If Only I Could Dream

Fandom: Once A Thief

Category/Rated: M/M slash. NC-17

Year/Length: ~17,417 words

Pairing: Vic/Mac

Spoilers: Assume spoilers for most of OaT. That way you won't come baying for my blood. This story begins a week after the season ender.

Disclaimer: The boys and their Director belong to Alliance. Alliance hasn't been using them lately, and they broke out. Can you blame me for wanting to play?

Warning: Bondage, Domination and Sadism.

Summary: Victor is sent on a truly painful mission, and discovers things about himself. Mac is happy to be of assistance.

Author's Notes: Thank you to Aries, Nicole S, Shadowfox and Frankie for interest, nagging and swearwords.

Beta: Beta by Orithain, for which many thanks. Please assume that all mistakes and inconsistencies are mine. They usually are.

If Only I Could Dream

Sometimes on a dead end street
No names to the faces I meet
But it's you I need
Tell me that I'm crazy
Sometimes I want to feel your touch
Steal your love
But if I ask too much
Tell me this is nowhere, no one knows
That this is here (no one ever knows)

But I'd run away if only I could dream
Somewhere, somehow you're a part of me
Only if I could dream

Sometimes I want to reach so high
Embrace the sky
Wonder why
This is now and no one ever
Knows that this is here

But I'd run away if only I could dream
Somewhere, somehow it's a part of me.
They say that some things never change,
But it’s changing you.
Only if I could dream
Sometimes on a dead end street
It's you I need
Tell me that I'm crazy
Somewhere, somehow
They say that some things never change
But it's changing you
They say some things never change
Just like blue on blue

by Alan Frew

The Director had been shot. They all knew that, but she'd seemed okay when the three of them had walked out of the rubble that had been the warehouse. She'd laughed, staggering with relief, and just for once it was obvious that her emotions were genuine, that she really cared for them in her own twisted fashion. She'd almost fallen on them and hugged them, although Mac's body was so stiff and sore from the battering it had taken that it hurt him to be touched.

One week later, Mac Ramsey was still feeling a little creaky. He was also bored. He wouldn't for the world have told anyone, but he missed the Director. The three of them had been kept hanging around doing make-work by Dobrinsky, and Jackie had gone off on holiday somewhere warm. He was irritated that he hadn't been allowed to slip his leash too, but when push came to shove, he had to admit that he didn't want to leave right now.

The reason why was standing at the entrance, in animated discussion with Dobrinsky. His body was, as usual, encased in denim and leather. Mac couldn't take his eyes from the man. He hadn't been able to do so since he'd been dragged out of the warehouse, seven nights ago, by the man who'd refused to leave him. Victor Mansfield had put his life on the line for Mac and hauled him out of the building just as it was about to go up to glory.

They say in Hong Kong that if you save a man's life, you take responsibility for him forever. Guess what, baby? Wonder how you are going to handle taking responsibility for me?

Mac Ramsey lounged in his seat, leg draped casually over his knee, and watched Victor Mansfield getting angry. Vic was driving his fist repeatedly into the palm of his hand as Dobrinsky favored him with his very best bland smile. It was obvious that Dobrinsky had learned everything he knew from the Director, and Vic's rapidly escalating fury made Mac smile. He loved to see Vic getting good and mad. It made his eyes sparkle. It gave the well made body a tautness that made Mac's cock stand up. Mac gazed on Vic, running his eyes over the long legs, the slim hips, the lean body and the face - the huge eyed, sensual face.

Mac hissed in a breath as he watched the man. His insides felt all soft and buttery as his eyes drank Vic up greedily. He wasn't sure just when he'd started to want Vic, but one thing was certain; he had it bad for him now. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the other man.

He wished he knew just how it had happened. There was obviously some vast cosmic plan to make Ramsey look like a dork. He sighed to himself, feeling the tight fullness in his groin as his cock distended the carefully tailored slacks he wore. Vic's voice, the husky sound that suggested too many cigarettes and one too many walks on the wild side, reached his ears, stroking against them like a soft hand.

"He's certainly worth a second look, wouldn't you say?" She'd stolen up behind him while he'd been watching Victor, and he hadn't heard her. He jumped guiltily, rolling to face the newcomer.

The Director, as usual, was clad in an overtly sexual manner, carefully tousled and world- weary. Her normally jaded voice had a touch of speculation in it, and Mac furrowed his brow as he tried to determine what her private agenda might be. She had to have one; she was, after all, the Director.

"What makes you think that I'm watching Vic?" Mac's tongue suddenly felt too big for his mouth as he contemplated how it would be if the Director outed him to Victor. His life would not be worth living.

Other than a slight, nervous flicker that seethed past his eyes, Mac managed to retain his normal, urbane, slightly mocking exterior as he settled in to spar with this dangerous woman who seemed somehow to feel that she owned him. His heart sank as he took in her expression. She knew. There was no chance that she was going to let it drop.

He smiled at her blandly, gritted his teeth inwardly, and prepared to do battle for his sanity.

"My dear, dear Mr. Ramsey." The Director perched herself on the corner of the table beside Mac, crowding him, invading his space. Idly, she ruffled his hair as she crossed one elegantly booted leg over her silk clad knee. "If you think I've been sunning myself on the porch for the past few days, you are very wrong. I took the opportunity to do a little research, to get to know my agents better... You might say intimately. For the past couple of days I have been observing you all. It's a strange thing, but I've noticed that whenever I've been watching you, you've been observing our impetuous Mr. Mansfield. Quite the coincidence, wouldn't you say?"

Mac could feel the red tide flood over his face and damned himself for a fool as his last chance of bluffing his way out of this encounter faded along with his blushes.

"Okay," Mac decided he had to meet this head on. "I've been watching him. What's it to you?" Mac's usually mild voice contained an element of hardness, challenging this woman who thought she could turn his life into a game for her pleasure. He was tired of dancing to her tune. Tired of the way she always made things work out to her specifications. He wanted Vic, sure he did, but he wasn't going to be idiot enough to admit the fact to this Messalina. He met her gaze, seeing her lips quirk into the kind of smile that he would expect to see on the face of the judge who sentenced him to death. Her lids hooded her eyes, and she leaned forward to trace his cheekbone with a single, blood red nail. Behind him, Vic's voice rose to a crescendo as Dobrinsky laid down the law. Mac turned back to the sight of Vic, his Vic, dancing with fury, but as the Director spoke again, low and insinuating, his head whipped back around to face her.

"I can help you get him. Wouldn't you like that?" She stretched her torso lazily, like a cat, the black lace of her top pulling up to reveal a flat, pale stomach, and a stud in her navel. Mac didn't process the words for an instant or two, and as the true impact of what she had said to him clicked in, he froze. He could feel his erection hot and pulsing between his thighs as he raised his eyes to meet those of his tormentor.

"Get out of here. There's no way in a million years that Vic would... " He could not even say it. He gulped. "It's impossible. You're babbling."

The Director's smile sliced through his thought processes like crystal shards, and for a moment it stopped the breath in his lungs. He felt like a small animal caught in headlights as she considered him.

"How? How could you help me? What would I have to do?" He knew as soon as he spoke, just how needy and vulnerable he sounded. To hell with it! To hell with going through life with a perpetual hard on. He couldn't function any more for thinking of Victor, and if he had to sell his soul to the devil, he would seriously consider accepting, if only he could have Vic.

Come to think of it, wasn't that happening right now?

"It's very simple, Mr. Ramsey. You would first have to learn obedience. I realize that you've had trouble with the concept, but trust me, it would be worth it. For as long as you obey me, you shall have Victor as your reward. Does that sound... interesting?" She was purring now like a great cat tormenting a fledgling, and he gulped as the blood drummed in his ears.

Mac snorted. He looked at the Director in derision.

"You think he's going to just fall into my bed if you tell him he's my reward for good behavior? You're so full of shit your eyes are brown. Vic would shoot people rather than do something like that, just because you told him to. It would be a good death, but I think I'll just stay here and watch him. It may be the sad, easy option, but it's not doing anyone except me any harm. Thank you, that will be all." He turned back to Victor, and his eyes wandered over the lean figure, still arguing with Dobrinsky but obviously not expecting to win.

"I know something you don't know, Mac. I'm about to send him out on a mission that will be extremely dangerous but which will make it almost certain that you'll be able to win him over, if I help. He's going to need protection in more than the usual ways. You are probably the only person he would be able to trust. If you follow my instructions you can't fail to win him over. He'll see you as his savior." The Director gazed at Mac, contemplatively. Then she smiled knowingly, licked her lips and turned to watch Vic herself. "Of course, I could always send LiAnn. I know he would love to get back together with her."

Mac sat for a moment. As the meaning of the Director's words began to make it through to the place inside that lusted after Vic, he found himself weakening. She was a clever woman. She had always been right, and she seemed to know everything about him.

She seemed to know everything about Victor too.

God, look at him. If only....

"I'll do it. If you give me Vic I'll do whatever you want. Just tell me how." Mac's eyes slid over the Director's face. It was now quite possible to see that he was a man in need, face for once open in its longing, his whole posture that of a man yearning for the unattainable and ready to believe whatever it took to get his desires made flesh.

The Director's eyes gleamed in triumph. She stroked Mac's face once more as she inspected him, thoughtfully.

"Our Mr. Mansfield has a whole host of vulnerabilities, you know. However, the one we can use to shape him to our wishes is his desperate need to belong. He's starved for affection. Again and again I see him make decisions based on his need for acceptance and companionship. If you and I feed him a carefully measured amount of what he craves, he'll do absolutely anything for us." She smiled again, tapping her teeth with her long red nail as she considered the hapless, unsuspecting Victor.

Vic had finally given up on Dobrinsky and had turned to approach the two of them, his entire bearing one of offended dignity.

"Do you know what that...that jerk wants me to do?" he sputtered, his voice sounding like crushed velvet, wrapped around the iron bars of his rapidly delivered words. He was furious. Every part of him radiated tension and fury. Mac's breathing seized up again as he took in the flashing eyes and the arrogantly tilted chin.

