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estepheiaTadaaaa, hot on the heels of yesterday's installment I give you porn, lotsa porn. Some kink. Have fun. (Expect the next chunk either later tonight or tomorrow - almost done now!!!)
TITLE: Dealing
PAIRING: Ethan/Lindsey
RATING: NC-17
WARNINGS: Slash - angst - porn-with-plot - daddy kink
SPOILERS: Set during Seeing Red, spoilers for AtS NFA.
SUMMARY: Ethan and Lindsey play a game of power and dominance
many thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sangpassionne who is a very patient friend. Without her pep-talks, betaing, and help this story would never have gotten this far. Um, and all remaining mistakes are mine because I changed stuff since she last read this.
Chapters 1-9 are here.
Part 10a, Part 10b
Part 10c - Mark
If you strive for the moon, maybe you'll get over the fence.
(James Wood, actor)
Things turned into a blur then. Shoes were chucked into different corners of the room. Two pairs of hands urgently worked buttons and zippers to unceremoniously shed all layers of clothing and peel off the cling film that covered Lindsey's tattoos.
Fully naked, they paused for a second or two, to catch their breath.
Rayne wore his nakedness with his usual unabashed confidence. The scars and tattoos gave him a mean appearance, reminiscent of a seasoned alley-cat. Not brutishly strong but resilient and ready to fight dirty. To Lindsey's surprise he turned out to be clean shaven, except for a small patch of well-trimmed curls. Although on second thought, Lindsey had always pegged the sorcerer to be utterly vain. Rayne's dick was neither dauntingly long nor disproportionately thick, but it had a pronounced curve. Definitely bent, Lindsey noted wryly.
And then all coherent thought fled his brain, because skilled fingers dragged across his chest, teasing skin that was still slick from Rayne's ointment, skin that had been sensitized to an unbearable degree by needles and magic paint.
When Rayne's nails grazed nipples that were hard like nuggets, Lindsey bit his lip, stifling a desperate groan that built up deep inside him. He had to stop Rayne somehow, or this would be over too soon. He knocked Rayne's hands aside.
"Get on the bed," he ordered harshly.
Rayne obeyed without comment. He climbed on the bed and knelt, hands resting on his thigh, his curved cock bobbing slightly with each rapid heartbeat. 'Anything you want, any way you want it,' his posture seemed to say. Condescension had finally given way to wanton need.
A moment later, Lindsey knelt behind him, but apparently not fast enough for the sorcerer.
"Oh, for the love of Janus," Rayne said hoarsely, "Fuck me already."
Lindsey had vaguely contemplated getting Rayne to suck him off, had pictured himself fucking the sorcerer's mouth, wondering if Rayne would gag or just take if Lindsey thrust deeply into his throat but not really caring either way; had fantasized about coming all over Rayne's face or in his mouth, about making him swallow, but he suddenly realized that he wanted to wring words and moans and groans from Rayne's lips.
One shove was enough to send Rayne down on all fours.
"Yeah, show me what you've got," Rayne spurred him on.
Lindsey was surprised – and inexplicably annoyed – to find Rayne already slick, but it certainly sped up matters. He spat into his hand and pumped his dick a few times, slicking himself with spit and pre-cum, and then, after only a minimum of preparation, he aligned his cock and pressed inside – none too gently. Rayne inhaled through gritted teeth, but then Lindsey felt him relax, surrendering to the relentless intrusion.
It was a ruthless fuck, fast and mean. One fist curled into the sorcerer's hair, pulling his head as far back as possible, Lindsey rode him like a cowboy breaking a bucking bronco: hard, forceful, and at a punishing pace. This was payback. For all the veiled insults, the innuendos, the wicked smiles, and the hoops he'd made Lindsey jump through. For the painful scrape of the tattoo needles and the gentle firmness of his touch. For being old and broken, and still a condescending prick, but mostly for being one of the hottest fucks Lindsey had ever had.
It didn't take long for Rayne to push back on Lindsey's cock, as though trying to set the pace. Too good, too much, too soon. Lindsey gave him a hard shove, causing him to tumble forward. Rayne landed face down on the mattress, with Lindsey still holding on. Pinning the older man down with his full weight, Lindsey resumed thrusting, his fingers still entwined in Rayne's hair. Underneath him, Rayne was squirming, panting and mewling into the pillow, but not in pain. A glutton for punishment, he arched into every thrust, as far as his passive position would let him, but he made no attempt to snake a hand underneath them to bring himself off. Instead, he was kneading the pillow, his knuckles white, grunting and choking out obscenities whenever Lindsey pulled him up by his hair to allow him to breathe. "Harder," Rayne croaked, and: "That all you've got?"
It was a heady experience. And it was over in record time.
With a strangled shout Lindsey froze, hips jerking uncontrollably as he was racked by an embarrassingly sudden climax that scorned years of experience and control. As he shot load after load, spilling himself into the lean, scarred body of a man he didn't even like, Lindsey felt as though his body was vainly trying to wring itself dry, down to the very last shuddering drop.
