Title: Honor

Series/Sequel:

Author: Nicci

Website Address:

Pairings: Ian Nottingham/Jake McCartey, Sara, OMC

Rating: NC17 – Slash, First Time

Fandom/Crossover: Witchblade

Archive: Yes, please let me know where.

Feedback: Yes

Warnings: Violence, rape/nc, h/c, profanity, and m/m relationships

Note: There is mention of underage sex in non-graphic detail. If this squick you, please don’t read. Sending a big hug to Sharon for the beta job. Any remaining mistakes are mine.

Summary: Written after the episode "Thanatopsis." Ian Nottingham seeks retribution and the discovery of the real Jake McCartey.

Disclaimer: The characters belong to Top Cow Productions. I don’t own them. This fan fiction was written for enjoyment. No money has been paid and no copyright infringement is intended.

By Nicci
September 2001

Dark and ominous, and a beauty in motion like the bird of prey; the figure landed on the rooftop. Settled with ease and grace into a crouched position. Almost inhuman, sometimes invisible to the naked eye, he skulked around with wide open and keen eyes...watching. A dragon really. He was lethal, omnipresent, a combination of good and evil. The finest they had developed in a long time. Except recently he had almost failed against one of his own. Or did he? He was, after all, devious of mind and a minion to his master. Who could really know? Failure sometimes is an illusion to winning if one looked at the circumstances in just the right way.

It was painful this pulling and pushing between two masters. He was raised to bend to the will of one. His whole purpose for existing was created to protect his master without compromise. Loyal and obedient; the fabric that made up his soul.

Yet, when Ian met Sara something changed inside. It was a unique feeling of empowerment, the sense of belonging, and the questioning of beliefs. She was his flesh and blood. And with this strangeness of not being one with his master, came confusion.

How could he warn Sara without revealing the information that would cause a loss of honor? He tried to correct the problem, really, but Sara stopped him in time. Didn't she understand that she was courting danger? Her cop partner wasn't what he appeared to be. He knew if this partner died he would lose Sara, and the idea frightened him somewhat.

She was linked to two realties. One a world with its everyday living and its ordinary people and activities, something he knew little of. Then, of course, there was the Witchblade and the bloodline coursing through his veins. Shrouded in mysticism and the mysterious, he was a forced creation of merging descendants dating back through time. A common bond from a shared life made Sara and him familiar but not the same.

Troubled by his thoughts and unfulfilled revenge, he sought a place on the rooftop that would keep him hidden from the eyes of the outside world. He settled quietly in his chosen place; dressed in black garb from head to toe. Ian brought the edge of his coat to cover his face. He had no fear of discovery. The nights were cold. No one in their right mind would travel up there to stare at the stars. And if someone did -- so be it -- the snap of a neck to cause death or a well-placed jab to certain nerves to incapacitate --whichever suited his needs.

The skies would eventually merge into sweet darkness. The humming of the living and the machinery of life would slowly fade into a trickle. Except for those who were too keyed up to rest their souls. When Ian had felt that his prey had settled down for the night, he would make his move. It would be so easy to scale the walls of the apartment building and make his entrance. The night, his soul partner, would cover his tracks.

***

"Are you going to be okay?" Sara asked as she followed Jake into his loft. Consternation was written over her face. Sara's life hadn't been easy since Danny was murdered. It was one problem after another, and she was in a constant state of anxiety. He knew getting his butt whipped by Nottingham was just one more problem to deal with.

Sara sometimes spooked him. She did things and survived impossible situations that he couldn't understand. He couldn't figure out how she had managed to stop Ian Nottingham from taking his life. There was something strange going on between the two. Sara holding his hand while interrogating Nottingham was not only weird but gave him the chills.

"Yeah, I'll be alright. Nothing that a long, hot, soak wouldn't cure."

"It’s good, he didn't break anything, Jake. Nottingham could've killed you. I thought he was going to do just that until I showed up." Shaking her head in confusion, Sara said, "I don't understand."

He knew why. Sara mustn't learn of his betrayal, and so he said, "Maybe I got a butt-whipping for cold cocking him in the interrogation room. Or maybe it was foreplay."

She looked down at Jake with a smirk on her face. "Funny," she said nodding her head. "Very funny."

Jake had managed to drag his aching body over to the couch. With the agility of an old man, he eased down, gently, so not to shake up the pain anymore than necessary. Leaning his head on the back of the couch, he watched Sara as she began pacing back and forth in his living area. "Maybe but I doubt it," he said.

"Nottingham doesn't strike me as the person to retaliate for such a minor infraction."

"Yeah, if you say so, Pez. Personally, I think he is scary. I'm man enough to admit it. He's capable of anything, especially murder."

She walked over to Jake and stood in front of him with laughter in her voice. The woman could be very quirky at times. "What scared you the most, rookie? His beating or him asking you to join him in his bed?"

"Aw, come on, Pez..." Jake could feel the heat rising up in him. An image of Nottingham's brilliant, dark eyes intently focused on him as if he could see right through him was flashing across his mind.

"Rookie, you gotta learn not to let the suspect rile you so."

"Yeah, you're right. He was damn arrogant and smug. How come he can get off talking to me like that?"

"Hey! Remember, this is New York. Not some backwater town in Midwest, USA. Freaks like Nottingham come a dime a dozen. You've got to learn to hold back the physical violence, Jake. IA may come knocking at your door one day."

Jake seriously doubted that would happen. New York was a cesspool of crooks and corrupted cops. It was the real reason why he had been stationed at the same precinct as Sara Pezzini. He was glad to discover that she had nothing to do with the White Bulls. A powerful cop organization in the city responsible for unresolved deaths and corruption among the police force. The problem went back quite a few years, and this was the first time the FBI had sufficient information to send in an agent. He felt IA was more likely involved in the cover-up as well.

"You might want to control your distaste for the gay lifestyles too. Your ability to adapt is important for our undercover work."

"Yeah, yeah, got it in one, Pez," he said with exhaustion threading through his body.

She smiled at him and swiped lightly at his head so not to cause him any disturbance. "See that you do, rookie. Look, I've to go. Is there anything you want me to do?"

"No, I'm fine," said Jake as he stood up to walk Sara to the door.

"Right. See you in a couple of days. Get plenty of rest."

After saying goodnight and locking his apartment door, Jake headed towards the stairs to prepare his hot, steaming bath. He needed it to soothe the pain in his muscles.

***

He pulled off his shirt, pants, socks and shoes. An image of himself was reflecting in the full-length mirror in front of him. He looked and saw a swollen eye with a cut over the eyebrow, scratches and abrasions around his mouth and his chin. His legs and chest had bruises from Nottingham's martial art kicks. He was glad he was in excellent, physical shape, kept up a routine to keep his body honed and fit. A person of less physically fit attributes would've suffered badly under the barrage of inflicting power. It was almost, now that Jake had time to think about it, as if Nottingham held back -- didn't really want to kill him. Again he wondered if it was because of Sara's influence. Unconsciously clenching his eyes shut in thought, he knew he had to find out more about this relationship between the two, to determine what part it played in his case.