"Of course I know, Victor. I'm just wondering why you're still here, arguing the toss, instead of out there, doing your job." The Director's fingernails tapped on the table as she stared Vic down.

"But... but... " Vic was incoherent, spluttering with fury as he realized that there was no way out for him here. He tried again. "A bondage club? You want me to strip in a bondage club? I can't." She cut him short with a curt gesture.

"Now listen to me. There have already been two agents lost on this particular case. Around fifteen young men have disappeared, never to be seen again by their families and friends. We're not sure what's happening to them, and we really need to find out before any more vanish. You, Victor, fit the profile perfectly. You're just what they're looking for. We've tried infiltrating the place as patrons, and it just hasn't worked. I need someone on the inside, Victor. LiAnn may be an estimable young woman, but she would, you must admit, make a very poor male stripper. Mr. Ramsey is required for other things that you would find equally repugnant, and besides, he lacks your...let us call it animal magnetism, so I am afraid you're just going to have to go and learn to be...ah ...glamorous. You have a high threshold for pain, and I'm sure you will be able to tolerate a little discomfort in the interests of solving this case. I'm sure you'll do very well once you think it through. Now, go on." She flicked her fingers at him as he stood, dumbfounded, shifting from foot to foot. Finally, as he realized the full impact of the things she had said, he uttered a sound somewhere between a sigh and an expletive, turned on his heel and stormed out.

The two of them watched him go, each with their own private thoughts, then, the Director leaned towards Mac. "Good, very good. Now here's what we'll do.

Victor Mansfield stormed through the corridors after Dobrinsky. His face was thunderous. He was truly, amazingly, completely pissed off.

He'd been given orders that were so disturbing to him that he was now trying to decide whether or not just to go back to jail. He was outraged. The Director had totally outdone herself this time.

Dobrinsky was quaking with ill-suppressed laughter. His shoulders shook as he led Victor off to collect the fake ID and other papers he'd need for this mission. As the two of them stepped into the office, the Director's right hand man grabbed a large, brown envelope that had been inscribed with Victor's name. As an afterthought, he picked up a video from the shelf by the door and extended both items to Vic with a particularly nasty grin.

"Here. You have an audition at 2pm. Don't be late now." The growl that reached him as he left the office again made his lips twitch.

Vic idly turned the video over, then tossed the thing from him with a snarl. "Jane Fonda's Workout!" He slammed his way out of the office, out of the building, and set out for home, feeling completely and utterly furious.

Arriving back at his apartment, Vic tossed the envelope onto the kitchen counter and then threw himself down onto the couch and buried his head in his hands. Vic was a pack animal. His need to belong was strong in him. Recently it had betrayed him over and over again. He had always done whatever it took in order to be liked, to be accepted by his peers, but he wasn't sure if he was going to be able to do this.

His colleagues had one by one betrayed him, as had his lovers. Vic looked back on 35 years of desperately wanting to belong that had left him an outsider still, despite his need.

He rose to his feet, kicking his shoes off as he went, and padded into his bedroom. Standing in front of the mirror to look at himself, he could see nothing special, nothing unique about him. There was no reason why he would stand out in a crowd.

Item: two lips, indifferent red. The thought didn't cheer him. He was tall and definitely male, with the breadth of his shoulders hard won and wrestled from years of working out, as he tried to become somehow better, more acceptable, more desirable.

Only here he was, with nobody. He slowly peeled the thermal shirt off, revealing his torso, pale from too much winter, hairless and cut, his milky skin contrasting with his dark hair. Opening the fly of his jeans, he gave a sinuous twist that dropped them to his knees, still watching himself in the mirror.

Did he want to do this in front of a roomful of people? In front of a roomful of other men, men who would be wanting to touch him? A shuddering rush of blood to the groin told him that at least a part of him would enjoy the experience. Stepping out of his jeans, he stood to survey himself in his Calvin Klein's. He took in the long legs, the firm thighs, and the fool erection that had suddenly distorted the lines of his underwear. Now what was this? Why was this happening?

He peeled off the final layer, allowing the hard length of his penis to find its own level and grinning wryly when the thing remained determinedly pressed up against his belly. As he translated himself mentally to a stage in front of slavering patrons, his cock twitched, oozing moisture, and finally Vic put a hand to it, encased it, and began to pull on it, arching back as he watched himself, seeing the normally hard green eyes glaze over. Finally, as his fingers closed around it in frantic excitement, he watched the white gobs of sperm fly and bit his lip while he came shuddering to orgasm.

He thought he looked okay. He thought he had nothing to be ashamed of. Actually, on consideration, he thought he looked pretty fucking incredible really, and his chin tilted up, lending him an air of arrogance that, if he had only known it, would have brought at least one person panting to his side.

Maybe it would be doable. He'd try it out. It might be fun to have people watch him for a change. Maybe if people saw him and admired him, he would feel better about himself.

He'd been seen, and truly, viscerally, spine-tinglingly admired by someone right then. The Director sat in her office with Mac Ramsey, watching Vic perform his ritual of self- scrutinization. Mac was still shaking as he followed Vic tidily cleaning away the traces of ejaculate that had spattered his mirror. He tried to speak, but his voice would not obey him, and it was left to the Director, as usual, to break the silence.

"There's something about a naked man with a bottle of Windex that fires the blood." She remarked dryly, with a glance at Mac's arousal. "Don't be afraid, Mr. Ramsey, He's going to do it. I can tell."

The look that was exchanged between the two right then would have caused Victor a great deal of concern.

Vic was freshly showered and busily searching his closet for something to wear that would show him off to advantage. He'd gone through the smarter clothes that hung in splendid isolation, but nothing had taken his fancy. Now he stood in his underwear, brooding.

As Mac continued to observe him, he saw Vic suddenly straighten, the long, clean lines of his back flexing as he stretched himself. As he turned, Mac could see a smile on Vic's face. It was a different kind of smile for Victor, hard and predatory, somehow self- congratulatory.

He saw Vic bend to open the bottom drawer in his dresser and pull out a pair of jeans. They were ragged, with rips in the knees and the seat. They'd been patched countless times and had frayed horribly. They were so faded as to be almost white.

Stepping into them and pulling them closed, Vic bent once again to search the drawer, pulling out an equally scruffy denim work shirt. He put it on swiftly and turned his attention to his short hair, running gel through it and spiking it with his fingers.

His feet slipped, sockless, into battered hi-tops, and finally he turned to the earring he wore, unfastening it and searching through a box on the dresser until he came up with a large gold hoop from which hung several sparkling stones. He inserted it with great care and stepped back to check out the effect. Nodding to himself, he picked up the keys to his truck, spun them around his finger, and turned to leave the apartment, whistling quietly to himself

Mac's chest felt tight. His pants felt tight. It seemed to him as though all the oxygen had vanished from the air, and that he would never again be able to breathe. He wanted very badly to be able to relieve the pressure in his aching groin. He would have given much to take out his cock and jerk himself off, but the Director was close by, and he quailed at the thought of her discovering him in the act.

He gritted his teeth and thought cool thoughts.

The Director chose that precise second to return to the room, her arms full of clothing. As he turned to look at her, she thrust the bundle at him.

"Put these on. We need to hurry if we're going to catch your partner's on-stage debut."

Mac followed the Director as he had been instructed. He felt extremely stupid following behind her slender, elegant person. He'd changed into the clothing she had offered, and now was dressed entirely in black leather and silver chains. His legs were encased in tight leather pants. His torso was bare save for a leather vest that hung open to reveal two nipple clamps, linked together by a fine silver chain. Over his face he wore a slick, black leather facemask that had holes for eyes and mouth and slits for him to breathe through. Around his neck he wore a collar that was studded with silver spikes. Attached to the collar was a silver chain, and holding onto the leather thong at the end of the chain was the Director.

She didn't look back or betray by the flicker of an eyelash that she was aware of him. Dressed in a short, black satin skirt and bustier, she walked atop boots with four-inch spiked heels. Her long red hair hung around her shoulders.

As she arrived at the door to the club, she gestured imperiously until Mac stepped forward to open the door for her. She sauntered through, stroking Mac's chin with her gloved hand as she passed him by. Mac fell in behind her once more, and the two of them entered the club.

The gloom made it difficult to see the faces of the patrons, but the Director seemed to know where she was going. She picked her way daintily through the mass of humanity as she searched for a certain table, forcing Mac to follow willy nilly, as best as he could, or choke on the chain she still held. She finally came to rest beside a table at the side of the stage, and a large, red-faced man rose to greet her.

"I haven't seen you for weeks. How are you doing? Have you come to see our latest acquisition? You'll be favorably impressed. He's a little rough and arrogant, but he'll train well. I'm sure you'll be interested in purchasing time from him." The Director seated herself gracefully and beckoned to Mac. When he stooped to hear her command, she sent him to the bar for a drink. Taking a cigar out of her purse, she held it to her lips and awaited the offer of a light from the red-faced man.

"Tell me about this new boy? You always have such a good eye. I'm looking for something a little different myself. Mac is all very well, but he's just one man. I really need someone else to assist me. Someone to take the strain off Mac." The Director purred as she watched Mac reach the bar. The large man at her side was watching him avidly, taking in the lanky form with the shapely ass.

"I haven't seen him before. Is he new? What happened to that black guy you used to have?" The director inhaled her cigar, meditating for a moment, as Mac returned with her drink.

"Dobrinsky? I still have him. He earned a promotion, you know." She smiled sweetly at the large man. "Let me see what you have. I'm definitely in the market for the right slave."

At that moment, the lights on the stage sprang up, and the hubbub in the room died down. There was a muted shiver of anticipation, as a young woman dressed only in a thong and gold body paint emerged onto the stage. She cracked her whip, and the room was silent.

Two large, leather-clad men appeared out onto the stage, carrying with them a bundle wrapped in blankets. They tossed it down onto the floor, and departed. Moments later, the slender girl in the gold paint undulated sinuously over to the bundle and prodded it with one arched foot.

