him sleep. I’ll come by tomorrow morning to pick him up.”
Rossi listened to the one sided conversation, noting the way Hotch’s shoulders seemed to slump even further with whatever his former sister-in-law was saying. She’d been wonderful about taking care of Jack and being supportive of Aaron after Haley’s death. Rossi couldn’t help but wonder if the divorce would have happened at all if Jessica had been so supportive *before* hand, but even he had to admit that was a bit petty. Loving a profiler wasn’t easy, and he had the ex-wives to prove it. Loving the leader of the top Behavioral Analysis Units at Quantico was a thousand times worse. Add in a young child, and Rossi was quietly amazed the Hotchners had lasted as long as they had, quite honestly. Watching Aaron, and the team, after Haley’s death had been a bit of an eye-opener for Jessica Brooks, an eye-opener Rossi felt the young woman had sorely needed. She’d seen the team rally around Aaron as much as he’d let them, and a bit more. She’d seen how he’d tried to keep the horrors of what he’d experienced from touching Jack and the rest of Haley’s family. They’d all watched as Aaron had stoically taken the verbal lashing from Haley’s mother after the funeral, and had watched in amazement as Jessica had stepped in and backed her mother down. Rossi still didn’t know what had caused Jessica’s change of heart, but she’d been one of Aaron’s strongest supporters from that moment on.
“You’re right. I had forgotten about that.” Another pause as Aaron smiled ruefully. “No. He’s been looking forward to that party for two weeks, I’m not about to tell him he can’t go because his boring old dad misses him.” He chuckled, a tired, worn sound. “No. Honestly, it’s fine. I’ll pick him up from the party at 6pm. It’s at Joey’s house, right? Good. I remember where that is.” The quiet laugh this time was genuine and joyful. “Tell him in the morning that daddy said he cannot have chocolate cake for breakfast no matter what Uncle Sean said, especially if he’s going to be having birthday cake in the afternoon. And if my ne’re do well brother decides to quote Bill Cosby again, remind him that while I might not have brought him into this world, I could very easily take him out of it.” He laughed again, shaking his head. “I don’t understand what you see in that scapegrace, but then, I never understood what Haley saw in me either - so it must be the Hotchner charm.” The smile dimmed a bit, but didn’t completely fade as Aaron listed to what was being said. “Jess, I’m fine. Really. Just tired. I’ll be okay.” He sighed deeply, nodding as he listened. “Thank you. Now, go get some sleep. Jack will be up super early tomorrow and you’ll have to deal with the on-going ‘is it time to go yet?’ questions until it is. I don’t know how Joey’s folks are going to manage five hyped up six year olds for an entire day. I’ve faced down hardened criminals and the thought of a party like that scares the heck out of me.” His laugh was warm. “You too, Jess. Good night.”
Rossi watched as the smile faded the second the phone was disconnected. Aaron’s hand went to his forehead, rubbing absently at his temple. Headache. Rossi thought back and realized that while Aaron *had* joined the team for dinner, he’d done little more than push the food around his plate, eating only enough to placate the team. Fine bunch of profilers they were. Rossi shook his head.
“While I appreciate the gesture of concern, Dave,” Hotch said without looking up, “I really am fine.”
Speaking of fine profilers. He stepped from the shadows he’d unintentionally been standing in. “You don’t look fine to me.”
Aaron looked up, giving him a wan smile. “I’ll *be* fine. Honestly.”
Rossi shook his head, meeting Aaron’s gaze easily. “You aren’t going home to an empty house tonight, Aaron. You’re going to come with me and actually *eat* the meal you order this time.” He chuckled as Aaron grimaced at being caught out, but didn’t protest. “And then we’ll talk about what happens after that. But one thing’s for certain, you’re not going home alone. End of discussion.”
Hotch blinked at the firm tone. He’d heard it before, just never directed at him that way. He could suddenly see Dave Rossi as the Dominant Aaron had recently learned he was, and it called to something he’d buried deep after Gideon’s departure. Part of him wanted to respond to that tone, wanted to give over his control to someone again. It would be so easy to release that need again, and he trusted Dave to know how to keep that part of him safe. But he knew he couldn’t, not now, and definitely not someone he worked with. It was easy to let the need out of the box, but he’d learned the hard way how difficult it was to put it back in again. But it was so very tempting to just… give in. He felt his resolve weaken ever so slightly and sighed. “Dave, I...”
“This is non-negotiable, Aaron. You’ve been running on a bare minimum of sleep while dealing with a bunch of overblown egos that should have known better than to get into a jurisdictional pissing contest while a killer was still on the loose. Add to that the date and the lack of a certain little boy waiting at home, and it’s a recipe for disaster. You and I both know that.” He kept his voice calm but firm, holding on to the control that Hotch was slowly giving over. Once more he cursed Jason Gideon for his sudden disappearance from the lives of the people who had come to rely on him. He held out his hand to the younger man. “I’m not going to let that happen, Aaron. Not when there’s something I can do to prevent it.”
Hotch unconsciously leaned towards the offered comfort before stopping himself and straightening. “Dinner,” he conceded. “Then we’ll see how things go.”
Dave smiled his approval. “Good man,” he praised, taking Aaron’s arm and leading him from the dimly lit offices.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The small restaurant was more upscale than what Aaron normally chose but it was apparently one of Dave’s favorites. Haley would have loved it - the quiet, intimate atmosphere; the unobtrusive wait-staff in their pristine uniforms; the gourmand food served on elegant china and pre-matched with expensive wine on the menu, ‘just in case sir was having difficulty deciding’. Aaron, however, felt very much out of place even though he and Dave had been here a few times before. While he could easily traverse the social niceties with the best political sharks and bureau heads the FBI could offer, it had never come as easily to him as it had to Haley. She had been so outgoing, so beautiful… and she’d thrown it all away on a work-a-holic FBI agent who was more at home with the criminals than with his own peers; an FBI agent whose job had cost Haley her family, her home, and ultimately, her life.
“And this is why I wasn’t about to send you home alone.”
Aaron startled, looking sheepishly up at his dinner companion. “Sorry. I’m afraid I’m more tired than I thought.”
Dave leaned back and pinned his friend with a knowing stare. “You and I both know it’s more than that. It’s all right to be melancholy, Aaron, especially today. It’s the first anniversary you’ve had without Haley.”
“No. I was without her the one prior as well,” Aaron answered back defensively.
“You were divorced. There’s a big difference between divorced and deceased,” Rossi countered quietly. He watched as the now-familiar mask fell over Aaron’s face and silently cursed his own brusque nature. “Sorry,” he apologized. “That was uncalled for and needlessly cruel.”
Aaron’s eyes lowered and he smiled ruefully. “That doesn’t make it any less true.” He sighed then forced himself to meet his friend’s concerned gaze. “There are still times I wake up expecting her to be there.”
Dave reached across the space between them and laid a hand over Hotch’s. “That’s to be expected, Aaron. You loved her a great deal and she was taken from you far too soon. But she wouldn’t have wanted you to shut yourself off from the world like this. You don’t have to deal with this alone.”
Aaron shook his head. They’d had this discussion several times in the past few weeks, Dave reminding him that he needed to find some release for his emotions before they overwhelmed him. Once, he would have agreed. Now... now there was no one he could trust enough to let down those barriers with, at least, not enough to do any lasting good. Jason would have known how to handle him, how to give him that outlet and then put him back together again. But Jason was gone and Aaron was here and there were people relying on him to be strong: the team, Jessica, Jack. He couldn’t let himself fall apart for fear of never being able to pull himself together again. And as much as he appreciated Dave’s offer to take over the position that Jason had abandoned, he couldn’t. Not and still maintain his position as team lead over the other man. The dynamic would be too skewed and the last thing the team needed in a crisis was a Lead who was conflicted over what role he was to play. Granted, it had never happened with Gideon in the field, but he’d been stronger then, less scarred by life… by Foyet.
“I understand your reluctance about allowing me to fill Jason Gideon’s role,” Dave said almost gently. “But I think you need to find *someone*, Aaron. It isn’t healthy for you to be so alone in this.”
“It’s not like I can advertise for what I’m needing, Dave,” Aaron shot back bitterly.
“No, but you don’t need to.”
“Dave.”
“No. Hear me out,” Dave said evenly. “You were willing to fill out the paperwork for the club. You’ve been successfully vetted and invited to visit. So come with me and at least see what it has to offer. You might be surprised.”
Aaron pinched the bridge of his nose as the headache threatened once more. “I… I don’t know, Dave.”
“Aaron,” Rossi interrupted, “You trust me, right?”
Aaron looked up in surprise. “You know I do.”
“Then trust me in this. Come with me to the club tonight, just as a visitor. No pressure, just an opportunity to take a look around and see what you think of the place and the people.” He met Aaron’s eyes easily. “If you’re uncomfortable, we’ll leave.”
Aaron offered his friend a weary smile. It was a tempting offer. He and Jason had never played publicly: they’d never felt the need to. What they had shared was more… private, a release of the terrors and tensions their jobs created. Haley had known, though she hadn’t understood beyond the fact that Jason could provide Aaron with a peace that she couldn’t. Then Jason had changed, drawing away from Aaron, from everyone, leaving more than just Aaron struggling to cope. Haley had tried to fill that void, and Aaron had tried to suppress the pain and uncertainty so he could be the man she’d married. But in the end, he’d lost her too. And now, here sat Dave Rossi, a man who’d seen him at his strongest, and his weakest, offering him a chance to recapture the peace he’d found with Jason. It was so damned tempting, tempting and absolutely terrifying.
“Dave I….”
Dave’s smile was far too knowledgeable and Aaron was reminded painfully of Jason and the way he’d been able to read Aaron’s need, often before Aaron even knew. “Trust me.”
Aaron knew it was time to at least try to move on. He nodded his assent to Dave, not trusting his voice.
Dave smiled. “Good man.”
Aaron tried to ignore the warmth the simple phrase sent through him. “So. Where do we go from here?” he asked to cover his embarrassment.
Dave’s smile went mysterious and Aaron was suddenly worried about what he’d just agreed to. He trusted Dave, he did. But he also knew the man had a love of the dramatic.
Dave fished a dark card out of his wallet and motioned for their waiter. The sharply dressed man’s eyes widened a bit as Dave held out the card. “Please inquire if the club proper is open for visitors this evening.” The man nodded sharply, his expression betraying nothing as he took the card and disappeared.
Aaron’s eyes narrowed as he studied Dave. “It’s here?” he asked quietly. “You were that sure you’d convince me?”
“No,” Dave answered honestly. “I had hoped you might be open to the idea, but I honestly brought you here because you seem to like the food and you needed a good meal.”
Aaron had the decency to blush at the gentle admonishment. “Fair enough. So, now what?”
“We wait for the answer to my inquiry and you finish your meal.” Dave looked pointedly at Aaron’s plate and raised an eyebrow in censure.
“Yes, mom,” Aaron shot back drily.
Dave simply laughed and toasted the younger man with his glass of water.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Aaron wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but it wasn’t anything like this. The waiter had returned with Dave’s card and a simple nod. Dave had smiled and gone back to their conversation as if nothing had happened, but he deflected all Aaron’s questions until after Aaron had finished his meal - much to Aaron’s frustration. Dave had simply smirked and motioned for the check. The waiter took Dave’s card, but another man returned it. It took Aaron a moment to realize it was the maître d’. The older man had smiled and motioned for them to follow him. He’d led them to the elevator and Aaron watched as he withdrew a key from his inner pocket, a key attached securely to a chain with a head shaped like a stylized leaf. The man lifted a small panel to the side of the elevator buttons, inserted the key into the revealed slot, and pressed the now lit button beside the keyhole. The elevator slid silently into motion.