She was wrong. He knew about alternative lifestyles, although he had pretended disgust during their undercover work at the gay bar. Running his fingers over his chest, finding their way to his nipples, he squeezed with a hard pinch. It was there within him, for as long as he could remember. An essence of himself he had refused to touch for the chaos it would bring to his life.

He feared what the acknowledgment would mean. He worried about how people would view him. Being a coward was okay. He would rather walk in this world with his head up and feel safe.

But, there were times he wished he was stronger. A broad chest and a tapered torso that merged into the hard planes of strong thighs and firm buttocks was so appealing. The need buried deep inside would rise to cause hunger, making him want to come close to the fire. Wanting the gratification of unfathomable desire. Wishing for a release of some sort from the burden that he could never take.

After filling the tub with hot, steamy water, he stepped in anticipating relaxation and comfort. Thinking about today's events he realized he must learn to control his temper. Especially where Nottingham was concerned. His body wasn't used to taking on a harsh beating. It wasn't everyday he confronted someone of Nottingham's caliber with the battle skills of a well-trained warrior.

The hot water seeped into his skin, filtered into the pores, soothing away the aches and pain. "God," he mumbled to no one in particular. "This feels so damn good." He sank deeper into the tub and leaned his head back against the rim.

With eyes closed against the rising steam, he conjured an image of Nottingham. He remembered the surging power in his aura. Wondered how it would feel to be laid open under all that strength and hard body. Turning it from violence into the lust of a passionate session between two males.

Nottingham was a combination of danger and vulnerability. He was beautiful. With probing, dark eyes that were both intimidating and attractive at the same time. Images of Nottingham sitting in the interrogation room, of him sitting on the bench in the stadium and of the time he stood in front of him before he executed his vengeance were spinning mentally in playback form. Jake unconsciously sought his cock. He began stroking it. Finding a rhythm to his liking and bringing himself off in climax.

Then the feeling of disgust pervaded on the realization of what he had done. Thinking of himself as a fool, he towel dried his wet body and crawled off to bed.

He hated Ian Nottingham and what his world represented. Men like him hid behind power and wealth and were beholden only to one. He was a trained killer and a skilled manipulator that prowled on the fringes of polite society. Imposing his will on others through coercion and intimidation.

One day, I'll get him Jake thought as he lay there in bed with his arm thrown over his eyes. Sara couldn't always protect him. He'll pay for what he did to me. For making me feel less than nothing.

***

The boys didn't know he was there hidden in the barn. He was so frightened he couldn't move. A couple of them had tied up the kid's hands making it impossible to escape. Deep fear was written across his beautiful face. He kept telling them to leave him alone. He hadn't done anything to them.

"You make me sick," one of the boys yelled at the kid and then kicked him in the stomach. "Your kind should be whipped out of town."

One boy said, "Let's strip him naked."

"Yeah, let's do it. He likes showing his ass to boys and men," another said.

There were four of them surrounding the kid. They were older teenagers, mean, and were known for being bullies.

They ripped off his clothing while the kid started crying and repeatedly asking them to stop. "Shut the fuck up," someone yelled.

Once the kid was stripped, all of his naked assets were displayed for all to see. Jake saw the beauty and how well made he was through his tears from his hiding place. He feared that if he made a sound, the bullies would hear, find him and torture him as well.

"Well look at that. For a faggot, he sure got a big one," one of the bullies snickered.

Someone had picked up a stick lying on the barn's floor. He used it to poke at the kid's groin. Suddenly, the kid was screaming at the top of his lungs.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Making sure he'll never use his dick for fucking."

They beat the kid on his legs, thighs and on his cock. Sometimes one of the other boys would kick him in the chest and in the stomach. They called him all sorts of despicable names like cocksucker and fag. The kid tried to curl up into a ball to protect his body to no avail. Two of the boys grabbed him by his ankles to hold his legs straight. The other one gripped his shoulders so he couldn't move.

"Hey, watch it!" one said when the stick accidentally hit him.

The noise in the barn rose to an inhuman level. Blood was seeping from the skin as the fiery stick flayed it opened. Jake thought he would be sick if he didn't get out of there.

Then someone got the bright idea and began punching the kid in the face. Jake heard a scream that tore into his soul. He wrapped his arms around his thin, frail legs and started rocking back and forth. Bile was rising in his throat. He fought with all of his little might to smother the fear.

They should've never come here. His friend and he didn't know they were being followed. Once they had realized it, Bran told him to run. But he couldn't leave him there by himself without help. As if.

The kid, Bran, had fainted from the harsh, terrible beating. One of the bullies got scared. He yelled, "Aw man, look at him. We got to get out of here."

"Do you think he's dead?"

"I don't know but we gotta go."

"What about that Jake? He saw us. Won't he tell?"

The one that did most of beating said, "Fuck no, the little cocksucker. You think he wants his parents to know he had been messing around with a faggot?"

They ran out of the barn. Jake stopped his rocking, looked out to make sure it was all clear before leaving his hiding place. He saw that his friend Bran was covered in blood. He crawled over to the body with an outpouring of tears covering his face. When he had reached Bran, he saw that he was covered with welts. The skin was broken with blood oozing from it. Bran's face was turning black and blue. When Jake touched his face, he noticed the nose didn't look right. Bran looked dead. With fear overwhelming him, Jake started screaming and screaming and screaming. "No, no, no! Oh God, he's dead." The bile he had kept down earlier came springing forth. Between throwing up his guts and looking at Bran, Jake continued to scream...

***

Jake woke up with abruptness. His eyes flew opened to a dark, piercing room and he couldn't see. His whole being was disoriented. His body felt coated with sweat. He thought he was still in the barn. And all he could see was Bran lying there covered in blood.

He tried to move his hands to cover his face. But he couldn't move. "What the hell!" he said in panic. Then his cop training kicked in. He calmed down enough to sense someone was in his bedroom, but it was too dark to tell who it was. "Who's there?" No response. "Come, on -- come, on. Who the fuck is there?"

"Hello, Mr. McCartey. I see that you had a nightmare. Was it bad?" the voice said. He knew that voice with its soft intonation and cultured voice.

"Ian? Ian Nottingham?

"Yes, Mr. McCartey. It's me."

"What's going on here? Untie me, now!"

Silence! There was no response or movement and the quiet was getting to Jake. He refused to say another word. Ian Nottingham was a master manipulator. He didn't want Nottingham knowing just how afraid he was at the moment.

His hands were tied to the headboard. The action didn't speak well. He wondered what the hell did the man want now. Wasn't the beating he gave him enough?

A light came on and flooded his bedroom with shadowy dimness. Right about now he could use a fluorescent light letting its brightness chase away the creepiness.

He turned his head lying on the bed. Nottingham sat quietly in a chair as if this was normal, dressed in his usual black clothing. The head was bent towards the floor. His hair was tied back into a ponytail. Strands of wavy, thick hair appeared to have escaped its confinement to gently hang down around Ian's face. One of his legs crossed the other while his hands were lying in his lap. He looked uncomfortable sitting in a straight-laced position, which gave him the appearance of bored gentility.