She walked around the bundle and then beckoned imperiously. Two tall, blonde women emerged onto the stage, and at the signals of the third, stooped to unwrap the bundle that lay on the stage. They were both around six feet tall and wore black leather harnesses, long boots and collars. The slight figure of the dark haired woman, golden, with Egyptian make-up, seemed to dominate the entire stage, and her servants soon had the bundle undone. The crowd murmured appreciatively as the contents of the bundle proved to be a man.

He was crouched on the stage, his eyes wild. He appeared to be very confused and a little disheveled. He pulled himself to his knees and could be seen to look around with a dazed look on his face. As he began to orient himself, the two blondes moved to stand one on either side of him. He looked up with a smile of relief, which quickly turned to surprise as they seized him, one on each side, and hauled him to his feet, holding his arms. He made to struggle away from the women, and the small Egyptian indicated a metal framework to the right of the stage, close to where the Director sat. The women dragged Vic, for it was Vic, over to the framework and secured him to it, arms spread-eagled and ankles cuffed with his legs wide apart. A slight tilt of the framework left him lying at an angle, supported by the contraption but unable to move. The large man leaned toward the Director, and Mac could hear him murmur that Vic had been given a dose of Rohypnol.

The Egyptian moved forward with a swagger and took out a long, slim stiletto. As Vic caught sight of her, his eyes gleamed appreciatively as she undulated towards him. She moved right in to press her body up against his and kiss him, while her hands busied themselves opening his shirt and pulling it back to reveal his torso. Mac, who had been standing watching, was transfixed. How was this happening? How had Vic allowed it? He wanted to get up on that stage and take over from the Egyptian. He moaned, and the Director looked up at him, smiling her wicked smile.

"Patience, Mac. Your time is coming, very soon now." Mac shuddered.

The woman on the stage had stopped kissing Victor and was trailing the point of her knife across his chest. Pinpricks of blood stood out on his white skin, and he groaned, beginning to feel afraid as she made small slits in the skin around his nipples. His torso was starting to be streaked with blood, and Mac was feeling a little apprehensive as he watched. The woman's hands moved down to open the button of Vic's jeans, and there was a collective sigh as she pulled down the whole thing, jeans, underpants and all, revealing Vic in a state of high arousal.

Brandishing her knife, she leaned to cut his clothing off his body, first his shirt and then his pants. When she had finished, he was naked, erect, and beginning to look terrified.

The crowd muttered its approval as they gazed on Victor. He was so hard his cock was jumping and leaking. One of the blondes brought a small device that she handed to the golden girl, who took hold of Vic's cock, beginning to strap it onto him, separating his balls so that the straps could pass around them and hold them tightly in place. His cock throbbed visibly at that, and the audience could see his hips thrust as he tried to get some relief.

The Egyptian gestured again, and one of the blondes knelt on the floor and took the gasping man's cock in her mouth, and he writhed against the restraints that held him. The golden woman had picked up a thin cane and began to draw it over Vic's thighs, gently at first, almost caressingly, but gradually as the action grew harder, the hiss of the cane through the air and the crack of the strike on his skin could be heard.

The other blonde took up a carved, wooden butt plug shaped like a phallus and held it to Vic's lips, demanding that he moisten it with his saliva. Vic was, by this time, very far gone, and he sucked the wooden penis into his mouth, wetting it until it glistened between his lips. The woman stepped behind the frame and parted Vic's ass cheeks, slowly pressing her wooden plug home inside his tight asshole. As she slowly pushed it in and out of him, he began to moan and shudder, the tight harness around his balls preventing him from coming.

As the three women continued their onslaught on Vic's body, he moaned continuously and then began to beg and plead. Mac started towards the stage then, and the Director turned on him, quick as a striking snake.

"Oh, so you think you can do better? Do you want to go and join him there?" The Director stood and took up Mac's leash. "Excuse me, gentlemen, it's time I gave out a little discipline." Tugging the reluctant Mac, she dragged him towards the stage.

Mac could feel his self confidence crumble with every step closer to Victor he took. The Director had taken possession of the stage and now seized the hair of the blonde who was sucking on Victor's cock, twitching her casually to one side. Vic's cry was almost a strangled scream. His eyes were closed tightly, and the cords stood out on his neck as he tried to make sense out of the barrage of feelings that were assaulting him. The Director pressed down on Mac's shoulders, and when he resisted, she cut at his belly savagely with her riding crop, and he folded neatly in half, dropping to his knees. Grabbing his hair, the Director forced Mac's face towards Victor's cock, as she caressed his balls with her crop. Vic was biting his lip, and a trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth. As the Director forced Mac's head down, he opened his lips and tasted the man he loved for the first time.

Blood sang in his ears as he lapped delicately around the head of Vic's swollen cock, and he could hear the agonized sounds Vic was making as he felt the heat of Mac's mouth slowly engulf him. Mac's mouth slowly worked its way down Vic's length, and Mac sighed. He could feel the rising tide of his own excitement as he sucked down hard until Vic was all the way back inside his throat. Vic was incoherent, begging and babbling as he tried desperately to come.

The Director put a hand on Mac's head, demanding that he stop his activities. Then she pushed the framework that held Vic forward, tilting it until he was leant forward at an angle. Swiveling it around brought Vic's backside to the fore, and the entire audience was gasping now as she laid her riding crop onto the smooth whiteness of Victor's cheeks, criss-crossing them with a pattern of red welts that made him yell. At last, she beckoned to the Egyptian woman and handed her Mac's leash before returning to her seat.

Pulling on Mac's leash, the gold-painted woman made him approach and opened the front of his leather pants, allowing his rigid cock to switchblade out. He was beyond embarrassment. He only had eyes for the man who was strapped to the frame, rolling his head from side to side as he suffered.

The Egyptian turned to him, signing that he should touch Victor, and Mac dropped to his knees, placing his hands on Vic's silky hips, his thumbs caressing the swell of his buttocks as he leaned to place his face against the groove that ran between them. There was another cry from Vic as Mac extended his tongue and licked the length of the groove, then pulled out the butt plug that was seriously in his way. Settling down then, he thrust his tongue against the opening that had been loosened by the plug.

Victor tasted salty. Mac ceased thinking of him as a delicious dessert at that moment and began to believe he was the main course he had been awaiting all these years. He stood up and tried to see the rest of the man he loved, but the framework was in the way.

Mac couldn't hold himself back any more. He wanted Vic so badly he could think of nothing else. Right in front of him, Vic's ass was being displayed like a work of art.

The straps that fastened him to the framework supporting him held his legs parted. His balls, held down tightly by the leather strapping, were clearly visible between his legs, and the sheer, bone-deep beauty of him pierced Mac. The legs were lean and finely turned, covered in delicate golden fuzz that seemed somehow totally defenseless. His crotch and ass had been shaved, giving him a childlike look that clutched at Mac's heart.

He wanted Vic. He wanted him so much he could taste it, but this wasn't how he wanted him. His need was to sink deep into Vic, and here was that opportunity, true enough, but he wanted to gaze into Vic's eyes as he covered him. He wanted to make love to Vic in the full knowledge that he was welcome and loved in return. More than anything, he wanted to see those green eyes gazing back at him, drugged only with the desire for him.

He longed to kiss the soft mouth, to hear Vic's rough voice calling his name in passion.

He didn't want to be an anonymous fuck.

One of the blondes was going down on Vic again, and he was screaming now. The other blonde came close to where Mac stood, indecisive, and taking hold of the penis that still throbbed from the opening in Mac's leathers, she slathered on some oil. It made him shudder, stinging the crown slightly as she removed her careful hand, then, her hand holding his balls, not too gently, she urged him towards Victor's naked back.

He sighed and pressed his now burning erection against Vic, and as the head of it slipped in behind the tight ring, the tingle that ran through him made his knees almost give way. Slick heat enveloped him, and the motions he was making were no longer optional. He strained to bury himself deep inside Victor, deep enough that he thought he could feel the ghost of Victor's soul stirring around him, and tears began to run down his face, leaving tracks on his mask.

The tingle in his cock became a throb. He scarcely noticed when the blonde finally released Vic from the cock ring that had prevented him from coming. Then, Vic's tight ass bore down around him as his orgasm took him, and Mac could not fail to notice, as the throb became a surge that slammed him helplessly into the clinging, sucking channel and locked him up solid. He screamed as he emptied himself into Vic.

When he'd finally recovered himself enough to take notice, Vic had fallen forward in his restraints and was completely unconscious, his ordinarily healthy coloring waxen under the stage lights. The Egyptian, her mask-like smile unchanging, stood beside him, her long knife at the ready.

Mac could not hear what was being said down on the floor, but the Director was talking fiercely, and there seemed to be signals going between the owner and the woman with the knife. Mac had a bad feeling about all of this, and he moved quietly to stand beside the golden woman, watching like a hawk for the tell-tale bunching of muscle that might signal her intent to stab Victor.

The discussion grew more heated, and then, without warning, the owner nodded. The sullen woman in front of Mac made as if to stab Victor. Mac moved with the speed of a mongoose, wrapping his arm around her wrist, twisting savagely and hearing the snap as her wrist broke. The stiletto clattered harmlessly to the floor. To his amazement, the woman did not scream or try to fight. She stood for a moment, her wrist flapping uselessly, and then he saw the first real change of expression as she sighed, smiled for real and tried to pull him down for a kiss.

Mac felt suddenly dirty. He stepped back, sickened, and flung her away from him. She lay, licking her lips and tracking his every move with wide, shocked eyes. He bent to pick up the knife, and carefully cut Vic free at knee and ankle, one eye on the Director, who suddenly seemed to be counting out bundles of money for the owner. He snapped his fingers then, and the blondes emerged from wherever they had been hiding and began to assist Mac in his struggles to release Vic.

As the strap around his chest was released, the unconscious man slumped, and Mac caught him, lowering him gently to the stage. The Director rose, stubbing her cigar out in the owner's drink. Then she beckoned to Mac.

"Bring him," she ordered, as she turned on her heel and sauntered out.

Mac stooped to gather Vic's unconscious form into his arms, feeling the weight of him as he hugged him. Vic was sturdily made and by no means insubstantial, but Mac lifted him as though he weighed nothing. To Mac, holding Vic's naked body against his own was not a burden. He wasn't heavy at all.