After a few moments the elevator doors opened onto a simple but elegant hallway. With a silent nod to the maître d’, Dave urged Aaron out of the elevator and down the quiet hall. Aaron followed, taking in the warm wood paneling and deep green carpeting. Dave stopped in front of a dark green door and gave Aaron a reassuring smile before he opened it and walked inside.
The antechamber was well lit and welcoming, putting Aaron at ease, which he was sure was the point. A young woman looked up from her paperwork as they entered. “Master David!” she exclaimed, her smile lighting up as she caught sight of Dave. “I was so pleased to hear you’d be joining us tonight. We’ve missed you.”
Dave moved to the counter the young woman sat behind and took her offered hand, kissing the back of it with a gallant smile. “I’ve missed being here, but work…” He shrugged. “So, how is Mistress Jenny?”
The woman scowled. “Still on crutches. She apparently decided that she knew better than the doctor and decided she felt good enough to push it and managed to reinjure her knee. So,” she sighed. “Four more weeks on the crutches and they’ve put her back in the brace hoping that it’ll remind her she’s on restrictions. She’s been a grump ever since.”
Dave laughed as he handed over his ID and his gun and signed into the ledger the young woman held out to him. “Just remind her that until that knee heals she’ll be confined to the sidelines in the Pit.”
“Oh, she knows! That’s why she’s such a grump. We’ve trained two more pups since she last went puppy, and she’s itching to play again,” the young woman confided as she drew out a lock-box and placed Dave’s ID and gun inside. “So, will your guest be using your locker, or should I assign him one of his own?”
Dave turned. “Aaron? Do you mind simply using my locker? You’ll need to leave your ID, badge, and guns here, but they’ll be perfectly safe.”
“Oh,” the young woman exclaimed, “so this is your Aaron, then? I was hoping to get a chance to meet him.” Aaron’s eyes narrowed at the comment and the young woman smiled easily. “I’m on the vetting committee,” she explained, “and I was really looking forward to meeting you. You sound like a wonderful addition to the Leaf membership, which isn’t surprising with Master David as your sponsor.”
Dave stepped in, giving Aaron time to absorb all the information. “Angel,” he cautioned the young lady, “first off, he’s not ‘my Aaron’, we’re just friends. Second, he’s just here to get a feel for the club to see if he’s interested. He hasn’t decided on joining yet.”
“He will though,” Angel answered with a knowing smile. “If he’s come this far, he’ll find what he needs here.” She turned her attention to Aaron. “That’s what the Leaf is known for, sir, helping people find what they need.”
Aaron shrugged noncommittally as he handed over his ID and his guns. He felt a bit naked without at least his back-up piece, another of Foyet’s legacies, but he could understand the precaution. “I’ll share with Dave if that’s acceptable,” he finally said.
Angel smiled at him and placed his things in with Dave’s. She locked the metal ‘safe’ and handed the key to Dave, then grabbed a clipboard and handed it to Aaron. “You’ll need to just read through this and sign it. It’s the club and dungeon rules and the waiver that you filled out with your application, but management asks we keep one on file when guests actually accompany a member to the club. Just for safety.”
Aaron took the papers and read through them carefully, his law background making it difficult for him to *not* do so before signing off on a document. As he read, Angel turned her attention back to Dave. “Master Walt is here with Ms. Vixen and Fox tonight.”
“Really? Have they moved back from Canada then?”
Angel’s blonde hair fluttered around her pretty face. “Unfortunately, no. Alexi is happily ensconced in the wilds up there and they wouldn’t leave him behind now that they’ve finally convinced him they’re serious about keeping him. Apparently Fox is in town for a teaching engagement, so Master Walt and Ms. Vixen are going to try and calm him down before he has to face the classes. I’m sure they’d be thrilled to see you, Sir. In fact, Master Walt asked if you were still in the area. They’ll be scening in Room 4 if you’d like me to reserve an observation room for you and your guest. Or, if Mr. Aaron would like a tour of the club instead, I could have one of the subs show him around while you enjoy the show. There’s a good group in the Puppy Mosh tonight, not that I’m biased or anything,” she added with a cheeky grin, “but they can be a bit… daunting at first if you’re not used to that. The lounge is always a good place to meet the members and get an idea of who and what goes on without the pressure of the scenes. The open dungeon is always interesting, and I think the secondary dungeon is men only this evening.” She turned and consulted the small laptop beside her. “Yes. It’s men only tonight and I think Gunny is here with his boy, and they’re always pretty to watch.”
“Not that you’re biased,” Dave teased.
Angel blushed. “You gush once about a Dom being a silver fox and they never let you forget it,” she complained with a teasing scowl. “Just remember, I heard your comments about Gunny’s pretty little goth girl, and you *know* how protective he is of her.”
Dave held up his hands in mock surrender. “Fair point.” He looked over at Aaron. “I think we’ll start with an observation room. Master Walt is a good example of what the Leaf has to offer, so we’ll start there. Aaron, that acceptable?”
Aaron looked up from his clipboard and nodded. “Acceptable.” He signed the last paper and handed it over to Angel who held out a bright orange wristband.
“If you would hold out your right wrist please, Mr. Aaron.” She wrapped the band around his wrist, securing it carefully. “Orange flagged on the right shows that tonight you’re not interested in participating in anything. It’s something we do for our first time guests, but it’s also something that members can elect to do so it doesn’t ‘mark’ you as a first timer,” she explained. “If you find that you’d like to participate, you can come back here and I’ll change it out for you or just find one of the Dungeon Monitors, they’re the ones in the orange waistcoats, and they can do it as well. They can also replace the band if something happens and it comes off, or you decide that you want one back on. Just make sure it’s on your *right* wrist, because left means you’re open to doing *anything*,” she cautioned. She smiled at Aaron as she slid his papers into the file-box beside her. “Do you have any questions?”
Aaron shook his head, uncertain what he’d even want to ask at this point.
Her smile turned understanding. “If you have any questions I’m sure Master David will be able to answer them. But if not, I’m Mistress Jenny’s Angel. Ask any of the Monitors and they’ll get you back here and I’ll try and answer them. Just relax and have fun. We’re a safe group and from what I saw of your application, I really do think you’ll find what you’re looking for here.”
Aaron returned her smile. “Thank you, Miss Angel.”
She blushed and pointed them towards the inner door. “Welcome to the Leaf, Mr. Aaron. Enjoy your evening.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The inner door was green as well, only lighter and intricately carved. The upper section was dominated by a motif of three, intertwined, four point stars. The center star’s upper and lower points were elongated, stretching from just below the top edge of the door to level with the metal door handle. The two smaller stars sat at either end of those points. Half the size of the center star each was done in a lighter wood and carved with intricate scroll work that was only visible when you looked very closely at them (which Aaron took the time to do). Over the interlocking stars, however, was the image that caught Aaron’s attention the most (as it was designed to do, Aaron supposed, given the *name* of the establishment); a simple, stylized leaf, divided into three, unequal parts, each stained a slightly different shade of green. The leaf touched at least some part of each of the stars, and Aaron wondered if it were simply the artist’s depiction, or if there was symbolism to the image.
“The Virginia House was one of the original three US Leaf clubs,” Rossi answered the unasked question. “This is an homage to that beginning. When they finally had to replace the inner door, they asked for input from the members. Sir Roland designed it, Gunny carved it and Angel back there put on the finishing touches with the subtle colors.” Rossi grasped Aaron’s shoulder lightly. “Remember. One word and we leave, but I really do hope you’ll give it a chance.”
Aaron nodded. “I promise to keep an open mind.”
“That’s all I ask. So? Shall we?” Rossi didn’t wait for an answer, simply pulled open the door and walked inside, leaving Aaron little choice but to follow.
Again, the place wasn’t what Aaron had expected. This was no sleazy back room BDSM club, this was upscale, like the restaurant above. The place was well lit, clean, comfortable, and obviously discreet, judging by the ease with which the clientele interacted. Logically, he’d known it would be different than the run-down, less than savory places he’d seen in his work, but he found he’d been unconsciously braced for just that. He watched as Dave was greeted like an old friend by multiple people. It seemed that there was a very good *reason* Rossi had such in-depth knowledge of the BDSM lifestyle. Here he wasn’t the acclaimed lecturer on behavioral analysis and criminal profiling or the author of multiple books on the criminal, especially psychopathic, mind. Here he was ‘Master David’, a smiling, well respected and in charge dominant male.
Aaron unconsciously fell in step behind Dave and slightly to his right. Dave looked back at him once, but didn’t push. People would greet Dave first, their eyes flicking over to Aaron before returning to Dave, who simply smiled. Aaron could tell which members Dave held respect for, they were the only ones Dave introduced him to. He was introduced simply as ‘My friend Aaron’ and no one questioned further. As they moved around the club, Dave pointed out a certain couple here, or an interesting feature of the club there, and Aaron was surprised at the number of faces he recognized. He suddenly understood the need for leaving the IDs and weapons at the door. An unscrupulous person could live quite comfortably off the blackmail material he’d find here. Luckily, it seemed that The Leaf was very careful about who it let through its doors.
It wasn’t until Dave urged him to have a seat that he realized they’d entered, what had to be, an ‘observation room’. The room was small but comfortable and almost intimate in its furnishings - two overstuffed chairs, several large pillows on the floor, and a small table with a water pitcher, glasses and a basket filled with packets of various sizes and colors. The front wall was completely glass, and Aaron was fairly certain it was either one-way glass or darkly tinted on the other side, giving privacy to those in the room. The glass wall looked down on an open room containing several pieces of bondage equipment and, at the moment, three individuals that Aaron assumed were Master Walt, Ms. Vixen, and Fox.
It appeared the scene had just started. The focal point of the room was a St. Andrew’s cross to which a slender, naked, young man was currently strapped. His dark hair was in complete disarray and his wide eyes followed the actions of the woman who was currently checking his wrist and ankle restraints. He tugged at them as well, earning himself a sharp slap to his bare hip. He stilled. The woman stood and Aaron understood why she was called Ms. Vixen. Her red hair was the color of a fox’s coat and looked just as silky. She was petite and dressed in a short black dress of what looked to be rubber or vinyl that clung to her like a second skin. She turned on her spiked heel and strode across the room to kneel gracefully before a man Aaron hadn’t noticed before, distracted as he was by the St. Andrew’s cross. {Memories of Gideon’s hands carefully securing him to the cool wood. Wrapping padded cuffs around his wrists and pressing against his back, trapping him, centering him.} He turned his attention to the third member of the group.