And, still no words. Jake couldn't stand it anymore. "What do you want, Nottingham? Don't you know you could be arrested for assaulting an officer of the law?"

Slowly Nottingham turned his head towards Jake without raising it to say in a low voice. "Sara saved you today."

"Yeah, so. I thanked her," Jake said with sarcasm.

"She doesn't understand yet all that has been given to her. In time she will."

"What the hell does that have to do with me, you freak. Get this rope off of me."

Ian finally lifted his head. He stood up slowly, and like a graceful, sleepy dragon stalked over to his prey. Looking down at Jake with eyes cloaked in iciness, he ran glove-covered fingers over the bruises. The ones he had put there earlier that day.

Jake couldn't remember experiencing the numbing fear that was overcoming his body. He couldn't defend himself. As much as he wanted to, he knew to yell for help would result in his untimely death.

"She will learn that the debt of honor must be complied with at all cost. Sara would be upset if I killed you. She may try to take me on."

The fear in Jake abated somewhat. Nottingham's words gave him some hope. Jake knew Nottingham's original goal was to cause his death. Lucky for him, Sara appeared in time to save him. But why was he here now, he asked himself. Without really thinking about it those very thoughts were verbalized.

Ian's fingers continued to roam Jake's face with surprising gentleness. Taking his time, raising his anxiety level. He placed his index finger against the side of Jake's face with his thumb on his chin. "Do you know who you are Jake McCartey?" The finger slipped down to touch the inside of his lower lip.

Jake felt the movement was a warning, to be careful of his reply, and to think about what kind of response to give to this powerful man. This Ian was different. He had never seen such softness in a man with his strength. His beard, moustache and that thick unruly hair seemed to hide away another person. But those penetrating eyes told Jake despite his strange aura; Ian could be cold and ruthless. His action said one thing but those eyes demanded the truth.

"I'm a police officer. Why wouldn't I know who I am?" Jake responded with stubbornness.

Ian brought his face closer to Jake's. The corner of his mouth curled up through his moustache into a sneer. "Ah... I see. Another lesson then."

This wasn't good news. Whatever calm Jake had managed to obtain sank considerably with the change in Ian's expression. He couldn't lie there and let this man beat him to death. Not without fighting, even if he didn't have a clue how to break loose from his bounds. Not that it could help much. Considering the first time he fought with Nottingham with accessible hands, legs and feet and still he lost. Had given it his best shot.

But Jake wasn't one for taking things lying down, so to speak. Scared senseless, he started shaking the bedpost, wriggling his hands within the confines of the rope. The rope was cutting into his skin. He could feel new abrasions against his already abused skin. So he tried leveraging his foot on the bed in such a way to throw the other leg backwards towards Nottingham's body. Jake did anything to make contact, to force his strength against his nemesis. To hurt or maim in anyway he could. Recognizing the leg contact didn't remotely harm Nottingham; he brought both of his legs together with a force and tried to swing them in an arc at his back.

Nottingham quickly turned around. Using martial arts, he leveled a blow at Jake's legs using a well-trained hand. Just as quickly, he faced Jake again and slapped his face several times in quick succession.

Godawful pain inflamed his skin, which sent colored stars to burst behind his eyelids. Jake squeezed closed his eyes not wanting to see the next blow. Tears formed from the force of the blows to slip out, rolling down his cheeks. His head felt like an implosion with a bomb going off inside. Everything hurt and he hadn't recovered yet from the earlier confrontation. God, what does he want from me, he wanted to howl.

He could feel Ian settling on the side of his bed next to him. The air stirred around him and he braced himself for another hit. Instead a finger landed on the side of his mouth. Jake felt the wetness there and he didn't know if it was blood or perhaps the tears that had escaped to flow down his cheeks. Sensing movement again, he forced himself to look willing to watch his demise. He saw his blood was covering Ian's glove. The man brought it to his lips, let his tongue loose and licked the essence that was forced from his mouth.

Chills ran through Jake. He knew more than ever he was dealing with a cruel person with a single-minded purpose. And the reason escaped him except that Nottingham had somehow learned about the White Bulls. Still the question is why he insisted on taking up this confrontation. Wasn't his first punishment enough?

Gasping from pain and concern Jake said, "I don't understand this."

Nottingham tilted his head and frowned. The sheet that had covered Jake was entangled around his body. Nottingham grabbed a corner of it, yanked it away and threw it to the floor. He stared at the body that was all but bare except for the briefs covering Jake's groin and buttocks. Nottingham took off his gloves and dropped them to the floor. Watching Jake's expression for a reaction, he freely let the now bared hand caress the skin, to brush it against his chest.

This response wasn't what Jake had expected, this touching of his body. And it became the reason for another type of fear. Increasing trepidation. The sense that Nottingham was changing his tactic to something he would've never imagined. No male had touched his body since he was an adolescent. And he didn't want this kind of attention.

"Don't touch me. Get away from me!" Jake said in increasing panic.

Ignoring him, Nottingham continued his exploration. Calmed, composed with his concentration directed to petting the body on the bed, he asked, "Do you understand honor?

"Yes." Jake responded immediately as he tried to move away from the roaming hand.

"I don't think so." Nottingham said in a low, almost crooning voice. "It would pain me deeply to hurt Sara because of you. I find myself conflicted with honoring my debt to protect her. Yet, I feel frustrated at not having the choice to destroy the thing wanting to harm her."

It was the first indication of why this man had interjected himself into Sara's life. Jake understood Ian Nottingham was around to protect her.

"Kenneth Irons thinks Sara's life is in jeopardy? Did he command you to protect her?"

Smiling, "My master keeps his own counsel. Tell me Jake, who do you work for?"

"New York Police department."

Nottingham grabbed one of his nipples, pressed his thumb and finger tightly together so that the pressure of the pain burst through Jake's body. "Wrong answer," he said with a sneer.

"No, please, Nottingham. No more. How many times must I say it?"

Letting out a sigh, Nottingham stood up and walked towards a jacket that was hung on a peg in Jake's bedroom. He fished through the pockets until he found what he was looking for. He was like a panther with knowing information on how to slay the enemy. The graceful body reached Jake at the bed, bent down with a feral smile on his face. His strong hand grabbed at Jake's cheeks, pressed tightly, to force open his mouth that Jake had automatically clamped together. Nottingham shoved the bullet with a force between the sides of his lips, and told him not to move.

Jake knew exactly what this meant. Nottingham had done this before, and he had his answer. The action was made clear and concise, and this time without interference from the outside. Jake was part of the corrupted cop organization called the White Bulls. He didn't think Nottingham knew who the leader was but his acceptance into the organization had uncovered an unlikely and unknown danger to himself -- Ian Nottingham's persistence on the behalf of Sara Pezzini. He would finish what he had started earlier that day. Jake prepared himself for the final blow.

Instead...

"One has many ways to obtain the same result. Punishment comes in all forms. I care for Sara and I don't want to hurt her. But her desire to help you will not keep me from achieving honor."

