(no subject)
TITLE: Tainted Love
AUTHOR: Cuvalwen
FANDOM: Life on Mars
SUMMARY: Chris pushes the limits- Sam exceeds them.
RATING: Red Cortina. Seriously.
WORD COUNT: 2,500
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is part of the Alternate Universe Psycho!Samatic cycle (http://fiandyfic.livejournal.com/4950.html) and carries on from after 'Shibari'.
It is also a (rather belated) birthday present for m31andy, who also did a wonderful job of betaing it for me!
Happy birthday, hon!
Tainted Love
Chris' mind was like a still, dark pool; a mirrored surface in which Sam could just make out his own dark image- yet beneath the surface were unguessable depths, and hidden arms that would hold Sam tight in the darkness if ever he should fall in.
And it was only a matter of time until he lost his balance once and for all.
Sam had become quite adept at separating out the various parts of his life. The part of him that was the DI was so distinct from the part of him that was tied up, cut and fucked that sometimes the sight of red marks on his wrists took him by surprise, or he would lean back in his chair, wince at the pressure on the incisions and wonder for a moment what on earth he had managed to do to himself, until recollection cut in and he remembered what had been done to him.
It was an ability that he had, maybe, learnt from Chris.
At work, Sam was the Boss and Chris the eager, impressionable protégée. Hapless and clumsy, with all the enthusiasm of a puppy and that very creature’s ability to put his foot right in it. Slightly dim, with a few flashes of brilliance that he was always careful to attribute to Gene’s guidance- or Sam’s. Bashful and embarrassed when getting ribbed about an unsuccessful date.
Wide eyed and innocent- but sometimes those eyes narrowed as he looked across at Sam, making the DI’s breath catch, his cock twitch and the nerves around his anus tingle in excitement and anticipation.
Because away from work, from the world of rules and law and procedures, however randomly applied, Chris would change. Gangling would become graceful; blank, blunt features would seem to sharpen and come alive and his friendly, open smile become wolfish as he took control, took charge, and Sam would take orders, do as he was told and occasionally manage to impress his tutor.
The only time they were ever equal was when one of the little girls appeared. They were few and far between, these days; and rather than taunting Sam they cowered desperately in a corner as the knife advanced towards them. There was terror in their eyes as Chris pulled their heads back to expose their soft throats, or knelt above them, pinning them down, their arms out as Sam gently and delicately sliced into their veins.
Didn’t have to choke them to unconsciousness now, not now that Chris was there to help.
They always died sobbing or whimpering as their blood dripped and pooled in the buckets, the bathtub, but Sam refused to feel any pity for them. They made his life hell- drove him to desperation and madness. And if then it was their turn to suffer- well, turnabout was fair play.
But then, what were Chris’ reasons? Sam watched him sometimes- saw the ecstatic delight in his face and eyes as the blade whispered into flesh, heard the gasps that echoed those of the girls as if he felt and rejoiced in the pain, sensed the contented saity afterwards as he lapped stray drops of blood from Sam’s hand, neck, face.
Why do you love their death so? Sam wanted to demand. Is their pain better than mine? Their blood sweeter? And furious he would grab Chris and fuck him, hard, to remind him You’re mine, you’re mine, not theirs!
And Chris would laugh up at him, high on the smell and taste of the crimson, outstretched hands grasping at anything to brace him against Sam’s insistent pounding, tangling even in the girl’s blonde hair spread out like a halo on the floor.
But the other times- Chris would call the shots. Move. Don’t move. Come. Don’t come. Scream.
It was not as if Sam was always the one getting fucked, or doing the blowing, or even getting cut. It’s just that whatever happened, it was at Chris’ instigation.
And then there was the time when Chris was kneeling above Sam, candle in hand, dripping wax onto Sam’s chest, drinking in with delight the little gasps and hisses as the molten liquid hit the skin, and suddenly laughed.
“What is it?” Sam gasped out.
“I was just wondering- if the Guv were to do his trademark bursting in to this place now, what would shock him more? That we’re doing this at all or that I’m the one doing it to you?”
The thought of Gene bursting through the door and witnessing them had once terrified Sam. Now, however, the thought of the DCI’s face was just funny, and he laughed as well.
“Well, he’s very big on the chain of command.”
“He’s very big… full stop.”
Sam’s eyes widened in incredulous surprise.
“No, I haven’t. Christmas party. Two years ago. About half way down the fourth bottle of scotch he insisted that we all compare lengths. Luckily he won…. Can you imagine if it turned out that someone was bigger than him?”