Feeling more than a little like a weird reincarnation of King Kong, Mac bore his precious load from the club.

Outside, the Director was waiting, and as he appeared, bearing Vic in his arms, she issued orders to a number of men. It seemed that the club would be closing its doors forever, as of that very minute.

Mac quite frankly couldn't care less. He looked to the Director, who gestured at him to put Vic in the back of the car they had arrived in. He sat on the back seat and swiveled around, keeping Victor in his arms. He'd seen no sign of Vic reviving and was beginning to wonder if the man was in shock. The Director, cell phone in hand, was issuing orders, and from a distance, Mac could hear gunshots. There was a sudden burst of muffled shouting, and then the Director climbed in behind the wheel, started the engine and pulled smoothly away from the curb.

"We need to get him to a hospital." Mac's voice was terse, hostility flaring as he cradled Vic protectively.

"He'll be fine, He's had a shock to his system, coupled with a heavy dose of Rohypnol and some alcohol. All he really needs is to sleep it off." Her voice was calm, and she continued driving them towards Vic's home. "However, if you do intend to take him to the hospital, don't you think he needs clothes? He'll certainly attract attention the way he is at present."

Mac found her voice irritating in the extreme. He looked blindly down at the man he loved and clutched him more tightly. Vic's breathing seemed okay. The rise and fall of his chest was measured and slow, though his pulse was a little irregular. His skin felt cool and dry as Mac stroked it.

Mustn't. He's not able to help himself. Let him be.

He gazed at Vic and lowered his head to kiss the full lips, brushing them gently with his own, tasting him with the tip of his tongue. Vic's lips were smooth and soft. They felt so soft Mac shivered and caught his breath, straining to control himself. He wouldn't do it again. He wouldn't take advantage of Victor while he was helpless, incapable of defending himself. He pressed his lips into Vic's dark hair and remained holding onto the comatose man as they drew close to his apartment.

Pulling up at the main doors to the building where Vic lived, the Director left the vehicle with a curt command that Mac stay put. The chastened Mac remained, not wanting to put Vic down even for a second.

Finally, after a few minutes' wait, the willowy form of his boss appeared at the patio doors that led into Vic's living room. Almost before she beckoned him, Mac had gathered Vic up and was emerging from the car.

He made his way into the apartment and through to Vic's bedroom, where he deposited his burden on the bed. Straightening his back at last, he proceeded to divest himself of collar, nipple clamps and vest. A quick search brought Vic's store of white T-shirts to light, and he pulled one on over his naked chest.

The Director had been busy and now returned with a basin of warm water, soap and a cloth, which she deposited beside the bed.

"The towels would appear to be in the bathroom. I have to go and supervise the clean up operation. Stay with him, and if there are any problems, call me on my cell phone." She turned to go, and Mac called after her, a note of panic in his voice.

"Wait! You can't just leave. What am I going to tell him? What am I going to say?" His voice was loud, and for the first time, Vic stirred on the bed, his head turning restlessly as he moaned.

"Tell him? I'll leave it to you. I'm sure you'll think of something," she purred, and then she was gone, leaving him alone with the man he loved.

He went in search of towels and ointment, then rolled Vic over onto a towel while he sponged the bruised and slashed back, washing away the blood and the sweat before smearing on an antiseptic ointment.

Parting the cheeks of Vic's ass, he looked carefully at the small pucker that he had abused so wildly a short time ago. There was no bleeding, and he exhaled noisily in relief as he washed and dried the spot. His mind raced back to earlier in the evening when he had kissed that little area, and his cock was suddenly so stiff that he began to wish he was not wearing tight leather pants.

He rolled Victor over, and the breath caught in his throat again as he looked at him. He began to clean the blood off Vic's broad chest, revealing a number of superficial scratches and one somewhat deeper cut above his left nipple. He wanted so badly to kiss it, lick it or bury his face in the sleeping man's neck, but he continued on, methodically cleaning and anointing until he had covered the complete man. Finished at last with his clean up operation, he pulled back the covers on Vic's left, rolled him onto that side and pulled them over him. Vic snuggled into the pillow as Mac covered him, and Mac began to feel a little easier. He himself was sticky, anxious, and feeling extremely aroused, but at least his comatose beloved didn't seem to be in any immediate danger.

He stroked Vic's hair once and then went to take a shower. On his return, with a towel wrapped around his slim waist, he checked again on the man in the bed before going over to rifle through Victor's clothing again, this time purloining a pair of sweatpants.

He pulled the T-shirt back on again before stretching out alongside Victor on top of the covers. Enervated and exhausted as he was, he still found sleep tough to embrace. He was so close to Vic. He could hear the other man's breathing. The heat from Vic's body battered him as if he were beating him with fists. His cock was rigid again, and he couldn't think straight. He'd just decided that he could stand it no longer and was reaching down to take hold of himself with the intention of jerking himself into oblivion if he could, when Vic groaned and rolled to face him. Mac suddenly found himself looking into stormy green eyes from very close quarters. He gulped.

It was showtime!

For some time Victor said nothing, merely gazed at him in a dazed, unfocused way, but as Mac pushed himself up on one elbow and reached to lay a hand on Vic's forehead, he seemed to get himself oriented.

"What the hell's happening? What are you doing here?" His voice rasped, barely audible as he forced out the words.

"Lord, Vic, you screamed your throat hoarse. Don't you remember?" Mac fisted his hands into the sheets as the desire to reach out and stroke Vic's face threatened to overwhelm him.

"Remember? I was at that club. There were a lot of people there...a woman... I forget. Someone had a knife." His voice trailed away, and his eyes widened in horror as memories came flooding back to him. "Oh, God!"

He turned away, burying his face into the pillow. Mac, nervous, and uncertain how best to help him through this, got off the bed and went out into the kitchen to find something for Vic to drink. He returned, bearing a glass of apple juice.

Trust Victor to have apple juice in his fridge.

He moved around the bed to where Vic, still cocooned in his comforter, was now making distressed little sounds and rocking himself from side to side. Putting the glass down, he put his hand out to arrest the wild movements.

"Come on, Vic, it's over. It's all over now." Victor raised panic stricken eyes to Mac's face, and Mac, trying to fix things for him, not knowing what else to do, held out the juice for him. "Here, drink this, you look thirsty."

It was true. Victor's lips were dry and cracking. He sat up, took the glass and drank from it gratefully, happy to postpone dealing with the enormity of what had happened to him for a few more minutes.

He drained the glass greedily, groaning as the cold liquid slipped over his sore throat. Mac relieved him of the glass with a quizzically raised eyebrow as he indicated that he was willing to fetch him a refill.

"There are bottles of water in the fridge." The voice was still a harsh whisper but a little stronger now. Vic began to cough as Mac retreated once more to the kitchen to search for anything that his beloved might request. He finally located a bottle of Evian water and returned to the bedroom.

Vic had ceased to cough and was sitting upright with his face in his hands. Mac put the bottle down and sat gingerly on the edge of the bed before turning to face Victor.

"Come on, Vic. Put it behind you, it's over." There was no response to his words, and Mac reached out to him, laying his hand on Vic's tight shoulders, his thumb going absently to stroke the back of his neck where the hair grew against his skull, lying like fine feathers.

"Come on, Vic," he said again and felt the other man shudder under his touch. "It's okay now, Vic. You're home."

Victor made a small, soft keening sound, and that was it for Mac Ramsey. He pulled gently on Vic's shoulders, drawing him in against his chest until Vic lay against him, cradled within the confines of arms that were suddenly weak and trembling. Mac lowered his face until he could lay his lips against Victor's hair, and there they sat, not speaking, rocking gently as Mac tried to give Victor whatever comfort he was capable of.

Moments passed in silence. Mac was happy to hold Vic and wished they could remain forever this way. Finally, Vic began to speak in his low, scratchy voice. At first his voice was too low for Mac to distinguish his words. He had to strain to hear any of them, and he continued to hold his love, rocking him like a baby, making no attempt to do more. Vic seemed to be trying to burrow into him. He remained hunched against the younger man's chest with his head bowed, hiding his face. Slowly, very slowly indeed, Mac felt him relax, lowering his hands. Victor fluttered them helplessly, and then, as Mac kept up his gentle swaying one of Vic's arms crept cautiously around him, as though to mention it would be enough to send it whisking out of sight once more.

"Do you know what they did to me? Did you see what they did?" Mac's mouth was suddenly dry. He tightened his arms around Vic for a minute, and he felt Vic's other hand, the one he had kept balled up tight against his neck, creep around under his arm to tighten against his back.

Vic was hugging him. He felt the air rarify once again and suppressed the urge to whimper. He must have made some slight sound, because Vic raised his head.

"I saw, Vic. I was there. It will be okay." His voice was shaky and uneven as the man in his arms finally made eye contact with him. Mac could see dark flashes of dread filling them. "Oh, Vic, don't worry. Please don't tear yourself up about it. You haven't suddenly changed into someone different."

Vic's face flushed, and then turned pale. "That's just the point. I have. I'm someone new. I'm someone I didn't know I was. I can't think of myself any more without knowing that I... I... " he He leaned his forehead against Mac's chest, and the last part of his sentence was muffled, so that Mac had to really strain to hear it. "I liked it."

Mac said nothing. He continued to hold Vic, tightening his arms just a little more. Vic stayed put, neither resisting nor encouraging contact, content for the moment to be held.

"Why shouldn't you like it? You were drugged. You've got nothing to be ashamed of." Vic's distress was a physical wound that Mac felt, the twist of his words piercing sharp and deep as guilt oozed like acid to fill the wound.

Up came Vic's head again, and this time, Vic brought his hands up too, to grip Mac's shoulders. "No, you don't understand. I want more. I want it and I never knew. You have no idea how good it felt to be helpless up there, full to bursting. All I could do was explore the sensations. I knew I couldn't get free even if I tried, and I felt as if I'd been set free. Whoever fucked me knew just how to do it. I've never felt anything like that before."