Oh, God he thought. What mumble, jumble crap is this he thought. Denial in the form of incoherent sounds was sprouting forth in the air surrounding the bullet. He couldn't say the words to defend himself. The bullet would fall inside his mouth and Jake was so afraid he would choke. He resumed his struggle. The pain all but forgotten as his will to survive took over.

Threatening him if he dislodged the bullet, Nottingham grabbed his coat to search for something as Jake continued to pull against the rope. He came back carrying gauze and tape. Jake forgot his order and spit the bullet out of his mouth. He started screaming again, rationality fleeing away in the face terror.

Excruciating pain exploded to burn every nerve in his face as Nottingham sent another blow to his face. He straddled Jake's body, his thighs placed at the sides of his head. He grabbed a section of Jake's hair in his hand, and yanked his head forward effectively shutting off the screaming. When he had thought Jake was under control, he let his head fall back onto the pillow.

"Quiet now."

Jake obeyed. What was the point of fighting in this position? Somewhere in his chaotic mind he remembered that Nottingham might not kill him. Didn't he say as much? For Sara. For Jake also had recognized the ironic part he was playing. Working for the FBI as an undercover agent brought punishment for an action he held no guilt. He would never hurt Sara that was not his intention. Nevertheless, here was this madman, sitting on his chest, causing him undue terror for the sake of honor. He was a man who lived and breathed assassinating people for his employer. Shouldn't Ian Nottingham be in his position? But all Jake could do for now was let it happen and hope he would come out of this okay.

***

He was searching the room. Looking for information to add to his profile on Jake McCartey. Ever observant, he had noticed that Jake had a nice apartment. The place was spacious and had a nice complement of furniture. It was too nice for someone on a rookie cop's salary.

As he opened the chest's drawers he thought about how McCartey held to his story. Ian had to admit the man was stubborn. He admired how Jake continued to struggle for freedom, even though his fight was useless. What bothered Ian was the knowledge that Jake wasn't the most qualified cop and others had more experience and therefore, should've been partnered with Sara. Even with Kenneth Irons carte blanche access to private and public databases, he couldn't unearth enough information about Jake to satisfy his uneasiness.

His master, Irons, would not be happy with this set of circumstances. Lately, he had taken his orders beyond what was necessary with his interference into Sara's life when he should’ve been watching her. Letting his admiration for her be shown to his master. He loved Irons in an odd sort of way. He was the only family he had ever known despite his connection to Sara. But his master's love was based on his obedience and loyalty. If he failed to return those emotions in such a way, he could be easily destroyed. He knew where he stood. Such a threat to his destruction was expected.

Oh Sara, he thought. You've opened a door to a possibility. Made him think his existence could be worthwhile, more than an instrument to be used. They were both warriors. Alike, despite what she thought, yet different.

At least she had the freedom to form her own opinions. The will to do what she thought was right. It was this attitude that prevented Irons from controlling her, from not being able to woo her to his side.

Ian couldn't help chuckling to himself. Irons' suave charms, usually so devastating to most women, slid off of Sara like water sliding off melted ice. Many people couldn't resist the idea of being associated with wealth and power. The point that Sara had refused Irons offer to be with him was refreshing. It made it seem as though she more than ever belonged with him. Together they would make a wonderful team.

Still searching through the crooks and crannies of the bedroom, Ian caught a glimpse of Jake lying unconscious on the bed. He saw a threat and competition for Sara’s attention -- and a beautiful male body. It was bruised, yes, but still a well made specimen of a man.

And his desire changed abruptly. The pale skin seemed to glow in the faded light. The long, stretched out limbs inviting him to touch, to test the strong muscles, to learn its strength. He had felt an attraction to this man before. Watched him from afar as he tried to carve his way into Sara's life.

There was something about him that didn't fit. The instinctive feelings weren't about his job but more of the essence of the man. He had caught Jake, when he thought no one was aware, looking at other men; appraising them with a wishful expression on his face. Sometimes when you're on the outside looking in, one sees things so clearly. Maybe.

He walked over to the bed and let his fingers touch Jake's foot. He stared at the structure of it, running his fingers gently down the sole, letting the skin form around the stroking. He wanted more and Jake couldn't stop him. His hands found themselves roaming up Jake's legs, kneading the muscles, glorying in the soft, pliant skin. Strong, shapely calves lightly furred with hair. Thighs exhibiting the time well spent in a gym. Ian thoroughly explored Jake's body as he became acquainted with its unique structure; wondering how would those legs feel wrapped around his waist. Ian surmised that Jake would use those long limbs to fight him back. They were his only weapons. The thought of the potential leg fight created a tight ball of excitement as he imagined overtaking Jake, dominating and bending him to his will.

There were bruises marking Jake's chest. Dark splotches here and there, something of a testament to Ian's power. Ian crawled up and began licking them. Soothing his marks of power branded on the sleeping man that made Jake his. To do what he willed even if his ownership was temporary just like abrasions on Jake’s skin that would soon disappear. No matter, Jake would always remember, he was certain of it.

Wanting to feel more, he removed Jake's briefs. Ran the flat of his palm across the flaccid cock and loose scrotum. He bent his head downward so the tip of his tongue could lap the crown hidden within the folds. Tasting the skin, and breathing in the scent of Jake, Ian Nottingham discovered the means for satisfying his needs.

***

Lovely sand. Gritty and dirty, it keeps catching between your toes -- prickly and comfortable. Water is spraying everywhere, drenching your half naked body. Screaming children, friends lounging around and laughing. You're drinking beers and telling stories of outrageous feats of surfing the great white waves.

You're happy, here, with your hair hanging down in freedom. Your skin darkens to a pale golden color, so carefree -- you're only worrying about one day at the time. You're the champion. It couldn't get better than that. Your past was hidden and rarely came to surface. Buried as deeply as the bottom of the widest ocean.

Riding the water with your chest thrust to the world showing them how to conquer the force of nature. Tidal waves are daring the human rider. Increasing its power of strength, natural forces transcending the limitation of the imposter. You're holding on because you're supposed to be the king. Throwing the challenge back at nature, and getting a little of your own back.

But nature claimed its forces back. Gathering in a twirling, foaming mass. Centering just right. Injecting the imposter from the bowels of its birth.

When you broke through, gasping and smiling from the exhilaration, a dark cloud came swooping down -- strange and mesmerizing for the appearance was unexpected. Wondering how can it be as you struggle to become one with nature, hanging onto your surfboard. As you tried to beat the waves back, stroking and kicking to land. The dark cloud swirled and moved in a sudden sweep as if to pluck you from your natural habitat. Then it transformed, eerily, into arms, legs, a head and body that stretched out as far as you could see. You looked left, right and in front, and the image was always the same. It was compelling, forcing you to see. And shocking once you realized what the cloud represented. Bran, a face from the past you thought you would never see again. He was there surrounding you, blocking your way back to reality -- large, black tears of foam dropping from his eyes into nothingness.

Then the image transmuted as it hung in suspension. On closer inspection, it was another head with large, dark, probing eyes, with wavy hair shocked into a medusa hairstyle. The mouth of the image opened with slowness, creepily transforming into a large round shape almost as big as the face. It rotated and floated, bouncing in the sky. It said, "Do you know who you really are."