Master Walt was a huge, barrel chested man, dressed in leather pants, a leather Master’s cap and a white t-shirt that looked stretched to its limit by the man’s firm body. Aaron thought he looked familiar, but he couldn’t place from where. Not that it really mattered. He was clearly the one in control here and Aaron was curious about what the evening’s activities would entail. Master Walt reached out and stroked Ms. Vixen’s red hair, smiling down at the tiny woman. She raised her face and must have said something because the Master’s face split into a knowing grin and he nodded. The woman rose as gracefully as she had knelt and moved to a small table beside her Master. She studied the contents of the table carefully and then turned back to her Master. They conversed and Aaron wondered what the discussion was and if there was a way they could hear it. He could ask Dave, but it seemed disrespectful to interrupt the quiet of the moment. So he simply watched as the Master nodded and removed several floggers and a single-tail whip from the table and held them as Ms. Vixen returned the remaining items to a case hidden underneath the table.
The moment broken, Aaron rose and crossed to the table where Dave stood pouring himself a glass of water and idly perusing the contents of the small basket. It took Aaron’s brain a moment to realize the basket contained a variety of condoms, individual lube packets and cleansing wipes. He felt his cheeks heating as realized how the Observation Rooms were most likely employed. “Dave…”
Dave chuckled as he poured Aaron a glass of water and handed it over. “Don’t worry, Aaron,” he reassured. “I’m more a voyeur. You’re virtue is perfectly safe,” he added, teasing gently.
“I never doubted that,” Aaron shot back in exasperation. “But are you sure you want to… Would you rather watch the evening’s entertainment alone?”
Dave studied Aaron’s face, concerned. “Would you be more comfortable elsewhere?”
Aaron sighed, rubbing a tired hand over his face. “I… no. No I wouldn’t, but I don’t want to interfere with your enjoyment of the evening either.”
Dave rested a hand on Aaron’s shoulder and guided him back to the chairs. “Aaron. Take off your jacket and tie, sit down and just… watch.” He took the water glass, setting it aside and tugging lightly on the shoulder of Aaron’s suit jacket.
{Gideon’s hands easing the constriction of the tie from around his bruised throat, taking advantage of the darkness of the parking lot to run gentle fingers over injured skin.} Aaron pushed the memories aside and did as he was asked, taking off his tie and putting it in the pocket of his suit jacket before draping the jacket over the back of the chair.
Dave smiled at him and seemed poised to say something, but the sound of leather meeting skin drew their attention to the room below. Aaron was surprised to see it was Ms. Vixen wielding the flogger, not Master Walt. She moved with an easy grace, the tails of the flogger swinging and arching like an extension of her own arm. Fox tensed just before each blow fell, eyes locked defiantly on Ms. Vixen’s face. The blows were slow and precise, raising a touch of color to Fox’s chest, shoulders and outer thighs. Aaron watched the wordless byplay between the two, the defiance from Fox, the careful and steady strokes laid again and again by Ms. Vixen. The blows came harder, faster, but just as precise and Aaron had to admire her skill. He found himself leaning forward minutely, wanting, needing to see. He watched as Fox shifted ever so slightly, shoulders lifting into the strikes, hips tilting to offer more skin to target; but his eyes remained defiant. Aaron watched Ms. Vixen shake her head almost sadly as she finished with the first flogger.
She crossed back to Master Walt, head up, completely in control. Aaron waited to see her Master’s reaction to her demeanor, uncertain what to expect. He doubted Master Walt was used to having his authority challenged, and Ms. Vixen was clearly *not* intending to submit. When Master Walt’s hand came up, Aaron braced for a blow… that never fell. He watched, stunned, as instead Master Walt stroked the young woman’s hair and leaned in to kiss her cheek. Ms. Vixen seemed to relax into the touch, a move Aaron understood all too well - seeking and receiving comfort and strength. Then she pulled away, breathing deeply before holding out her hand, into which Master Walt placed another flogger. Ms. Vixen nodded and turned back to the man on the St. Andrew’s.
She stepped close, running the tails of the new flogger over Fox’s chest and down his sides. Even from their place in the observation room, Aaron and Dave could see the shivers that ran through the bound man’s body at the caress. Ms. Vixen stepped back, striking the flogger’s tails against her own leg twice, before starting to swing the flogger in a classic ‘figure eight’ throw. Fox’s eyes followed the movements and he seemed to relax into the bonds securing him to the St. Andrew’s. It seemed that was the signal Ms. Vixen had been waiting for as she shifted and brought the flogger down hard across Fox’s pectorals. This flogger left a deeper mark, quickly coming up red and vivid.
“Ah. So they *did* get the neoprene and buffalo hide flogger when they were last here,” Dave commented with a chuckle. “I wondered if they were the ones.” He turned to Aaron. “Fox has a thing for rubber and vinyl and at the last Faire one of the vendors had a flogger with a core of neoprene falls surrounded by rough cured buffalo hide. Thing had a hell of a bite, but Fox couldn’t take his eyes off it.” He turned back to the tableau before them. “Walt always was a pushover for that boy.”
“You’ve known them a long time?” Aaron asked uncertainly.
Dave nodded. “Long enough to know that none of them are people you’d want to cross.” He turned more fully towards Aaron. “Master Walt was my sponsor to the Leaf. He had his hands full with Fox and D… Vixen but he still had time to coach a stubborn old Dom like me. Fox is a hardwired sub with a defiant streak a mile wide, and I’ve honestly never figured out how Walt manages to keep him in line without killing the stubborn brat. Vixen is a talented switch, submitting to Walt with a grace that’s stunning and managing to still be Domme to Fox like she was born to it. She’s amazing, and from the looks of this, is advancing in her skills. I’ve never seen them play with Alexi - the boy is extremely private and won’t play publicly, which is fine. He’s devoted to Walt and Vixen and extremely protective of Fox. He’s the reason they had to replace the door.” He shook his head. “There was an… altercation in the entry room, a first time guest took exception to being asked to completely disarm before entering the club. Fox was in the wrong place at the wrong time and ended up walking in on it. Apparently the guest and Fox had a bit of… history and the guest took exception to Fox being allowed in but not him. He drew down on Fox.” Aaron’s eyes widened and Dave chuckled. That had been his reaction too when Walt had told him about it. “Before security could stop it, Alexi stepped in. From what I was told, the guest ended up going *through* the door, his gun ended up in pieces, and the woman who’d sponsored him was cautioned to select her potential guests with more caution next time.”
Aaron nodded, mind trying to process the training it must take to do what Alexi had in defense of Fox. He looked down at the trio below; Master Walt and Alexi might have been military, but not Ms. Vixen and definitely not Fox. His eyes narrowed as he watched them through a profiler’s eyes. Fox was defiant, but trusted the two before him. Master Walt was used to being obeyed, but allowed Fox a bit more freedom than Aaron would have expected from a military man; a non-military connection rather than military then, or was it simply a carry-over from their dominant/submissive roles? Ms. Vixen most likely served as a buffer between the two headstrong men, softening the military rigidity while helping enforce rules and order. Quiet but strong in her convictions and easily able to hold her own with them, she still sought Master Walt’s approval and worked to give Fox whatever he needed, even as she worried she wouldn’t be able to. {Haley’s blonde hair falling around them as she settled over his prone form, laughing as she held his hands over his head and leaned in to kiss him. The feel of her soft curves pressing into his back as she tried to give him at least a bit of what he needed, what he refused to take from Gideon because of his vows to her. Haley’s soft voice in his ear as she held him after the latest nightmare, asking if she needed to call Gideon or if he would be all right.} Ms. Vixen helped keep them grounded and kept their diverse personalities from tearing the relationship apart. Aaron would love to see them interact with Alexi, wondering what role the apparently volatile man filled in the complex mix of personalities. Where did he fit in the dynamic and how much did he add to or rein in Fox’s defiance.
“Aaron, let it go.”
Aaron startled at Dave’s soft admonition.
“Turn off the profiler brain for a while and just be,” Dave ordered sympathetically. “I know it’s not always easy, but try. Sit back and enjoy the beauty of the moment and the energy between them. Don’t try and over-analyze it, just… watch.”
Aaron swallowed, looking away as he felt his cheeks heat at the older man’s words. “I… I’m trying.”
A warm hand settled on his shoulder, the fingers squeezing firmly for a brief moment before pulling away. “I know you are. But just… relax for a while.”
Aaron took a deep breath and tried to shut down the hyper-vigilant part of his brain that had been his unwelcome companion since Foyet had first threatened his family. He didn’t need to be as vigilant here. He was safe, Dave would make sure of that. Jack was safely with Jessica and the team were all home in their respective beds, safe and sound. {‘Is George a bad guy, Daddy?’, ‘Make sure he knows that you weren’t always so serious. Promise me.’ ‘I’m sorry, Aaron. I just can’t do this anymore.’ ‘You should have made a deal.’} Foyet was dead. His family, what was left of it, was safe. He could relax now, here. He drew in another deep breath, slower, deeper, letting it out in a calm, steady stream. He knew Dave was watching him closely, could feel the man’s eyes taking in every nuance of Aaron’s demeanor to gauge Aaron’s state of mind. “I’m fine, Dave. Honestly. It’s just… hard to shut it off some times.”
Dave nodded knowingly. “Just try, okay? That’s all I ask. And remember, any time it gets to be too much…”
“I know. Thank you.” He turned back to the scene and blinked at the number of red welts crossing Fox’s pale skin.
Ms. Vixen’s strikes were harder now, precise and frequent and placed with amazing skill. Fox moaned and writhed in his bonds, jerking forward with each hit. Two more sharp strikes and Ms. Vixen stepped back, her breathing nearly as ragged as Fox’s. Master Walt moved to stand behind her, pulling her back against his broad chest and leaning down to whisper in her ear. Aaron watched, enviously, as she melted into the older man. {‘Let it go, Aaron. I’ve got you.’} They spoke for a brief moment, eyes on Fox as he shivered in his bonds. Master Walt pressed a light kiss to Ms. Vixen’s auburn hair as he uncoiled and placed the final whip into her small but clearly capable hand. As Master Walt moved to stand behind the St. Andrew’s Cross, Ms. Vixen took a few, trial snaps of the whip. The supple, obviously well-loved single-tail cracked sharply in the confined space, making Fox and Aaron jump at the sound. {The loud report of the Reaper’s gun echoed in his head. His ears rang painfully even as he struggled to control his reactions, determined not to give Foyet what he wanted, Aaron’s fear.}
Dave’s hand was warm as it settled on his shoulder, pulling him from the past and grounding him in the moment. Aaron relaxed into the touch without a sound.
Ms. Vixen’s eyes were locked on Fox’s face as she cracked the whip. Master Walt pressed against the Cross’s center support and urged Fox’s head back, letting it rest on his shoulder. His lips moved as they pressed against Fox’s hair and Aaron wondered what he was saying to the younger man. {‘The hardest part is not passing out from the pain…’} The whip fell, striking beside Fox’s left nipple and making the bound man cry out sharply. Two more hits to each nipple left the man breathing shallowly and shaking in his Master’s arms. Aaron’s eyes narrowed as Master Walt’s hand snaked around Fox’s head, his large hand covering Fox’s mouth and nose, restricting the young man’s breathing. Aaron found himself shaking at the intensity of the moment.
“Still with me, Aaron?” Dave asked, his hand still a welcome weight on his shoulder. “We can leave if it’s too much, but I’ll tell you that this is typical for them. Fox had a kink for breath play and Walt is one of the best and safest there is.”