“Size queen,” Sam mumbled.
“Huh?”
“…Never mind.”
Chris dripped more wax onto Sam, who had been distracted and had failed to brace himself properly against the pain. Chris smiled with satisfaction at the resulting yelp.
“What would it be like, do you think” he mused “to fuck the Guv?”
“Huh?”
“Or to be fucked by him….”
“Not a chance.”
“Oh, we’d have to dope him, of course. Mushrooms, I think- or acid. Yes, acid. Definitely.”
“He’d kill us. Literally.”
“Not if we killed him first. Literally.”
Sam looked uncertain, then laughed nervously.
“You’re kidding.”
“Think about it. You’d be made DCI, we’ll get rid of Ray and everyone gets a promotion. It’ll be like Christmas!”
“Sure. Why not. We’ll dope, fuck and kill the Guv. Then march on Whitehall!”
“One thing at a time…” mused Chris, thoughtfully. “One thing at a time…”
No-one ever really noticed Chris when he was in div mode, as Sam tended to think of it. Even Sam might not notice what the young DC was doing. So it was by pure chance, really, that he saw him slip some powder into the pint that Gene had graciously allowed Chris to buy him…
Even before the word ‘Shit’ had finished forming in his head, Sam had lurched to his feet, desperate to stop the Guv from drinking whatever it was that Chris was trying to slip him.
Staggering to the bar he faked a stumble, reached out to steady himself, just caught Gene’s arm- and blessedly the glass fell, spilt, and smashed on the floor.
“You great soft pillock!” Gene roared. “It’s bad enough you can’t hold your beer without messing with mine!”
“Sorry Guv,” Sam mumbled, feigning drunkenness.
“You will be. Right, Chris- he’s getting me a fresh drink and then you’re getting him home!”
“Yes Guv” Chris mumbled as well, and ‘helped’ his inebriated DI out of the pub.
Once safely back at Sam’s flat however, all pretences dropped.
“Why did you do that?” Chris demanded.
“You were really going to do it, weren’t you? Dope, rape and kill the Guv?”
“Yes, of course. We discussed it.”
“I didn’t- I thought- It was a joke!”
“Really?” Chris looked genuinely surprised- almost like the work version. “I was serious.”
Sam stepped back, amazed.
“You really were. I didn’t realise, but you really were serious. But why?”
“Well, partly for that promotion and partly because I wanted you to wake up a bit. I thought it might get you going…”
“I’m not ‘going’ enough for you?”
“Not really. Those ghost girls are fun enough, but they keep on coming back- where’s the fun in that? If they’re not really alive, they’re not really dead. But the Guv now... he’s really alive….”
“This is crazy. You’re insane!”
“What are you then? It takes on to know one, as they say.”
“I don’t- they aren’t real…. The girls…”
“Real enough to bleed. Not real enough for me. I want more.”
“No, Chris, you’re going too far, they don’t really count- this is the Guv we’re talking about!”
“Wimp!” Chris sneered as he went to turn away, but Sam desperately seized him by an arm.
“Chris, you’ve got to listen to me!”
“Make me!” the younger man snarled back.
Sam grabbed him by the shoulders, slammed him up against the wall.
“Just like the Guv.” Chris smirked.
“I said, you’re going too far!”
“And I said, make me!”
Stunned by understanding, the older man stared at Chris, who returned it with a cool glare.
“Make you.”
“Yes.”
Hesitantly, Sam reached out to the buckle of the other’s belt, but his wrist was grasped and yanked away painfully.
Sam felt something snap in his head. Breaking the grip on his wrist, he grabbed the other man’s shirt, pulling him back away from the wall, swinging him around, then letting fly with a powerful punch that sent Chris staggering back right across the room.
Two strides, and this time a backhand knocked Chris face down onto the bed. He seemed stunned but Sam was taking no chances as he unhooked the handcuffs from his belt and snapped one around a slender wrist.
This roused Chris slightly, but it was too late at the other cuff was fed through one of the uprights and then on to the other wrist.
No hesitation now, he reached under the slight body to undo the trousers, then yanked them down to expose Chris.
“Not so confident now, are you?” he snarled at the helpless figure on the bed.
Chris turned his head to look at Sam out of an eye that was already starting to swell shut.
“Never thought you had it in you, Boss…” he whispered. “Not going to chicken out now…?”
“You wish.”
At that, Sam undid his own trousers, pushing them down, releasing his cock from the tight prison in which it had been trapped since- well, since his fist had connected with Chris’ face.