When the tremors finally subsided, and the metaphorical dust settled, Lindsey found himself draped over a hard and uneven bed of rubble. Only it was warm and sweat-damp, and moving very subtly, rising and falling with every intake of breath: Ethan Rayne – an easy lay, but not particularly comfortable as a mattress. At some point or other Lindsey must have let go of the sorcerer's hair, because his fingers were now resting heavily on the nape of Rayne's neck, curled into an approximation of a caress.
Lindsey shifted slightly, but was seized by another shudder, one that told him he was still half-hard, and buried to the hilt inside the sorcerer's body. And, God, it was fucking magic. Literally. Not just because Rayne's body was warm and tight and it fit Lindsey's cock like a glove, although there was that as well, but because of the subtle, intoxicating hum of genuine power buzzing through his veins. Power.
"As much as I like a good warm hug," Rayne muttered into the pillow, "some of us like to save the insincere display of undying affection until after they've gotten off."
Embarrassment sharpened into annoyance. Lindsey pushed himself off, even though that meant pulling out, when all he truly wanted was to plough even deeper. He rolled over, sat up, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Behind him, Rayne shifted and turned as well.
"Where do you think you're going?" the sorcerer asked, his tone friendly but stern. He gestured at his engorged cock that jutted eagerly from its nest of dark, neatly trimmed curls. Moisture gleamed at the tip. "I believe you're forgetting something."
"Feel free to beat off," Lindsey said, wrenching his eyes and thoughts away from the sight and standing up. "There's the remote."
"I always knew you for a selfish bastard," Rayne said mildly, his eyes glittering like polished onyx, "but I never pegged you for a coward. Until now."
That son-of-a-bitch! It was the oldest trick in the book. Older even than Rayne himself. Every lawyer knew that some words had power. Once uttered, they were prone to hang in the air like acrid smoke, clinging to everything they touched. They could be stricken from the record, but there was no erasing them from memory. It didn't matter that there were no witnesses. The fact that Lindsey had heard them was enough. There could be no backing down now.
"Nobody calls me that," Lindsey said, dangerously calm.
"Well now, what might you be afraid of? What's the worst that could happen? That I'll enthrall you with my magic wand?" Rayne chuckled, his voice sticky-sweet like a lure. "That you'll croon sweet I-love-yous into my ear? That you'll solemnly swear to be mine until the end of the world – which, incidentally, seems to be lurking just round the corner? Till death do us part, and beyond? Why thank you, I'm flattered."
"Yeah, that would be the day. You're not that good," Lindsey glared.
"Nobody is that good." Rayne graced him with an infuriating smile. "But if I strive for the moon, maybe I'll get a leg over."
Lindsey shook his head in exasperation. He'd had causal, meaningless sex before. No big deal, as natural as eating, drinking, or taking a leak. Lack of affection didn't bother him. On the contrary, it made things easier. Giving it up for Rayne should fall into the same category. Why not give his body what it was aching for? What was it about the old sorcerer that made Lindsey dig in his toes and refuse to budge? A healthy sense of self-preservation or simply a stubborn refusal to give Rayne the satisfaction of the kill? Lindsey was long past the point where he could tell the difference.
"How do you want me?" he asked brazenly, telling himself that he hadn't quite given in yet, that he was still negotiating.
Rayne reached into the bedside drawer, and pulled out a red cord. "Gift-wrapped," he said.
"You've got to be kidding," Lindsey said, inwardly cursing his slightly flagging cock for visibly perking up at the sight.
"What? Don't you trust me?" Rayne asked mockingly, running the silken cord through his hand like a slippery snake. "Or maybe you'd prefer these?" This time he held up a pair of handcuffs, jingling them in front of Lindsey like a bunch of keys.
Lindsey inhaled sharply. "No," he said, in answer to both questions. But when he followed Rayne's gaze south to his cock, it stood to full attention and a tiny pearl of moisture grew at the tip.
"Good. Trust is overrated anyway. It has a pesky tendency of sucking all the fun out of this sort of thing," Rayne said cheerfully. "Come on, take your pick."
"First tell me why I should."
"Because I'm a randy old bugger who likes to play games?” Rayne suggested.
“Not good enough.”
“Because turnabout is fair?"
Lindsey snorted. "I don't play fair, and neither do you."
Rayne didn't even try to refute that statement. He merely played with the rope, letting it slide across his wrists. "I'll give you another reason: You'll look ever so very pretty, straining against this," he said mischievously.
Lindsey was mesmerized, unable to tear his gaze away. He could almost feel the rope brush against his wrists, but obstinacy won. "Still not good enough."
Rayne smiled a wolf's grin, and ran a single finger over the swirly tattoo on Lindsey's chest. "Let me put it to you this way," he stated. "If you don't, I won't fuck you till you scream."
Obstinacy flew out the window. Lindsey swallowed. "Say pretty please," he choked out, clinging to the illusion of control and free will like a drowning man.
* * *
"Pretty please," Ethan said promptly. He'd have stood on one leg, barked like a dog and sang the bloody star-spangled banner, if Lindsey had asked him to.
Ethan knew a lot about tying knots. A minute later Lindsey lay on the bed, put on display like a sacrifice about to be carved up. He lay on his back, spread-eagled like before, but this time his wrists were crossed and tied up with the silken cord. The cord was fastened to the headboard of the bed, pulling Lindsey's arms above his head. If he wanted to, Lindsey could admire himself in the giant mirror that hung above the bed.
