Finding Home - 4/7
See part 0 for Warnings and author's notes (translations of foreign words also in part 0)
Part 0 = Here
Part 1 = Here
Part 2 = Here
Part 3 = Here
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The insistent ringing of the phone pulled him reluctantly from his slumber. They were off duty. He had another… He looked at the clock and cursed as he saw the time. A call at 4am on a Sunday… MONDAY morning never boded well. He grabbed the phone. “Rossi.”
“Where the hell is the bastard that hurt my boy?”
Dave blinked at Patrick’s dark and dangerous tone. “Which one?” he asked warily. “We come across a lot of bastards in our line of work.” The unamused silence told him just how deadly serious Patrick was. “I really do need more details, Patrick.”
“The bastard that dared to leave his marks on what’s mine.”
Rossi sighed in relief. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about tracing a suspicious death back to Patrick. “He’s dead. Aaron killed him to protect his son.”
“Then where’s he buried so I can go and piss on his damned grave?”
Despite the gravity of the situation, David felt like laughing at the comment. “That I don’t know, and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. Talk to me, Liam Patrick. What’s happened to Aaron?”
“He had a flashback to what the bastard did to him.” Patrick sighed, his weariness evident in his tone. “He dislocated his right wrist struggling. Should have known something was off when he chose ‘blue’ as his safe-word rather than ‘red’. Blue is his safe-word for emotional triggers. I should have known,” the comments trailed off.
“You’re not omnipotent, my friend,” David reassured.
“Trevor had to sedate him, David.” The Irishman’s voice broke on the words. “He wasn’t hysterical. He was actually closer to catatonic, which was even worse. Trevor thought it was best to give him at least one dreamless night.” The pause this time was longer, as if Patrick was debating his next words. “I need a favor, David,” he finally admitted.
“Anything you or Aaron need,” he said without hesitation.
“I can’t send him back out like this. Is there any way ya can arrange for time?”
“I’ll take care of it, Patrick,” Dave reassured, already composing the request in his head so Strauss couldn’t use it against Aaron later on. “You concentrate on Aaron. I was suspecting something like this would happen sooner or later, to be honest.” He gave a short, mirthless laugh. “I’ll call you once I’ve gotten things arranged.”
“Thank ya, David. I owe ya one.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” he told his friend firmly. “Just take care of Aaron.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Aaron grimaced at the nonsense worksheet that George Huang had insisted he complete. Huang was skilled and easy to talk to, something that Aaron appreciated even as he cursed the man’s too insightful nature. If nothing else, Huang’s insight had provided a reasonable explanation of why Aaron had reacted so violently to the scenes in Patrick’s apartment. Always before, their scenes had taken place in the anonymous and neutral rooms of the club, separated from the ‘reality’ of their day-to-day existence. For Aaron, it had been an unconscious buffer that he’d lost when they’d scened in Patrick’s home. The simple touches of ‘home’ that would normally have been soothing, had instead thrown Aaron back to the night he’d been attacked in his own home by Foyet. Then, Patrick had pinned him down, leaving him helpless and at Patrick’s mercy, something Aaron normally loved. Unfortunately, the helplessness had been too reminiscent of his time in Foyet’s hands and Aaron had been unable to fight the memories any longer.
Foyet’s attack had left more emotional and mental marks on Aaron than even he had realized. The compartmentalization that served him so well on the job, had sabotaged him off it. He remembered Haley once saying that she could tell when a case had been particularly bad because he’d come home silent and distant and then, after a few hours, would be back to himself. She’d never ask about those cases, saying she’d understood that Aaron needed to keep his distance from them to keep himself safe. Aaron realized, while talking with Dr. Huang, that it was one of the reasons Haley had not had a problem with Gideon - she’d thought he’d opened up to Gideon about those cases, about the pain and hurt and fear. But he hadn’t, he’d simply learned to lock it away and let it out in small doses in his sessions with Gideon until he could control it. Then Gideon had gone, taking with him even that small amount of release, and Aaron had locked those things down even tighter. Patrick had unknowingly opened those gates at a time when Aaron’s mind had already been replaying the horror of Foyet’s attacks. The accumulated pain, recriminations and emotions that Aaron had locked away so tightly in order to keep functioning after Foyet’s death had burst forth in an overwhelming flood.
So, now here Aaron sat with a sheet of idiotic questions about his ‘feelings’, trying to work past his own long-ingrained reticence about sharing those ‘feelings’ with anyone. Even after only two days of working with the personable psychiatrist Aaron knew he couldn’t bluff his way past the man: Huang was used to working with cops and stoic patients. He wouldn’t be able to convince Huang everything was fine like he had the department-mandated psychologist. He’d have to answer honestly, even when he didn’t want to, which meant being honest with himself as well. The thought worried him, but he knew Huang was right: he needed to learn how to deal with these things, not just shove them aside, if he wanted to stay sane. He sighed and picked up the abandoned pen, trying to approach the paper as he would an incident report at the office - facts, distance, and then a look at the emotional toll. His hand shook slightly, but he ignored it. He wasn’t going to take another of the damned anxiety pills. He didn’t need them and he couldn’t afford to get too reliant on them. He shifted on the soft cushion, fervently wishing Patrick was here, but his Sir had a job to do and that didn’t include babysitting his submissive 24/7.
The sound of a door opening drew Aaron from his thoughts. He took a deep breath, knowing it would be Patrick but unable to stop the momentary spike of worry as his hyper-vigilance flared again. He shook his head at his own foolishness. He’d gotten past this months ago… or thought he had at least. He sighed. This was simply reaffirmation that he needed to face his fears and emotional responses, not repress them. He rubbed carefully at the bridge of his nose, willing the threatening headache away. Patrick’s rich laughter soothed his nerves better than the anxiety pills ever could. He tuned into his Sir’s conversation, the lack of audible response suggested that Aaron was getting half of a very pleasant phone conversation.
“Of course you can, young man,” Sir said as he rounded the corner into the main room. He smiled at Aaron and settled onto the couch behind his naked submissive. “I think he’d love to speak with you.” He ran his fingers through Aaron’s hair absently as he listened to the caller. He laughed again. “You’re not interrupting anything. Promise. Hold on and I’ll get your da for you.”
Aaron startled as he realized just who Patrick was talking to. His eyes widened as Sir held out the cellphone to him. He shook his head, suddenly uncertain. Patrick’s hand settled on his shoulder as he leaned close to whisper in Aaron’s ear. “It’s all right, Aaron. Talk to yer boy. Nothing’s changed there. He’s just concerned about his da and excited about getting to talk to him.”
Aaron nodded slowly then took the phone. He took a steadying breath. “Hey, buddy,” he said into the phone.
“Daddy!” came the enthusiastic response. “Mister Patrick said you wouldn’t mind me calling you while you were on your play-date. I miss you, daddy.”
Aaron smiled, throat tight. “Miss you too, buddy.”
“Aunt Jess called Gamma and said you were kinda homesick and Gamma said that I should call you.” The little boy giggled. “It’s okay to be homesick, daddy. You told me that. But Mr. Patrick sounds really cool and Gamma and pa-pa and I are having a lot of fun and Aunt Jess is spending all her time with Uncle Sean.” Aaron could hear the eye-roll at the last comment and chuckled. “But if you need me, I can come home. You’re more ‘portant than Mickey.”
Aaron felt his eyes tear as his little boy offered to give up Mickey Mouse to come home and take care of his ‘homesick’ dad. “That’s okay, buddy. Mr. Patrick is taking good care of me,” he reassured, leaning back against said man’s legs. “Besides, you’re supposed to get Uncle Spencer a pair of Mickey ears, remember?”
“OH… and I wanna get a Tinkerbell wand for Aunt Penny and somefing for little Henry and a Dopey for Uncle Sean.”
Aaron laughed. “That sounds wonderful. But remember to get things for you too.”
“Daddy. That’s what Gamma buys,” he answered back easily, all childish certainty.
“Jack,” Aaron started to scold.
“She said so, Daddy. If I see somefing I want,” Jack said seriously, obviously reciting something he’d been told several times, “I tell her or pa-pa and I tell them why I want it and if it’s not too ‘spensive I sometimes get it. And *no* fits if they say no.”
Aaron nodded. “Exactly. No fits.” When had his little boy gotten so grown up?
“Daddy. What should I get for Mister Patrick?” he asked just as seriously. “I don’t know what he’d want but he sounds really nice and and he’s taking care of you while I’m with Gamma and pa-pa. And… Do I get to meet him, Daddy? I like his voice even if he sounds kinda funny.”
“We’ll see, buddy. And I don’t know what he’d want from Disney World.” He looked up at Sir.
Patrick smirked at the blush on his boy’s face and wondered what the sharp little boy on the other end of the line had asked. He’d find out later. “I’ve always been rather fond of Tramp from Lady and the Tramp,” he said, just loud enough to hopefully be overheard.
Aaron started to repeat the comment but was interrupted by a “cool!” from his son.
“I bet pa-pa knows ‘sactly where to find him ‘cause he likes Tramp too! Is that okay, Daddy?”
“That’s fine, Jack,” he reassured. “Just remember to mind your grandparents and have fun so you can tell me all about it when you get home.”
“Okay, Daddy. OH. Gamma wants to talk to you too. Love you, Daddy.”
“Love you too, buddy. See you soon.” Aaron braced himself for whatever Haley’s mother was going to throw at him. He wasn’t going to keep them from Jack, but he really didn’t want to have to justify his life to the woman.