Kneeling behind Chris, he grabbed at the younger man’s hip to pull him up, then paused for a moment, enjoying the view, the sensation of Chris being helpless and at his mercy. Of which he had just as much as Chris did- none.
Without even a word of warning he thrust into Chris who screamed in shock and pain.
Pushing in and in and in, refusing to be defeated, invading and forcing himself onward and inward.
Right in, all the way, his stomach against Chris’ arse, then pulling out again to plunge back in.
The scream was now a wail mixed with- sobs? Was it possible that this beautiful monster under him was doing anything as human as crying?
Pulling out completely this time he manhandled Chris on to his back, his arms now awkwardly and doubtlessly uncomfortably crossed above his head.
Even better.
Tears were indeed forming, running down his face. That was going to be a very impressive black eye tomorrow….
“I want to see your face” Sam hissed. “I want to look into your eyes and see you cry as I fuck you. Scream all you like- scream lots. I want to hear you!”
“No! Don’t- please don’t!” Chris begged. He looked terrified- eyes wide, face contorting from sobs.
“You told me to make you, remember? And you didn’t want me to chicken out? Changed your mind already?”
“I know- I’m sorry, I didn’t know- please don’t!”
“I haven’t even started yet!” Sam snarled and thrust in again, even harder as the tight muscle around his cock resisted and then gave way.
Chris screamed again. This was pain, pure and simple. He twisted and writhed, back arching up in desperate attempts to get away from the unforgiving cock that pounded hard and harder into him.
There was no escape. Sam thrust faster and faster, each thrust stabbing deep, forcing its way in, invading, the tight muscles squeezing his cock.
Chris really was crying now, sobbing wretchedly. Turning his face away, closing his eyes, as if by blocking out the sight he could block out the reality. But a stinging slap shocked them open again.
“Don’t close your eyes. I want to see you suffer!”
More tears from now wide eyes. Chris was doing as he was told. Sam grinned to himself and slammed even harder into the slender body beneath him.
“Bet he never thought I’d do this” Sam though to himself. “Thought I didn’t have it in me. Thought HE controlled ME! Little shit, let’s see how he likes it all for a change!”
Sam reached out and grasped Chris by the neck, gripping his throat, squeezing, almost but not quite cutting off his breathing. Barely able to gasp for air, the struggle to breathe overwhelmed his tears and pure terror took over.
“Stop…. Please…. Can’t….” he barely whispered
“Can’t breathe?” That’s the whole fucking idea!”
Chris’ eyes were going red- not just from tears.
“Oh yeah, let’s hear it for petechial haemorrhaging!” Sam crowed to himself, and giggled.
Chris seemed beyond awareness of the outside world. His eyes were rolled back and had stopped struggling, seemed to have given up entirely. His lips were moving but no sound came out- a litany of begging, perhaps? Prayer?
Then suddenly, unexpectedly, he came; twisting and writing now to get more of Sam’s cock, to impale himself, as his own spurted cum over his own chest and Sam’s as his eyes clenched shut and his mouth opened wide in a soundless scream- no breath remaining, no screams that hadn’t been torn from him already by Sam’s violence.
At that, Sam tipped over the edge and came also, deep inside Chris, the spasming pulsations of his cock forcing a last groan from the half-dead young man as he pushed deep, deep, deep inside at the climax.
As the rush slowly ebbed away, shuddering and gasping he released his grip and gazed down at Chris.
Stunned and almost unconscious, he looked so young and vulnerable. Quite beautiful and delicious….
“I can’t believe I did that. That I ALMOST did that. Bet he can’t, either. He’ll never look at me the same way again.”
Sam thought of the terror in Chris’ eyes even before the life started to be choked out of him- so that was what it was like. What it was like to have a REAL person be afraid of you. And then- feeling the REAL life under your hands.
He could get used to this.
It took a few moments to catch his breath again, and then he withdrew and unlocked the cuffs, drawing Chris’ arms back down and rubbing out the knots in the muscles. Chris whimpered in fear at first, trying to pull away but then clung to him, face buried in his neck, as Sam held him also; stroking his hair, gentle kisses at the temple, whispered reassurance as if to a scared, small child. Chris was trembling, sobbing- weeping, rather.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” he repeated over and over in a voice rough from crying, from screaming, from choking. “Please, I’m sorry….”
But still holding him, Sam felt Chris gradually stop shaking, the tense muscles relax, the breathing becoming deep and even as he slipped into sleep, and still held him all the while.