Ethan chuckled and went into the bathroom to get warm wet washcloths and fresh towels. Humming a happy tune, he gently washed Lindsey's crotch, eliciting stifled almost-sighs of pleasure as well as an impatient glare. 'Get on with it,' that arctic stare seemed to say.
"If you want me inside you, you'll have to ask for it," Ethan said matter-of-factly, lifting the other man's balls with one hand while easing the warm wet cloth between Lindsey's thighs.
"What?"
"Tell me what you want," Ethan said. "C'mon. Say it."
"You're kidding."
"I'm afraid not," he said, grinning like a hungry shark.
Lindsey glowered at him. "Do it. Fuck me already," he ground out, after a moment of hesitation.
"No, no, no," Ethan shook his head. "Speak after me: I want."
Lindsey tensed. "Quit your games, Rayne; just do it."
Ethan smiled and changed his position on the bed. But instead of slicking himself up and pushing inside, like Lindsey expected, he knelt beside him, dipped his fingers into the jar of ointment that still sat on the bedside table, and began to gently but firmly massage Lindsey's flesh. Only this time his oil-slick fingers strayed away from the tender tattoos, to tease and tweak Lindsey's nipples, hard nubs of want and, oh, so pert and pretty and responsive. Lindsey gasped, open-mouthed and jerked his hips, thrusting into thin air, growing increasingly desperate for friction.
Ethan relished the luscious feel of Lindsey's body beneath his fingers, firm and strong flesh, healthy and eager, every ripple of muscle and tendon a silent testament to the effect his touch and skill were having.
"I believe you've been a bad boy," Ethan said softly, testing the waters, as he dragged his fingers south in swirling, unpredictable patterns.
A slightly dazed "Huh?" was his reward.
Too soon, Ethan decided. Not enough cracks in Lindsey's armor. Yet. He tossed the washcloth aside. "Turn over."
The rope gave Lindsey enough freedom to awkwardly change position. Ethan stuffed a pillow underneath his pelvis, then paused to admire the supple, inviting curve of the lad's firm little tush. It practically screamed 'spank me' but Ethan had no intention of finding out just how much leeway the chip gave him. Kneeling behind his young apprentice, he nudged his thighs apart and kneaded those deliciously pale and unmarred cheeks, spreading Lindsey wide open, fully aware of the conflicting mix of nervousness and impatience he was causing.
The effect when -- instead of the expected tip of a hard cock -- Ethan's tongue met with Lindsey's heated flesh was rewarding. Caught completely off guard, Lindsey gasped and jerked in his bonds, but Ethan had expected this, and used his full strength to keep the straining body pinned and exposed. Ethan laughed inwardly, no stranger to the sensations he was causing. Right now, Lindsey was teetering between the impulse to frantically dry-hump the mattress, and the even stronger desire to keep still and let that wicked, inquisitive tongue do its thing.
Several licks later, Lindsey's gasps quickly melted into wanton moans, needy sounds that rose in pitch and urgency when the tip of Ethan's tongue probed his opening, pressing insistently against the tight, sensitive ring but not quite venturing inside. Too much and too little at the same time. It didn't take long and Lindsey was alternately cursing and sobbing.
Still trying to top from the bottom, Ethan noted, amused but not surprised. It would be interesting to see how long Lindsey could keep it up with Ethan's tongue deep inside his arse.
When Lindsey began to squirm and arch, seeking more friction for his trapped cock, Ethan flipped him over on his back and quickly grabbed the root of Lindsey's cock, forestalling a premature release.
For a second Lindsey teetered on the brink, but then he came down, still achingly hard and unsated. "Bastard," he choked out between clenched teeth, but Ethan noted a delectable expression of bliss in Lindsey's eyes, that came dangerously close to obliterating his customary glare.
Deeming his young apprentice well-prepared, Ethan pulled back and meticulously slicked himself up, before reaching down and carefully aligning his cock. Once in place, he began to subtly rock his hips – each shallow nudge almost insistent enough to breach. Almost. He smiled, watching burning need turn into utter desperation. "Come on, son. Say after me: 'I. Want. You.'" Ethan prompted softly, his face mere inches away from Lindsey's.
Muscles bulging, rippling underneath the black tattoos, Lindsey squirmed and writhed in his bonds, bucking and arching like a tame horse remembering the days when it was still unbroken. He shook his head, but the words broke free anyway: "I want."
"You," Ethan ground out.
Blue eyes blazed with fury and want. "You," Lindsey repeated and he did not look away.
"Inside me."
Lindsey did not answer. Pride and lust were clearly fighting for the lead.
Ethan's hand was still slick with lube. He wiped his hand on the sheet, then clasped the lad's throat – not tight enough to rob him of air, but firmly nonetheless. He watched the struggle play out on Lindsey's face with a mixture of glee and anxiety. Janus be thanked, lust won.
"Inside me," Lindsey rasped, bucking against him again, not to throw him off, but to impale himself, to exert that extra bit of pressure against Ethan's cock that meant the difference between in and out. Every one of his movements sent white-hot currents of desire through Ethan's body. But that was nothing compared to the overwhelming sense of reprieve he felt.