“Aaron?”
Her voice was far more hesitant than he remembered. “Yes, ma’am. I’m here.”
“Jessica told us that something had… brought back painful memories for you,” she began hesitantly. “I… I just want to say that, anything you need, we’ll try and provide.” She sighed. “After the horrible things I said…”
“We were all hurting, Mrs. Brooks,” he reassured, eyes once more brimming with tears. “Grief makes us all do and say things we regret.”
“Thank you, Aaron.” There was a long pause and Aaron wondered if the older woman had decided it was too much effort to continue the conversation. “We… We can extend our vacation for another few days if it would help you and your… friend. Or, Jessica has offered to keep Jack too. We don’t want you worrying about that. He’s a joy to take care of. Respectful, full of life and smiles… so much like Haley that it’s… it’s almost like having her around all over again.”
The tears fell now, silent but cleansing. Sir’s hand stroked his hair. “He’s the only thing that keeps me going some days,” he admitted.
“And you didn’t have to share him with us,” Haley’s mother admitted. “Especially after… everything. I know that. You’re a good man, Aaron Hotchner,” she said firmly. “Don’t ever doubt that! You’ll get through this and we’ll help any way we can.”
“Thank you,” he whispered brokenly.
“Jack, come say goodbye to your father and let him know we’ll call again soon,” Aaron heard his former mother-in-law say.
Again the phone changed hands and a familiar little voice took over. “Bye, daddy. Can I call you after we go to Disney?”
“Sure, buddy. Call me after you go to Disney. You can tell me all about what you found, okay?” He looked up at his Sir for confirmation, getting a smiling nod in return.
“Kay, daddy. Be good for Mr. Patrick.”
Aaron laughed. “I will. You be good too.”
“I will. Night, daddy. Sweet dreams.”
“Thank you, buddy. You too. Good night.” He waited until his son ended the call before hanging up himself. He leaned against Sir’s leg, clutching the phone to his chest. He relaxed into Sir’s caressing touch, soaking up the offered comfort as he looked at the papers still sitting on the coffee table before him. He pressed a kiss to Sir’s denim covered knee, handed back the phone and started filling out the worksheet once more. He still wasn’t sure it would help, but he owed it to those who cared about him to at least try.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Scars remind us where we’ve been. They don’t have to dictate where we’re going - Dave Rossi
Aaron stood at his Sir’s right shoulder and did his best not to fidget. The leather pants fit like a second skin. The chastity device, a thin leather undergarment that covered Aaron’s caged cock and held the small butt-plug firmly in place, while not uncomfortable was a sensation he’d yet to get completely used to. But all that paled in comparison to the emotional discomfort caused by the simple leather X-harness that Sir had chosen for him to wear. The black leather straps did nothing to hide the scars left on his torso by Foyet, but it did allow Sir easy access to his skin. He wasn’t sure that the pleasure of the one outweighed the distress of the other, but it wasn’t his decision. He’d given that right to Sir and he trusted Sir not to abuse it - though it wasn’t easy.
He watched, profiler’s eyes looking for potential problems that might need Sir’s attention. It was a long shot, but Sir had asked him to be extra vigilant tonight in response to two recent attacks on members of the community. The dominants in question weren’t members of the Leaf, but they were members of the community as a whole, and as Aaron was learning, the community looked after its own. So he followed Sir and kept his eyes and ears open for anything out of the ordinary, catching snips of conversations and glimpses of interactions, ready to alert Sir to any potential problems.
“Have you heard the latest Bella Voce pod-cast? That woman could read the phone book to me and I *swear* I’d be in heaven!”
“Yes, I am interested. However, my slave has a say in who I bring to my bed and I’ll not betray that trust.”
“Did you hear ‘Master’ Dragon finally got taken down? Seems one of his poor unsuspecting subs was a bit more than he could handle. She fought back and put him in the hospital. About time someone put *him* there considering how many subs he’s put there without a second thought. Gotta *love* karma!”
Aaron made a mental note to ask Sir about ‘Master Dragon’ later. He needed to make sure it wasn’t something they should look into further.
“Are you *sure* I can’t interest you in something a bit… stronger?”
Aaron focused on the purred invitation. The male in question was young with spiked hair and makeup rimmed eyes. The woman he was speaking to watched with a bemused and predatory smile. She reached out and stroked the boy’s sharp cheekbone. “Oh, baby boy. I’d eat you up in two bites,” she growled, chuckling huskily when the boy shivered.
“Please?”
Aaron watched as the pair engaged in a silent stare-down. The woman’s long fingers tightened in the boy’s hair, pulling his head back so she could lean down and whisper in his multi-pierced ear. The boy flushed deeply, relaxing against the woman’s leg in submission. Aaron lightly brushed fingers over Sir’s arm, waiting patiently to be acknowledged. Green eyes turned to him questioningly. He silently pointed out the pair he’d been watching. Sir smiled. He leaned in close and breathed in Aaron’s ear. “They’re a couple, Aaron. Mistress Anna indulges her boy in the occasional role-play scene. Shouldn’t be too involved beyond the play setup,” he reassured.
Aaron nodded, relaxing at the information. The evening continued uneventfully and Aaron found himself relaxing into his role as Sir’s boy. It had been a week and a half since his break-down and Dr. Huang had given the all clear for Aaron to return to work the following Monday. He still wasn’t sure how Dave, Patrick and Dr. Huang had arranged things, but he’d been assured that Chief Strauss had been supportive of the time away and that he’d been granted leave until cleared by his doctor to return. Dr. Huang’s daily sessions with Aaron had honestly helped a great deal. However, Dr. Huang had to return to New York and so had introduced Aaron to a local therapist that worked heavily with Obsidian House to continue his sessions with. Aaron had met the woman and was comfortable with her, but he still wasn’t sure it was necessary. Dr. Sayers dealt heavily with male rape victims, and while Aaron would concede that Foyet’s attack had been an ‘unwanted sexual advance’, he still had difficulty putting it in the same category as some of the rape victims he’d dealt with in his line of work. Sir, and both doctors, had disagreed. Aaron, at Sir’s insistence, had set his first appointment for early the next week and he would be seeing Dr. Sayers once a week until they felt he was back on steady footing. He wasn’t looking forward to it, but Sir was correct, it was something he needed to do, at least for now.
While he’d been with Patrick he’d gotten more comfortable with the scars on his body, and with his body in general. It was hard *not* to when forced to remain completely naked for eleven days, except when outside the apartment. He wasn’t particularly body shy: he kept fit and knew he received his fair share of appreciative looks. However, since Foyet… the scars were something he preferred to keep hidden, from his team, from his lovers, from himself. They were, to him, badges of failure, a failure that had cost too many lives. Sir and Dr. Huang were working on that with him. Luckily, Sir was a very demonstrative man and praised his boy’s body as often as possible. The causal touches, the more deliberate caresses, all helped Aaron more than Sir probably even knew. Tonight was a trial run of sorts to see how he reacted to having his scars exposed to people outside the safety of Patrick’s apartment. Jack was coming home tomorrow night and while Aaron was looking forward to seeing his son, he wouldn’t hesitate to have Jess or JJ watch Jack if Aaron was still having unexpected flashbacks. His son’s safety came first.
He missed Jack. He’d spoken with the little boy daily, calling before bedtime to hear all the wonderful things Jack and his grandparents had explored on their ‘adventures’. Once the boy’s excitement slowed, Aaron would tell Jack a bedtime story, his voice soft and low, soothing. He’d listen for Jack’s breathing to change, knowing Mrs. Brooks would be there to hang up the phone and tuck Jack in afterwards, then he’d wish his son sweet dreams, hang up the phone and curl into Patrick’s arms to be held. Patrick had insisted on the daily phone calls, knowing the connection would do both Jack *and* Aaron good. He’d also gotten to know Jack a bit better through the phone calls, an unexpected plus. Jack had *insisted* on talking with Patrick at least every other phone call, pestering his father mercilessly until allowed to talk to ‘Daddy’s silly friend’. Patrick was absolutely enchanted by the little boy, which pleased Aaron immensely. Jack was a large part of his life, as was his job, and the fact that Patrick accepted both made Aaron hopeful about the future of their relationship, both inside and outside the club.
Finally, Sir was finished with his security duties for the night. He handed off his radio and filled his replacement in on the few possible situations she might want to keep an eye on. The woman rolled her eyes. “Go on and get out of here, you old reprobate. You have a boy who’s been on his best behavior all evening and deserves a reward, which I’m sure you have well in hand,” she added with a knowing grin. Sir simply smiled, nodded to her and walked away, trusting Aaron to follow.
Aaron knew Sir had plans for him this evening, but he was uncertain exactly what. He trusted Sir completely, but was worried they’d find he was unable to give himself over completely. Sir had told him to simply relax, that no matter what he was able to give, it would be enough. But Aaron wanted the night’s activities to be perfect for Sir, a repayment of all he’d been given so far. He followed Sir down to one of the private suites, kneeling just inside the door and working to center himself so he could give Sir his complete submission.
Strong fingers gently lifted his chin. “You’re trying too hard, Aaron. Just let go and trust me to give you what you need.”
He nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
He was rewarded with a deep, heated kiss. “Good boy. Now, up.”