Aaron nodded, not sure which statement he was answering or acknowledging. He watched as Fox relaxed completely in his bonds, giving himself over to his partners’ care. Each strike of the whip took him further from himself. The pressure of his Master’s hand controlling his breathing, taking even that responsibility away from him, was obviously welcome, his body pressing up into the touch rather than fighting to get away. {‘Let go, Aaron. Trust me to catch you.’} The whip fell again and again as Master Walt tightened and released his grip until Fox was shaking and begging for release. Fox’s cock was hard and twitched with each crack of the whip, drawing Aaron’s eyes. When Master Walt tightened his grip, Fox’s hips thrust helplessly, seeking friction, seeking that final touch that would send him tipping over into oblivion. {‘That’s it, my beautiful boy. Just let go. Let it happen.’} Aaron shifted in his chair, his dress pants suddenly confining. Dave had to have noticed, but the older man thankfully said nothing.
A final crack of the whip and Fox’s body arched away from the St. Andrew’s, his muffled cry unnaturally loud to Aaron’s ears. Ms. Vixen laid the whip aside and moved to stand in front of Fox, wrapping her petite body against his whip-marked chest, heedless of the semen and blood and sweat. {Haley’s subtle perfume filling his senses as he curled into her embrace, holding her close and delighting in the comfort she offered. The scent of Haley’s perfume overwhelmed by the metallic stench of blood and cordite as he rocked her cooling body and apologized again and again for failing her when she needed him the most.} Aaron rose shakily from his chair and moved towards the door, trying to control the overwhelming swirl of emotions churning in his gut.
“Aaron?”
He waved off Dave’s concern as the room suddenly seemed horribly claustrophobic. “I’m sorry. I just…”
Dave’s hands were once more on his shoulders and he fought the urge to strike out. “Easy.” Dave followed him to the door to the small room. “Left down the hallway, then second room on your right,” Dave said gently.
Aaron nodded, resisting the urge to remind Dave he was an adult who could take care of himself. His hands shook as he reached for the doorknob and he curled them into fists in frustration.
Dave opened the door for him, one hand still on Aaron’s shoulder. “Do you want me to come with…”
Aaron shook his head, struggling and wanting nothing more than to escape from Dave’s too knowing eyes.
Dave’s hand tightened on his shoulder, a tacit acknowledgment of Aaron’s wishes. “Fair enough. If you need me…” He let the offer trail off.
Aaron forced himself to turn back to Dave, letting the gratitude show in his eyes - though for the offer, or for not demanding Aaron stay and talk things out Aaron wasn’t entirely sure.
Dave nodded in understanding and smiled at Aaron. “If you’re not back in fifteen I’m going to come looking.”
The lightly teasing remark drew a hint of a smile from Aaron. “Thank you.” Aaron took another deep breath, struggling to draw his stoic mask back into place. {‘Why do you keep shutting me out, Aaron? I’m not some sheltered flower. I want to be there for you. For better or worse. Does that ring any bells, Aaron?’} He took the first shaky step out of the room, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other as he sought out the sanctuary of the restroom to compose himself.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
There is no greater hell than to be a prisoner of fear - Ben Jonson
The restroom was blessedly empty when he entered and Aaron was absurdly grateful for the fact. Like the rest of the club, the restroom was clean and well lit. Urinals lined part of the far wall facing smoked mirror tiles that allowed the user a view of the room behind him. Two stalls took up the remainder of the wall, done in the same deep green as the primary entry door to the club, and both marked with handicapped accessible signs. Aaron was impressed. A counter on the other wall held three sinks overlooked by a long expanse of mirror, again, allowing a person facing it full view of the room behind him, something he’d come to value since his ordeal with the Reaper. He took a shuddering breath and rested his back against the wall as he worked to keep his breathing regular and slow. {Pain, blood, brown eyes boring down into his as he fought to stay conscious, fought back with words, the only weapon he had left. ‘Don’t speak. You lost a lot of blood. You’ll need your oxygen.’} He lurched into the closest stall and vomited up dinner. His throat burned as everything came up until all that was left was acid and bile. Finally it stopped and he wiped his face with a handful of toilet paper. Reaching up with a shaking hand he flushed the stench away. He shifted, taking advantage of the large stall to settle his tall frame on the floor, his back against the cool tile of the wall. He hated this; hated that even this long after his death Foyet still had this level of effect on him.
He drew in several deep breaths, ignoring the tell-tale catch that he refused to call a suppressed sob, and levered himself to his feet. Dave had given him fifteen minutes, and he had no doubt the other man *would* come and track him down as threatened. The last thing he needed was Dave hovering even more than he already was. He adjusted his shirt, scrubbed a hand over his face and left the safety of the stall. He moved to the sinks and was surprised by the flushed, haunted face that gazed back at him. He started the water and splashed some on his face, rubbing away the signs of his loss of control. He captured a double handful of the cool, clear liquid and carefully rinsed the taste out of his mouth. He wondered if he still had the mint in his jacket pocket, a secret gift from Jack that had been a surprisingly comforting talisman during the frustrating case.
“I’ve got some gum if you need, friend.”
Aaron started, eyes flashing up to the mirror. He’d been so distracted, someone had entered the room and he hadn’t even noticed. A young man dressed in blue jeans and a black t-shirt stood in front of the urinals, looking over his shoulder at Aaron. Aaron gripped the edge of the counter, fighting back the unnecessary panic.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you,” the young man said apologetically. The sound of a zipper was loud in the silence of the room. “I’ve not seen you here before,” the young man continued, moving to stand beside Aaron at the sinks. “I’m Paul.”
Aaron nodded, eyes down as he concentrated on scrubbing his hands under the warm water. “Nice to meet you,” he answered noncommittally. He could feel the young man’s eyes on him in the mirror but he kept his gaze averted, not wanting to engage with anyone until he was certain his control was firmly back in place. He added more soap to his hands and scrubbed them once more, needing to rid himself of the feel of sweat {blood} on them. He risked a quick glance at the man with the aid of the mirror and startled. Brown eyes behind wire-framed glasses were looking at him appraisingly. Short brown hair added an air of boyish innocence to the young man’s narrow face. {I should have known, shouldn’t have been fooled by the frightened victim act. Why was he the only one who survived? I could have stopped him then, before so many others had to die.} He dropped his eyes quickly, swallowing back the bile that rose as another face, older, more lined {insane, dangerous} superimposed itself over the young man’s. He scrubbed harder at his hands.
A strong hand captured his wrist.
“Easy there, friend,” the young man urged. “The hands work better with the skin still on them.”
{A sharp blade sliding beneath the skin, twisting, parting skin from connective tissue with surgical skill.}
“Where’s your Sir, boy?” the young man asked again, tone firm, commanding.
Aaron took a shuddering breath. “I don’t have one,” he admitted brokenly. {‘I’m sorry, Aaron. It’s just… too much. I can’t stay. You’ll find someone to take my place. You’ll manage just fine.’} The young man shifted and Aaron watched him warily in the mirror. The brown eyes were studying him, profiling him… looking for his soft, vulnerable places. {‘Will this change the way you profile?’} He dropped his eyes, unable to hold the too knowing gaze, worried about what he was giving away. {‘Is that part of my profile, don’t show any fear?’} The hand on his wrist moved to rub over his cotton covered arm and he shivered. “Please…”
“Easy.” The young man’s touch was gentle, careful. “Whatever you need, boy,” he whispered, shifting to stand behind Aaron.
His breath was warm on Aaron’s neck, his body solid as he pressed more closely to Aaron’s back. Aaron fought to keep his breathing controlled. He was safe. {His darkened apartment, the feel of eyes on him. His own rug under his back as a madman drove a knife into him again and again and again.} Dave wouldn’t have brought him somewhere that wasn’t safe. {Haley and Jack - even after everything, the bastard had found them. Nowhere was safe.} An arm wrapped around his waist, the hand resting on his ‘souvenirs’ from Foyet. “Please.” The body behind him pressed closer. He could feel the man’s erection against his ass and he gripped the sink’s edge tightly, fighting the urge to strike out. He dropped his head further, trying to shut out what was happening, what would happen. {Pain. Searing, tearing, burning. Held just on the edge of too much, denying him the peace of oblivion.}
“Relax,” the voice in his ear whispered. {‘Your body will go numb. And it goes in so much easier if you relax.’}
Aaron struck. He shoved back from the sink’s edge, using his body weight and the element of surprise to throw off his attacker. He couldn’t let him get that close again. He spun on his heel and faced his attacker who was slumped against the wall, stunned. His body trembled with suppressed ‘fight or flight’ responses as he waited to see what the man’s next attack would be. He wouldn’t let anyone else get hurt because of his failings. He’d keep them safe. He had to.
The man chuckled as he straightened. “I’m in to takedown as much as the next man, boy,” he said with a lascivious smile. “But not in a public bathroom and not without a hell of a lot of negotiation. Don’t care how handsome the orange banded boy is, I won’t risk misunderstandings.”
Aaron stared at him in confusion. “I don’t understand.”
The young man’s smile was knowing in a way that frightened Aaron. “If you want it rough, that’s fine. But not here. We take it somewhere safe and we talk first.” He stalked across the room as he spoke, slowly backing Aaron against the bathroom wall. “Don’t care how eager you are, handsome. I’m not gonna risk doing something that’s going to come back and bite either of us in the ass.” He reached out and cupped Aaron’s crotch, squeezing carefully, massaging the traitorous flesh. “But there are other things we can do in the meantime.”
Aaron shoved, hard, sending the man tumbling. Unfortunately, he fell between Aaron and the door and was already struggling to his feet.
“What the hell, boy?” the man growled. “A simple ‘yellow’ would have done it. You didn’t have to shove me.”
Aaron backed further into the corner, eyes darting as he looked for ways out or things he could use as a weapon to escape.
“Hey. Handsome?” the man’s eyes were studying his face intently now. “Easy. Talk to me. What’s going on here? I thought we were on the same page.”
Aaron struggled to slow his breathing. {‘You’ll need your breath.’} He felt his body starting to rebel again, but knew there was nothing left. He fell to his knees, curling in on himself in an effort not to retch. He was vaguely aware of a flurry of movement and yelling, but he was too focused on not passing out to give it much thought. He should be paying attention. He had to keep them safe. {‘I’ll keep you safe. I’ll protect and cherish you… ‘til death do us part.’ The blue dress was, had been, her favorite and she looked so beautiful in it. It made her skin look like porcelain and her blue eyes glow. He wouldn’t have been able to give it away, nor would he be able to look at it again without missing her. The dress, a picture of how she did her make-up normally, her favorite gold and sapphire jewelry set, an anniversary present from better days. He clutched the box to his chest and sobbed, glad that Jack wasn’t home to witness his weakness.} Warm hands settled on his shoulders, shaking him slightly but he just curled tighter around himself. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t face any more.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
on to part 2 Here
Part 0 = Here
Finding Home
By kendermouse
The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. - Lao-tzu
Rossi watched as his friend and boss slowly exited his office. Aaron Hotchner’s 6 foot 2 frame was stooped with something more than just fatigue, it was a bone deep weariness that was as much emotional as it was physical. Their last case hadn’t been an easy one on their young leader, but not because of the unsub. The local LEO’s had taken exception to the ‘FBI interlopers strong-arming into their case.’ It hadn’t been the BAU that had ‘strong-armed’ their way in, that had been the local field office and their eager to make a name for himself chief. But that hadn’t mattered to the locals and SSA Hotchner had been left to soothe the bruised egos while still attempting to work with his team to help stop a killer. He’d managed admirably, but it had taken its toll. It wasn’t until they were on the plane back to Quantico that Dave had realized the other reason for Hotch’s quiet introspection; today would have been Hotch’s wedding anniversary.