"Again," Ethan said, still evading Lindsey's demand.
"I want. You. Inside me." Lindsey repeated breathlessly.
With a sigh of intense relief, Ethan finally pressed inside, drinking in the way Lindsey's eyes widened and darkened. He paused briefly, to give Lindsey a moment to get used to his girth, but Lindsey wasn't having any of it, he canted and twisted his hips and strained upwards, practically screwing himself on Ethan's cock. Ethan felt his control slipping and he had to close his eyes and block out the wanton sight before him, lest he should spend himself too soon.
"Good boy," he said gently, when some semblance of control had been restored to him. He smiled his most benevolent smile. Lindsey's answer was a strangled gasp.
Ethan loosened his grip around Lindsey's throat to bury his fingers in his stubborn hair– with sufficient force to make his control felt, while still bordering on a caress. "Good boy," he repeated, relishing the surge of arousal the two words caused in the beautiful body he was fucking.
Every gasp he wrenched from Lindsey's mouth brought him closer to his own release. Ethan's ass was sore, but the feeling only added to his pleasure. For a fleeting moment, he wished Ripper were here to complete the sandwich like he used to, riding Ethan hard and practically ramming him into the body underneath him, as though Ethan's cock was an extension of his own.
Ethan shook his head, trying to push the memory away, but his body reacted in its own way, thrusting deeper and harder into Lindsey's tight channel. "Perfect," Ethan managed to choke out. And: "Come on, son, lift your legs, yeah, that's it."
Lindsey obeyed with a whimper.
"Pretty boy," Ethan murmured, hooking Lindsey's feet over his shoulders and bending him further until Lindsey's knees touched his chest. "So apt and so pretty."
It was a brilliant shag. Ethan knew without doubt that Janus was watching, was inside him, feeling what he was feeling, fucking Lindsey in tandem with him. Then Ethan found his rhythm and aim, and Lindsey began to babble as the last vestiges of pride and rage were fucked out of him. It was like a knot coming undone. The first time he called Ethan "daddy," Lindsey looked shocked, desperate to stuff the word right back where it belonged, into some dark, hidden recess of his mind, from whence it had come. Ethan just patted his cheek, said, "I got you, son, daddy's got you," and fucked him harder, hitting the right spot with every thrust, wringing more exclamations and babble out of the writhing man, calling him 'son' and 'my dear boy'
Lindsey came, without any stimulation to his own prick, from Ethan's cock – and words – alone. And maybe from Ethan's firm hand in his hair and the brush of his thumb that gently smoothed the ever-present frown off his brow.
Ethan wasn't far behind. As he felt the hard yet pliant body underneath him convulse and shudder in the throes of his release, he reached for the rope that held Lindsey's wrists. One pull and it came off, freeing the other man's arms.
Ethan thrust harder, faster, deeper, as though trying to meld with the slick, sweat-damp body underneath him, his heart hammering madly in his chest. He couldn't have held back now even if the hotel had caught fire or if he'd felt the universe crumble to dust around him. "Inside you," he murmured and caught Lindsey's open mouth with his, greedily lapping up his lover's moans and whimpers. Moments later he climaxed as well, spilling himself deeply into Lindsey's body. His last stray thought was that this was one glorious fuck, one of the best ever, and Ethan had a lot of good ones to compare it to, and there was a yanking sensation, a mixture of vertigo and rushing exhilaration usually associated with roller coasters, and Ethan was…
* * *
… twitching and convulsing around the hard cock that kept plowing inside him and he was looking up at a lean, scarred body that was still rocking and thrusting and trembling in the throes of an intense orgasm: Ethan Rayne looked up at Ethan Rayne.
Ethan did not hesitate. Even though his stolen body was still thrumming with pleasure he balled his new hand to a fist and struck. He had no qualms hitting someone who wore his face. The point was to knock Lindsey-in-Ethan's-body out cold before had a chance to catch on. Ethan's new arm moved as planned, but his new fingers had not yet curled into a fist by the time they connected with the other man's chin. Lindsey wasn't knocked out; instead he blinked once in confusion, before realization struck, faster than Ethan had thought possible. Features that looked slightly different than what Ethan was used to from the mirror, creased first into anger, then seething hatred: hands balled into fists.
Bugger! Ethan flexed his aching fingers. They resisted him, moving more slowly, as though stuck in glue. It seemed like Lindsey's transplanted hand objected to the change of tenants.
The two men stared at each other. Ironically, their bodies were still joined.
"Surprise," Ethan said, and smiled.
* * *
TBC
TITLE: Dealing
PAIRING: Ethan/Lindsey
RATING: NC-17
WARNINGS: Slash - angst - porn-with-plot - daddy kink
SPOILERS: Set during Seeing Red, spoilers for AtS NFA.
SUMMARY: Ethan and Lindsey play a game of power and dominance
many thanks to
sangpassionne who is a very patient friend. Without her pep-talks, betaing, and help this story would never have gotten this far. Um, and all remaining mistakes are mine because I changed stuff since she last read this.Chapters 1-9 are here.