AUTHOR: Cuvalwen
FANDOM: Life on Mars
SUMMARY: Chris pushes the limits- Sam exceeds them.
RATING: Red Cortina. Seriously.
WORD COUNT: 2,500
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is part of the Alternate Universe Psycho!Samatic cycle (http://fiandyfic.livejournal.com/4950.html) and carries on from after 'Shibari'.
It is also a (rather belated) birthday present for m31andy, who also did a wonderful job of betaing it for me!
Happy birthday, hon!
Tainted Love
Chris' mind was like a still, dark pool; a mirrored surface in which Sam could just make out his own dark image- yet beneath the surface were unguessable depths, and hidden arms that would hold Sam tight in the darkness if ever he should fall in.
And it was only a matter of time until he lost his balance once and for all.
Sam had become quite adept at separating out the various parts of his life. The part of him that was the DI was so distinct from the part of him that was tied up, cut and fucked that sometimes the sight of red marks on his wrists took him by surprise, or he would lean back in his chair, wince at the pressure on the incisions and wonder for a moment what on earth he had managed to do to himself, until recollection cut in and he remembered what had been done to him.
It was an ability that he had, maybe, learnt from Chris.
At work, Sam was the Boss and Chris the eager, impressionable protégée. Hapless and clumsy, with all the enthusiasm of a puppy and that very creature’s ability to put his foot right in it. Slightly dim, with a few flashes of brilliance that he was always careful to attribute to Gene’s guidance- or Sam’s. Bashful and embarrassed when getting ribbed about an unsuccessful date.
Wide eyed and innocent- but sometimes those eyes narrowed as he looked across at Sam, making the DI’s breath catch, his cock twitch and the nerves around his anus tingle in excitement and anticipation.
Because away from work, from the world of rules and law and procedures, however randomly applied, Chris would change. Gangling would become graceful; blank, blunt features would seem to sharpen and come alive and his friendly, open smile become wolfish as he took control, took charge, and Sam would take orders, do as he was told and occasionally manage to impress his tutor.
The only time they were ever equal was when one of the little girls appeared. They were few and far between, these days; and rather than taunting Sam they cowered desperately in a corner as the knife advanced towards them. There was terror in their eyes as Chris pulled their heads back to expose their soft throats, or knelt above them, pinning them down, their arms out as Sam gently and delicately sliced into their veins.
Didn’t have to choke them to unconsciousness now, not now that Chris was there to help.
They always died sobbing or whimpering as their blood dripped and pooled in the buckets, the bathtub, but Sam refused to feel any pity for them. They made his life hell- drove him to desperation and madness. And if then it was their turn to suffer- well, turnabout was fair play.
But then, what were Chris’ reasons? Sam watched him sometimes- saw the ecstatic delight in his face and eyes as the blade whispered into flesh, heard the gasps that echoed those of the girls as if he felt and rejoiced in the pain, sensed the contented saity afterwards as he lapped stray drops of blood from Sam’s hand, neck, face.
Why do you love their death so? Sam wanted to demand. Is their pain better than mine? Their blood sweeter? And furious he would grab Chris and fuck him, hard, to remind him You’re mine, you’re mine, not theirs!
And Chris would laugh up at him, high on the smell and taste of the crimson, outstretched hands grasping at anything to brace him against Sam’s insistent pounding, tangling even in the girl’s blonde hair spread out like a halo on the floor.
But the other times- Chris would call the shots. Move. Don’t move. Come. Don’t come. Scream.
It was not as if Sam was always the one getting fucked, or doing the blowing, or even getting cut. It’s just that whatever happened, it was at Chris’ instigation.
And then there was the time when Chris was kneeling above Sam, candle in hand, dripping wax onto Sam’s chest, drinking in with delight the little gasps and hisses as the molten liquid hit the skin, and suddenly laughed.
“What is it?” Sam gasped out.
“I was just wondering- if the Guv were to do his trademark bursting in to this place now, what would shock him more? That we’re doing this at all or that I’m the one doing it to you?”
The thought of Gene bursting through the door and witnessing them had once terrified Sam. Now, however, the thought of the DCI’s face was just funny, and he laughed as well.
“Well, he’s very big on the chain of command.”
“He’s very big… full stop.”
Sam’s eyes widened in incredulous surprise.
“No, I haven’t. Christmas party. Two years ago. About half way down the fourth bottle of scotch he insisted that we all compare lengths. Luckily he won…. Can you imagine if it turned out that someone was bigger than him?”