Aaron stood slowly, back pressed to the wall to add stability that his shaky legs couldn’t. Sir’s hands were warm as they unbuckled the leather harness. He made short work of the simple straps, dropping them to the floor in a tidy tumble. His hands caressed Aaron’s skin, massaging the tense muscles until Aaron was once more relaxed under his hands. His hands cupped Aaron’s face, drawing him forward for another slow, lingering kiss. Aaron relaxed even further, feeling the fears slowly drift away.
“Such a good boy,” Sir breathed. His warm hands moved down Aaron’s neck, over his shoulders. Flat palms ghosted over firm pectorals, coming to rest over quickly hardening nipples. “Oh yes. These would be so beautiful pierced, boy,” he breathed. “But not now. Maybe never,” he admitted. “But I do look forward to seeing them clipped tight fer me.” Sir stepped away and Aaron felt momentarily bereft, missing the touch even as he worried over what was coming next. He leaned his head back against the wall, breathing deep and trying to maintain the calm he’d found under Sir’s hand. He could hear Sir off to the side, looking through the items He’d laid out earlier, items He’d not let His boy even see. Part of him said he should be terrified, should be looking for a ways out of the situation. The other part of him knew he could trust his Sir completely. He pushed aside the ‘profiler’ and sank further into the peace offered by being simply ‘Sir’s’. He felt the last of the tension ease.
“I think ye’ll look good in these, Aaron,” Sir said, holding a pair of scroll-type nipple clamps up so Aaron could see them.
The metal was cool as Sir pressed it to his chest. Aaron could feel the way the metal bars surrounded his nipple. Sir’s fingers pinched the flesh slightly, pulling the tip further forward, giving the clamp something to close around. The screws turned, drawing the two flat metal plates tighter around the nipple. Aaron breathed slowly as the small plates compressed the sensitive flesh more and more with each turn. His breath grew more ragged with each carefully timed twist. He tried to control the shivers of anticipation as the clamp’s bite went from tight to just this side of painful before stilling. Sir’s palm settled once more against his, now clamped, nipple, warming the abused flesh.
“Just a little more, boy,” Sir promised. His tongue grazed the peaked tip and Aaron arched up into the caress with a muffled groan. The clamp was given one more turn, settling it tight against Aaron’s nipple and making him writhe.
He whimpered as a line of cold fell against his chest, trailing from the heat of the clamped nipple. He opened eyes he hadn’t realized he’d closed, finding Sir watching him carefully. He looked down and realized a chain hung from the bottom of the clamp, and from it, dangled the second clamp.
“Still with me, boy?” Sir asked, concern evident in His tone.
Aaron nodded, relaxing into the sensations. Sir smiled, leaned in and claimed a slow, tender kiss.
“One more if ye’re ready.”
He nodded again. The second clamp was lifted and placed around his other nipple, the tug of the connecting chain causing a delicious spark of sensation along his nerve endings. He arched into Sir’s touch, turning himself over to Sir’s care. He was rewarded with another kiss and the press of Sir’s body against his own.
The chain between the clamps warmed quickly against his skin. Sir attached a second chain to the center of the first, leaving it dangling down the midline of his chest. He shivered as the swing of the new chain pulled lightly on the clamps. Sir’s chuckle sent a different sort of shiver through him. Sir’s skilled fingers made short work of his leather pants and boots, stripping them off with minimal fuss, leaving him in just the clamps and the chastity belt. The belt was removed as well, Sir’s fingers taking a moment to tease at sensitive skin, cupping his stretched balls, massaging the thin skin of his perineum. He couldn’t stop his hips from arching forward in need.
Sir caught his hips, leaning forward and blowing warm breath across his metal and leather encased cock. “Soon. But not yet.”
He whimpered. Sir’s teasing fingers moved further back, tapping the base of the butt plug and sending an unexpected jolt of sensation through him. The damn thing vibrated. Sir’s breathy chuckle was delicious torture across his bound cock. The vibration increased in speed and the plug was shifted, adjusted until its tip was firmly seated against his prostate. His body arched forward, seeking Sir’s touch, Sir’s centering calm, as sensation after sensation built in maddening waves while the bindings kept him from finding release.
“Easy, boy,” Sir growled, rising from His crouch to look in His boy’s eyes. “I’ll give ya what ya need.”
He relaxed, his body wracked with overloading sensations. A sharp tug on the chains connected to the clamps had him crying out in wordless need. Sir kept the pull on the chain constant, using it to draw him away from the wall. He followed on unsteady legs, willingly going where Sir led. He was turned and backed against the ‘X’ of a Saint Andrew’s cross. The leather was cool against his back and he relaxed into its support. Sir urged his legs apart, securing his ankles to the base of the cross with softly padded cuffs. Sir’s tongue traced obscene trails up his inner thighs and across his balls as He worked. Fingers eased back the vibrations of the plug, leaving him filled, but not so close to losing control. A soft litany of accented words filled the space between them and he drifted on the cadence of them, uncertain of their exact meaning but knowing he was safe here. Leather belts closed around his thighs, opening him further for Sir’s touch and pinning him against the solid bulk of the x-frame. An open mouthed kiss was bestowed on each hip, turning from a light pressure to the welcome ache of a marking bite as he clutched at the leather-covered wood above him.
Sir’s tongue soothed the bites, His beard a delicious torment against leather bound flesh. His hands fluttered uncertainly, torn between clutching at the supporting frame and reaching down to urge Sir closer to his aching cock. The choice was soon taken from him.
Sir rose and pressed His still clothed body against His boy’s. His hips ground against His boy’s bound cock eliciting a needy whine. “Something ya need, boy?” Sir asked, His erection clear beneath His denim.
“You. Please…” Breathlessly, he sought more. More of the pressure. More of the pleasure. More of whatever Sir could, *would*, give him.
Sir rewarded him with a slow, sensual kiss. “Hands over yer head, a thaisce.”
He raised his hands as Sir directed, holding them steady as Sir secured them in the upper cuffs. The position forced his chest out, pulling on the chain between his nipples. Sir tugged on the leading chain, doubling the aching spike of pleasure-pain. He wrapped his fingers around the chain that attached the cuffs to the cross and simply held on, giving himself over to Sir’s touch. Work-roughened hands slid over his skin, caressing, exploring, teasing. He let the sensations lap at his awareness, focusing on the feel of the restraints, the sound of Sir’s voice, the feeling of safety. Hands slid over his chest and he sighed at the gentle touch. Fingers traced oddly numb spots on his skin, the sensation there then gone, then there again. It took his pleasure-overloaded mind far too long to realize what the numb spots were, his scars. He tried to shift away from the hands as they moved down his body, but Sir would have none of it. A sharp tug on the leading chain had him arching away from the cross.
“Ye’re mine, boy,” Sir growled, chain pulled tight and body pressed close to Aaron’s. “Not his. Mine!” He sank his teeth into Aaron’s shoulder, sucking hard on the thin flesh as Aaron struggled to relax into the knowledge. The bite released and Sir’s voice was husky in Aaron’s ear. “Ya fought him and won before, a thaisce. Don’t let the bastard win now. Not w’en ye’re so close.”
He locked eyes with his Sir. “I…”
“Let go, Aaron,” Patrick urged gently. “Ya know I’ll catch ya.”
Aaron took a deep breath and… surrendered.
“Beautiful,” Sir breathed in his ear. Lips claimed his, Sir’s tongue plundering his mouth, Sir’s hands tangled in his hair holding him still. “Ye’ve no idea how handsome ya are when ya let go, do ya, boy? Ye’re perfection itself as ya fall fer me, trusting me te catch ya. Proud o’ ya, boy.”
He shivered at the passionate words, the affectionate tone… and the need that spiked through him as they washed over him. Sir’s kisses slowed, and trailed lower. Down his jaw, his throat, pausing to lap at the dark mark He’d left moments before. Clamped nipples were laved with a wicked tongue making him hiss and arch. Then lower still to scars that he wished he could hide, but that Sir wouldn’t allow him to. He still felt tainted, unclean, unworthy of Sir’s tender attention. Sir’s fingers traced the edge of *The Scar*, drawing his attention to the very place he wished most to avoid. Too much pain, too much humiliation, too many memories.
“This is as much mine as the rest o’ ya, a thaisce,” Sir said evenly. “Ya survived, boy. That’s what’s important.” He rested His palm over the scar. “It’s a part of ya, nothin’ more. Don’t let it define who ya are.”
Sir’s eyes locked with his, and he watched as Sir sank slowly to His knees. The green eyes held him fast, he couldn’t have looked away if he wanted to, as Sir’s tongue extended and lapped around the silvery scar tissue. The heat of Sir’s tongue seared through him, through the layers of shame and fear and pain that still lingered in the scar. He shook in his bonds, mind still fighting the instinctive need to hide, to fight. Sir’s hands held him fast, His lips continuing the intimate absolution.
He whimpered but stilled. The hands moved lower, cupping his bound cock and balls. His legs threatened to buckle as deft fingers drifted further back and restarted the mind-melting vibrations that centered on his prostate. “Please,” he begged, voice raw with need.
Sir’s breath ghosted over his damp skin. “Soon. Hold on for me, boy,” He ordered.
He braced himself for whatever was to come. He trusted Sir. He knew Sir would take care of him, *had* taken care of him. Then the pressure surrounding his cock and balls released with a sharp snap. He would have come if not for Sir’s hand tugging on his balls, backing off the need at least for the moment. Then the mouth was back at The Scar, nipping at the edges, blowing air over the damp skin. He struggled, writhing in his bonds as Sir worked him to a frenzy of need.