Part 10a, Part 10b
Part 10c - Mark
If you strive for the moon, maybe you'll get over the fence.
(James Wood, actor)
Things turned into a blur then. Shoes were chucked into different corners of the room. Two pairs of hands urgently worked buttons and zippers to unceremoniously shed all layers of clothing and peel off the cling film that covered Lindsey's tattoos.
Fully naked, they paused for a second or two, to catch their breath.
Rayne wore his nakedness with his usual unabashed confidence. The scars and tattoos gave him a mean appearance, reminiscent of a seasoned alley-cat. Not brutishly strong but resilient and ready to fight dirty. To Lindsey's surprise he turned out to be clean shaven, except for a small patch of well-trimmed curls. Although on second thought, Lindsey had always pegged the sorcerer to be utterly vain. Rayne's dick was neither dauntingly long nor disproportionately thick, but it had a pronounced curve. Definitely bent, Lindsey noted wryly.
And then all coherent thought fled his brain, because skilled fingers dragged across his chest, teasing skin that was still slick from Rayne's ointment, skin that had been sensitized to an unbearable degree by needles and magic paint.
When Rayne's nails grazed nipples that were hard like nuggets, Lindsey bit his lip, stifling a desperate groan that built up deep inside him. He had to stop Rayne somehow, or this would be over too soon. He knocked Rayne's hands aside.
"Get on the bed," he ordered harshly.
Rayne obeyed without comment. He climbed on the bed and knelt, hands resting on his thigh, his curved cock bobbing slightly with each rapid heartbeat. 'Anything you want, any way you want it,' his posture seemed to say. Condescension had finally given way to wanton need.
A moment later, Lindsey knelt behind him, but apparently not fast enough for the sorcerer.
"Oh, for the love of Janus," Rayne said hoarsely, "Fuck me already."
Lindsey had vaguely contemplated getting Rayne to suck him off, had pictured himself fucking the sorcerer's mouth, wondering if Rayne would gag or just take if Lindsey thrust deeply into his throat but not really caring either way; had fantasized about coming all over Rayne's face or in his mouth, about making him swallow, but he suddenly realized that he wanted to wring words and moans and groans from Rayne's lips.
One shove was enough to send Rayne down on all fours.
"Yeah, show me what you've got," Rayne spurred him on.
Lindsey was surprised – and inexplicably annoyed – to find Rayne already slick, but it certainly sped up matters. He spat into his hand and pumped his dick a few times, slicking himself with spit and pre-cum, and then, after only a minimum of preparation, he aligned his cock and pressed inside – none too gently. Rayne inhaled through gritted teeth, but then Lindsey felt him relax, surrendering to the relentless intrusion.
It was a ruthless fuck, fast and mean. One fist curled into the sorcerer's hair, pulling his head as far back as possible, Lindsey rode him like a cowboy breaking a bucking bronco: hard, forceful, and at a punishing pace. This was payback. For all the veiled insults, the innuendos, the wicked smiles, and the hoops he'd made Lindsey jump through. For the painful scrape of the tattoo needles and the gentle firmness of his touch. For being old and broken, and still a condescending prick, but mostly for being one of the hottest fucks Lindsey had ever had.
It didn't take long for Rayne to push back on Lindsey's cock, as though trying to set the pace. Too good, too much, too soon. Lindsey gave him a hard shove, causing him to tumble forward. Rayne landed face down on the mattress, with Lindsey still holding on. Pinning the older man down with his full weight, Lindsey resumed thrusting, his fingers still entwined in Rayne's hair. Underneath him, Rayne was squirming, panting and mewling into the pillow, but not in pain. A glutton for punishment, he arched into every thrust, as far as his passive position would let him, but he made no attempt to snake a hand underneath them to bring himself off. Instead, he was kneading the pillow, his knuckles white, grunting and choking out obscenities whenever Lindsey pulled him up by his hair to allow him to breathe. "Harder," Rayne croaked, and: "That all you've got?"
It was a heady experience. And it was over in record time.
With a strangled shout Lindsey froze, hips jerking uncontrollably as he was racked by an embarrassingly sudden climax that scorned years of experience and control. As he shot load after load, spilling himself into the lean, scarred body of a man he didn't even like, Lindsey felt as though his body was vainly trying to wring itself dry, down to the very last shuddering drop.
When the tremors finally subsided, and the metaphorical dust settled, Lindsey found himself draped over a hard and uneven bed of rubble. Only it was warm and sweat-damp, and moving very subtly, rising and falling with every intake of breath: Ethan Rayne – an easy lay, but not particularly comfortable as a mattress. At some point or other Lindsey must have let go of the sorcerer's hair, because his fingers were now resting heavily on the nape of Rayne's neck, curled into an approximation of a caress.
Lindsey shifted slightly, but was seized by another shudder, one that told him he was still half-hard, and buried to the hilt inside the sorcerer's body. And, God, it was fucking magic. Literally. Not just because Rayne's body was warm and tight and it fit Lindsey's cock like a glove, although there was that as well, but because of the subtle, intoxicating hum of genuine power buzzing through his veins. Power.