Mac looked at his partner who had a strange aura of defiance around him, as though he expected Mac to be shocked. He shook his head at Vic, smiling gently, and then, because he was there, and Vic was right there with him, and because he just couldn't stop himself, he leaned forward, still holding the other man, and brushed Vic's lips softly with his own. Once he did it, then twice, and then, as he noticed how soft and yielding Vic's mouth seemed to be, a third time. The third time, he lost himself in the sheer softness of Vic's offered mouth, and pressed his lips down firmly to slide over moist, pliant skin until they found a seal.

Mac didn't know what to expect, but his heart thumped against his rib cage, asking to be free as Vic uttered a small, helpless sound and closed his eyes. He gripped Mac's shoulders harder, and then slowly slid his hands upward to snake around the back of his neck, pulling him into the kiss.

Mac groaned and probed gently with his tongue, flickering it along the soft sweetness of Victor's mouth. It sneaked in to explore the ribbed palate that formed the roof, and then stroked, teased and gently explored, as he finally did what he had longed to do for so long and kissed his partner.

The kiss, once joined, continued for long, heart stopping moments, and Mac found himself shaking by the time it was done.

Vic's eyes were closed. His long lashes swept his cheeks and his lips parted as he sat, face turned up blindly to Mac, following him like a sunflower tracking the sun. Mac gasped and brought his hands up to lay them alongside Victor's face before descending anew to press his lips onto Vic. He groaned and felt his belly suddenly tighten, turn warm, and melt down with lust as Victor began to kiss him back. Vic's tongue was sweet against his, and they began to slide together, stirring up sensations that had them panting by the time they separated once more.

Mac kissed Vic's eyelids as his thumbs caressed the corners of his mouth, but as Vic moved forward with the evident intention of locking their mouths together once again, he pulled back, looking at Vic with questioning eyes.

Vic tried again to capture Mac's mouth, without success, finally opening his eyes with a groan. He mouthed the word "Please" before allowing them to fall closed once more, leaving Mac wondering how to get through to him.

Finally, he held Vic's face tenderly and gently laid his forehead against that of his partner. "Vic, are you sure you're feeling okay? You were drugged, you know."

Vic's reply, when it came, was oblique and made Mac's heart cry out for him. "Do you want me? I thought you liked girls? What are you doing to me?" The harsh whisper abraded his senses, and then he was stroking his hands over Mac's back, driving him crazy with little caresses and soft, desperate sighs.

"Vic, my beautiful Victor, I've wanted you for so long. Yes, I like girls. Girls are fine, but you are so damned gorgeous. Vic, I want you, but I don't want to take advantage of you when you've just been given a hefty dose of some brainwashing drug. If you and I ever get together, I want it to be mutual. I want you to make love to me. I don't want to fuck your empty carcass." He spoke quickly, holding Vic away from him as he tried to do the right thing instead of listening to the inner voice that was screaming at him to forget his scruples until the morning.

"Don't you understand, Mac? I've got to know if it was real or not. What do you mean, you wanted me?" Vic's last question sounded childish to Mac, and he stroked his partner's cheek reassuringly.

"Victor Mansfield, if you aren't aware of just how beautiful you are, it's about time someone broke it to you." One of his hands ceased its movement against Vic's cheek and slipped around to cup the back of his head, petting his hair, fingers curling through it to massage the nape of his neck. "Want you? Oh, fuck, Victor, I'm crazy about you."

"Then, if I'm so damned gorgeous, why am I still alone? How come they all use me, take what they can and then leave me?" His voice caught, honey stirred with gravel, and every word rustled past Mac's ears like fur charged with static.

"I want you, Vic. If you'd only let me love you... " His voice died away as Vic smiled at him wryly.

"If only someone would love me. If someone would only show me they cared, I'd feel real again. Part of my problem is that I feel as if I'm someone's memory, and I'm fading away, being forgotten. Every time a little piece of me is taken, there's that much less of me left. I think I'm empty. I think I'm babbling. Why do I think you would even want to know?" He lowered his eyelashes again, a veil across thoughts that burned Mac's conscience. Mac couldn't speak, so big was the lump in his throat.

He tried to find something that would comfort the other man and finally stopped trying, just leant forward to find Vic's mouth once more, sucking on his tongue and allowing the kiss to convey the message he was incapable of articulating at that moment. Vic responded by throwing his arms around him, and then Mac bore him back against the pillows, putting everything he had into the contact of mouth on mouth, drawing Vic's tongue into his mouth and sliding greedy hands over the smooth silk of his skin.

Kissing Victor seemed at that moment somehow more definite, more exciting than making love to many of the people that populated his past. Vic's hands ran up and down Mac's back, pulling him in tight, drawing small circles over his hungry body. Soon it was no longer enough to lie there and kiss. He needed to feel Vic pressed against him. He began to struggle out of his T-shirt, and Vic helped, yanking it over his head and casting it onto the floor before moving on to run his fingers under the waistband of the sweatpants he wore. He felt Vic pause then, and raised his head, his eyebrows quizzical.

"Why are you wearing my clothes? I know you have a few of your own."

Mac nibbled at Vic's lower lip as he considered his answer.

"It's kinda hard to sleep in leather and chains. I needed to stay with you until I was sure you were all right. Besides, the nipple clamps were starting to cause me grief." Vic's incredulous laugh sent little prickles of joy coursing up and down his spine, and Mac covered his mouth again, breathlessly smothering the laughter as he plunged his tongue inside to find Vic's and slid along the soft tissues in dark, tender passion.

Vic was pushing down on the sweatpants as they kissed, and Mac frantically wriggled out of them, feeling first chills, then a flush of heat as Vic's hands moved down to cup his buttocks and pull him hard against the comforter that still covered him.

Mac reared back in an attempt to get next to Victor, and the two of them found themselves in a battle to the death with recalcitrant bedclothes as they struggled to free Vic from their confines. Finally, Victor seemed to go crazy. He fought wildly to cover Mac with kisses, sucking his neck hard to mark him before sinking sharp, white teeth into his shoulder, moving frantically until finally the pair of them lay uncovered at last, belly to belly, devouring each other avidly.

Mac was so hard he ached, and he could feel tingles almost constantly as small spurts of pre-come heralded a rapidly approaching orgasm. Vic seemed unable to do anything except clutch at him and fight to fix his mouth on whatever part of Mac he could reach. Mac felt Vic's legs wrap around his waist, grinding their two cocks together. He threw his head back, gasping, and tried his damnedest to slow things down, rolling away, or trying to.

It was to no avail. Vic clung to him, and as Mac rolled, he found himself lying beneath the other man, who began nipping and licking his way across Mac's chest, biting his abused nipples until he yelped and then snorting with laughter. Gradually, he worked his way down towards Mac's penis, to where the dark heart of Mac's being pulsed and drooled, desperate now.

It was no good. He wouldn't be able to last for more than a few seconds, and he knew it. He grabbed Vic by the ears and hauled him up until finally they were eye to eye.

"Vic, baby, what do you want from me? Anything you want is fine with me, believe me, but if you want me to fuck you, you have to slow down, or I'll come too soon, and that will be it. Are you with me?" Vic's teeth were bared in a snarl, and for a moment Mac wondered if he had heard or if indeed he cared. Then, he felt Victor relax against him and saw his features soften.

"Tell me what to do, Mac. Please, hurry, I need you right now." And the naked need in the man's words had almost the same effect on Mac as his earlier writhing. He bit the inside of his cheeks in an effort to calm down, and when that didn't seem enough, he began to count backwards in sevens from a thousand. Vic seemed to understand his dilemma and mercifully stayed quiet as Mac waited for his orgasm to subside. As he lay panting, Vic raised himself on one elbow to lean over him.

"What do I want?" Vic's hand gently stroked Mac's chest. "I want to feel real. I want to feel as if I'm alive again. I want to stop aching, stop hurting. I want to feel good." Vic ghosted his mouth over Mac's face, never quite touching the needful flesh until Mac, who was beginning to recover, sat up, laying Victor down and arranging pillows beneath his hips. Vic followed these arrangements with wide eyes, the reality of the situation suddenly becoming acute.

"I feel like somebody's lunch, laid out like this. Where's the sprig of parsley? Didn't anyone ever tell you about presentation? Where's the heck's the apple sauce?" The voice sounded aggrieved, but Vic was smiling a little smile, and Mac, who was sitting back on his heels drinking in the beauty of his partner's body as he lay, limbs tumbled every which way, grinned back at him.

"We can do that tomorrow. You'd look fantastic on a bed of truffles. You look fantastic now." He took hold of Victor's penis, circling it with his finger and thumb. "I wonder how many pineapple rings I could get on here." And he bent to take the object of his observation into his generous mouth, slipping the heavy, blunt, helmet-shaped head past his teeth to swirl his tongue against the collection of nerve endings that lay at the base of the crown, just beneath the ridge. Drawing his tongue up and over, he inserted it into the slit on the top, from which salty fluid that tasted deliciously of Vic was now welling. Vic sighed encouragement in his throatiest voice, and Mac felt his words like the trickle of perfume over his too tight skin.

"Oh, that's good. Oh, God, that feels so nice." And Mac wanted more than anything to hear Vic keep saying it. He slipped his mouth further down on Vic, sucking him, tasting him, trying his damnedest to make him feel wonderful. With one hand on the other man's balls, he tried to judge the nearness of his orgasm. He licked a finger and slid it inside Vic's ass, noticing that it was still a little loose and slippery from the exertions earlier on. Then, he felt for Vic's prostate, and his panting, sweating victim yelped.

"Oh, I'm..." Mac held his balls down tightly and removed his mouth from the tempting cock that dipped and twitched before his face.

"No, you're not. Not until I let you. Trust me, baby, it will be worth it." Vic groaned, and Mac smiled at him, that same bland, insufferable smile that had irritated him so much at work since the two of them had first met.

"Fucking control freak!" The words were said with a smile that was half gritted teeth, and Mac looked up at him fondly, lips poised to return to the throbbing erection as he watched Vic's retreat from the brink of orgasm. Suddenly he grinned at him, swooping down to suck him in deep, until he had his nose buried in Vic's crotch. He could smell his lover's scent as his head span. Victor yelled and clutched at Mac's head, thrusting up into his mouth. Mack laughed again and slowly released the rock hard length of him, ignoring the sounds that were emanating from his impatient love.