***

Jake came crashing into consciousness as if the ocean had spit out his fouled soul. He was too tainted for its pureness. There were issues of unresolved doubts. Jake wanted to drown, to let go rather than face his inner struggles. But the ocean had other ideas. Underneath the crashing waves that created the mountainous foam of breathtaking beauty, there was calmness. One in which life was less ostentatious and sordid.

In the cosmos of the universe, one does not dictate their end. Not if the higher power deemed one's path as incomplete and chaotic. With absolute control from the surreal undertakings of the unknown, Jake was thrust back into his own peculiar reality.

Mentally confused and uncertain, he had uttered one word with clarity, "Bran."

***

"Oh..." he groaned.

Hands were stroking him. Massaging his skin, creating a pool of hot sensations. They were strong, those hands. Attracting him, making him want to reach out for what they could give him. Wondering thoughts, fleetingly floating crossed his mind - - how would it feel to be wrapped in those hands without a care for the world?

Not to be undone, other sensations arrived competing for his attention. Soft, wet impressions sending shivers straight to his groin. The blowing of a gentle, warm, breath was igniting sensual flavors. As if it answered a call from his inner most desire. Then cool sensations fettered over his scrotum. He felt a mouth taking him in, laving him with hot, nerve tingling desire as it bathed his tightening sac.

"Um..." he moaned as he shifted his body closer to the fire.

He could feel his cock harden as the sensations filled him with pulsating heat. The flat palm of a hand began a gentle stroke, fingers pressing in the right places. Kisses were placed on the base of his increasingly turgid hardness. He so wanted with hurried anticipation to feel that warm, wet cavern on his cock. Breathing unevenly as that mouth played him, teasing him, forcing him rock upward in the heat. Moaning when finally the tongue took pity and began laving him with its heated, wet touches. He was so hard now, his body was singing with pleasure. But nothing was more desired than when a hand grasped the base of his cock and the mouth encased his entire crown. Sucking him off. Squeezing him with those beautiful lips as the tongue wreaked havoc.

"Oh God!" he panted as his hips moved toward the source of this overpowering pleasure. He wanted inside that mouth as deep as he possibly could go. Pushing in and pulling out, teeth scraping lightly against him as sensation upon sensation tore through him.

Jake wondered, still caught in the throes of sleepiness, which one of his acquaintances had stayed over during the night. He could name only a few that gave good fellatio but not with this intensity. It was then his sleepy mind took notice. Felt the unusually large size hand.

Humping him.

Noticed the scrapping of hair against his balls, on his dick and against his inner thighs.

His body tensed as his thighs closed inward to throw off the intruder. Naturally he moved to push the person away when it hit him he was still held in restraints -- secured and captured.

"Nottingham!"

Jake, fighting his surrender to Ian, raised his legs to plant his feet firmly against the body below only to have them to seized by Nottingham and held within his grasp. He flipped Jake over onto his stomach and covered the full length of his body.

They were skin to skin for Nottingham had sometime earlier discarded his clothing. He pressed his knees into Jake's thighs to keep his still. Kissed the back of his neck and bit into his shoulders. Jake felt the hot, scorching skin. He felt Nottingham's arousal lying there between his legs.

Ian raised his head and whispered into his ear, "I like you better this way."

Refusing to acquiesce to the titillating pleasure, Jake tried to buck Nottingham off him. "Get off, you pervert."

"Why?" he said rather evilly. "Would you have me beat you, slap you around? Or perhaps you would rather go straight to hell."

He tried to appeal to Nottingham's sensibilities. Jake pleaded and begged for him to not do this. He knew without a doubt that Nottingham's new punishment was far more humiliating, which left him in despair. The possibility, the merest thought sent a sickening feeling to the pit of his stomach. He had walls so high that any attempt to scale them would render him unrecognizable.

But his pleas fell on deaf ears. Nottingham took pleasure in antagonizing him with kisses over his back. The continuous stroking on his arms and legs drove him to madness and fear. No matter how he tried to dislodge the body, it was hopeless. Nottingham had him at total disadvantage.

Instead, Nottingham chose to add more shame. "Who's Bran, Jake?" he asked in a threatening voice. "Was he your lover? Someone who had discarded you as worthless?"

Utterly shocked at his questions, he asked without thinking, "What do you know about Bran? You're not going to hurt him, are you?" This was too much for Jake. The night's activities were overwhelming him and he felt helpless and out of control. "Please, don't hurt him," he pleaded with Nottingham.

"Um," Nottingham responded as he bit into Jake's skin. "Don't worry. You're more than enough. But, Jake, you shouldn't deny yourself."

Jake didn't have the presence of mind to figure out what the man was talking about. He was more concerned with what he was doing to him. The bite on his back was painful yet pleasurable at the same time. He could no longer deny the sensations of being under this man’s body. Even though he was frightened out of his mind with speculations.

And Nottingham began his punishment. Showing him what it meant to be a captive. He worked Jake's whole body, breaking down his resistance and re-building him into desperate need. Every time Nottingham would nip his buttocks and press his tongue on the same spot to soothe the stinging pain, he wanted to explode.

Until...

He felt Nottingham probing his anus, and then fear took over. "No, I don't want this," he yelled. He tried to wriggle away. Nottingham gripped him by his hips as he felt something cool touch between the crevices of his buttocks. Not waiting for Jake to calm down, he quickly inserted a finger.

"Please... it hurts."

The pain felt enormous. He could feel something like cool lotion sliding inside of him. Nottingham leaning over him, added more pressure and then withdrew only to reverse the action. Knowing there was nothing he could do, Jake simply gathered his mind and tried to relax his muscles. Nottingham rained more kisses on his shoulders, sucked at his neck, which helped him divert his attention. The pain eased. And he took stock over the pleasing feelings that came as Nottingham prepared him.

Nottingham wrapped his arms around his chest to hold him. His arms had lost all feelings from being tied up. When the man settled over his body, he placed his hard cock at his entrance and pushed. He instinctively gathered his legs close to his body to eject Nottingham, unknowingly, giving him complete access in taking him.

With surprising gentleness, Ian moved slowly as he gradually sheathed himself. He heard Ian panting above him. He whispered to him to relax and stay calm. He brushed his hair, delving in to massage his scalp. His fingers seemed to flow everywhere. Stroking his thighs, caressing the space between his groin and thighs, the fingers casually hitting his balls.

Jake didn't know -- Ian's thrusting grazed over his prostate -- and Jake wanted to curl up with the bursting pleasure spreading quickly through him. He heard his voice rise into a keening sound. He moaned and panted as he open himself to Ian's pleasure. Ian wrapped his fingers around his rigid hardness, pumping him to his rhythm. Tingles of intense pleasure started at his toes, only to unfold all over his body. Jake felt the impending explosion. He came over Ian's hand. Releasing spurts of semen as his body clasped the beautiful instrument that gave him such an incredible climax.

He knew then what he had been missing; had been denying himself all those years. A piece of himself so natural, so intrinsic to his nature, he didn’t know how he had survived, happily all these years. Living only a half-life.