"As much as I like a good warm hug," Rayne muttered into the pillow, "some of us like to save the insincere display of undying affection until after they've gotten off."
Embarrassment sharpened into annoyance. Lindsey pushed himself off, even though that meant pulling out, when all he truly wanted was to plough even deeper. He rolled over, sat up, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Behind him, Rayne shifted and turned as well.
"Where do you think you're going?" the sorcerer asked, his tone friendly but stern. He gestured at his engorged cock that jutted eagerly from its nest of dark, neatly trimmed curls. Moisture gleamed at the tip. "I believe you're forgetting something."
"Feel free to beat off," Lindsey said, wrenching his eyes and thoughts away from the sight and standing up. "There's the remote."
"I always knew you for a selfish bastard," Rayne said mildly, his eyes glittering like polished onyx, "but I never pegged you for a coward. Until now."
That son-of-a-bitch! It was the oldest trick in the book. Older even than Rayne himself. Every lawyer knew that some words had power. Once uttered, they were prone to hang in the air like acrid smoke, clinging to everything they touched. They could be stricken from the record, but there was no erasing them from memory. It didn't matter that there were no witnesses. The fact that Lindsey had heard them was enough. There could be no backing down now.
"Nobody calls me that," Lindsey said, dangerously calm.
"Well now, what might you be afraid of? What's the worst that could happen? That I'll enthrall you with my magic wand?" Rayne chuckled, his voice sticky-sweet like a lure. "That you'll croon sweet I-love-yous into my ear? That you'll solemnly swear to be mine until the end of the world – which, incidentally, seems to be lurking just round the corner? Till death do us part, and beyond? Why thank you, I'm flattered."
"Yeah, that would be the day. You're not that good," Lindsey glared.
"Nobody is that good." Rayne graced him with an infuriating smile. "But if I strive for the moon, maybe I'll get a leg over."
Lindsey shook his head in exasperation. He'd had causal, meaningless sex before. No big deal, as natural as eating, drinking, or taking a leak. Lack of affection didn't bother him. On the contrary, it made things easier. Giving it up for Rayne should fall into the same category. Why not give his body what it was aching for? What was it about the old sorcerer that made Lindsey dig in his toes and refuse to budge? A healthy sense of self-preservation or simply a stubborn refusal to give Rayne the satisfaction of the kill? Lindsey was long past the point where he could tell the difference.
"How do you want me?" he asked brazenly, telling himself that he hadn't quite given in yet, that he was still negotiating.
Rayne reached into the bedside drawer, and pulled out a red cord. "Gift-wrapped," he said.
"You've got to be kidding," Lindsey said, inwardly cursing his slightly flagging cock for visibly perking up at the sight.
"What? Don't you trust me?" Rayne asked mockingly, running the silken cord through his hand like a slippery snake. "Or maybe you'd prefer these?" This time he held up a pair of handcuffs, jingling them in front of Lindsey like a bunch of keys.
Lindsey inhaled sharply. "No," he said, in answer to both questions. But when he followed Rayne's gaze south to his cock, it stood to full attention and a tiny pearl of moisture grew at the tip.
"Good. Trust is overrated anyway. It has a pesky tendency of sucking all the fun out of this sort of thing," Rayne said cheerfully. "Come on, take your pick."
"First tell me why I should."
"Because I'm a randy old bugger who likes to play games?” Rayne suggested.
“Not good enough.”
“Because turnabout is fair?"
Lindsey snorted. "I don't play fair, and neither do you."
Rayne didn't even try to refute that statement. He merely played with the rope, letting it slide across his wrists. "I'll give you another reason: You'll look ever so very pretty, straining against this," he said mischievously.
Lindsey was mesmerized, unable to tear his gaze away. He could almost feel the rope brush against his wrists, but obstinacy won. "Still not good enough."
Rayne smiled a wolf's grin, and ran a single finger over the swirly tattoo on Lindsey's chest. "Let me put it to you this way," he stated. "If you don't, I won't fuck you till you scream."
Obstinacy flew out the window. Lindsey swallowed. "Say pretty please," he choked out, clinging to the illusion of control and free will like a drowning man.
* * *
"Pretty please," Ethan said promptly. He'd have stood on one leg, barked like a dog and sang the bloody star-spangled banner, if Lindsey had asked him to.
Ethan knew a lot about tying knots. A minute later Lindsey lay on the bed, put on display like a sacrifice about to be carved up. He lay on his back, spread-eagled like before, but this time his wrists were crossed and tied up with the silken cord. The cord was fastened to the headboard of the bed, pulling Lindsey's arms above his head. If he wanted to, Lindsey could admire himself in the giant mirror that hung above the bed.
Ethan chuckled and went into the bathroom to get warm wet washcloths and fresh towels. Humming a happy tune, he gently washed Lindsey's crotch, eliciting stifled almost-sighs of pleasure as well as an impatient glare. 'Get on with it,' that arctic stare seemed to say.
"If you want me inside you, you'll have to ask for it," Ethan said matter-of-factly, lifting the other man's balls with one hand while easing the warm wet cloth between Lindsey's thighs.
"What?"
"Tell me what you want," Ethan said. "C'mon. Say it."
"You're kidding."