Gently stroking Victor's thighs, Mac contemplated his lover's total and complete abandonment, feeling the surge inside that rushed through him as he drank in the beauty of him as he lay spread out, helpless beneath him.

He watched Vic writhing, thinking that he had never seen anything sexier in his life, and suddenly he knew that he couldn't spin it out any longer. He had to be inside Vic. He knew that this was it and Vic was finally his, tonight. His... for now.

He didn't want to think about tomorrow.

He reared up to squat on his heels, using the slick that had leaked from Victor's prick to augment his own and added saliva to the mix. Pulling Vic forward until he half lay and half sat on Mac's thighs, he allowed Vic's legs to drape over his shoulders and positioned the head of his cock against the brown-pink bud that was Vic's anus.

He could feel Vic shuddering as he leaned gently forward, thinking to slide in gradually, but Vic had other ideas. All of a sudden, he surged, twisting so that Mac suddenly found himself enveloped in tight, silken heat. He was buried to the hilt, losing it, and screaming at Vic to stay still, ah, god, still or it would be too late. He gripped and felt his fingernails cut the palms of his hands, holding his breath helplessly as his cock tickled and throbbed, on the verge of giving it all up.

Vic's eyes were a trifle glassy, but he had a smirk on his face, and he was eyeing Mac with a look that was incontrovertibly smug.

"Bastard! You're trying to kill me, aren't you? Just relax for me, Vic, or it will be all over. I want so much to make it good for you, baby." The last was spoken in the harsh tones of sheer desperation, and Vic's eyes were bright as he nodded, letting himself relax as well as he could. Mac finally began to regain control once again over his body's responses. He spat onto his hand and took hold of Vic's rigid cock, curling his fingers around the shaft, jacking it firmly as he began to move.

He began a gentle rocking motion, sure that the silken sucking of Vic's hot, tight ass would blast him over the edge right away. Finding himself able to remain in control for a little while at least, he pumped Vic harder and plunged in a little deeper, and then deeper still.

He couldn't stop. The sensations built in him, starting somewhere behind his balls, and he had to push in harder. Fuck! He had to get in there! So tight and sweet and so fucking hot, and then Oh, Vic, my god, Vic, I love you want you, Oh!

And Vic was bearing down on him as his come sprayed pearl nectar indiscriminately onto himself and his lover in sticky gobs that clung to hand, belly and chest as he cried out something incoherent.

Mac was inside, balls slapping up against Vic's buttocks, and the juices were gathered ready as he shoved home to the very root, staying locked in place, unable to move as the surge of fluid stroked through him, carrying blinding, piercingly sweet sensation in its wake. He was on fire, and his cock a blow torch, burning out the core of him as he emptied himself endlessly and felt the world turn grey about him.

Falling forward at last to cover Vic with his body, he found the other man's mouth once more, kissing him tenderly, softly exploring the inside as aftershocks ran pleasantly through their bodies.

"Baby, are you okay? Did I hurt you?" he mumbled into Victor's mouth as he tried to catch his breath. He felt the shudders going through Vic's sturdy frame, growing in intensity, and he opened his eyes to see what the problem was, to find Vic soundlessly laughing.

"Jesus, Mac. Yeah, you hurt me. You blew the top off my head. Fuck! The earth moved that time." He pulled Mac back into him and kissed him soundly, then as Mac groaned and wriggled on him, "Christ, I'm all sticky now."

Grinning, Mac hauled the other man upright amid protests and curses and dragged him off to take a shower.

When the alarm went off at six the next morning, neither of them really wanted to wake up. Mac opened his eyes reluctantly, a delicious lassitude making him one with the mattress, and he lay for a minute, drinking in the sight of his lover, who was wrapped around him, dark head pillowed on his shoulder, his face at rest, smooth, innocent and boyish. He felt his stomach drop several floors and rolled to snuggle against Victor, knowing that the day would come between them soon enough.

Vic opened sleepy eyes to regard his new lover, looking more youthful than ever in his confusion.

"It wasn't a dream. It really happened! Oh, lord, what do we do now?" Mac regarded him steadily, understanding where Vic was coming from and needing to make sure that his beloved reached the same conclusions he had. He leaned in to kiss the softness of Vic's mouth, gently sliding his lips over Victor's skin, exploring the roughness of Vic's prickly morning beard against his own cheek.

"Victor, I love you." His stomach clenched even as he uttered the words, knowing how much of himself he was exposing to hurt. He closed his eyes and waited for the derisive laughter he was sure would follow. There was silence broken only by the rustles of bedclothes as Vic moved under his stroking hand. Finally he allowed them to open once more, to find Victor gazing at him solemnly, his whole face a picture of adoration as his eyes shone. He thought of the Director's words, and his heart thumped painfully against his ribs as he clutched at Vic, burying his face in the other man's neck.

Vic ran gentle fingers through the hair at the back of Mac's head. His touch was soothing, and Mac finally released him long enough for him to catch his breath before discovering that Vic wanted to eat him alive. Vic's mouth was hard against him, bruising his lips with the ferocity of his kisses. Mac returned them with interest, wondering how it was that he had never dared to make love to Vic in the past. His entire body tingled. He felt alive at last. Now he could tell Vic. Now finally he could confess his feelings.

At that moment the phone rang. Vic ignored it, continuing to kiss Mac senseless while his hands roamed over the long, lean body he held captive beneath him. Mac struggled a little until Vic fixed him with his ardent stare, his lips quirking a little in mild amusement.

"It's the Director. She'll be watching, you know. She always is. Let's give her a show," and he flung back the bedclothes, laying them both bare, erect and horny. The phone stopped ringing as suddenly as it had begun, and Vic chuckled as he kissed his way down over the fur of Mac's chest, down past his belly, and beyond.

"See, she's watching," he said as he trailed his wet tongue along the groove between his lover's thigh and his torso. Mac quailed inwardly as he searched for the camera. Only when Vic took hold of his erection and applied his lips to the head of it, did he suddenly lose interest in the placement of the Director's surveillance devices.

Finally, heat and moisture, a knowing tongue and the adoring green gaze that was fixed on him all conspired to distract him. He became caught up in the amazing things that Vic was doing to him, mentally shrugging his shoulders at the thought that they might be immortalized on video. Hell, they'd entertained a couple of hundred people the night before, why be shy now?

Vic had been sucking on Mac's hard length, and Mac was beginning to lose it, groaning and bucking into the heat of the relentless mouth that surrounded him. He was getting into it in real earnest, reveling in the fact that Vic was sucking him, Vic cared for him, when Vic straightened up, stretched a little ruefully, and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Mac stretched on the bed, hard on bobbing restlessly as he jerked his hips.

"Hey!" His voice was desolate, bereft. "Come back! Jesus, Vic, what are you doing to me?" He heard faint laughter from the bathroom, and then his lover reappeared in the doorway, joyfully holding aloft a tube of KY jelly.

"I knew I had some. Now you're really gonna get yours!" Mac felt the now familiar sensation of small creatures skittering through his insides. as he understood that it was now Vic's turn, and he was going to be fucked.

He looked at the man he loved. Vic's body was covered in cuts and nicks, his skin criss- crossed with welts from the abuse he had suffered the night before. Mac could see bruises on his arms and stomach and abrasions at his wrists, waist and ankles. Mac felt himself turn weak for love of him as Victor stood before him, contemplating how best to drive him wild.

He looked at Vic's cock, standing proud from his lover's thighs, looking somehow larger and more dangerous because they had shaved him the night before. It was straight and thick. The head of it oozed drops of moisture as it pushed from the foreskin that surrounded it. The brownish purple length was traced with veins that shone faintly blue. Mac wanted it inside him. He deliberately spread his legs wide and lifted his knees to open himself to Victor, and he felt a bolt of sheer, blind lust stab through him as he gave control of his body over to this other. He had never done this before, never felt the need, but now, now it was necessary. He needed to let Vic take him, and he lay, waiting as Vic drew in his breath sharply.

The look on Victor's face was something he imagined that LiAnn had probably seen, predatory and a little cruel as he crawled onto the bed and began to unscrew the cap on the tube he had found. Mac began to feel thrills of anticipation running through him, and then things were conspiring to make him scream as Vic carefully slid his finger in through his tight, muscular ring to reach the inside of his ass, exploring it carefully and sending little shocks of ecstasy through him.

Mac whimpered as Vic slid first one, then several fingers in and out of him. When Vic finally discovered Mac's prostate gland and began to stroke little circles over it, he cried out in earnest and reached his hands down to interlace them in Vic's hair as he gave himself up to the pleasure. Vic was poised between Mac's legs, his green gaze taking in every nuance, every twitch and flinch, building and enhancing until Mac was sobbing.

Finally, his tormentor removed his hand and concentrated on squeezing more lubricant onto his hand as Mac choked out pleas for more, for anything as long as he didn't stop. Then Vic began to spread the jelly on his own outrageously hard cock, before running gentle hands over the quivering flesh of his victim.

He centered the slick penis and hunched his shoulders as he pressed forward. At first there was resistance as the slippery head pressed home, and then there was a sudden yielding as the muscle wall gave and then stretched, admitting the crown of Vic's cock. Mac saw Victor gasp and arch as the sensations sent him crazy and then had to close his own eyes, desperately willing himself to relax, to allow the intrusion, even though his ass was burning, and his erection seemed to have subsided. He wanted this. He wanted Vic to fill him up.

He wanted Vic to own him.

Vic seemed to have it together, slowly beginning a small back and forth motion that admitted him deeper and deeper into Mac's body until finally the two of them were joined tightly. A snaking pleasure had begun to lick around the small of Mac's back, curling down between his buttocks to tickle at his balls. His erection was returning, filling again to lie against his belly, adding to his sensations a heavy, aching need to be touched.

Vic was pressed tight into him, not yet moving as he savored the sensations he was experiencing. His eyes were hooded, the thick, dark eyelashes almost seeming too heavy as they weighted down his lids. From beneath them, the eyes looked out, bright, unfocused and dilated. His face was flushed, and a frown of total concentration stamped his features. Mac wanted to take a photograph of him; he looked so beautiful at that moment.