Even though they’d been divorced, Aaron had still loved Haley deeply. Rossi, along with the rest of the team, had heard the admission of love and affection between Haley and Aaron just before her death and he knew the vibrant young woman’s death had nearly destroyed his friend. Luckily, there was Jack, and the team and Aaron’s sense of responsibility toward their job - otherwise Rossi doubted Aaron would have survived Foyet’s madness. However, this would be Aaron’s first anniversary since Haley’s death. Rossi knew how hard the anniversary had been when the couple had simply been divorced. How much harder must it be for him now?
“No, it’s alright, Jessica. Let him sleep. I’ll come by tomorrow morning to pick him up.”
Rossi listened to the one sided conversation, noting the way Hotch’s shoulders seemed to slump even further with whatever his former sister-in-law was saying. She’d been wonderful about taking care of Jack and being supportive of Aaron after Haley’s death. Rossi couldn’t help but wonder if the divorce would have happened at all if Jessica had been so supportive *before* hand, but even he had to admit that was a bit petty. Loving a profiler wasn’t easy, and he had the ex-wives to prove it. Loving the leader of the top Behavioral Analysis Units at Quantico was a thousand times worse. Add in a young child, and Rossi was quietly amazed the Hotchners had lasted as long as they had, quite honestly. Watching Aaron, and the team, after Haley’s death had been a bit of an eye-opener for Jessica Brooks, an eye-opener Rossi felt the young woman had sorely needed. She’d seen the team rally around Aaron as much as he’d let them, and a bit more. She’d seen how he’d tried to keep the horrors of what he’d experienced from touching Jack and the rest of Haley’s family. They’d all watched as Aaron had stoically taken the verbal lashing from Haley’s mother after the funeral, and had watched in amazement as Jessica had stepped in and backed her mother down. Rossi still didn’t know what had caused Jessica’s change of heart, but she’d been one of Aaron’s strongest supporters from that moment on.
“You’re right. I had forgotten about that.” Another pause as Aaron smiled ruefully. “No. He’s been looking forward to that party for two weeks, I’m not about to tell him he can’t go because his boring old dad misses him.” He chuckled, a tired, worn sound. “No. Honestly, it’s fine. I’ll pick him up from the party at 6pm. It’s at Joey’s house, right? Good. I remember where that is.” The quiet laugh this time was genuine and joyful. “Tell him in the morning that daddy said he cannot have chocolate cake for breakfast no matter what Uncle Sean said, especially if he’s going to be having birthday cake in the afternoon. And if my ne’re do well brother decides to quote Bill Cosby again, remind him that while I might not have brought him into this world, I could very easily take him out of it.” He laughed again, shaking his head. “I don’t understand what you see in that scapegrace, but then, I never understood what Haley saw in me either - so it must be the Hotchner charm.” The smile dimmed a bit, but didn’t completely fade as Aaron listed to what was being said. “Jess, I’m fine. Really. Just tired. I’ll be okay.” He sighed deeply, nodding as he listened. “Thank you. Now, go get some sleep. Jack will be up super early tomorrow and you’ll have to deal with the on-going ‘is it time to go yet?’ questions until it is. I don’t know how Joey’s folks are going to manage five hyped up six year olds for an entire day. I’ve faced down hardened criminals and the thought of a party like that scares the heck out of me.” His laugh was warm. “You too, Jess. Good night.”
Rossi watched as the smile faded the second the phone was disconnected. Aaron’s hand went to his forehead, rubbing absently at his temple. Headache. Rossi thought back and realized that while Aaron *had* joined the team for dinner, he’d done little more than push the food around his plate, eating only enough to placate the team. Fine bunch of profilers they were. Rossi shook his head.
“While I appreciate the gesture of concern, Dave,” Hotch said without looking up, “I really am fine.”
Speaking of fine profilers. He stepped from the shadows he’d unintentionally been standing in. “You don’t look fine to me.”
Aaron looked up, giving him a wan smile. “I’ll *be* fine. Honestly.”
Rossi shook his head, meeting Aaron’s gaze easily. “You aren’t going home to an empty house tonight, Aaron. You’re going to come with me and actually *eat* the meal you order this time.” He chuckled as Aaron grimaced at being caught out, but didn’t protest. “And then we’ll talk about what happens after that. But one thing’s for certain, you’re not going home alone. End of discussion.”
Hotch blinked at the firm tone. He’d heard it before, just never directed at him that way. He could suddenly see Dave Rossi as the Dominant Aaron had recently learned he was, and it called to something he’d buried deep after Gideon’s departure. Part of him wanted to respond to that tone, wanted to give over his control to someone again. It would be so easy to release that need again, and he trusted Dave to know how to keep that part of him safe. But he knew he couldn’t, not now, and definitely not someone he worked with. It was easy to let the need out of the box, but he’d learned the hard way how difficult it was to put it back in again. But it was so very tempting to just… give in. He felt his resolve weaken ever so slightly and sighed. “Dave, I...”
“This is non-negotiable, Aaron. You’ve been running on a bare minimum of sleep while dealing with a bunch of overblown egos that should have known better than to get into a jurisdictional pissing contest while a killer was still on the loose. Add to that the date and the lack of a certain little boy waiting at home, and it’s a recipe for disaster. You and I both know that.” He kept his voice calm but firm, holding on to the control that Hotch was slowly giving over. Once more he cursed Jason Gideon for his sudden disappearance from the lives of the people who had come to rely on him. He held out his hand to the younger man. “I’m not going to let that happen, Aaron. Not when there’s something I can do to prevent it.”
Hotch unconsciously leaned towards the offered comfort before stopping himself and straightening. “Dinner,” he conceded. “Then we’ll see how things go.”
Dave smiled his approval. “Good man,” he praised, taking Aaron’s arm and leading him from the dimly lit offices.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The small restaurant was more upscale than what Aaron normally chose but it was apparently one of Dave’s favorites. Haley would have loved it - the quiet, intimate atmosphere; the unobtrusive wait-staff in their pristine uniforms; the gourmand food served on elegant china and pre-matched with expensive wine on the menu, ‘just in case sir was having difficulty deciding’. Aaron, however, felt very much out of place even though he and Dave had been here a few times before. While he could easily traverse the social niceties with the best political sharks and bureau heads the FBI could offer, it had never come as easily to him as it had to Haley. She had been so outgoing, so beautiful… and she’d thrown it all away on a work-a-holic FBI agent who was more at home with the criminals than with his own peers; an FBI agent whose job had cost Haley her family, her home, and ultimately, her life.
“And this is why I wasn’t about to send you home alone.”
Aaron startled, looking sheepishly up at his dinner companion. “Sorry. I’m afraid I’m more tired than I thought.”
Dave leaned back and pinned his friend with a knowing stare. “You and I both know it’s more than that. It’s all right to be melancholy, Aaron, especially today. It’s the first anniversary you’ve had without Haley.”
“No. I was without her the one prior as well,” Aaron answered back defensively.
“You were divorced. There’s a big difference between divorced and deceased,” Rossi countered quietly. He watched as the now-familiar mask fell over Aaron’s face and silently cursed his own brusque nature. “Sorry,” he apologized. “That was uncalled for and needlessly cruel.”
Aaron’s eyes lowered and he smiled ruefully. “That doesn’t make it any less true.” He sighed then forced himself to meet his friend’s concerned gaze. “There are still times I wake up expecting her to be there.”
Dave reached across the space between them and laid a hand over Hotch’s. “That’s to be expected, Aaron. You loved her a great deal and she was taken from you far too soon. But she wouldn’t have wanted you to shut yourself off from the world like this. You don’t have to deal with this alone.”
Aaron shook his head. They’d had this discussion several times in the past few weeks, Dave reminding him that he needed to find some release for his emotions before they overwhelmed him. Once, he would have agreed. Now... now there was no one he could trust enough to let down those barriers with, at least, not enough to do any lasting good. Jason would have known how to handle him, how to give him that outlet and then put him back together again. But Jason was gone and Aaron was here and there were people relying on him to be strong: the team, Jessica, Jack. He couldn’t let himself fall apart for fear of never being able to pull himself together again. And as much as he appreciated Dave’s offer to take over the position that Jason had abandoned, he couldn’t. Not and still maintain his position as team lead over the other man. The dynamic would be too skewed and the last thing the team needed in a crisis was a Lead who was conflicted over what role he was to play. Granted, it had never happened with Gideon in the field, but he’d been stronger then, less scarred by life… by Foyet.
“I understand your reluctance about allowing me to fill Jason Gideon’s role,” Dave said almost gently. “But I think you need to find *someone*, Aaron. It isn’t healthy for you to be so alone in this.”
“It’s not like I can advertise for what I’m needing, Dave,” Aaron shot back bitterly.
“No, but you don’t need to.”
“Dave.”
“No. Hear me out,” Dave said evenly. “You were willing to fill out the paperwork for the club. You’ve been successfully vetted and invited to visit. So come with me and at least see what it has to offer. You might be surprised.”
Aaron pinched the bridge of his nose as the headache threatened once more. “I… I don’t know, Dave.”
“Aaron,” Rossi interrupted, “You trust me, right?”
Aaron looked up in surprise. “You know I do.”
“Then trust me in this. Come with me to the club tonight, just as a visitor. No pressure, just an opportunity to take a look around and see what you think of the place and the people.” He met Aaron’s eyes easily. “If you’re uncomfortable, we’ll leave.”
Aaron offered his friend a weary smile. It was a tempting offer. He and Jason had never played publicly: they’d never felt the need to. What they had shared was more… private, a release of the terrors and tensions their jobs created. Haley had known, though she hadn’t understood beyond the fact that Jason could provide Aaron with a peace that she couldn’t. Then Jason had changed, drawing away from Aaron, from everyone, leaving more than just Aaron struggling to cope. Haley had tried to fill that void, and Aaron had tried to suppress the pain and uncertainty so he could be the man she’d married. But in the end, he’d lost her too. And now, here sat Dave Rossi, a man who’d seen him at his strongest, and his weakest, offering him a chance to recapture the peace he’d found with Jason. It was so damned tempting, tempting and absolutely terrifying.
“Dave I….”
Dave’s smile was far too knowledgeable and Aaron was reminded painfully of Jason and the way he’d been able to read Aaron’s need, often before Aaron even knew. “Trust me.”
Aaron knew it was time to at least try to move on. He nodded his assent to Dave, not trusting his voice.
Dave smiled. “Good man.”
Aaron tried to ignore the warmth the simple phrase sent through him. “So. Where do we go from here?” he asked to cover his embarrassment.
Dave’s smile went mysterious and Aaron was suddenly worried about what he’d just agreed to. He trusted Dave, he did. But he also knew the man had a love of the dramatic.
Dave fished a dark card out of his wallet and motioned for their waiter. The sharply dressed man’s eyes widened a bit as Dave held out the card. “Please inquire if the club proper is open for visitors this evening.” The man nodded sharply, his expression betraying nothing as he took the card and disappeared.
Aaron’s eyes narrowed as he studied Dave. “It’s here?” he asked quietly. “You were that sure you’d convince me?”
“No,” Dave answered honestly. “I had hoped you might be open to the idea, but I honestly brought you here because you seem to like the food and you needed a good meal.”