***

Softness and care were not the responses Jake had expected from Ian. Not from a man who didn’t hesitate to exude cruelty as a matter of priority. He was the last person Jake would have expected to uncover his hidden demons. Jake couldn't tell if Ian showed honest feelings, or was it just another type of manipulation?

The idea that he had succumbed to Ian without an ongoing fight brought him to the lowest point in his life. He wasn’t the type to give up so easily. His capitulation was heartbreaking and soul rendering. Jake lay on the bed with his body still tingling from the things Ian had done to him, and with tears seeping from his eyes and cleansing his soul. He hadn't shed this much water since Bran.

Ian was lying behind him. He had released him from his bonds. Ian massaged his arms and shoulders stirring up the circulation and bringing them back to life. Then wrapped Jake within his arms pulling him close to his chest. Jake trembled as he slowly accepted the warmth of Ian's attention.

Carding his fingers gently through Jake's hair he whispered, "Did I hurt you badly?"

To finally hear compassion after all Ian had taken him through was more than he could tolerate. This night, overwhelming in fear and passionate beyond comprehension was conflicting at best. Worse still, he wanted more, his body hungering as if it had been starved for a long time. No, he didn't hurt physically as much as he did from the mental duress.

Trying to come to terms with his warring indignation he managed to say, "No, you didn't hurt me too much." Could he tell him that his actions had opened a door he had wanted closed forever?

Ian got up from the bed. Before he walked out of the bedroom, he ran his hand gently down Jake's hipbone to his thigh. Jake turned onto his back with tears shimmering in his eyes and told him, "Don't."

Ian flinched. He immediately removed his hand. He looked upset, dejected and so innocent. Jake wanted to scream. What in the hell did you expect -- jubilation, roses, or thoughts of undying love? He sighed. There was nothing to give except the confusion of a man who had suppressed his nature for years only to have it come alive through force. It was not an experience he would have wished on anyone.

Jake covered his eyes with his arm to shut out the sight of Ian and to withdraw within his own world. He heard movement and because he was uncertain of Ian's reaction, he opened his eyes slightly to see Ian leave the room. Even through his despair he couldn't help noticing that Ian Nottingham was one fine looking man. Powerfully built and strong in every sense of the word. He obviously took great care of himself. And that ass! How would it feel to cover those nicely shaped mounds with his cock bearing down and simply lose himself in euphoria? Not that he was interested in penetrating Ian he had discovered. Stupid. He shouldn't be thinking this stuff. He should be wondering what's next.

There was more to the man though. A gentle and sweet lover he bet very few people got to witness. Jake looked in awe at his wrists covered in gauze and tape. During the time Ian had knocked him out with a pressure point, he had wrapped his wrists for protection. So the rope wouldn't cause any more damage to his skin. Violence and compassion. Enemy and lover. Damn!

"Jake, wake up."

He heard the voice. "Yeah?" he responded automatically. He must've fallen into a light sleep.

"Turn over, please."

Jake complied. At this point in the game, there was no point in resisting Ian's demands. So he turned over without being asked twice. Jake opened his eyes and saw Ian standing with a pail and a towel in his hands. "What is the pail for?"

He put the pail down as he sat on the side of the bed. He reached downward to retrieve a wet washcloth. Ian leaned over and began to wash Jake's chest.

"You don't have to do that."

"I want to. Be quiet now and let me do this."

Embarrassed, he submitted to Ian's wishes. He silently acknowledged the hot water was soothing to his skin. Ian's hand moved further downward and Jake tensed up. Ian purpose was giving comfort. He took particular care as he washed places Jake would've never given anyone access to.

When he was done, he scooted Jake further into the middle of the bed. As he lay down he gathered Jake into his arms and told him to get some rest. As if to ensure Jake wouldn't escape, Ian's strong arms pulled Jake tightly against his chest and spooned his body around him.

All Jake cared about was getting some rest. For the first time this night he actually relaxed knowing Ian probably would not harm him. He settled down, absorbed the strength that liked keeping him safe and fell into much needed sleep.

***

Resting in a safe, cuddling place, he smiled. We fell asleep after Bran introduced him to a wonderful blowjob. He thought he would come forever. His hard cock was spurting the essence of joy over and over again. He had told Bran to do it again. Bran laughed. Said that the young ones were so eager and greedy. So he jumped him and began to tickle him. Bran kept yelling and laughing telling him to stop or he would be punished. Jake then flung his little body onto Bran's kissing his chest, licking his nipples, knowing what drove Bran crazy in lust. Bran grabbed him. Enclosed him in his arms and squeezed tight, showing his love.

***

His face was held against a broad chest and large arms holding him lightly. Jake woke up feeling aroused and needy. His cock was half-hard and it was snug into the crevices of his partner's body. He automatically started to thrust. His lips searched and found their way to his partner's nipples. Sucking the buds and laving them with his tongue he absorbed the sweet spicy scent coming from his partner's masculine body. His fingers flowed over the body. For the first time he took the initiative. Of his own free will he sought to feel the indentations, the bumps, the hardness and the way the muscles dipped and curved. He reached further to run his hands freely over the firm buttocks. Slipping his fingers in between the crevice. Imagining how they looked after getting a glimpse of them last night.

To think he had refused to acknowledge this need. To be afraid of others and what they could do to him. Living in his sort of manmade hell.

He wiggled one leg between Ian's and stretched the other over his hips. He moved as closer into the source of the heat and musty skin, not leaving one inch of separation between them. Jake humped, slowly, letting the pleasure from the friction ease through him.

He felt Ian's hand plunge into his hair, pulling him even closer against his chest. Jake tensed and stopped his amorous actions. Uncertainty gathered with the question of whether Ian liked him taking the lead or that he wanted this.

Quickly Ian maneuvered Jake so that he was lying flat on his back. He pushed his legs open and settled onto his body. Comfortably matching up the right parts to Jake's delight. He took Jake's face in his hands, rubbed his thumbs against his cheeks. He started kissing Jake. Using his tongue to wet his lips, sucking them, tasting him, and probing for entrance. Jake relaxed and opened up as he responded to Ian's heated ministrations.

He was lost in that sweet inviting mouth as he sought to bury himself as deep as he could go. He took the offering. Exploring his essence as his tongue survey the inside of the enclave, secreting out its hidden places. Hot and beautiful. He flung his arms around Ian's neck and held on tight. Being covered by such a man generated warmth, over powering excitement, and strangely enough, contentment. Gorgeous thick, silky hair was in disarray, framing his beauty, calling him to touch. He couldn't help but satisfy the need to roam over Ian's face, smoothing his eyebrows with his fingers, pressing into the side of his face. Connecting with each other through skin and by touch. Drifting sensually as he felt his back being stroked. The slip downward to his well-honed mounds, parted as the touch lingered at his rosebud. The throbbing arousal seeking completion, wrapping his legs around Ian's calves to aid purchase so he could pulsate into his hard stomach. Ian pressing him into the mattress, stirring the array of passionate responses as he manipulated the sensuous dance they were undertaking. Rubbing his own cock against his hot, sweaty skin. Gasping in lust and wonder. Ian plunged his mouth over Jake's, absorbing his sounds of passion.