“Come for me, a thaisce.”
The quiet order, the buzz of the vibrator, the release of his tightening balls all paled in comparison to the tender kiss placed at the lower edge of The Scar. His body seized as orgasm crashed through him, leaving him insensate and limp in his bonds.
He was aware of three things when he came back to himself. He was lying down on a soft, comfortable bed. He’d been cleaned of the sweat and semen that had doubtlessly been covering his body. He was still naked, but only the butt plug remained in place.
“Welcome back.”
He turned his head and blinked muzzily at his Sir who smiled at him in amusement.
“Well, partially back at least,” He teased before leaning in for a kiss.
He became aware of two more things, Sir was naked, and Sir was still hard. He reached out a trembling hand for the thick, erect cock, brushing his fingers over the warm flesh.
Sir shivered before removing the hand from His cock. “Only if ya want te, boy,” He reassured. “And if ye’re willin’, I’d very much like to fuck ye’re tempting arse.”
He spread his legs in invitation, smiling at his Sir. It had been a while since he’d been taken that way, but he found himself quite looking forward to giving that to his Sir. He shivered as a gentle hand smoothed slowly up and down his inner thigh before detouring to the base of the butt-plug. Sir played with the silicone toy, drawing it in and out of his body several times, twisting the base so the tip of the plug tormented his prostate. He arched his hips upward, wanting, needing more. The toy was carefully removed and he was pulled up higher into Sir’s lap. A pillow was placed under his back and he watched in dazed wonder as Sir rolled a condom over His erection and slicked Himself with lube. Green eyes locked with his as Sir shifted and placed the head of His cock against the relaxed muscle. Sir held his eyes as He slid slowly into the welcoming body.
Sir set a hard, demanding rhythm, hips pistoning as He sought his own completion. Deep, forceful thrusts shook the bed, Sir’s fingers leaving finger-shaped bruises on his hips. For his part, he arched up to meet the punishing thrusts as best he could in his exhausted state. He reached up and stroked the handsome face, fingers caressing Sir’s beard and carding through His red and silver hair. Sir turned into the touch, kissing the offered palm. He smiled, content even as a familiar warmth built within him once again. He shivered and clutched at Sir.
“Can ya give me one more?” He breathed into the caressing palm. “Let me see ya writhing beneath me as I come?”
“Don’t know,” he answered breathlessly, even as his body jumped at the idea.
“Try for me.”
That was all it took. His body threatened to shake apart even as he tried to control his reactions. Each thrust drove a broken gasp or groan from his lips. Each withdrawal had him arching and reaching for Sir. Sir’s growls and endearments faded to nothing more than a buzz of accented desire and need. Sir’s hand curled around his cock and pumped, urging him higher and higher until he screamed out his second orgasm of the night and collapsed back onto the bed, body wracked by aftershocks. Sir continued His thrusting, drawing out the orgasm as long as He could, before He too, had to succumb to His need. He was terrifyingly quiet when He came, His eyes locked with His boy’s, His fingers clamped tight around trembling thighs.
He leaned against His boy’s shoulder, struggling to regain His breath. He pressed a gentle kiss to the boy’s flushed cheek as He caught hold of the condom and withdrew. He silenced the muttered protest with a second kiss. “I’ll be right back, a thaisce. Rest.”
He nodded, eyes already drifting closed. Lips pressed against his forehead and he heard Sir’s voice whisper against his skin.
“Ta gra agam duit, a thaisce.”
He didn’t understand the words, but the tenderness of the tone followed him into his dreams.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Justice cannot be for one side alone, but must be for both. - Eleanor Roosevelt
Aaron Hotchner was not a happy man as he walked back into the BAU offices after an overly long and highly frustrating budgetary meeting. He couldn’t help but wonder just how well some of the bureaucrats would manage in the field without the support of the positions they dismissed as ‘unnecessary overhead’. Two and a half hours of discussion, complaints, justifications and flat out arguments later, he’d managed to convince the bureaucrats that most of the cuts they’d recommended would be detrimental to the overall efficiency of the unit. Unfortunately, the headache that had been threatening the night before had moved in with a vengeance fifteen minutes into the meeting and he was quite ready to pry out his own eyes with a letter opener if it would stop the throbbing. Luckily, the team was currently between cases and he knew there were some wonderfully effective painkillers in his desk. He just had to get to them before Chief Strauss discovered he’d returned and demanded he give his report to her immediately.
He was passing Rossi’s office when a familiar Irish brogue caught his attention. He stopped, brow furrowing as he struggled to remember if he’d had plans with Patrick today. He didn’t believe so, but the pounding headache made him question his memory.
“Because they’d be ever so receptive te this,” Patrick’s voice growled, brogue so thick Aaron had to work to understand it. “Couldn’t happen te a more deserving bunch of abusers and ne’er do wells. Maybe one o’ their victims finally got fed up and struck back. Ya know that’s the kind o’ crap they’ll level at the boy. He’s been through enough trauma. He doesn’t need te be traumatized by the system as well.”
“Patrick,” David’s voice was calm, placating. “I know you’re frustrated but, this isn’t something we can do anything about.”
“Then who the bloody hell *can*, David?!” Patrick shouted. Aaron flinched at the tone. “Walter suggested I come te ya because he doesn’t have the connections he used te, but thought ya might. This boy is the third reported attack in three months. And those are just the ones I know of because of me position at the club. Surely there’s somethin’ or even some*one* ya can recommend who’d listen.”
Aaron tapped on the doorframe of Dave’s office, nudging the door open a bit further to peer inside at the two men. “Is everything okay?” he asked hesitantly, his eyes looking over both men critically. Dave was as calmly collected as always, his eyes studying Patrick, looking for ways to diffuse the other man’s obvious anger. Patrick, on the other hand, was… rough. His red and silver hair was disheveled as if he’d been running his hands through it repeatedly. His beard was in need of a trim, something that rarely happened, which spoke to how distracted Patrick was, and apparently had been for several days. In place of the suit he normally wore when coming to see either David or Aaron at the BAU, he wore faded jeans and a well-worn gray t-shirt that stretched over his muscular chest and shoulders like a second skin. Green eyes settled on him and Aaron wondered if he should retrieve the pain pills for both of them. Patrick looked exhausted. He entered the office and quietly closed the door behind him. He nodded at Rossi before moving to Patrick’s side and laying a comforting hand on the older man’s shoulder.
Patrick leaned into the touch, the simple gesture confirming that Patrick was even more stressed than Aaron had initially thought. He caressed the side of the strong neck with his thumb, earning him a soft, pleased smile. He settled into an empty chair and looked between the two men. “So, tell me what’s happened and let’s see if we can find a way to help.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Aaron sat back, his mind already trying to piece together a profile from the little bit of information he had. Three respected dominants, all male, attacked in the last three months, threatened, beaten, and in the first two cases, blackmailed after the fact. The MO was the same in each case, the dominant was drugged, taken to a secluded location (each time a different location from what Patrick and his team could gather), then, over the course of two days, was systematically beaten by an unseen assailant with various SM implements that had been modified to do maximum damage, until he was again drugged and dumped in some out of the way back alley. Luckily, all three victims had been found before they died of their injuries. The latest victim, Paul, the young dominant from the Leaf, had nearly been killed by his attacker and there was some question if he would ever walk again. The only connection Patrick and his team could find was they were all dominants who’d recently taken on a new submissive, but none of them came from the same clubs, same backgrounds or even sought the same types of submissives.
The Community was worried. Patrick had been made aware of the situation because he was the head of security for one of the most exclusive BDSM clubs in the area. The Leaf had heightened security, instituted club to car escorts, and made sure that all members were made aware of the dangers now lurking in the fringes of their lifestyle. Several other clubs that catered to their lifestyle had done the same, the consensus being that just because this person was attacking male dominants now, didn’t mean others weren’t at risk.
“Have any of the victims gone to the police?”
Patrick sighed. “No. One of the men had a run in with the cops a few years back when a neighbor called in a noise complaint when he and his wife were scening. They nearly lost their children over it. After that experience, he won’t even think about approaching the police. The other… I don’t know, but I doubt it. Paul might, only because he has to. The others were found and maintained their injuries were muggings or something similar. Paul’s injuries are severe enough I don’t think the police will be so easily dissuaded to drop it at that.”
“So there’s no chance of the police asking for assistance, because they don’t know there’s an issue,” Dave said in exasperation.
“There are other ways to approach this,” Aaron said, mind already trying to see if there were connections that could be made. “Have there been other attacks in other areas?”
“Not that I’ve heard of. But then, depending on where it happened and who it happened to, there’s no guarantee I would have heard about it,” Patrick admitted.
“There must be some way to cross reference these types of attacks,” Aaron mused. “See if there were similar attacks in other areas. Maybe if we can find more of a pattern.”
“I could talk to the members of Obsidian House,” Patrick offered. “They generally work with community members in abuse situations, but they hear a lot of what’s going on in the communities and they have members all over the country. If any group could find that information, it would be them.”
“It’s a place to start at least,” Aaron agreed. “Beyond that, I don’t know if we can be of much help.”
“Ye’ve helped more than ya know, Aaron,” he said softly, taking and squeezing his boy’s hand. “Thank ya.”