Aaron had the decency to blush at the gentle admonishment. “Fair enough. So, now what?”
“We wait for the answer to my inquiry and you finish your meal.” Dave looked pointedly at Aaron’s plate and raised an eyebrow in censure.
“Yes, mom,” Aaron shot back drily.
Dave simply laughed and toasted the younger man with his glass of water.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Aaron wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but it wasn’t anything like this. The waiter had returned with Dave’s card and a simple nod. Dave had smiled and gone back to their conversation as if nothing had happened, but he deflected all Aaron’s questions until after Aaron had finished his meal - much to Aaron’s frustration. Dave had simply smirked and motioned for the check. The waiter took Dave’s card, but another man returned it. It took Aaron a moment to realize it was the maître d’. The older man had smiled and motioned for them to follow him. He’d led them to the elevator and Aaron watched as he withdrew a key from his inner pocket, a key attached securely to a chain with a head shaped like a stylized leaf. The man lifted a small panel to the side of the elevator buttons, inserted the key into the revealed slot, and pressed the now lit button beside the keyhole. The elevator slid silently into motion.
After a few moments the elevator doors opened onto a simple but elegant hallway. With a silent nod to the maître d’, Dave urged Aaron out of the elevator and down the quiet hall. Aaron followed, taking in the warm wood paneling and deep green carpeting. Dave stopped in front of a dark green door and gave Aaron a reassuring smile before he opened it and walked inside.
The antechamber was well lit and welcoming, putting Aaron at ease, which he was sure was the point. A young woman looked up from her paperwork as they entered. “Master David!” she exclaimed, her smile lighting up as she caught sight of Dave. “I was so pleased to hear you’d be joining us tonight. We’ve missed you.”
Dave moved to the counter the young woman sat behind and took her offered hand, kissing the back of it with a gallant smile. “I’ve missed being here, but work…” He shrugged. “So, how is Mistress Jenny?”
The woman scowled. “Still on crutches. She apparently decided that she knew better than the doctor and decided she felt good enough to push it and managed to reinjure her knee. So,” she sighed. “Four more weeks on the crutches and they’ve put her back in the brace hoping that it’ll remind her she’s on restrictions. She’s been a grump ever since.”
Dave laughed as he handed over his ID and his gun and signed into the ledger the young woman held out to him. “Just remind her that until that knee heals she’ll be confined to the sidelines in the Pit.”
“Oh, she knows! That’s why she’s such a grump. We’ve trained two more pups since she last went puppy, and she’s itching to play again,” the young woman confided as she drew out a lock-box and placed Dave’s ID and gun inside. “So, will your guest be using your locker, or should I assign him one of his own?”
Dave turned. “Aaron? Do you mind simply using my locker? You’ll need to leave your ID, badge, and guns here, but they’ll be perfectly safe.”
“Oh,” the young woman exclaimed, “so this is your Aaron, then? I was hoping to get a chance to meet him.” Aaron’s eyes narrowed at the comment and the young woman smiled easily. “I’m on the vetting committee,” she explained, “and I was really looking forward to meeting you. You sound like a wonderful addition to the Leaf membership, which isn’t surprising with Master David as your sponsor.”
Dave stepped in, giving Aaron time to absorb all the information. “Angel,” he cautioned the young lady, “first off, he’s not ‘my Aaron’, we’re just friends. Second, he’s just here to get a feel for the club to see if he’s interested. He hasn’t decided on joining yet.”
“He will though,” Angel answered with a knowing smile. “If he’s come this far, he’ll find what he needs here.” She turned her attention to Aaron. “That’s what the Leaf is known for, sir, helping people find what they need.”
Aaron shrugged noncommittally as he handed over his ID and his guns. He felt a bit naked without at least his back-up piece, another of Foyet’s legacies, but he could understand the precaution. “I’ll share with Dave if that’s acceptable,” he finally said.
Angel smiled at him and placed his things in with Dave’s. She locked the metal ‘safe’ and handed the key to Dave, then grabbed a clipboard and handed it to Aaron. “You’ll need to just read through this and sign it. It’s the club and dungeon rules and the waiver that you filled out with your application, but management asks we keep one on file when guests actually accompany a member to the club. Just for safety.”
Aaron took the papers and read through them carefully, his law background making it difficult for him to *not* do so before signing off on a document. As he read, Angel turned her attention back to Dave. “Master Walt is here with Ms. Vixen and Fox tonight.”
“Really? Have they moved back from Canada then?”
Angel’s blonde hair fluttered around her pretty face. “Unfortunately, no. Alexi is happily ensconced in the wilds up there and they wouldn’t leave him behind now that they’ve finally convinced him they’re serious about keeping him. Apparently Fox is in town for a teaching engagement, so Master Walt and Ms. Vixen are going to try and calm him down before he has to face the classes. I’m sure they’d be thrilled to see you, Sir. In fact, Master Walt asked if you were still in the area. They’ll be scening in Room 4 if you’d like me to reserve an observation room for you and your guest. Or, if Mr. Aaron would like a tour of the club instead, I could have one of the subs show him around while you enjoy the show. There’s a good group in the Puppy Mosh tonight, not that I’m biased or anything,” she added with a cheeky grin, “but they can be a bit… daunting at first if you’re not used to that. The lounge is always a good place to meet the members and get an idea of who and what goes on without the pressure of the scenes. The open dungeon is always interesting, and I think the secondary dungeon is men only this evening.” She turned and consulted the small laptop beside her. “Yes. It’s men only tonight and I think Gunny is here with his boy, and they’re always pretty to watch.”
“Not that you’re biased,” Dave teased.
Angel blushed. “You gush once about a Dom being a silver fox and they never let you forget it,” she complained with a teasing scowl. “Just remember, I heard your comments about Gunny’s pretty little goth girl, and you *know* how protective he is of her.”
Dave held up his hands in mock surrender. “Fair point.” He looked over at Aaron. “I think we’ll start with an observation room. Master Walt is a good example of what the Leaf has to offer, so we’ll start there. Aaron, that acceptable?”
Aaron looked up from his clipboard and nodded. “Acceptable.” He signed the last paper and handed it over to Angel who held out a bright orange wristband.
“If you would hold out your right wrist please, Mr. Aaron.” She wrapped the band around his wrist, securing it carefully. “Orange flagged on the right shows that tonight you’re not interested in participating in anything. It’s something we do for our first time guests, but it’s also something that members can elect to do so it doesn’t ‘mark’ you as a first timer,” she explained. “If you find that you’d like to participate, you can come back here and I’ll change it out for you or just find one of the Dungeon Monitors, they’re the ones in the orange waistcoats, and they can do it as well. They can also replace the band if something happens and it comes off, or you decide that you want one back on. Just make sure it’s on your *right* wrist, because left means you’re open to doing *anything*,” she cautioned. She smiled at Aaron as she slid his papers into the file-box beside her. “Do you have any questions?”
Aaron shook his head, uncertain what he’d even want to ask at this point.
Her smile turned understanding. “If you have any questions I’m sure Master David will be able to answer them. But if not, I’m Mistress Jenny’s Angel. Ask any of the Monitors and they’ll get you back here and I’ll try and answer them. Just relax and have fun. We’re a safe group and from what I saw of your application, I really do think you’ll find what you’re looking for here.”
Aaron returned her smile. “Thank you, Miss Angel.”
She blushed and pointed them towards the inner door. “Welcome to the Leaf, Mr. Aaron. Enjoy your evening.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The inner door was green as well, only lighter and intricately carved. The upper section was dominated by a motif of three, intertwined, four point stars. The center star’s upper and lower points were elongated, stretching from just below the top edge of the door to level with the metal door handle. The two smaller stars sat at either end of those points. Half the size of the center star each was done in a lighter wood and carved with intricate scroll work that was only visible when you looked very closely at them (which Aaron took the time to do). Over the interlocking stars, however, was the image that caught Aaron’s attention the most (as it was designed to do, Aaron supposed, given the *name* of the establishment); a simple, stylized leaf, divided into three, unequal parts, each stained a slightly different shade of green. The leaf touched at least some part of each of the stars, and Aaron wondered if it were simply the artist’s depiction, or if there was symbolism to the image.
“The Virginia House was one of the original three US Leaf clubs,” Rossi answered the unasked question. “This is an homage to that beginning. When they finally had to replace the inner door, they asked for input from the members. Sir Roland designed it, Gunny carved it and Angel back there put on the finishing touches with the subtle colors.” Rossi grasped Aaron’s shoulder lightly. “Remember. One word and we leave, but I really do hope you’ll give it a chance.”
Aaron nodded. “I promise to keep an open mind.”
“That’s all I ask. So? Shall we?” Rossi didn’t wait for an answer, simply pulled open the door and walked inside, leaving Aaron little choice but to follow.
Again, the place wasn’t what Aaron had expected. This was no sleazy back room BDSM club, this was upscale, like the restaurant above. The place was well lit, clean, comfortable, and obviously discreet, judging by the ease with which the clientele interacted. Logically, he’d known it would be different than the run-down, less than savory places he’d seen in his work, but he found he’d been unconsciously braced for just that. He watched as Dave was greeted like an old friend by multiple people. It seemed that there was a very good *reason* Rossi had such in-depth knowledge of the BDSM lifestyle. Here he wasn’t the acclaimed lecturer on behavioral analysis and criminal profiling or the author of multiple books on the criminal, especially psychopathic, mind. Here he was ‘Master David’, a smiling, well respected and in charge dominant male.
Aaron unconsciously fell in step behind Dave and slightly to his right. Dave looked back at him once, but didn’t push. People would greet Dave first, their eyes flicking over to Aaron before returning to Dave, who simply smiled. Aaron could tell which members Dave held respect for, they were the only ones Dave introduced him to. He was introduced simply as ‘My friend Aaron’ and no one questioned further. As they moved around the club, Dave pointed out a certain couple here, or an interesting feature of the club there, and Aaron was surprised at the number of faces he recognized. He suddenly understood the need for leaving the IDs and weapons at the door. An unscrupulous person could live quite comfortably off the blackmail material he’d find here. Luckily, it seemed that The Leaf was very careful about who it let through its doors.
It wasn’t until Dave urged him to have a seat that he realized they’d entered, what had to be, an ‘observation room’. The room was small but comfortable and almost intimate in its furnishings - two overstuffed chairs, several large pillows on the floor, and a small table with a water pitcher, glasses and a basket filled with packets of various sizes and colors. The front wall was completely glass, and Aaron was fairly certain it was either one-way glass or darkly tinted on the other side, giving privacy to those in the room. The glass wall looked down on an open room containing several pieces of bondage equipment and, at the moment, three individuals that Aaron assumed were Master Walt, Ms. Vixen, and Fox.
It appeared the scene had just started. The focal point of the room was a St. Andrew’s cross to which a slender, naked, young man was currently strapped. His dark hair was in complete disarray and his wide eyes followed the actions of the woman who was currently checking his wrist and ankle restraints. He tugged at them as well, earning himself a sharp slap to his bare hip. He stilled. The woman stood and Aaron understood why she was called Ms. Vixen. Her red hair was the color of a fox’s coat and looked just as silky. She was petite and dressed in a short black dress of what looked to be rubber or vinyl that clung to her like a second skin. She turned on her spiked heel and strode across the room to kneel gracefully before a man Aaron hadn’t noticed before, distracted as he was by the St. Andrew’s cross. {Memories of Gideon’s hands carefully securing him to the cool wood. Wrapping padded cuffs around his wrists and pressing against his back, trapping him, centering him.} He turned his attention to the third member of the group.