He looked into Jake's eyes as he pulled away brushing a finger across his swollen bottom lip. "Good morning, Jake."

Jake could barely catch his breath. He let his hands drift down to Ian's shoulders. Rubbed his neck, the fingers playing with the fringes of his hair. "Morning, he said with shyness.

Ian simply looked gorgeous and not nearly as evil. There was brightness in his clear, dark chocolate eyes that wasn’t there before. And there was a smile on his lips, freely given. Looking at him, admiring his unique beauty, Jake wished he could shave away the moustache and beard to see the whole face. But then he wouldn't be Ian, would he? Powerful, mysterious -- his warrior man.

The thought unnerved him -- His. Warrior. Man. In the spell of one night he went from being heterosexual to homosexual and claiming a man as his own. Let's not think about the initial reason why Ian Nottingham was here. The events from yesterday came crashing down on him and his arousal started to fade away.

Sensing a cooling of passions, Ian said, "In all good time, the mystery of life will reveal its purpose. My thirst has lessened."

Ian moved to lie back on the bed. Jake, not understanding where this conversation was going, didn't move. He was afraid Ian would reprise his goal. He would forget about all that had transpired between them, the passion and the sharing of oneself. The mere fact that he gave Ian everything including his virginity was a frightening thought when you considered the circumstances from his point of view. Jake was on the verge of admonishing himself for his stupidity when he felt Ian's arm encircled his shoulder to bring him close. Ian held him within his arms as his roaming hands gently calmed him.

"What's with the thirst comment?"

Chuckling softly, "I no longer want to taste revenge."

"Oh. And this means what..."

"Jake, Sara is important to me. I can't explain why so you'll have to trust me. But I no longer feel you mean to harm her."

"You and Sara. I sense something between you two but I can't figure what it is."

"Let's leave it at that. Sara is going through some personal issues. One day she'll understand the meanings. But now, Sara's life has changed drastically. Not in a way you can see."

Well, he could attest to that, he thought. Both he and Sara were always mysterious and talking in riddles. If he didn't know better, he would've thought they were brother and sister. Jake wanted to ask more questions about Sara. Ian's responses, though, lead him to believe that they wouldn't be answered with satisfaction. One thing for certain, Jake had never felt that Ian threatened Sara.

"What about me, Ian?" He felt foolish asking this question while being within the security of his arms. Jake needed to hear the words from Ian. To acknowledge where he stood.

Ian shifted around to look into Jake's eyes conveying the importance of his answer. "Don't ever presume I will not know what's happening in your life. I know about the White Bulls, Jake. I know what they are capable of."

Ian took his chin by with his fingers. Forcing Jake to meet his eyes. "You're stubborn. There are layers to you I haven't uncovered just yet. If something happens to Sara, Jake. Know this, you will be a dead man."

Jake grabbed his wrist. Ian's eyes shimmered with coldness before the look quickly disappeared. Shivering from the dangerous reaction, Jake kissed the palm of Ian's hand. "I'm protecting Sara. Never had any intention or desire to hurt her. I thought joining would be a way to help her. You know, keep an eye on things." He told how he felt, unflinchingly and with sureness, hoping that Ian could see into his soul for the truth. He didn’t dare say too much that would jeopardize his position and not wanting to overstep his authority with his true employer.

Ian continued to stare. Then suddenly he reached down, kissed Jake and hugged him close to him. v "Oh, man." Jake groaned as he moved.

"Where do you hurt?"

"Everywhere," Jake responded as he shifted around finding a comfortable spot on the hard contours of Ian's body.

"I think a hot shower is needed."

***

Jake stood with his hands braced against the shower wall as Ian washed his back. The flood of water drenching his hair, face and body felt damn good. He was reviving from his ordeal, almost exhilarated, as the water washed away the stench of earlier endeavors that had nothing to do with what was happening now. Jake reveled in Ian's magical hands. He seemed to know how to manipulate the muscles, to squeeze and pressed them in all the right places.

The front of his body had been thoroughly washed. Ian had fallen to his knees to kiss his stomach, his sides and hips, teasing Jake with his pleasurable touch. His mouth had latched onto his throbbing cock, sucking the pre-cum from the tip. Increasing his arousal as Ian laved his hardness like a sugary Popsicle. Jake fell into lust looking into Ian’s eyes glazed with passion. Immense desire glowing on his face, and his hands gravitated towards Ian’s hair, slipping along his face and finally touching his lips with gentleness while his mouth worked him as if he was born to do this. Just for him. When Jake felt the tingling in his spine, signaling his climax, he softly groaned. "Ian, Ian, I'm coming."

He was a cunning bastard. He gave his dick one more kiss, pulled away and said, "No, not yet." Jake unaccustomed to male sex and play, stood there shivering, struggling to bring his throbbing pleasure under controlled.

Quickly he found himself in a similar predicament, breathing in air, calming the fire spiraling from his toes to the pit of his stomach as Ian continued to administer to his wanton need. First the massage of his back muscles was heavenly and soothing. Then Ian started traveling downward and what was heavenly became torturous. Ian had eased his arousal. He pinched below the back of his crown on his throbbing cock shutting off his climax. Now he concentrated on his buttocks, washing, rubbing between the crevices, and circling his rosebud.

"Ian, you're driving me crazy. Don't leave me like this," he bemoaned.

He felt a hard body lying against his back as Ian surrounded him, placing his hands over Jake’s that were pressed against the shower wall, thrusting against him lightly. Leaning his head on Ian's arm to give him more room as he kissed his neck, scoring his shoulder with teeth. His lover's body was hot. The skin was scorching him from head to toe. He could feel Ian was just as affected by this loving.

"What do you want, Jake," Ian moaned into his ear while his hand roamed over his chest, making a slow descent downward to his groin and twirling the hairs there.

"You," Jake whispered with his eyes closed.

"How do you want it?"

He wanted to yell out he didn't fucking much care as long as he could come. Instead, he told Ian his most wanted desire, something new he had learned about himself. "I want you inside."

***

He was beautiful, his golden boy -- blonde, blue-eyed and so boyish looking. He was so different from him, light and dark, a merging of two halves. He wanted Jake's total acquiesce. Without manipulations. No dire threats to force him. He longed for Jake to give himself to him. To me, Ian. Not to Ian Nottingham, the fearful warrior.

How could he have let this boy get under his skin? Divert him from his original purpose? From taking a life, which would've satisfied his need for revenge, to wanting another type of capitulation. It had been so long this mutual sharing of bodies. This give and take of flowing passion without being aggressive, without tainting the exchange for what it could be with others; a business transaction. He sought the need to be accepted and to be loved freely.

His angelic boy in the disguise of a cop. He would've laughed aloud for the irony of the situation. Only now he was the one gasping and moaning as his lover discovered the various touches that excited him, yearning for him to continue and never stop.

He was learning rather quickly. Jake was between his legs, lapping the skin on his stomach. He was moving ever so slowly as he experienced a new lover, getting to know all of his secrets. Ian was hard, trying to control the impulse to throw Jake over and bury himself deep within his almost virginal, hot, tight sheath. He was sitting on the bed with his head thrown back against the headboard. His arms holding him up, his knees bent with his feet planted squarely on the bed as he pulsated his body back and forth.