Aaron smiled, cheeks heating slightly at the praise. “You’re welcome… Sir.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
On to part 5 Here
Part 0 = Here
Part 1 = Here
Part 2 = Here
Part 3 = Here
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The insistent ringing of the phone pulled him reluctantly from his slumber. They were off duty. He had another… He looked at the clock and cursed as he saw the time. A call at 4am on a Sunday… MONDAY morning never boded well. He grabbed the phone. “Rossi.”
“Where the hell is the bastard that hurt my boy?”
Dave blinked at Patrick’s dark and dangerous tone. “Which one?” he asked warily. “We come across a lot of bastards in our line of work.” The unamused silence told him just how deadly serious Patrick was. “I really do need more details, Patrick.”
“The bastard that dared to leave his marks on what’s mine.”
Rossi sighed in relief. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about tracing a suspicious death back to Patrick. “He’s dead. Aaron killed him to protect his son.”
“Then where’s he buried so I can go and piss on his damned grave?”
Despite the gravity of the situation, David felt like laughing at the comment. “That I don’t know, and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. Talk to me, Liam Patrick. What’s happened to Aaron?”
“He had a flashback to what the bastard did to him.” Patrick sighed, his weariness evident in his tone. “He dislocated his right wrist struggling. Should have known something was off when he chose ‘blue’ as his safe-word rather than ‘red’. Blue is his safe-word for emotional triggers. I should have known,” the comments trailed off.
“You’re not omnipotent, my friend,” David reassured.
“Trevor had to sedate him, David.” The Irishman’s voice broke on the words. “He wasn’t hysterical. He was actually closer to catatonic, which was even worse. Trevor thought it was best to give him at least one dreamless night.” The pause this time was longer, as if Patrick was debating his next words. “I need a favor, David,” he finally admitted.
“Anything you or Aaron need,” he said without hesitation.
“I can’t send him back out like this. Is there any way ya can arrange for time?”
“I’ll take care of it, Patrick,” Dave reassured, already composing the request in his head so Strauss couldn’t use it against Aaron later on. “You concentrate on Aaron. I was suspecting something like this would happen sooner or later, to be honest.” He gave a short, mirthless laugh. “I’ll call you once I’ve gotten things arranged.”
“Thank ya, David. I owe ya one.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” he told his friend firmly. “Just take care of Aaron.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Aaron grimaced at the nonsense worksheet that George Huang had insisted he complete. Huang was skilled and easy to talk to, something that Aaron appreciated even as he cursed the man’s too insightful nature. If nothing else, Huang’s insight had provided a reasonable explanation of why Aaron had reacted so violently to the scenes in Patrick’s apartment. Always before, their scenes had taken place in the anonymous and neutral rooms of the club, separated from the ‘reality’ of their day-to-day existence. For Aaron, it had been an unconscious buffer that he’d lost when they’d scened in Patrick’s home. The simple touches of ‘home’ that would normally have been soothing, had instead thrown Aaron back to the night he’d been attacked in his own home by Foyet. Then, Patrick had pinned him down, leaving him helpless and at Patrick’s mercy, something Aaron normally loved. Unfortunately, the helplessness had been too reminiscent of his time in Foyet’s hands and Aaron had been unable to fight the memories any longer.
Foyet’s attack had left more emotional and mental marks on Aaron than even he had realized. The compartmentalization that served him so well on the job, had sabotaged him off it. He remembered Haley once saying that she could tell when a case had been particularly bad because he’d come home silent and distant and then, after a few hours, would be back to himself. She’d never ask about those cases, saying she’d understood that Aaron needed to keep his distance from them to keep himself safe. Aaron realized, while talking with Dr. Huang, that it was one of the reasons Haley had not had a problem with Gideon - she’d thought he’d opened up to Gideon about those cases, about the pain and hurt and fear. But he hadn’t, he’d simply learned to lock it away and let it out in small doses in his sessions with Gideon until he could control it. Then Gideon had gone, taking with him even that small amount of release, and Aaron had locked those things down even tighter. Patrick had unknowingly opened those gates at a time when Aaron’s mind had already been replaying the horror of Foyet’s attacks. The accumulated pain, recriminations and emotions that Aaron had locked away so tightly in order to keep functioning after Foyet’s death had burst forth in an overwhelming flood.
So, now here Aaron sat with a sheet of idiotic questions about his ‘feelings’, trying to work past his own long-ingrained reticence about sharing those ‘feelings’ with anyone. Even after only two days of working with the personable psychiatrist Aaron knew he couldn’t bluff his way past the man: Huang was used to working with cops and stoic patients. He wouldn’t be able to convince Huang everything was fine like he had the department-mandated psychologist. He’d have to answer honestly, even when he didn’t want to, which meant being honest with himself as well. The thought worried him, but he knew Huang was right: he needed to learn how to deal with these things, not just shove them aside, if he wanted to stay sane. He sighed and picked up the abandoned pen, trying to approach the paper as he would an incident report at the office - facts, distance, and then a look at the emotional toll. His hand shook slightly, but he ignored it. He wasn’t going to take another of the damned anxiety pills. He didn’t need them and he couldn’t afford to get too reliant on them. He shifted on the soft cushion, fervently wishing Patrick was here, but his Sir had a job to do and that didn’t include babysitting his submissive 24/7.
The sound of a door opening drew Aaron from his thoughts. He took a deep breath, knowing it would be Patrick but unable to stop the momentary spike of worry as his hyper-vigilance flared again. He shook his head at his own foolishness. He’d gotten past this months ago… or thought he had at least. He sighed. This was simply reaffirmation that he needed to face his fears and emotional responses, not repress them. He rubbed carefully at the bridge of his nose, willing the threatening headache away. Patrick’s rich laughter soothed his nerves better than the anxiety pills ever could. He tuned into his Sir’s conversation, the lack of audible response suggested that Aaron was getting half of a very pleasant phone conversation.
“Of course you can, young man,” Sir said as he rounded the corner into the main room. He smiled at Aaron and settled onto the couch behind his naked submissive. “I think he’d love to speak with you.” He ran his fingers through Aaron’s hair absently as he listened to the caller. He laughed again. “You’re not interrupting anything. Promise. Hold on and I’ll get your da for you.”
Aaron startled as he realized just who Patrick was talking to. His eyes widened as Sir held out the cellphone to him. He shook his head, suddenly uncertain. Patrick’s hand settled on his shoulder as he leaned close to whisper in Aaron’s ear. “It’s all right, Aaron. Talk to yer boy. Nothing’s changed there. He’s just concerned about his da and excited about getting to talk to him.”
Aaron nodded slowly then took the phone. He took a steadying breath. “Hey, buddy,” he said into the phone.
“Daddy!” came the enthusiastic response. “Mister Patrick said you wouldn’t mind me calling you while you were on your play-date. I miss you, daddy.”
Aaron smiled, throat tight. “Miss you too, buddy.”
“Aunt Jess called Gamma and said you were kinda homesick and Gamma said that I should call you.” The little boy giggled. “It’s okay to be homesick, daddy. You told me that. But Mr. Patrick sounds really cool and Gamma and pa-pa and I are having a lot of fun and Aunt Jess is spending all her time with Uncle Sean.” Aaron could hear the eye-roll at the last comment and chuckled. “But if you need me, I can come home. You’re more ‘portant than Mickey.”
Aaron felt his eyes tear as his little boy offered to give up Mickey Mouse to come home and take care of his ‘homesick’ dad. “That’s okay, buddy. Mr. Patrick is taking good care of me,” he reassured, leaning back against said man’s legs. “Besides, you’re supposed to get Uncle Spencer a pair of Mickey ears, remember?”
“OH… and I wanna get a Tinkerbell wand for Aunt Penny and somefing for little Henry and a Dopey for Uncle Sean.”
Aaron laughed. “That sounds wonderful. But remember to get things for you too.”
“Daddy. That’s what Gamma buys,” he answered back easily, all childish certainty.
“Jack,” Aaron started to scold.
“She said so, Daddy. If I see somefing I want,” Jack said seriously, obviously reciting something he’d been told several times, “I tell her or pa-pa and I tell them why I want it and if it’s not too ‘spensive I sometimes get it. And *no* fits if they say no.”
Aaron nodded. “Exactly. No fits.” When had his little boy gotten so grown up?
“Daddy. What should I get for Mister Patrick?” he asked just as seriously. “I don’t know what he’d want but he sounds really nice and and he’s taking care of you while I’m with Gamma and pa-pa. And… Do I get to meet him, Daddy? I like his voice even if he sounds kinda funny.”
“We’ll see, buddy. And I don’t know what he’d want from Disney World.” He looked up at Sir.
Patrick smirked at the blush on his boy’s face and wondered what the sharp little boy on the other end of the line had asked. He’d find out later. “I’ve always been rather fond of Tramp from Lady and the Tramp,” he said, just loud enough to hopefully be overheard.
Aaron started to repeat the comment but was interrupted by a “cool!” from his son.
“I bet pa-pa knows ‘sactly where to find him ‘cause he likes Tramp too! Is that okay, Daddy?”
“That’s fine, Jack,” he reassured. “Just remember to mind your grandparents and have fun so you can tell me all about it when you get home.”
“Okay, Daddy. OH. Gamma wants to talk to you too. Love you, Daddy.”
“Love you too, buddy. See you soon.” Aaron braced himself for whatever Haley’s mother was going to throw at him. He wasn’t going to keep them from Jack, but he really didn’t want to have to justify his life to the woman.