Master Walt was a huge, barrel chested man, dressed in leather pants, a leather Master’s cap and a white t-shirt that looked stretched to its limit by the man’s firm body. Aaron thought he looked familiar, but he couldn’t place from where. Not that it really mattered. He was clearly the one in control here and Aaron was curious about what the evening’s activities would entail. Master Walt reached out and stroked Ms. Vixen’s red hair, smiling down at the tiny woman. She raised her face and must have said something because the Master’s face split into a knowing grin and he nodded. The woman rose as gracefully as she had knelt and moved to a small table beside her Master. She studied the contents of the table carefully and then turned back to her Master. They conversed and Aaron wondered what the discussion was and if there was a way they could hear it. He could ask Dave, but it seemed disrespectful to interrupt the quiet of the moment. So he simply watched as the Master nodded and removed several floggers and a single-tail whip from the table and held them as Ms. Vixen returned the remaining items to a case hidden underneath the table.
The moment broken, Aaron rose and crossed to the table where Dave stood pouring himself a glass of water and idly perusing the contents of the small basket. It took Aaron’s brain a moment to realize the basket contained a variety of condoms, individual lube packets and cleansing wipes. He felt his cheeks heating as realized how the Observation Rooms were most likely employed. “Dave…”
Dave chuckled as he poured Aaron a glass of water and handed it over. “Don’t worry, Aaron,” he reassured. “I’m more a voyeur. You’re virtue is perfectly safe,” he added, teasing gently.
“I never doubted that,” Aaron shot back in exasperation. “But are you sure you want to… Would you rather watch the evening’s entertainment alone?”
Dave studied Aaron’s face, concerned. “Would you be more comfortable elsewhere?”
Aaron sighed, rubbing a tired hand over his face. “I… no. No I wouldn’t, but I don’t want to interfere with your enjoyment of the evening either.”
Dave rested a hand on Aaron’s shoulder and guided him back to the chairs. “Aaron. Take off your jacket and tie, sit down and just… watch.” He took the water glass, setting it aside and tugging lightly on the shoulder of Aaron’s suit jacket.
{Gideon’s hands easing the constriction of the tie from around his bruised throat, taking advantage of the darkness of the parking lot to run gentle fingers over injured skin.} Aaron pushed the memories aside and did as he was asked, taking off his tie and putting it in the pocket of his suit jacket before draping the jacket over the back of the chair.
Dave smiled at him and seemed poised to say something, but the sound of leather meeting skin drew their attention to the room below. Aaron was surprised to see it was Ms. Vixen wielding the flogger, not Master Walt. She moved with an easy grace, the tails of the flogger swinging and arching like an extension of her own arm. Fox tensed just before each blow fell, eyes locked defiantly on Ms. Vixen’s face. The blows were slow and precise, raising a touch of color to Fox’s chest, shoulders and outer thighs. Aaron watched the wordless byplay between the two, the defiance from Fox, the careful and steady strokes laid again and again by Ms. Vixen. The blows came harder, faster, but just as precise and Aaron had to admire her skill. He found himself leaning forward minutely, wanting, needing to see. He watched as Fox shifted ever so slightly, shoulders lifting into the strikes, hips tilting to offer more skin to target; but his eyes remained defiant. Aaron watched Ms. Vixen shake her head almost sadly as she finished with the first flogger.
She crossed back to Master Walt, head up, completely in control. Aaron waited to see her Master’s reaction to her demeanor, uncertain what to expect. He doubted Master Walt was used to having his authority challenged, and Ms. Vixen was clearly *not* intending to submit. When Master Walt’s hand came up, Aaron braced for a blow… that never fell. He watched, stunned, as instead Master Walt stroked the young woman’s hair and leaned in to kiss her cheek. Ms. Vixen seemed to relax into the touch, a move Aaron understood all too well - seeking and receiving comfort and strength. Then she pulled away, breathing deeply before holding out her hand, into which Master Walt placed another flogger. Ms. Vixen nodded and turned back to the man on the St. Andrew’s.
She stepped close, running the tails of the new flogger over Fox’s chest and down his sides. Even from their place in the observation room, Aaron and Dave could see the shivers that ran through the bound man’s body at the caress. Ms. Vixen stepped back, striking the flogger’s tails against her own leg twice, before starting to swing the flogger in a classic ‘figure eight’ throw. Fox’s eyes followed the movements and he seemed to relax into the bonds securing him to the St. Andrew’s. It seemed that was the signal Ms. Vixen had been waiting for as she shifted and brought the flogger down hard across Fox’s pectorals. This flogger left a deeper mark, quickly coming up red and vivid.
“Ah. So they *did* get the neoprene and buffalo hide flogger when they were last here,” Dave commented with a chuckle. “I wondered if they were the ones.” He turned to Aaron. “Fox has a thing for rubber and vinyl and at the last Faire one of the vendors had a flogger with a core of neoprene falls surrounded by rough cured buffalo hide. Thing had a hell of a bite, but Fox couldn’t take his eyes off it.” He turned back to the tableau before them. “Walt always was a pushover for that boy.”
“You’ve known them a long time?” Aaron asked uncertainly.
Dave nodded. “Long enough to know that none of them are people you’d want to cross.” He turned more fully towards Aaron. “Master Walt was my sponsor to the Leaf. He had his hands full with Fox and D… Vixen but he still had time to coach a stubborn old Dom like me. Fox is a hardwired sub with a defiant streak a mile wide, and I’ve honestly never figured out how Walt manages to keep him in line without killing the stubborn brat. Vixen is a talented switch, submitting to Walt with a grace that’s stunning and managing to still be Domme to Fox like she was born to it. She’s amazing, and from the looks of this, is advancing in her skills. I’ve never seen them play with Alexi - the boy is extremely private and won’t play publicly, which is fine. He’s devoted to Walt and Vixen and extremely protective of Fox. He’s the reason they had to replace the door.” He shook his head. “There was an… altercation in the entry room, a first time guest took exception to being asked to completely disarm before entering the club. Fox was in the wrong place at the wrong time and ended up walking in on it. Apparently the guest and Fox had a bit of… history and the guest took exception to Fox being allowed in but not him. He drew down on Fox.” Aaron’s eyes widened and Dave chuckled. That had been his reaction too when Walt had told him about it. “Before security could stop it, Alexi stepped in. From what I was told, the guest ended up going *through* the door, his gun ended up in pieces, and the woman who’d sponsored him was cautioned to select her potential guests with more caution next time.”
Aaron nodded, mind trying to process the training it must take to do what Alexi had in defense of Fox. He looked down at the trio below; Master Walt and Alexi might have been military, but not Ms. Vixen and definitely not Fox. His eyes narrowed as he watched them through a profiler’s eyes. Fox was defiant, but trusted the two before him. Master Walt was used to being obeyed, but allowed Fox a bit more freedom than Aaron would have expected from a military man; a non-military connection rather than military then, or was it simply a carry-over from their dominant/submissive roles? Ms. Vixen most likely served as a buffer between the two headstrong men, softening the military rigidity while helping enforce rules and order. Quiet but strong in her convictions and easily able to hold her own with them, she still sought Master Walt’s approval and worked to give Fox whatever he needed, even as she worried she wouldn’t be able to. {Haley’s blonde hair falling around them as she settled over his prone form, laughing as she held his hands over his head and leaned in to kiss him. The feel of her soft curves pressing into his back as she tried to give him at least a bit of what he needed, what he refused to take from Gideon because of his vows to her. Haley’s soft voice in his ear as she held him after the latest nightmare, asking if she needed to call Gideon or if he would be all right.} Ms. Vixen helped keep them grounded and kept their diverse personalities from tearing the relationship apart. Aaron would love to see them interact with Alexi, wondering what role the apparently volatile man filled in the complex mix of personalities. Where did he fit in the dynamic and how much did he add to or rein in Fox’s defiance.
“Aaron, let it go.”
Aaron startled at Dave’s soft admonition.
“Turn off the profiler brain for a while and just be,” Dave ordered sympathetically. “I know it’s not always easy, but try. Sit back and enjoy the beauty of the moment and the energy between them. Don’t try and over-analyze it, just… watch.”
Aaron swallowed, looking away as he felt his cheeks heat at the older man’s words. “I… I’m trying.”
A warm hand settled on his shoulder, the fingers squeezing firmly for a brief moment before pulling away. “I know you are. But just… relax for a while.”
Aaron took a deep breath and tried to shut down the hyper-vigilant part of his brain that had been his unwelcome companion since Foyet had first threatened his family. He didn’t need to be as vigilant here. He was safe, Dave would make sure of that. Jack was safely with Jessica and the team were all home in their respective beds, safe and sound. {‘Is George a bad guy, Daddy?’, ‘Make sure he knows that you weren’t always so serious. Promise me.’ ‘I’m sorry, Aaron. I just can’t do this anymore.’ ‘You should have made a deal.’} Foyet was dead. His family, what was left of it, was safe. He could relax now, here. He drew in another deep breath, slower, deeper, letting it out in a calm, steady stream. He knew Dave was watching him closely, could feel the man’s eyes taking in every nuance of Aaron’s demeanor to gauge Aaron’s state of mind. “I’m fine, Dave. Honestly. It’s just… hard to shut it off some times.”
Dave nodded knowingly. “Just try, okay? That’s all I ask. And remember, any time it gets to be too much…”
“I know. Thank you.” He turned back to the scene and blinked at the number of red welts crossing Fox’s pale skin.
Ms. Vixen’s strikes were harder now, precise and frequent and placed with amazing skill. Fox moaned and writhed in his bonds, jerking forward with each hit. Two more sharp strikes and Ms. Vixen stepped back, her breathing nearly as ragged as Fox’s. Master Walt moved to stand behind her, pulling her back against his broad chest and leaning down to whisper in her ear. Aaron watched, enviously, as she melted into the older man. {‘Let it go, Aaron. I’ve got you.’} They spoke for a brief moment, eyes on Fox as he shivered in his bonds. Master Walt pressed a light kiss to Ms. Vixen’s auburn hair as he uncoiled and placed the final whip into her small but clearly capable hand. As Master Walt moved to stand behind the St. Andrew’s Cross, Ms. Vixen took a few, trial snaps of the whip. The supple, obviously well-loved single-tail cracked sharply in the confined space, making Fox and Aaron jump at the sound. {The loud report of the Reaper’s gun echoed in his head. His ears rang painfully even as he struggled to control his reactions, determined not to give Foyet what he wanted, Aaron’s fear.}
Dave’s hand was warm as it settled on his shoulder, pulling him from the past and grounding him in the moment. Aaron relaxed into the touch without a sound.
Ms. Vixen’s eyes were locked on Fox’s face as she cracked the whip. Master Walt pressed against the Cross’s center support and urged Fox’s head back, letting it rest on his shoulder. His lips moved as they pressed against Fox’s hair and Aaron wondered what he was saying to the younger man. {‘The hardest part is not passing out from the pain…’} The whip fell, striking beside Fox’s left nipple and making the bound man cry out sharply. Two more hits to each nipple left the man breathing shallowly and shaking in his Master’s arms. Aaron’s eyes narrowed as Master Walt’s hand snaked around Fox’s head, his large hand covering Fox’s mouth and nose, restricting the young man’s breathing. Aaron found himself shaking at the intensity of the moment.