He wanted Jake's mouth on him. Just a little. To tease him with that loveable sweetness - the thin lips stretching wide as they grasped the crown of his throbbing hardness. He wanted Jake to taste his bare essence. Lapping the pre-cum, getting to know Ian in the only way that made sense.

"Jake, come here," he commanded.

Jake looked up at him. Ian saw the spiky blonde hair standing up on ends. The lips were wet and swollen from their ministrations, and concern peppered those baby blue eyes. He reached down and wrapped his hands around Jake's head. Pulling him upward ever so lightly so he would understand it wasn’t fear he wanted to see in those eyes.

Jake straddled his legs, planting his buttocks on his cock. Holding him, Ian swooped in for a breath-taking kiss. Plundering his mouth, tongues meeting in searching the warm orifices. Ian’s hands were stroking Jake's back. The fingers were sliding downward to grasped hold of two strong mounds.

"Do you know what I want?"

Jake’s arms were hanging onto Ian's neck as he thrust his erection into Ian's hard belly. Ian felt a trail of pre-cum leaving wet sensations on his hot skin. "What," he responded nipping Ian's earlobe.

Ian grasped his face towards him and kissed the side of his mouth. "Your mouth, Jake. I want it on me. I want your tongue plundering the slit on my organ. I want you to taste me so that you will remember me, forever."

He heard Jake moaning. He was so damn passionate. He felt the shivering coming from the body in his arms. He pulled back Jake's head to lick his Adam's apple, and to brace his hands on his shoulders helping him to slide downward. Waiting with abated breath, for the first touch. Ian yelled out when he finally felt the warm wetness encasing his cock.

Jake was inexperienced with giving head, yes. Endearing, oh so much so, for his efforts in trying to please his lover. With a flexible body, agility his second nature, Ian moved over Jake. He couldn't wait or make Jake wait any longer.

Pumping lightly into Jake's mouth as he held his head so he wouldn't move. Jake wrapped his hand around Ian’s shaft and continued to suck as Ian positioned himself to move over his body. Ian found the lotion on the bed. He opened it and squeezed a liberal amount on Jake's buttocks. He could almost sense the cool feeling as he heard Jake's reaction.

Dipping a finger into the creamy mixture, he pressed a finger inward on his rosebud, opening him up. Sweat was pouring off Ian. His body was trembling from the control he had exerted that was fighting the encompassing sensations from Jake's attendance. The sounds coming from Jake were keening, sounding as if he was crying around his throbbing cock as he plunged his finger in deeper. Loosening him, readying Jake to receive him.

"Don't come Jake," he warned.

Ian pulled out from Jake's mouth. Sat back against the headboard. Reached down, pulled Jake up and placed a leg on each of his thighs while Jake struggled to fight back his climax. He knew Jake couldn't take much more. He was clutching his arms, his fingers digging deep leaving a painful ache from the strength he exuded to control himself.

"Ride me," he whispered.

Jake instinctively plastered himself against Ian. Braced his hands on Ian's shoulders. He rose as Ian helped him. Spreading the two full mounds as Jake grabbed his rigid shaft and placed it at his entrance. He pressed down as Ian held him.

"Oh God," he heard Jake moan. He watched him as he gradually sank downward to take him in until he was completely enclosed in the hot channel.

"Careful," he whispered into Jake's ear. He helped him achieve a pace. Rocking up into Jake as his body became accustomed to his thickness. Overwhelming sensations as the tight sheath sought to hold him, the hot walls grazing over sensitive nerves.

Seeing Jake as he took his pleasure was enlightening and beautiful. Seeing how the innocent expression alighted his face as he discovered, once again, the joy of being penetrated. His mouth was open. The lips were slack. His eyes shuttered and glazed as he rocked against Ian. Happy knowing he at last was coming to terms with his own nature. For Jake was a natural. He was a man's man. Strong, passionate and so giving. The fact that he gave his all to Ian was endearing and delightful.

And when he had sensed Jake's climax. He quickly shifted their bodies without losing the connection. Had him on his back with his legs braced on his arms. He rode Jake hard while Jake met his every thrust. The deeper he went, the more he felt Jake owning him. Replacing his life of servitude with compassion and togetherness. He would never forget what this man had given him. He hoped the memories would serve him for a long time.

He was lost, forever, in the deep soul of this unexpected source as they soared together in climax.

***

The shrilling sound from the telephone invaded Jake's sleep. Jake struggled sleepily to reach out and answer it.

"Yeah?"

"Hey, McCartey. It's me. Just checking in to see how the wuss is doing."

"Hey, Sara," he mumbled. "I'm doing fine."

"Sounds like you’re still asleep, you bum. Some people have all the fun."

Stretching out his tired limbs, he laughed, "Some people deserve rest more than others. Jealous?"

"Hell no. You seemed to be in a fine attitude."

"Oh yeah. I'm feeling real good."

"You're strange, rookie. Since you're doing okay, I'll talk to you later."

"Right, Pez. See ya later."

Jake hung up the phone. He turned around to see if Ian was still asleep. But the bed was empty on his side. Awake now, he sat up and touched the bed. The bed felt cool to his touch, which means Ian probably got up sometime earlier. He wondered where he was, perhaps the bathroom?

Jake got up, and groaned. He was feeling worn out, yet happy, and his limbs ached from unaccustomed strenuous exercise. It was a good feeling, though, pleasurable in all the right places.

He walked towards the bathroom hoping to find Ian. The sun was shining with startling bright rays into his apartment. Lit up the whole place feeding into the feelings of elation and happiness. It had been a while since he felt that way. Probably going to back to his teenaged years. Jake knew this was only the beginning. He had to work out his newfound freedom. Learn to merge his new personal self with the outside world. Certainly, he could adapt easily with Ian's help.

When he finally reached the bathroom, the door was open, indicating its emptiness. He then walked downstairs thinking Ian was there -- in the kitchen or perhaps the living room. He would have preferred to find him in his bed so he could have his way with him. Soreness in odd places wouldn't dare keep him from seeking pleasure he thought with a smirk.

Looking around, he noticed the entire place was quiet and there was not one sign of Ian. Anywhere. Not a note or something left behind. If he didn't know better and had proof, he would've thought he had imagined the entire events from last night and this morning.

But Ian was here and now he was gone. A deep sadness overtook him. He felt abandoned and desolated, bereft of hope and strength. He couldn't figure out why he would think there was more to this convoluted relationship. If that is what he wanted to name it. He was, after all, nothing more than a tool for revenge, used to demonstrate his place in the world. Not nearly powerful or important enough. He was simply an object to control.

Still he would move forward with his life because at least now he was able to address his past.

Lying back on the couch, the image of himself crept into this mind -- with his arms flung around Ian's neck and like the needy person he was, holding on as he rode a shared pleasure, losing himself within Ian's powerful frame.

But it would always be those clear, dark, brilliant eyes haunting him, seeing right through to what was real.

The End