“Aaron?”
Her voice was far more hesitant than he remembered. “Yes, ma’am. I’m here.”
“Jessica told us that something had… brought back painful memories for you,” she began hesitantly. “I… I just want to say that, anything you need, we’ll try and provide.” She sighed. “After the horrible things I said…”
“We were all hurting, Mrs. Brooks,” he reassured, eyes once more brimming with tears. “Grief makes us all do and say things we regret.”
“Thank you, Aaron.” There was a long pause and Aaron wondered if the older woman had decided it was too much effort to continue the conversation. “We… We can extend our vacation for another few days if it would help you and your… friend. Or, Jessica has offered to keep Jack too. We don’t want you worrying about that. He’s a joy to take care of. Respectful, full of life and smiles… so much like Haley that it’s… it’s almost like having her around all over again.”
The tears fell now, silent but cleansing. Sir’s hand stroked his hair. “He’s the only thing that keeps me going some days,” he admitted.
“And you didn’t have to share him with us,” Haley’s mother admitted. “Especially after… everything. I know that. You’re a good man, Aaron Hotchner,” she said firmly. “Don’t ever doubt that! You’ll get through this and we’ll help any way we can.”
“Thank you,” he whispered brokenly.
“Jack, come say goodbye to your father and let him know we’ll call again soon,” Aaron heard his former mother-in-law say.
Again the phone changed hands and a familiar little voice took over. “Bye, daddy. Can I call you after we go to Disney?”
“Sure, buddy. Call me after you go to Disney. You can tell me all about what you found, okay?” He looked up at his Sir for confirmation, getting a smiling nod in return.
“Kay, daddy. Be good for Mr. Patrick.”
Aaron laughed. “I will. You be good too.”
“I will. Night, daddy. Sweet dreams.”
“Thank you, buddy. You too. Good night.” He waited until his son ended the call before hanging up himself. He leaned against Sir’s leg, clutching the phone to his chest. He relaxed into Sir’s caressing touch, soaking up the offered comfort as he looked at the papers still sitting on the coffee table before him. He pressed a kiss to Sir’s denim covered knee, handed back the phone and started filling out the worksheet once more. He still wasn’t sure it would help, but he owed it to those who cared about him to at least try.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Scars remind us where we’ve been. They don’t have to dictate where we’re going - Dave Rossi
Aaron stood at his Sir’s right shoulder and did his best not to fidget. The leather pants fit like a second skin. The chastity device, a thin leather undergarment that covered Aaron’s caged cock and held the small butt-plug firmly in place, while not uncomfortable was a sensation he’d yet to get completely used to. But all that paled in comparison to the emotional discomfort caused by the simple leather X-harness that Sir had chosen for him to wear. The black leather straps did nothing to hide the scars left on his torso by Foyet, but it did allow Sir easy access to his skin. He wasn’t sure that the pleasure of the one outweighed the distress of the other, but it wasn’t his decision. He’d given that right to Sir and he trusted Sir not to abuse it - though it wasn’t easy.
He watched, profiler’s eyes looking for potential problems that might need Sir’s attention. It was a long shot, but Sir had asked him to be extra vigilant tonight in response to two recent attacks on members of the community. The dominants in question weren’t members of the Leaf, but they were members of the community as a whole, and as Aaron was learning, the community looked after its own. So he followed Sir and kept his eyes and ears open for anything out of the ordinary, catching snips of conversations and glimpses of interactions, ready to alert Sir to any potential problems.
“Have you heard the latest Bella Voce pod-cast? That woman could read the phone book to me and I *swear* I’d be in heaven!”
“Yes, I am interested. However, my slave has a say in who I bring to my bed and I’ll not betray that trust.”
“Did you hear ‘Master’ Dragon finally got taken down? Seems one of his poor unsuspecting subs was a bit more than he could handle. She fought back and put him in the hospital. About time someone put *him* there considering how many subs he’s put there without a second thought. Gotta *love* karma!”
Aaron made a mental note to ask Sir about ‘Master Dragon’ later. He needed to make sure it wasn’t something they should look into further.
“Are you *sure* I can’t interest you in something a bit… stronger?”
Aaron focused on the purred invitation. The male in question was young with spiked hair and makeup rimmed eyes. The woman he was speaking to watched with a bemused and predatory smile. She reached out and stroked the boy’s sharp cheekbone. “Oh, baby boy. I’d eat you up in two bites,” she growled, chuckling huskily when the boy shivered.
“Please?”
Aaron watched as the pair engaged in a silent stare-down. The woman’s long fingers tightened in the boy’s hair, pulling his head back so she could lean down and whisper in his multi-pierced ear. The boy flushed deeply, relaxing against the woman’s leg in submission. Aaron lightly brushed fingers over Sir’s arm, waiting patiently to be acknowledged. Green eyes turned to him questioningly. He silently pointed out the pair he’d been watching. Sir smiled. He leaned in close and breathed in Aaron’s ear. “They’re a couple, Aaron. Mistress Anna indulges her boy in the occasional role-play scene. Shouldn’t be too involved beyond the play setup,” he reassured.
Aaron nodded, relaxing at the information. The evening continued uneventfully and Aaron found himself relaxing into his role as Sir’s boy. It had been a week and a half since his break-down and Dr. Huang had given the all clear for Aaron to return to work the following Monday. He still wasn’t sure how Dave, Patrick and Dr. Huang had arranged things, but he’d been assured that Chief Strauss had been supportive of the time away and that he’d been granted leave until cleared by his doctor to return. Dr. Huang’s daily sessions with Aaron had honestly helped a great deal. However, Dr. Huang had to return to New York and so had introduced Aaron to a local therapist that worked heavily with Obsidian House to continue his sessions with. Aaron had met the woman and was comfortable with her, but he still wasn’t sure it was necessary. Dr. Sayers dealt heavily with male rape victims, and while Aaron would concede that Foyet’s attack had been an ‘unwanted sexual advance’, he still had difficulty putting it in the same category as some of the rape victims he’d dealt with in his line of work. Sir, and both doctors, had disagreed. Aaron, at Sir’s insistence, had set his first appointment for early the next week and he would be seeing Dr. Sayers once a week until they felt he was back on steady footing. He wasn’t looking forward to it, but Sir was correct, it was something he needed to do, at least for now.
While he’d been with Patrick he’d gotten more comfortable with the scars on his body, and with his body in general. It was hard *not* to when forced to remain completely naked for eleven days, except when outside the apartment. He wasn’t particularly body shy: he kept fit and knew he received his fair share of appreciative looks. However, since Foyet… the scars were something he preferred to keep hidden, from his team, from his lovers, from himself. They were, to him, badges of failure, a failure that had cost too many lives. Sir and Dr. Huang were working on that with him. Luckily, Sir was a very demonstrative man and praised his boy’s body as often as possible. The causal touches, the more deliberate caresses, all helped Aaron more than Sir probably even knew. Tonight was a trial run of sorts to see how he reacted to having his scars exposed to people outside the safety of Patrick’s apartment. Jack was coming home tomorrow night and while Aaron was looking forward to seeing his son, he wouldn’t hesitate to have Jess or JJ watch Jack if Aaron was still having unexpected flashbacks. His son’s safety came first.
He missed Jack. He’d spoken with the little boy daily, calling before bedtime to hear all the wonderful things Jack and his grandparents had explored on their ‘adventures’. Once the boy’s excitement slowed, Aaron would tell Jack a bedtime story, his voice soft and low, soothing. He’d listen for Jack’s breathing to change, knowing Mrs. Brooks would be there to hang up the phone and tuck Jack in afterwards, then he’d wish his son sweet dreams, hang up the phone and curl into Patrick’s arms to be held. Patrick had insisted on the daily phone calls, knowing the connection would do both Jack *and* Aaron good. He’d also gotten to know Jack a bit better through the phone calls, an unexpected plus. Jack had *insisted* on talking with Patrick at least every other phone call, pestering his father mercilessly until allowed to talk to ‘Daddy’s silly friend’. Patrick was absolutely enchanted by the little boy, which pleased Aaron immensely. Jack was a large part of his life, as was his job, and the fact that Patrick accepted both made Aaron hopeful about the future of their relationship, both inside and outside the club.
Finally, Sir was finished with his security duties for the night. He handed off his radio and filled his replacement in on the few possible situations she might want to keep an eye on. The woman rolled her eyes. “Go on and get out of here, you old reprobate. You have a boy who’s been on his best behavior all evening and deserves a reward, which I’m sure you have well in hand,” she added with a knowing grin. Sir simply smiled, nodded to her and walked away, trusting Aaron to follow.
Aaron knew Sir had plans for him this evening, but he was uncertain exactly what. He trusted Sir completely, but was worried they’d find he was unable to give himself over completely. Sir had told him to simply relax, that no matter what he was able to give, it would be enough. But Aaron wanted the night’s activities to be perfect for Sir, a repayment of all he’d been given so far. He followed Sir down to one of the private suites, kneeling just inside the door and working to center himself so he could give Sir his complete submission.
Strong fingers gently lifted his chin. “You’re trying too hard, Aaron. Just let go and trust me to give you what you need.”
He nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
He was rewarded with a deep, heated kiss. “Good boy. Now, up.”