"I love you, Vic." And Vic's eyes flew to his face, an almost-smile lighting him up briefly before base need robbed him of any control he might have had, and he began to fuck Mac.

He drove in and out of Mac, using slow, measured thrusts that sent little bolts of electricity shooting through Mac each time he moved forward.

"Mac." It was gasped, rather than spoken. His Vic was clinging desperately to control, but it was slipping. It wouldn't take long now. "I want you to feel it the way I did when you did it to me. That spot inside, Mac. I want you to feel it."

"You're doing just fine, lover." Mac was having his own problems stringing his words together in a sensible sentence, as Vic took his dick in his hand and began to work it in time with his own thrusts, and then he couldn't speak any more. His whole body was subsumed by the frantic sensations as Victor fucked him, surging and receding like the sea, as inevitably as waves on the shore.

When Vic lost it, and the steadiness of his rhythm foundered and became short, staccato bursts of movement that evoked dizzying, mind numbing spasms of excitement, Mac felt himself passing the point of no return. He knew he would never be the same again. Vic crouched over him, head back and eyes closed, his whole body open to him as he drove into him again and again.

It was too much. Everything seemed to flash down through him as he watched Vic getting off, buried deep inside him. Bright, tingling slashes of joy danced along his spine, prickled along his thighs and sparked through his groin to blossom in his balls, and he came, spurting over Vic. The tightness had only one direction it could go, and it pulsed through his cock, shooting, emptying him as he saw stars behind eyes that were shut tight as he tried to hang on to the moment.

Seconds later, Vic thrust himself hard into him, and Mac heard him whisper, "Oh, Jesus, Mac, oh Jesus, yes," as his movements came to a full stop. He felt heat flooding into him then as Vic finally surrendered himself to the moment.

When Vic finally fell forward to lie on him, panting, his chest heaving as he tried to recover his senses, the two of them clung together as they lay still joined, and almost immediately they fell back to sleep.

The insistent shrilling of the phone woke them both, and Vic groaned as he lifted his head from Mac's chest and tried to reach out for the offending instrument. A sharp, tearing pain shot through Mac's tender skin, and he realized what had happened. They were stuck together. He had come, and Vic had fallen onto him, and they had slept. Now, his ejaculate had dried, cementing them together. Victor didn't seem to notice the pain, but then Vic was smooth, virtually hairless. He, on the other hand, was suffering as any slight movement from Vic ripped the hairs from his chest and belly.

"Keep still while I think, please." His cry of anguish didn't seem to be being taken seriously. Vic had realized what was happening and was laughing his head off. The phone had stopped its clamor again, and the two of them knew full well who had been calling them. Glancing at the time, Mac felt his blood run cold. It was ten minutes to noon, and he was toast. He just knew it.

"Jesus! Look at the time." He gritted his teeth and pulled away from Victor, causing the pair of them to yelp as hair and skin were abused in the separation of skin from skin. Stumbling to the shower, Mac turned on the water and stepped under it without waiting for it to warm up. He had just reached for the shampoo when Victor climbed in behind him and slid warm, strong arms around his waist. He shuddered as he melted back into Vic's embrace, and all thoughts of getting to work left him again as his brain shut down leaving him with one thought, and one alone.

Love you so much. How can I love you like this?

He turned in the circle of Vic's arms and stooped the few inches to allow their lips to meet, feeling the rush as he found Vic's tongue waiting to stroke against his. He put his own arms around his lover, running them up and down his back as the spray from the shower wet them both, and winding up with shampoo foam covering them both as he caressed and massaged the smooth body.

Vic glued lips that felt hot and hungry onto his pulse point, and Mac held him, allowing the water to run over them unchecked as he kissed his hair, his neck, his ear, and allowed his hands to learn the complex planes and curves of Vic's body. He reached for the shampoo again, and worked up a lather in Vic's hair before moving down to soap the front of his body.

Amazingly, Vic's penis was rising again to butt against Mac's thigh, and Mac looked at him in amazed admiration. The man was insatiable. He stroked soapy fingers the length of the growing erection, and Vic sighed, moaned and nestled closer to Mac, licking, kissing, nipping and biting his throat. His mind was racing. He was falling harder and harder for this beautiful manchild that seemed to trust him so utterly. He was building up this relationship so fast, he knew it was a mistake to go any further before telling him the truth. He knew that the Director wouldn't allow Vic to remain in the dark about what had happened. It wasn't in her nature.

He tilted Vic's chin up with his finger and thumb and dropped a gentle little kiss onto his lips, flickering his tongue around the inside of the lips that offered themselves to him so willingly, tasting his mouth, and wishing he could sink into Vic and remain there forever. This would probably be their last kiss. He had to make it last.

"Victor? Vic, love, I have to tell you things. Before we go any further, I need to tell you about what happened to you last night." He pulled Vic close and kissed his neck one last time, before releasing him and stepping out of the shower. Vic followed him, looking for enlightenment.

Mac handed him the towel and helped to dry his back, stretching out the intimacy for as long as he could, while he tried to find the words to tell him what he had done the previous night.

Finally, dry and glowing and still sporting an erection that was enough to make Mac's mouth turn dry, Vic turned to Mac and demanded to know what he was talking about. Mac sat down on the edge of the bed, and Vic wordlessly joined him, looking at him more in confusion than anything else.

"I don't understand, Mac. What about last night?" Vic's eyes were wide, his brow furrowed, and Mac had to breathe deeply to keep from grabbing him and kissing him senseless. He looked away, trying hard to remain focused for what he had to say.

"Last night, Vic, the man who fucked you. It was me." There! It was done. He didn't know how to break it down so that it was less harsh, less of a damning fact, so he hung his head and waited, miserable.

"What do you mean? How could it have been you?" Vic was still frowning, and Mac wondered what he could say to him that didn't sound like a calculated betrayal of him. He gave a heavy sigh and raised his eyes to watch his words hit home, clouding Victor's face. Each time his words made Vic's face change, he felt it like a physical blow and wanted so much to reach out to the other man that he felt sick.

"The Director knew I had been watching you. She never misses anything. She said I would have my chance to make you fall for me if I did what she told me. Vic, I wanted you so much, I.... " He got no further. Vic stood up, dragging Mac to his feet.

"You bastard. You and her, you're both the same. I suppose you enjoyed cooking up this little entertainment for her. You probably filmed it all and will invite people to parties to watch it and laugh about how that dumb fuck Mansfield was so easily seduced. Desperate bastard! He's just not bright enough to tell when he's being made a fool of." Vic stepped back, brought up his fist, and punched Mac in the jaw, whirling him round so that he fell onto the floor. For a short time he saw stars, but it quickly faded to a strange kind of double vision. He pulled himself up until he was sitting and put his head in his hands. Just as he had expected, it was all over for him. Vic hated him, and he had lost.

At that point, the Director walked into the room where Mac sat, despondent, and Vic was engaged in pulling on his underwear. Vic practically spat as he saw her saunter in and stood, rigid with outrage, as he watched the architect of all his misfortunes come to twist the knife in his wounds.

"What the fuck are you doing here? Get out. I don't want you here." His voice was choked with fury, and as Mac watched, he strode to where the Director was standing and put out his hands to grab her shoulders. Before he could lay a finger on her, she had reacted and coldly tossed him onto his ass. As he attempted to rise, she stepped forward swiftly and put her high-heeled foot on his scratched and bruised belly, holding him in position.

"Mr. Mansfield, I wonder if you know what your partner actually did for you last night? He saved you from the violations you were about to be subjected to in the only way possible to him, by making sure that the person who took you actually cared for you. Not only that, but he faced several people who have committed more than one murder of people like you, fought them off, and carried you out of the club in his arms. He rescued you. Believe me, you wouldn't have enjoyed what they planned to do to you, and you certainly seemed to enjoy Mr. Ramsey's attentions. He loves you, you stupid little man. Why are you so outraged by that?" She pushed backwards with her foot and sent Vic sprawling willy-nilly onto the floor.

Vic lay, limbs flung out, head back and eyes closed against the emotions that were going through his heart. As Mac watched, a tear welled up through the long, dark lashes and trickled down the side of Vic's face.

It was too much. He couldn't bear to see the man he loved in such misery. He crawled over to where Vic lay and pulled him into his embrace, refusing to let go even when Vic tried to push him away. Mac was crying too, now, and the two of them mingled tears as they crouched before the Director.

"You two are lucky, even though you don't seem to realize it. You've found each other, and you have time and youth on your side. I want you to talk this out instead of fighting. It'll be good for you to practice self-restraint. Take the rest of the day, and solve this for yourselves. If you don't, I'll come back, and if I come back, I'll bring the Cleaners with me."

Mac held Victor clutched tightly to him and buried his face in the dark, damp hair of his lover. Vic lay, quiescent for a minute, and then, with a little sigh, turned in to hold Mac.

"You love me? Right? You mean it?" Vic's voice was muffled as he spoke from his place in Mac's arms, face buried in his chest.

"God, Vic. I love you so much I can't even begin to tell you how much. Don't turn your back on me." Vic raised his eyes to Mac's face, and the longing in them made Mac catch his breath. He pulled Victor in and kissed him, leaving him no more room for doubts. As Vic clung to him, he reflected that he was going to need vitamins to keep up with his lover, and then, as Vic turned the kiss around, laying him back so he could begin another oral exploration of Mac's body, he decided that he didn't care a bit.

As Vic trailed kisses over his body, he could feel himself tightening up. His cock was stirring, and his balls drew up into tight furred spheres, nestling against his body as they sent out their stirrings of excitement. It was incredible. He wanted Vic so much, and yet he'd only just finished making love to him.

Vic had descended to the level of his groin and was paused there, puffing gentle breaths of air over rapidly hardening flesh so he could watch Mac shudder. Extending his cautious tongue, he licked daintily at the corduroy fuzziness of his balls, tickling him. He was nowhere near expecting it when Vic opened his mouth and sucked one into it. Heat and moisture, and a wildly flickering tongue made him groan out loud. Transferring his attention to the other ball, Vic seemed to be intent on bringing Mac on as fast as he knew how. Mac began to writhe lazily against Vic, feeling him stroking and caressing him in a way he had only dreamed of until now.