“Still with me, Aaron?” Dave asked, his hand still a welcome weight on his shoulder. “We can leave if it’s too much, but I’ll tell you that this is typical for them. Fox had a kink for breath play and Walt is one of the best and safest there is.”
Aaron nodded, not sure which statement he was answering or acknowledging. He watched as Fox relaxed completely in his bonds, giving himself over to his partners’ care. Each strike of the whip took him further from himself. The pressure of his Master’s hand controlling his breathing, taking even that responsibility away from him, was obviously welcome, his body pressing up into the touch rather than fighting to get away. {‘Let go, Aaron. Trust me to catch you.’} The whip fell again and again as Master Walt tightened and released his grip until Fox was shaking and begging for release. Fox’s cock was hard and twitched with each crack of the whip, drawing Aaron’s eyes. When Master Walt tightened his grip, Fox’s hips thrust helplessly, seeking friction, seeking that final touch that would send him tipping over into oblivion. {‘That’s it, my beautiful boy. Just let go. Let it happen.’} Aaron shifted in his chair, his dress pants suddenly confining. Dave had to have noticed, but the older man thankfully said nothing.
A final crack of the whip and Fox’s body arched away from the St. Andrew’s, his muffled cry unnaturally loud to Aaron’s ears. Ms. Vixen laid the whip aside and moved to stand in front of Fox, wrapping her petite body against his whip-marked chest, heedless of the semen and blood and sweat. {Haley’s subtle perfume filling his senses as he curled into her embrace, holding her close and delighting in the comfort she offered. The scent of Haley’s perfume overwhelmed by the metallic stench of blood and cordite as he rocked her cooling body and apologized again and again for failing her when she needed him the most.} Aaron rose shakily from his chair and moved towards the door, trying to control the overwhelming swirl of emotions churning in his gut.
“Aaron?”
He waved off Dave’s concern as the room suddenly seemed horribly claustrophobic. “I’m sorry. I just…”
Dave’s hands were once more on his shoulders and he fought the urge to strike out. “Easy.” Dave followed him to the door to the small room. “Left down the hallway, then second room on your right,” Dave said gently.
Aaron nodded, resisting the urge to remind Dave he was an adult who could take care of himself. His hands shook as he reached for the doorknob and he curled them into fists in frustration.
Dave opened the door for him, one hand still on Aaron’s shoulder. “Do you want me to come with…”
Aaron shook his head, struggling and wanting nothing more than to escape from Dave’s too knowing eyes.
Dave’s hand tightened on his shoulder, a tacit acknowledgment of Aaron’s wishes. “Fair enough. If you need me…” He let the offer trail off.
Aaron forced himself to turn back to Dave, letting the gratitude show in his eyes - though for the offer, or for not demanding Aaron stay and talk things out Aaron wasn’t entirely sure.
Dave nodded in understanding and smiled at Aaron. “If you’re not back in fifteen I’m going to come looking.”
The lightly teasing remark drew a hint of a smile from Aaron. “Thank you.” Aaron took another deep breath, struggling to draw his stoic mask back into place. {‘Why do you keep shutting me out, Aaron? I’m not some sheltered flower. I want to be there for you. For better or worse. Does that ring any bells, Aaron?’} He took the first shaky step out of the room, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other as he sought out the sanctuary of the restroom to compose himself.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
There is no greater hell than to be a prisoner of fear - Ben Jonson
The restroom was blessedly empty when he entered and Aaron was absurdly grateful for the fact. Like the rest of the club, the restroom was clean and well lit. Urinals lined part of the far wall facing smoked mirror tiles that allowed the user a view of the room behind him. Two stalls took up the remainder of the wall, done in the same deep green as the primary entry door to the club, and both marked with handicapped accessible signs. Aaron was impressed. A counter on the other wall held three sinks overlooked by a long expanse of mirror, again, allowing a person facing it full view of the room behind him, something he’d come to value since his ordeal with the Reaper. He took a shuddering breath and rested his back against the wall as he worked to keep his breathing regular and slow. {Pain, blood, brown eyes boring down into his as he fought to stay conscious, fought back with words, the only weapon he had left. ‘Don’t speak. You lost a lot of blood. You’ll need your oxygen.’} He lurched into the closest stall and vomited up dinner. His throat burned as everything came up until all that was left was acid and bile. Finally it stopped and he wiped his face with a handful of toilet paper. Reaching up with a shaking hand he flushed the stench away. He shifted, taking advantage of the large stall to settle his tall frame on the floor, his back against the cool tile of the wall. He hated this; hated that even this long after his death Foyet still had this level of effect on him.
He drew in several deep breaths, ignoring the tell-tale catch that he refused to call a suppressed sob, and levered himself to his feet. Dave had given him fifteen minutes, and he had no doubt the other man *would* come and track him down as threatened. The last thing he needed was Dave hovering even more than he already was. He adjusted his shirt, scrubbed a hand over his face and left the safety of the stall. He moved to the sinks and was surprised by the flushed, haunted face that gazed back at him. He started the water and splashed some on his face, rubbing away the signs of his loss of control. He captured a double handful of the cool, clear liquid and carefully rinsed the taste out of his mouth. He wondered if he still had the mint in his jacket pocket, a secret gift from Jack that had been a surprisingly comforting talisman during the frustrating case.
“I’ve got some gum if you need, friend.”
Aaron started, eyes flashing up to the mirror. He’d been so distracted, someone had entered the room and he hadn’t even noticed. A young man dressed in blue jeans and a black t-shirt stood in front of the urinals, looking over his shoulder at Aaron. Aaron gripped the edge of the counter, fighting back the unnecessary panic.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you,” the young man said apologetically. The sound of a zipper was loud in the silence of the room. “I’ve not seen you here before,” the young man continued, moving to stand beside Aaron at the sinks. “I’m Paul.”
Aaron nodded, eyes down as he concentrated on scrubbing his hands under the warm water. “Nice to meet you,” he answered noncommittally. He could feel the young man’s eyes on him in the mirror but he kept his gaze averted, not wanting to engage with anyone until he was certain his control was firmly back in place. He added more soap to his hands and scrubbed them once more, needing to rid himself of the feel of sweat {blood} on them. He risked a quick glance at the man with the aid of the mirror and startled. Brown eyes behind wire-framed glasses were looking at him appraisingly. Short brown hair added an air of boyish innocence to the young man’s narrow face. {I should have known, shouldn’t have been fooled by the frightened victim act. Why was he the only one who survived? I could have stopped him then, before so many others had to die.} He dropped his eyes quickly, swallowing back the bile that rose as another face, older, more lined {insane, dangerous} superimposed itself over the young man’s. He scrubbed harder at his hands.
A strong hand captured his wrist.
“Easy there, friend,” the young man urged. “The hands work better with the skin still on them.”
{A sharp blade sliding beneath the skin, twisting, parting skin from connective tissue with surgical skill.}
“Where’s your Sir, boy?” the young man asked again, tone firm, commanding.
Aaron took a shuddering breath. “I don’t have one,” he admitted brokenly. {‘I’m sorry, Aaron. It’s just… too much. I can’t stay. You’ll find someone to take my place. You’ll manage just fine.’} The young man shifted and Aaron watched him warily in the mirror. The brown eyes were studying him, profiling him… looking for his soft, vulnerable places. {‘Will this change the way you profile?’} He dropped his eyes, unable to hold the too knowing gaze, worried about what he was giving away. {‘Is that part of my profile, don’t show any fear?’} The hand on his wrist moved to rub over his cotton covered arm and he shivered. “Please…”
“Easy.” The young man’s touch was gentle, careful. “Whatever you need, boy,” he whispered, shifting to stand behind Aaron.
His breath was warm on Aaron’s neck, his body solid as he pressed more closely to Aaron’s back. Aaron fought to keep his breathing controlled. He was safe. {His darkened apartment, the feel of eyes on him. His own rug under his back as a madman drove a knife into him again and again and again.} Dave wouldn’t have brought him somewhere that wasn’t safe. {Haley and Jack - even after everything, the bastard had found them. Nowhere was safe.} An arm wrapped around his waist, the hand resting on his ‘souvenirs’ from Foyet. “Please.” The body behind him pressed closer. He could feel the man’s erection against his ass and he gripped the sink’s edge tightly, fighting the urge to strike out. He dropped his head further, trying to shut out what was happening, what would happen. {Pain. Searing, tearing, burning. Held just on the edge of too much, denying him the peace of oblivion.}
“Relax,” the voice in his ear whispered. {‘Your body will go numb. And it goes in so much easier if you relax.’}
Aaron struck. He shoved back from the sink’s edge, using his body weight and the element of surprise to throw off his attacker. He couldn’t let him get that close again. He spun on his heel and faced his attacker who was slumped against the wall, stunned. His body trembled with suppressed ‘fight or flight’ responses as he waited to see what the man’s next attack would be. He wouldn’t let anyone else get hurt because of his failings. He’d keep them safe. He had to.
The man chuckled as he straightened. “I’m in to takedown as much as the next man, boy,” he said with a lascivious smile. “But not in a public bathroom and not without a hell of a lot of negotiation. Don’t care how handsome the orange banded boy is, I won’t risk misunderstandings.”
Aaron stared at him in confusion. “I don’t understand.”
The young man’s smile was knowing in a way that frightened Aaron. “If you want it rough, that’s fine. But not here. We take it somewhere safe and we talk first.” He stalked across the room as he spoke, slowly backing Aaron against the bathroom wall. “Don’t care how eager you are, handsome. I’m not gonna risk doing something that’s going to come back and bite either of us in the ass.” He reached out and cupped Aaron’s crotch, squeezing carefully, massaging the traitorous flesh. “But there are other things we can do in the meantime.”
Aaron shoved, hard, sending the man tumbling. Unfortunately, he fell between Aaron and the door and was already struggling to his feet.
“What the hell, boy?” the man growled. “A simple ‘yellow’ would have done it. You didn’t have to shove me.”
Aaron backed further into the corner, eyes darting as he looked for ways out or things he could use as a weapon to escape.
“Hey. Handsome?” the man’s eyes were studying his face intently now. “Easy. Talk to me. What’s going on here? I thought we were on the same page.”
Aaron struggled to slow his breathing. {‘You’ll need your breath.’} He felt his body starting to rebel again, but knew there was nothing left. He fell to his knees, curling in on himself in an effort not to retch. He was vaguely aware of a flurry of movement and yelling, but he was too focused on not passing out to give it much thought. He should be paying attention. He had to keep them safe. {‘I’ll keep you safe. I’ll protect and cherish you… ‘til death do us part.’ The blue dress was, had been, her favorite and she looked so beautiful in it. It made her skin look like porcelain and her blue eyes glow. He wouldn’t have been able to give it away, nor would he be able to look at it again without missing her. The dress, a picture of how she did her make-up normally, her favorite gold and sapphire jewelry set, an anniversary present from better days. He clutched the box to his chest and sobbed, glad that Jack wasn’t home to witness his weakness.} Warm hands settled on his shoulders, shaking him slightly but he just curled tighter around himself. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t face any more.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
on to part 2 Here