Aaron stood slowly, back pressed to the wall to add stability that his shaky legs couldn’t. Sir’s hands were warm as they unbuckled the leather harness. He made short work of the simple straps, dropping them to the floor in a tidy tumble. His hands caressed Aaron’s skin, massaging the tense muscles until Aaron was once more relaxed under his hands. His hands cupped Aaron’s face, drawing him forward for another slow, lingering kiss. Aaron relaxed even further, feeling the fears slowly drift away.
“Such a good boy,” Sir breathed. His warm hands moved down Aaron’s neck, over his shoulders. Flat palms ghosted over firm pectorals, coming to rest over quickly hardening nipples. “Oh yes. These would be so beautiful pierced, boy,” he breathed. “But not now. Maybe never,” he admitted. “But I do look forward to seeing them clipped tight fer me.” Sir stepped away and Aaron felt momentarily bereft, missing the touch even as he worried over what was coming next. He leaned his head back against the wall, breathing deep and trying to maintain the calm he’d found under Sir’s hand. He could hear Sir off to the side, looking through the items He’d laid out earlier, items He’d not let His boy even see. Part of him said he should be terrified, should be looking for a ways out of the situation. The other part of him knew he could trust his Sir completely. He pushed aside the ‘profiler’ and sank further into the peace offered by being simply ‘Sir’s’. He felt the last of the tension ease.
“I think ye’ll look good in these, Aaron,” Sir said, holding a pair of scroll-type nipple clamps up so Aaron could see them.
The metal was cool as Sir pressed it to his chest. Aaron could feel the way the metal bars surrounded his nipple. Sir’s fingers pinched the flesh slightly, pulling the tip further forward, giving the clamp something to close around. The screws turned, drawing the two flat metal plates tighter around the nipple. Aaron breathed slowly as the small plates compressed the sensitive flesh more and more with each turn. His breath grew more ragged with each carefully timed twist. He tried to control the shivers of anticipation as the clamp’s bite went from tight to just this side of painful before stilling. Sir’s palm settled once more against his, now clamped, nipple, warming the abused flesh.
“Just a little more, boy,” Sir promised. His tongue grazed the peaked tip and Aaron arched up into the caress with a muffled groan. The clamp was given one more turn, settling it tight against Aaron’s nipple and making him writhe.
He whimpered as a line of cold fell against his chest, trailing from the heat of the clamped nipple. He opened eyes he hadn’t realized he’d closed, finding Sir watching him carefully. He looked down and realized a chain hung from the bottom of the clamp, and from it, dangled the second clamp.
“Still with me, boy?” Sir asked, concern evident in His tone.
Aaron nodded, relaxing into the sensations. Sir smiled, leaned in and claimed a slow, tender kiss.
“One more if ye’re ready.”
He nodded again. The second clamp was lifted and placed around his other nipple, the tug of the connecting chain causing a delicious spark of sensation along his nerve endings. He arched into Sir’s touch, turning himself over to Sir’s care. He was rewarded with another kiss and the press of Sir’s body against his own.
The chain between the clamps warmed quickly against his skin. Sir attached a second chain to the center of the first, leaving it dangling down the midline of his chest. He shivered as the swing of the new chain pulled lightly on the clamps. Sir’s chuckle sent a different sort of shiver through him. Sir’s skilled fingers made short work of his leather pants and boots, stripping them off with minimal fuss, leaving him in just the clamps and the chastity belt. The belt was removed as well, Sir’s fingers taking a moment to tease at sensitive skin, cupping his stretched balls, massaging the thin skin of his perineum. He couldn’t stop his hips from arching forward in need.
Sir caught his hips, leaning forward and blowing warm breath across his metal and leather encased cock. “Soon. But not yet.”
He whimpered. Sir’s teasing fingers moved further back, tapping the base of the butt plug and sending an unexpected jolt of sensation through him. The damn thing vibrated. Sir’s breathy chuckle was delicious torture across his bound cock. The vibration increased in speed and the plug was shifted, adjusted until its tip was firmly seated against his prostate. His body arched forward, seeking Sir’s touch, Sir’s centering calm, as sensation after sensation built in maddening waves while the bindings kept him from finding release.
“Easy, boy,” Sir growled, rising from His crouch to look in His boy’s eyes. “I’ll give ya what ya need.”
He relaxed, his body wracked with overloading sensations. A sharp tug on the chains connected to the clamps had him crying out in wordless need. Sir kept the pull on the chain constant, using it to draw him away from the wall. He followed on unsteady legs, willingly going where Sir led. He was turned and backed against the ‘X’ of a Saint Andrew’s cross. The leather was cool against his back and he relaxed into its support. Sir urged his legs apart, securing his ankles to the base of the cross with softly padded cuffs. Sir’s tongue traced obscene trails up his inner thighs and across his balls as He worked. Fingers eased back the vibrations of the plug, leaving him filled, but not so close to losing control. A soft litany of accented words filled the space between them and he drifted on the cadence of them, uncertain of their exact meaning but knowing he was safe here. Leather belts closed around his thighs, opening him further for Sir’s touch and pinning him against the solid bulk of the x-frame. An open mouthed kiss was bestowed on each hip, turning from a light pressure to the welcome ache of a marking bite as he clutched at the leather-covered wood above him.
Sir’s tongue soothed the bites, His beard a delicious torment against leather bound flesh. His hands fluttered uncertainly, torn between clutching at the supporting frame and reaching down to urge Sir closer to his aching cock. The choice was soon taken from him.
Sir rose and pressed His still clothed body against His boy’s. His hips ground against His boy’s bound cock eliciting a needy whine. “Something ya need, boy?” Sir asked, His erection clear beneath His denim.
“You. Please…” Breathlessly, he sought more. More of the pressure. More of the pleasure. More of whatever Sir could, *would*, give him.
Sir rewarded him with a slow, sensual kiss. “Hands over yer head, a thaisce.”
He raised his hands as Sir directed, holding them steady as Sir secured them in the upper cuffs. The position forced his chest out, pulling on the chain between his nipples. Sir tugged on the leading chain, doubling the aching spike of pleasure-pain. He wrapped his fingers around the chain that attached the cuffs to the cross and simply held on, giving himself over to Sir’s touch. Work-roughened hands slid over his skin, caressing, exploring, teasing. He let the sensations lap at his awareness, focusing on the feel of the restraints, the sound of Sir’s voice, the feeling of safety. Hands slid over his chest and he sighed at the gentle touch. Fingers traced oddly numb spots on his skin, the sensation there then gone, then there again. It took his pleasure-overloaded mind far too long to realize what the numb spots were, his scars. He tried to shift away from the hands as they moved down his body, but Sir would have none of it. A sharp tug on the leading chain had him arching away from the cross.
“Ye’re mine, boy,” Sir growled, chain pulled tight and body pressed close to Aaron’s. “Not his. Mine!” He sank his teeth into Aaron’s shoulder, sucking hard on the thin flesh as Aaron struggled to relax into the knowledge. The bite released and Sir’s voice was husky in Aaron’s ear. “Ya fought him and won before, a thaisce. Don’t let the bastard win now. Not w’en ye’re so close.”
He locked eyes with his Sir. “I…”
“Let go, Aaron,” Patrick urged gently. “Ya know I’ll catch ya.”
Aaron took a deep breath and… surrendered.
“Beautiful,” Sir breathed in his ear. Lips claimed his, Sir’s tongue plundering his mouth, Sir’s hands tangled in his hair holding him still. “Ye’ve no idea how handsome ya are when ya let go, do ya, boy? Ye’re perfection itself as ya fall fer me, trusting me te catch ya. Proud o’ ya, boy.”
He shivered at the passionate words, the affectionate tone… and the need that spiked through him as they washed over him. Sir’s kisses slowed, and trailed lower. Down his jaw, his throat, pausing to lap at the dark mark He’d left moments before. Clamped nipples were laved with a wicked tongue making him hiss and arch. Then lower still to scars that he wished he could hide, but that Sir wouldn’t allow him to. He still felt tainted, unclean, unworthy of Sir’s tender attention. Sir’s fingers traced the edge of *The Scar*, drawing his attention to the very place he wished most to avoid. Too much pain, too much humiliation, too many memories.
“This is as much mine as the rest o’ ya, a thaisce,” Sir said evenly. “Ya survived, boy. That’s what’s important.” He rested His palm over the scar. “It’s a part of ya, nothin’ more. Don’t let it define who ya are.”
Sir’s eyes locked with his, and he watched as Sir sank slowly to His knees. The green eyes held him fast, he couldn’t have looked away if he wanted to, as Sir’s tongue extended and lapped around the silvery scar tissue. The heat of Sir’s tongue seared through him, through the layers of shame and fear and pain that still lingered in the scar. He shook in his bonds, mind still fighting the instinctive need to hide, to fight. Sir’s hands held him fast, His lips continuing the intimate absolution.
He whimpered but stilled. The hands moved lower, cupping his bound cock and balls. His legs threatened to buckle as deft fingers drifted further back and restarted the mind-melting vibrations that centered on his prostate. “Please,” he begged, voice raw with need.
Sir’s breath ghosted over his damp skin. “Soon. Hold on for me, boy,” He ordered.
He braced himself for whatever was to come. He trusted Sir. He knew Sir would take care of him, *had* taken care of him. Then the pressure surrounding his cock and balls released with a sharp snap. He would have come if not for Sir’s hand tugging on his balls, backing off the need at least for the moment. Then the mouth was back at The Scar, nipping at the edges, blowing air over the damp skin. He struggled, writhing in his bonds as Sir worked him to a frenzy of need.