“Size queen,” Sam mumbled.
“Huh?”
“…Never mind.”
Chris dripped more wax onto Sam, who had been distracted and had failed to brace himself properly against the pain. Chris smiled with satisfaction at the resulting yelp.
“What would it be like, do you think” he mused “to fuck the Guv?”
“Huh?”
“Or to be fucked by him….”
“Not a chance.”
“Oh, we’d have to dope him, of course. Mushrooms, I think- or acid. Yes, acid. Definitely.”
“He’d kill us. Literally.”
“Not if we killed him first. Literally.”
Sam looked uncertain, then laughed nervously.
“You’re kidding.”
“Think about it. You’d be made DCI, we’ll get rid of Ray and everyone gets a promotion. It’ll be like Christmas!”
“Sure. Why not. We’ll dope, fuck and kill the Guv. Then march on Whitehall!”
“One thing at a time…” mused Chris, thoughtfully. “One thing at a time…”
No-one ever really noticed Chris when he was in div mode, as Sam tended to think of it. Even Sam might not notice what the young DC was doing. So it was by pure chance, really, that he saw him slip some powder into the pint that Gene had graciously allowed Chris to buy him…
Even before the word ‘Shit’ had finished forming in his head, Sam had lurched to his feet, desperate to stop the Guv from drinking whatever it was that Chris was trying to slip him.
Staggering to the bar he faked a stumble, reached out to steady himself, just caught Gene’s arm- and blessedly the glass fell, spilt, and smashed on the floor.
“You great soft pillock!” Gene roared. “It’s bad enough you can’t hold your beer without messing with mine!”
“Sorry Guv,” Sam mumbled, feigning drunkenness.
“You will be. Right, Chris- he’s getting me a fresh drink and then you’re getting him home!”
“Yes Guv” Chris mumbled as well, and ‘helped’ his inebriated DI out of the pub.
Once safely back at Sam’s flat however, all pretences dropped.
“Why did you do that?” Chris demanded.
“You were really going to do it, weren’t you? Dope, rape and kill the Guv?”
“Yes, of course. We discussed it.”
“I didn’t- I thought- It was a joke!”
“Really?” Chris looked genuinely surprised- almost like the work version. “I was serious.”
Sam stepped back, amazed.
“You really were. I didn’t realise, but you really were serious. But why?”
“Well, partly for that promotion and partly because I wanted you to wake up a bit. I thought it might get you going…”
“I’m not ‘going’ enough for you?”
“Not really. Those ghost girls are fun enough, but they keep on coming back- where’s the fun in that? If they’re not really alive, they’re not really dead. But the Guv now... he’s really alive….”
“This is crazy. You’re insane!”
“What are you then? It takes on to know one, as they say.”
“I don’t- they aren’t real…. The girls…”
“Real enough to bleed. Not real enough for me. I want more.”
“No, Chris, you’re going too far, they don’t really count- this is the Guv we’re talking about!”
“Wimp!” Chris sneered as he went to turn away, but Sam desperately seized him by an arm.
“Chris, you’ve got to listen to me!”
“Make me!” the younger man snarled back.
Sam grabbed him by the shoulders, slammed him up against the wall.
“Just like the Guv.” Chris smirked.
“I said, you’re going too far!”
“And I said, make me!”
Stunned by understanding, the older man stared at Chris, who returned it with a cool glare.
“Make you.”
“Yes.”
Hesitantly, Sam reached out to the buckle of the other’s belt, but his wrist was grasped and yanked away painfully.
Sam felt something snap in his head. Breaking the grip on his wrist, he grabbed the other man’s shirt, pulling him back away from the wall, swinging him around, then letting fly with a powerful punch that sent Chris staggering back right across the room.
Two strides, and this time a backhand knocked Chris face down onto the bed. He seemed stunned but Sam was taking no chances as he unhooked the handcuffs from his belt and snapped one around a slender wrist.
This roused Chris slightly, but it was too late at the other cuff was fed through one of the uprights and then on to the other wrist.
No hesitation now, he reached under the slight body to undo the trousers, then yanked them down to expose Chris.
“Not so confident now, are you?” he snarled at the helpless figure on the bed.
Chris turned his head to look at Sam out of an eye that was already starting to swell shut.
“Never thought you had it in you, Boss…” he whispered. “Not going to chicken out now…?”
“You wish.”
At that, Sam undid his own trousers, pushing them down, releasing his cock from the tight prison in which it had been trapped since- well, since his fist had connected with Chris’ face.