"I'm afraid not," he said, grinning like a hungry shark.
Lindsey glowered at him. "Do it. Fuck me already," he ground out, after a moment of hesitation.
"No, no, no," Ethan shook his head. "Speak after me: I want."
Lindsey tensed. "Quit your games, Rayne; just do it."
Ethan smiled and changed his position on the bed. But instead of slicking himself up and pushing inside, like Lindsey expected, he knelt beside him, dipped his fingers into the jar of ointment that still sat on the bedside table, and began to gently but firmly massage Lindsey's flesh. Only this time his oil-slick fingers strayed away from the tender tattoos, to tease and tweak Lindsey's nipples, hard nubs of want and, oh, so pert and pretty and responsive. Lindsey gasped, open-mouthed and jerked his hips, thrusting into thin air, growing increasingly desperate for friction.
Ethan relished the luscious feel of Lindsey's body beneath his fingers, firm and strong flesh, healthy and eager, every ripple of muscle and tendon a silent testament to the effect his touch and skill were having.
"I believe you've been a bad boy," Ethan said softly, testing the waters, as he dragged his fingers south in swirling, unpredictable patterns.
A slightly dazed "Huh?" was his reward.
Too soon, Ethan decided. Not enough cracks in Lindsey's armor. Yet. He tossed the washcloth aside. "Turn over."
The rope gave Lindsey enough freedom to awkwardly change position. Ethan stuffed a pillow underneath his pelvis, then paused to admire the supple, inviting curve of the lad's firm little tush. It practically screamed 'spank me' but Ethan had no intention of finding out just how much leeway the chip gave him. Kneeling behind his young apprentice, he nudged his thighs apart and kneaded those deliciously pale and unmarred cheeks, spreading Lindsey wide open, fully aware of the conflicting mix of nervousness and impatience he was causing.
The effect when -- instead of the expected tip of a hard cock -- Ethan's tongue met with Lindsey's heated flesh was rewarding. Caught completely off guard, Lindsey gasped and jerked in his bonds, but Ethan had expected this, and used his full strength to keep the straining body pinned and exposed. Ethan laughed inwardly, no stranger to the sensations he was causing. Right now, Lindsey was teetering between the impulse to frantically dry-hump the mattress, and the even stronger desire to keep still and let that wicked, inquisitive tongue do its thing.
Several licks later, Lindsey's gasps quickly melted into wanton moans, needy sounds that rose in pitch and urgency when the tip of Ethan's tongue probed his opening, pressing insistently against the tight, sensitive ring but not quite venturing inside. Too much and too little at the same time. It didn't take long and Lindsey was alternately cursing and sobbing.
Still trying to top from the bottom, Ethan noted, amused but not surprised. It would be interesting to see how long Lindsey could keep it up with Ethan's tongue deep inside his arse.
When Lindsey began to squirm and arch, seeking more friction for his trapped cock, Ethan flipped him over on his back and quickly grabbed the root of Lindsey's cock, forestalling a premature release.
For a second Lindsey teetered on the brink, but then he came down, still achingly hard and unsated. "Bastard," he choked out between clenched teeth, but Ethan noted a delectable expression of bliss in Lindsey's eyes, that came dangerously close to obliterating his customary glare.
Deeming his young apprentice well-prepared, Ethan pulled back and meticulously slicked himself up, before reaching down and carefully aligning his cock. Once in place, he began to subtly rock his hips – each shallow nudge almost insistent enough to breach. Almost. He smiled, watching burning need turn into utter desperation. "Come on, son. Say after me: 'I. Want. You.'" Ethan prompted softly, his face mere inches away from Lindsey's.
Muscles bulging, rippling underneath the black tattoos, Lindsey squirmed and writhed in his bonds, bucking and arching like a tame horse remembering the days when it was still unbroken. He shook his head, but the words broke free anyway: "I want."
"You," Ethan ground out.
Blue eyes blazed with fury and want. "You," Lindsey repeated and he did not look away.
"Inside me."
Lindsey did not answer. Pride and lust were clearly fighting for the lead.
Ethan's hand was still slick with lube. He wiped his hand on the sheet, then clasped the lad's throat – not tight enough to rob him of air, but firmly nonetheless. He watched the struggle play out on Lindsey's face with a mixture of glee and anxiety. Janus be thanked, lust won.
"Inside me," Lindsey rasped, bucking against him again, not to throw him off, but to impale himself, to exert that extra bit of pressure against Ethan's cock that meant the difference between in and out. Every one of his movements sent white-hot currents of desire through Ethan's body. But that was nothing compared to the overwhelming sense of reprieve he felt.
"Again," Ethan said, still evading Lindsey's demand.
"I want. You. Inside me." Lindsey repeated breathlessly.
With a sigh of intense relief, Ethan finally pressed inside, drinking in the way Lindsey's eyes widened and darkened. He paused briefly, to give Lindsey a moment to get used to his girth, but Lindsey wasn't having any of it, he canted and twisted his hips and strained upwards, practically screwing himself on Ethan's cock. Ethan felt his control slipping and he had to close his eyes and block out the wanton sight before him, lest he should spend himself too soon.