“Come for me, a thaisce.”
The quiet order, the buzz of the vibrator, the release of his tightening balls all paled in comparison to the tender kiss placed at the lower edge of The Scar. His body seized as orgasm crashed through him, leaving him insensate and limp in his bonds.
He was aware of three things when he came back to himself. He was lying down on a soft, comfortable bed. He’d been cleaned of the sweat and semen that had doubtlessly been covering his body. He was still naked, but only the butt plug remained in place.
“Welcome back.”
He turned his head and blinked muzzily at his Sir who smiled at him in amusement.
“Well, partially back at least,” He teased before leaning in for a kiss.
He became aware of two more things, Sir was naked, and Sir was still hard. He reached out a trembling hand for the thick, erect cock, brushing his fingers over the warm flesh.
Sir shivered before removing the hand from His cock. “Only if ya want te, boy,” He reassured. “And if ye’re willin’, I’d very much like to fuck ye’re tempting arse.”
He spread his legs in invitation, smiling at his Sir. It had been a while since he’d been taken that way, but he found himself quite looking forward to giving that to his Sir. He shivered as a gentle hand smoothed slowly up and down his inner thigh before detouring to the base of the butt-plug. Sir played with the silicone toy, drawing it in and out of his body several times, twisting the base so the tip of the plug tormented his prostate. He arched his hips upward, wanting, needing more. The toy was carefully removed and he was pulled up higher into Sir’s lap. A pillow was placed under his back and he watched in dazed wonder as Sir rolled a condom over His erection and slicked Himself with lube. Green eyes locked with his as Sir shifted and placed the head of His cock against the relaxed muscle. Sir held his eyes as He slid slowly into the welcoming body.
Sir set a hard, demanding rhythm, hips pistoning as He sought his own completion. Deep, forceful thrusts shook the bed, Sir’s fingers leaving finger-shaped bruises on his hips. For his part, he arched up to meet the punishing thrusts as best he could in his exhausted state. He reached up and stroked the handsome face, fingers caressing Sir’s beard and carding through His red and silver hair. Sir turned into the touch, kissing the offered palm. He smiled, content even as a familiar warmth built within him once again. He shivered and clutched at Sir.
“Can ya give me one more?” He breathed into the caressing palm. “Let me see ya writhing beneath me as I come?”
“Don’t know,” he answered breathlessly, even as his body jumped at the idea.
“Try for me.”
That was all it took. His body threatened to shake apart even as he tried to control his reactions. Each thrust drove a broken gasp or groan from his lips. Each withdrawal had him arching and reaching for Sir. Sir’s growls and endearments faded to nothing more than a buzz of accented desire and need. Sir’s hand curled around his cock and pumped, urging him higher and higher until he screamed out his second orgasm of the night and collapsed back onto the bed, body wracked by aftershocks. Sir continued His thrusting, drawing out the orgasm as long as He could, before He too, had to succumb to His need. He was terrifyingly quiet when He came, His eyes locked with His boy’s, His fingers clamped tight around trembling thighs.
He leaned against His boy’s shoulder, struggling to regain His breath. He pressed a gentle kiss to the boy’s flushed cheek as He caught hold of the condom and withdrew. He silenced the muttered protest with a second kiss. “I’ll be right back, a thaisce. Rest.”
He nodded, eyes already drifting closed. Lips pressed against his forehead and he heard Sir’s voice whisper against his skin.
“Ta gra agam duit, a thaisce.”
He didn’t understand the words, but the tenderness of the tone followed him into his dreams.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Justice cannot be for one side alone, but must be for both. - Eleanor Roosevelt
Aaron Hotchner was not a happy man as he walked back into the BAU offices after an overly long and highly frustrating budgetary meeting. He couldn’t help but wonder just how well some of the bureaucrats would manage in the field without the support of the positions they dismissed as ‘unnecessary overhead’. Two and a half hours of discussion, complaints, justifications and flat out arguments later, he’d managed to convince the bureaucrats that most of the cuts they’d recommended would be detrimental to the overall efficiency of the unit. Unfortunately, the headache that had been threatening the night before had moved in with a vengeance fifteen minutes into the meeting and he was quite ready to pry out his own eyes with a letter opener if it would stop the throbbing. Luckily, the team was currently between cases and he knew there were some wonderfully effective painkillers in his desk. He just had to get to them before Chief Strauss discovered he’d returned and demanded he give his report to her immediately.
He was passing Rossi’s office when a familiar Irish brogue caught his attention. He stopped, brow furrowing as he struggled to remember if he’d had plans with Patrick today. He didn’t believe so, but the pounding headache made him question his memory.
“Because they’d be ever so receptive te this,” Patrick’s voice growled, brogue so thick Aaron had to work to understand it. “Couldn’t happen te a more deserving bunch of abusers and ne’er do wells. Maybe one o’ their victims finally got fed up and struck back. Ya know that’s the kind o’ crap they’ll level at the boy. He’s been through enough trauma. He doesn’t need te be traumatized by the system as well.”
“Patrick,” David’s voice was calm, placating. “I know you’re frustrated but, this isn’t something we can do anything about.”
“Then who the bloody hell *can*, David?!” Patrick shouted. Aaron flinched at the tone. “Walter suggested I come te ya because he doesn’t have the connections he used te, but thought ya might. This boy is the third reported attack in three months. And those are just the ones I know of because of me position at the club. Surely there’s somethin’ or even some*one* ya can recommend who’d listen.”
Aaron tapped on the doorframe of Dave’s office, nudging the door open a bit further to peer inside at the two men. “Is everything okay?” he asked hesitantly, his eyes looking over both men critically. Dave was as calmly collected as always, his eyes studying Patrick, looking for ways to diffuse the other man’s obvious anger. Patrick, on the other hand, was… rough. His red and silver hair was disheveled as if he’d been running his hands through it repeatedly. His beard was in need of a trim, something that rarely happened, which spoke to how distracted Patrick was, and apparently had been for several days. In place of the suit he normally wore when coming to see either David or Aaron at the BAU, he wore faded jeans and a well-worn gray t-shirt that stretched over his muscular chest and shoulders like a second skin. Green eyes settled on him and Aaron wondered if he should retrieve the pain pills for both of them. Patrick looked exhausted. He entered the office and quietly closed the door behind him. He nodded at Rossi before moving to Patrick’s side and laying a comforting hand on the older man’s shoulder.
Patrick leaned into the touch, the simple gesture confirming that Patrick was even more stressed than Aaron had initially thought. He caressed the side of the strong neck with his thumb, earning him a soft, pleased smile. He settled into an empty chair and looked between the two men. “So, tell me what’s happened and let’s see if we can find a way to help.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Aaron sat back, his mind already trying to piece together a profile from the little bit of information he had. Three respected dominants, all male, attacked in the last three months, threatened, beaten, and in the first two cases, blackmailed after the fact. The MO was the same in each case, the dominant was drugged, taken to a secluded location (each time a different location from what Patrick and his team could gather), then, over the course of two days, was systematically beaten by an unseen assailant with various SM implements that had been modified to do maximum damage, until he was again drugged and dumped in some out of the way back alley. Luckily, all three victims had been found before they died of their injuries. The latest victim, Paul, the young dominant from the Leaf, had nearly been killed by his attacker and there was some question if he would ever walk again. The only connection Patrick and his team could find was they were all dominants who’d recently taken on a new submissive, but none of them came from the same clubs, same backgrounds or even sought the same types of submissives.
The Community was worried. Patrick had been made aware of the situation because he was the head of security for one of the most exclusive BDSM clubs in the area. The Leaf had heightened security, instituted club to car escorts, and made sure that all members were made aware of the dangers now lurking in the fringes of their lifestyle. Several other clubs that catered to their lifestyle had done the same, the consensus being that just because this person was attacking male dominants now, didn’t mean others weren’t at risk.
“Have any of the victims gone to the police?”
Patrick sighed. “No. One of the men had a run in with the cops a few years back when a neighbor called in a noise complaint when he and his wife were scening. They nearly lost their children over it. After that experience, he won’t even think about approaching the police. The other… I don’t know, but I doubt it. Paul might, only because he has to. The others were found and maintained their injuries were muggings or something similar. Paul’s injuries are severe enough I don’t think the police will be so easily dissuaded to drop it at that.”
“So there’s no chance of the police asking for assistance, because they don’t know there’s an issue,” Dave said in exasperation.
“There are other ways to approach this,” Aaron said, mind already trying to see if there were connections that could be made. “Have there been other attacks in other areas?”
“Not that I’ve heard of. But then, depending on where it happened and who it happened to, there’s no guarantee I would have heard about it,” Patrick admitted.
“There must be some way to cross reference these types of attacks,” Aaron mused. “See if there were similar attacks in other areas. Maybe if we can find more of a pattern.”
“I could talk to the members of Obsidian House,” Patrick offered. “They generally work with community members in abuse situations, but they hear a lot of what’s going on in the communities and they have members all over the country. If any group could find that information, it would be them.”
“It’s a place to start at least,” Aaron agreed. “Beyond that, I don’t know if we can be of much help.”
“Ye’ve helped more than ya know, Aaron,” he said softly, taking and squeezing his boy’s hand. “Thank ya.”
Aaron smiled, cheeks heating slightly at the praise. “You’re welcome… Sir.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
On to part 5 Here