Victor leaned to lick around the ridge that joined the head of his penis to the shaft. His tongue swirled over the sensitive area, making the whole thing twitch as it began to leak clear fluid from its eye. Mac groaned, and bucked harder.

The man who was driving him out of his mind suddenly decided to make him totally crazy. He sat up, his hand idly stroking the length of Mac's now rock hard erection. He looked at Mac from eyes that were veiled by the thick, dark lashes, and a little smile quirked the corners of his lush mouth.

"It's nice, isn't it? Would you like me to continue?" Vic's face took on a truly evil grin, and he removed the hand, waiting for Mac to respond. Mac looked at him in anguish. Then, he nodded, and when Vic's smile just grew broader, he held out his arms, begging. Vic avoided his grasp and moved up alongside Mac, tweaking his nipples on the way.

"If you want me, prove it to me. You have to prove that you love me." Mac eyed him with growing suspicion, and Victor leaned over him to lick the length of his jaw, transferring his attentions to the full lips as he reached the corner of his mouth. Mac parted his lips in mute invitation and sighed when the other man slid his tongue inside to duel with his own. Vic kissed him thoroughly, and he rubbed his nipples against the man who was leaning over him. Vic's busy hands were stroking him everywhere. Everywhere except where he wanted it most.

"How can I prove it? What do you want me to do? " Mac would have promised anything at that point. He wanted Victor so badly. Vic wordlessly took Mac's hands and held them, dropping kisses on them as he did.

"I want to tie you up. I'll make love to you, but you have to be restrained. It's the only thing that will help me trust you." Mac looked at him in dawning horror. He looked around him for a way out, wondering where his Vic had gone and who had brought in the evil robot Vic. He failed to find inspiration, and in the end he nodded.

"Okay, Vic baby, do your worst." On consideration, maybe he shouldn't have said that. He winced, as Vic was galvanized into action, pulling Mac up to lie on the bed and securing his arms with handcuffs, which he first passed around the metal bars of the headboard.

Mac Ramsey was a tall man. When he was stretched out, as now, to his full length, there was enough of him to cause his feet to overhang the bed. Victor Mansfield, angelic smile on his face and malice evident to Mac at least, proceeded to torment every inch of his lanky frame.

He began by sitting alongside Mac, trailing inquisitive fingers everywhere. He touched and petted, stroked and probed, but impossibly gently. Mac couldn't stand it. He moaned at Vic, wriggling his pelvis suggestively. Vic grinned down at him, a blindingly beautiful smile that took Mac's breath away. Then he retreated to the foot of the bed and began to suck on Mac's toes.

"When I was younger, this used to drive me insane. What does it do to you, baby?" Vic's voice brushed his senses like melted butter. He staved off the urge to kick out, gritting his teeth as he waited for Vic to do his worst.

Vic did.

Abandoning the toes, he worked his way up the legs until he reached Mac's knees. Spreading the long legs wide, he began to nibble and suck along the inside of the man's left thigh, slowly working his way up towards the center of his body.

Mac was hard now, and his cock was begging for contact. He looked down at the sleek, dark head of his lover and estimated that it was going to be at least another half hour at this rate before he got to the money. He let out a shuddering sigh.

"Oh?" Vic raised his head from the place on Mac's inner thigh he had been teasing, "Bored, are we? I'll fix that." He got to his knees and slid himself off the bed, as Mac looked on, somewhat fearful.

Mac watched his love stroll out of the bedroom. He felt apprehensive but couldn't help marveling at the play of muscles in his sleek back and the tight ass that still bore marks from that bizarre woman and her lash. He wanted to stroke the man and lay, impotent, as Vic vanished out the door.

When Victor returned, bearing a bowl and towels, Mac began to twitch, and when he disappeared off again, coming back this time with a razor, he groaned.

"You aren't going to shave me are you? Please, baby?" Vic grinned and began to apply the shaving foam to his chest.

Mac winced as the foam spread over his torso, cooling him even as it heated his blood. Vic took the razor and bent himself to the task of rendering Mac as hairless as a pre- pubescent boy. He stripped Mac's chest and belly most efficiently, pausing to wipe the foam residue from him each time he cleared an area. Mac dared not wriggle, though he begged from time to time for Victor to stop fooling and let him have what he really needed by this time.

Vic merely smiled again, the gorgeous, wicked smile he had perfected just for this occasion, and bent momentarily to bite into Mac's nipple, running the lightest of touches over the bare, freshly shaven stomach.

Under his arms was next, and Vic concentrated, tongue between his teeth like a child, denuding the area efficiently and wiping away the excess. Then he began to lick and nip at Mac's armpits, tickling, driving him crazy as he began to realize that he had a whole host of erogenous zones that he had never before suspected.

Once Mac's pits were clear, Vic turned south, eyeing the other man's groin with an especially evil grin, and Mac groaned as he watched, helplessly.

"Jesus, Vic, you're going to kill me. You don't want me dead in your bed, do you?" He was sure that the laugh Victor gave was demon inspired. He knew it was an indication that there would be no mercy. He closed his eyes, and then Vic descended onto his aching hard-on with the whole force of mouth and tongue, sucking and pulling on it for a wonderful, delicious few minutes. Forked lightning swept down his groin, St. Elmo's fire danced in his veins, and he groaned.

Vic drew away then, picked up the razor, sniggered once and then began to lather his crotch.

"Now that I have your attention... " The sound of that voice husking low and dirty had sensitized him to such a degree that he felt that sweet fire stab through him once more as his lover spoke to him.

Jesus! The voice as a caress. He's incredibly beautiful.

He had begun to remove the dark curls from around Mac's penis. Mac gave up on the protests as he gave himself over to the feel of Vic's hands on him, the changing temperatures as the foam and warm water bathed him, and the slide of the blade over his heated, vital areas. He spread his legs wide, and Vic murmured approval, then he drew up his knees, and gave over all control as Vic took away any vestige of fuzz from the remainder of his genitalia, his ass, everywhere.

Finally satisfied, Vic grunted approval and took a bottle of baby oil, pouring it onto one hand, warming it, and then applying it to Mac in long, firm massaging stokes that began at chest and shoulders and worked their way ever closer to the prick that waved now, solid and leaking, from the newly shaven groin.

"Please, Victor? Please, baby. I need you so badly." His voice was high and reedy as he panted out his need. Vic leaned over then to kiss him hard, his mouth forcing open Mac's lips and his tongue twining and curling to draw moist magic from him. The stroking hands got themselves a refill and continued in their downward path, smoothing and slithering inexorably towards his undoing.

Just when he was convinced that he was going to die, to explode from the sheer, desperate excitement of anticipation, Vic slid a single, slippery finger into his ass, crooking it forward to stroke across his prostate, causing him to lose his mind. As that slender digit began to separate him from any vestige of sense that remained, he felt himself entering a new plane. When Vic took his cock between plush, wet lips and slowly sucked him deeper and deeper into the furnace heat of his mouth, he screamed. He could not hold it in any longer, and his voice bore testament to the incredible sensations Vic was inducing.

Vic had Mac totally in thrall. Mac lay, a complete wreck, begging to please, please be fucked. Vic laughed, shortly, and Mac heard the beginnings of ragged need in Vic's unsteady voice. He took a deep breath and composed himself.

"Vic, Victor? Vic, baby, I love you. I need you so much. Please, baby, now." He knew his need throbbed harsh in his voice, and he waited, every nerve ending in his flayed and hopeless body quivering with the need to be pierced, fucked, penetrated by this beautiful man of his.

Vic smiled a quick smile, one that began to dissolve into the darker aspect of someone who knew his hour had come, and he drew back, beginning to slick up his cock. He leaned towards Mac, licking along lips that were parted, slack with desire as his senses were overloaded and then plunging in, into his mouth, deeper and deeper, stroking, taunting, teasing, and loving.

At last Vic knelt over Mac, and his cock butted up against the tight and crinkled flesh of his asshole. Mac was so excited at this moment that he groaned, and with all he had in him, he begged Victor to fuck him.

Vic had the head of his cock laid against the soft center of Mac's very being, and as he begged and pleaded, he finally began to lean down on Mac, sliding, penetrating, slipping home into the place that was the very middle of his soul.

Vic was buried deep inside of Mac, and the restrained man could feel Victor's balls brushing his perineum as he pushed home, deeper, ever deeper. Mac whimpered. He needed to come. It was as simple as that. He sobbed once, and Vic bent again to kiss him, tongue gently stroking as they finally lost control. Vic slowly began to slide in and out of his lover, and Mac could feel the build up of layer upon layer of excitement. He could feel Vic beginning to lose it, to push into him faster and faster, and he cried out his need and encouragement as he felt the escalation that pushed him closer and closer to the edge.

Curled like a clockspring, close inside his balls, he felt at last the sneaking tendrils of pleasure that heralded total meltdown and begged Vic to go faster, fuck him harder, give him everything that he possibly could, and Vic did. He let out an inarticulate cry and pounded into Mac, fucking him hard, harder, hardest as they raced towards the final payoff.

Bright bursts of chrysanthemum fire burst from the tip of Mac's prick to flash jagged bolts of lighting as the feelings burst though him. He felt himself contracting, folding down around Victor's penis as his insides attempted to chew him up. Vic gave a strangled cry and then arched into him as he felt the spurting warmth of his own orgasm.

Timeless moments gave way to incredible lassitude. Vic lay panting on Mac's chest for long moments before claiming his mouth once again and then unlocking the handcuffs to allow Mac to stretch his arms once again.

Mac's first action was to pull his lover's shapely mouth down to his as he savored the taste of him. He gazed up at Vic with eyes full of the adoration he felt.

"I love you, Vic. I really, honestly love you." Mac sounded needy, even to himself.

"I know." Vic was grinning as he spoke, but the tender look he gave Mac told him everything he needed to know.

Whatever the rest of the world might throw at them, Mac Ramsay was with Victor at last, and he intended to stay with him for the rest of his life.

The End

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