Kneeling behind Chris, he grabbed at the younger man’s hip to pull him up, then paused for a moment, enjoying the view, the sensation of Chris being helpless and at his mercy. Of which he had just as much as Chris did- none.
Without even a word of warning he thrust into Chris who screamed in shock and pain.
Pushing in and in and in, refusing to be defeated, invading and forcing himself onward and inward.
Right in, all the way, his stomach against Chris’ arse, then pulling out again to plunge back in.
The scream was now a wail mixed with- sobs? Was it possible that this beautiful monster under him was doing anything as human as crying?
Pulling out completely this time he manhandled Chris on to his back, his arms now awkwardly and doubtlessly uncomfortably crossed above his head.
Even better.
Tears were indeed forming, running down his face. That was going to be a very impressive black eye tomorrow….
“I want to see your face” Sam hissed. “I want to look into your eyes and see you cry as I fuck you. Scream all you like- scream lots. I want to hear you!”
“No! Don’t- please don’t!” Chris begged. He looked terrified- eyes wide, face contorting from sobs.
“You told me to make you, remember? And you didn’t want me to chicken out? Changed your mind already?”
“I know- I’m sorry, I didn’t know- please don’t!”
“I haven’t even started yet!” Sam snarled and thrust in again, even harder as the tight muscle around his cock resisted and then gave way.
Chris screamed again. This was pain, pure and simple. He twisted and writhed, back arching up in desperate attempts to get away from the unforgiving cock that pounded hard and harder into him.
There was no escape. Sam thrust faster and faster, each thrust stabbing deep, forcing its way in, invading, the tight muscles squeezing his cock.
Chris really was crying now, sobbing wretchedly. Turning his face away, closing his eyes, as if by blocking out the sight he could block out the reality. But a stinging slap shocked them open again.
“Don’t close your eyes. I want to see you suffer!”
More tears from now wide eyes. Chris was doing as he was told. Sam grinned to himself and slammed even harder into the slender body beneath him.
“Bet he never thought I’d do this” Sam though to himself. “Thought I didn’t have it in me. Thought HE controlled ME! Little shit, let’s see how he likes it all for a change!”
Sam reached out and grasped Chris by the neck, gripping his throat, squeezing, almost but not quite cutting off his breathing. Barely able to gasp for air, the struggle to breathe overwhelmed his tears and pure terror took over.
“Stop…. Please…. Can’t….” he barely whispered
“Can’t breathe?” That’s the whole fucking idea!”
Chris’ eyes were going red- not just from tears.
“Oh yeah, let’s hear it for petechial haemorrhaging!” Sam crowed to himself, and giggled.
Chris seemed beyond awareness of the outside world. His eyes were rolled back and had stopped struggling, seemed to have given up entirely. His lips were moving but no sound came out- a litany of begging, perhaps? Prayer?
Then suddenly, unexpectedly, he came; twisting and writing now to get more of Sam’s cock, to impale himself, as his own spurted cum over his own chest and Sam’s as his eyes clenched shut and his mouth opened wide in a soundless scream- no breath remaining, no screams that hadn’t been torn from him already by Sam’s violence.
At that, Sam tipped over the edge and came also, deep inside Chris, the spasming pulsations of his cock forcing a last groan from the half-dead young man as he pushed deep, deep, deep inside at the climax.
As the rush slowly ebbed away, shuddering and gasping he released his grip and gazed down at Chris.
Stunned and almost unconscious, he looked so young and vulnerable. Quite beautiful and delicious….
“I can’t believe I did that. That I ALMOST did that. Bet he can’t, either. He’ll never look at me the same way again.”
Sam thought of the terror in Chris’ eyes even before the life started to be choked out of him- so that was what it was like. What it was like to have a REAL person be afraid of you. And then- feeling the REAL life under your hands.
He could get used to this.
It took a few moments to catch his breath again, and then he withdrew and unlocked the cuffs, drawing Chris’ arms back down and rubbing out the knots in the muscles. Chris whimpered in fear at first, trying to pull away but then clung to him, face buried in his neck, as Sam held him also; stroking his hair, gentle kisses at the temple, whispered reassurance as if to a scared, small child. Chris was trembling, sobbing- weeping, rather.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” he repeated over and over in a voice rough from crying, from screaming, from choking. “Please, I’m sorry….”
But still holding him, Sam felt Chris gradually stop shaking, the tense muscles relax, the breathing becoming deep and even as he slipped into sleep, and still held him all the while.