"Good boy," he said gently, when some semblance of control had been restored to him. He smiled his most benevolent smile. Lindsey's answer was a strangled gasp.
Ethan loosened his grip around Lindsey's throat to bury his fingers in his stubborn hair– with sufficient force to make his control felt, while still bordering on a caress. "Good boy," he repeated, relishing the surge of arousal the two words caused in the beautiful body he was fucking.
Every gasp he wrenched from Lindsey's mouth brought him closer to his own release. Ethan's ass was sore, but the feeling only added to his pleasure. For a fleeting moment, he wished Ripper were here to complete the sandwich like he used to, riding Ethan hard and practically ramming him into the body underneath him, as though Ethan's cock was an extension of his own.
Ethan shook his head, trying to push the memory away, but his body reacted in its own way, thrusting deeper and harder into Lindsey's tight channel. "Perfect," Ethan managed to choke out. And: "Come on, son, lift your legs, yeah, that's it."
Lindsey obeyed with a whimper.
"Pretty boy," Ethan murmured, hooking Lindsey's feet over his shoulders and bending him further until Lindsey's knees touched his chest. "So apt and so pretty."
It was a brilliant shag. Ethan knew without doubt that Janus was watching, was inside him, feeling what he was feeling, fucking Lindsey in tandem with him. Then Ethan found his rhythm and aim, and Lindsey began to babble as the last vestiges of pride and rage were fucked out of him. It was like a knot coming undone. The first time he called Ethan "daddy," Lindsey looked shocked, desperate to stuff the word right back where it belonged, into some dark, hidden recess of his mind, from whence it had come. Ethan just patted his cheek, said, "I got you, son, daddy's got you," and fucked him harder, hitting the right spot with every thrust, wringing more exclamations and babble out of the writhing man, calling him 'son' and 'my dear boy'
Lindsey came, without any stimulation to his own prick, from Ethan's cock – and words – alone. And maybe from Ethan's firm hand in his hair and the brush of his thumb that gently smoothed the ever-present frown off his brow.
Ethan wasn't far behind. As he felt the hard yet pliant body underneath him convulse and shudder in the throes of his release, he reached for the rope that held Lindsey's wrists. One pull and it came off, freeing the other man's arms.
Ethan thrust harder, faster, deeper, as though trying to meld with the slick, sweat-damp body underneath him, his heart hammering madly in his chest. He couldn't have held back now even if the hotel had caught fire or if he'd felt the universe crumble to dust around him. "Inside you," he murmured and caught Lindsey's open mouth with his, greedily lapping up his lover's moans and whimpers. Moments later he climaxed as well, spilling himself deeply into Lindsey's body. His last stray thought was that this was one glorious fuck, one of the best ever, and Ethan had a lot of good ones to compare it to, and there was a yanking sensation, a mixture of vertigo and rushing exhilaration usually associated with roller coasters, and Ethan was…
* * *
… twitching and convulsing around the hard cock that kept plowing inside him and he was looking up at a lean, scarred body that was still rocking and thrusting and trembling in the throes of an intense orgasm: Ethan Rayne looked up at Ethan Rayne.
Ethan did not hesitate. Even though his stolen body was still thrumming with pleasure he balled his new hand to a fist and struck. He had no qualms hitting someone who wore his face. The point was to knock Lindsey-in-Ethan's-body out cold before had a chance to catch on. Ethan's new arm moved as planned, but his new fingers had not yet curled into a fist by the time they connected with the other man's chin. Lindsey wasn't knocked out; instead he blinked once in confusion, before realization struck, faster than Ethan had thought possible. Features that looked slightly different than what Ethan was used to from the mirror, creased first into anger, then seething hatred: hands balled into fists.
Bugger! Ethan flexed his aching fingers. They resisted him, moving more slowly, as though stuck in glue. It seemed like Lindsey's transplanted hand objected to the change of tenants.
The two men stared at each other. Ironically, their bodies were still joined.
"Surprise," Ethan said, and smiled.
* * *
TBC
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-01-10 05:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-10 07:05 pm (UTC)The body switch idea is what made me turn the stand-alone first version of this story into the long series that it is today. But boy, Lindsey really took some convincing. LOL.
I can't tell you how relieved I am that I finally managed to push past several road blocks....
no subject
Date: 2005-01-10 05:53 pm (UTC)That was so hot and the end! OMG!
I need more!
no subject
Date: 2005-01-10 07:37 pm (UTC)Glad you enjoyed it.
The next chapter and the epilogue are written. A few tiny tweaks here and there and they are ready to be posted. :-)
*bounce*
Finishing this is an enormous relief. This fic has been eating my brains for months as you full well know.
no subject
Date: 2005-01-10 07:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-10 08:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-10 11:46 pm (UTC)Julia, not feeling tempted to virtue at the moment, anyway
Thank you
Date: 2005-01-11 12:42 pm (UTC)Yes, Ethan can be dangerous, if necessary.
Glad you liked my little plot twist.
no subject
Date: 2005-01-10 11:55 pm (UTC)That was so cool!
no subject
Date: 2005-01-11 12:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-11 02:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-11 12:43 pm (UTC)Dealing
Date: 2005-01-11 11:05 pm (UTC)