Chains of Love

BLUE RUIN 3:

CHAINS OF LOVE

Katrina Strauss

www.loose-id.com

Warning This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id® e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

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Blue Ruin 3: Chains of Love Katrina Strauss This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Published by Loose Id LLC 1802 N Carson Street, Suite 212-2924 Carson City NV 89701-1215 www.loose-id.com

Copyright © September 2008 by Katrina Strauss All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.

ISBN 978-1-59632-764-1 Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader

Printed in the United States of America

Editor: Jana J. Hanson Cover Artist: Croco Designs

www.loose-id.com

Chapter One A low buzzing sound vibrated throughout the room. Reclined with his left arm behind his head, Blue peered at the ceiling through a dreamy haze. Inhale, exhale, he reminded himself, relaxing just like Derek had taught him, riding the waves of sensation as sharp stings of pain caused his endorphins to ebb and flow. Derek leaned close and spoke in Blue’s ear without touching him. “How does it feel?” Warm breath sent pleasant quivers through Blue’s limbs, as always. “It hurts a little.” Blue smiled at his master with a sidewise glance. “But I like it to hurt.” “That you do.” Derek smiled back. “You should know.” “All right, you two,” Quincy chimed in under his breath. “Don’t get all excited like you did last time. We have an audience, and I have a reputation to uphold.” On cue, a soft flash of light suffused the room, followed by the click of a camera shutter. Sadie moved closer with a crisp step of her heels and zoomed in on Blue’s right shoulder. “Wow, it looks better already,” she said. “It wasn’t that bad to start with,” Blue muttered in offense. “Yes, it was,” Derek and Quincy retorted in unison. “I like how you’ve woven in two more rosebuds,” Sadie continued. “The minute details are just amazing.” Quincy held the tattoo gun back and dabbed at Blue’s biceps with a square of inkstained cloth. He beamed up at his attractive guest. “Thanks. Though it will look better after I color it in.”

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Blue sensed a spark of chemistry between the photographer and the tattoo artist, a development he found rather curious. It wasn’t just that Quincy emitted a gay vibe, vague but present nonetheless. Sadie was ten years Quincy’s senior and, in her high heels, stood nearly a foot taller than him. In further contrast, her sleek, chic, all-black approach to alternative fashion was decidedly tamer than that of the diminutive body art technician with tricolored hair, multiple piercings, and heavily-tattooed flesh. Pondering their differences, Blue turned his attention back to Derek. Granted, he and his partner were eleven years apart in age, and Derek’s sense of style was subtler than Blue’s. Yet in public, they appeared to be what Derek called “coordinated,” while in private they complemented one another even more, particularly in bed. The Urban Weekly reporter who’d accompanied Sadie piped in from across the studio. “So, Blue,” he said, “tell me the story behind your bad tattoo.” Blue thought back, trying to calculate the exact time. “I got dared into it about two years ago at a party. This guy from geometry class had put together a homemade tattoo gun and needed someone to practice on. I sat on the toilet seat while he sat on the edge of the tub.” “Were you stoned?” the reporter joked. “No,” said Blue defensively. “I’ve never done drugs. Though the guy who gave me the tattoo had downed a few beers.” Quincy winced. “Might I add that this kind of shit gives us legitimate, licensed artists a bad name? I don’t drink on the job, my employees don’t drink on the job, and we refuse service to anyone who appears to have been drinking.” “Noted,” said the reporter with a disregarding tone. “So, Blue, how old were you when you received this tattoo?” “Um, sixteen? No, seventeen.” “How did your parents react?” “I managed to hide it from them for about three months,” Blue said with a laugh. “My mother came in my room to wake me up for school, and my shirt sleeve had pulled up in my sleep. My dad tried to get me to tell him who did it so he could press charges. He grounded me for six months and kept thinking I’d cave, but I refused to snitch. I skipped school one day and dyed my hair blue over at my friend’s house to match the rose. My dad finally gave up.” Blue wondered at how he could relay the past with a smile, perhaps even fondness, when at the time he’d been virtually imprisoned in his room for half a year of his life outside of school attendance. The reporter chuckled. “I take it this was when you stopped answering to ‘Shane’?”

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Puzzled, Blue started to ask how the reporter knew his real name. Then it dawned on him, he’d signed a model release form earlier. The sharp-eyed reporter must have caught a glance at the signature before Sadie had stashed the release in her camera bag. “Yeah,” Blue replied. “One of my friends gave me the nickname, and it stuck.” Now, Quincy was expanding the single rose into a triple bouquet, while touching up the color with a deeper shade of cobalt to match Blue’s shaggy, chin-length hair. He supposed he’d come full circle. “Sounds like you ran with a wild crowd,” the reporter continued. “Truancy, underage drinking at non-chaperoned parties, illegal tattoos, blue hair with a white streak --” “I was born with the streak,” Blue interjected, explaining his pale forelock for the countless time. “Lack of melanin.” “Interesting,” the reporter mumbled. “What about your current lifestyle? Do your parents approve of you being gay?” “They’re dealing,” Blue replied simply, not sure what this had to with a tattoo coverup. He looked at Derek in silent question. Derek’s eyes narrowed as he cast a glance toward Sadie. Blue flicked his gaze to the photographer to see her lips pursed, one eyebrow arched. The reporter’s line of questioning became apparent with his next query. “I couldn’t help but notice your last name on the photo release. Any relation to James McGowan?” Quincy snorted. Sadie fumbled with the camera. Blue opened his mouth, closed it, then fixed his eyes back on Derek’s. What do I say? Derek answered for him. “McGowan is a common surname,” he stated coolly, his gaze shifting from Blue back to Sadie. Blue looked once more to the photographer, the one person in the room besides his boyfriend who knew he was indeed the local District Attorney’s son. In turn, the frost-tinted blonde cast a glance over her shoulder at the reporter and laughed it off. “We’re here to do a story on body art, not trace the McGowan clan’s family tree.” “Right,” the reporter smiled wanly. “I was just cracking a joke. Obviously someone as cool as Blue here doesn’t share DNA with such a narrow-minded bigot.” He stood, stylus and electronic notepad in hand, and grabbed his laptop bag from the adjoining seat. “I’ve got enough down to accompany the photos. I’ll let you finish up here, Sadie.” “Sure thing,” she nodded, zooming back in on Blue’s biceps. “I’ll e-mail you the keepers, and we can narrow down from there.” The reporter left the shop with a tinkle of bells and strode briskly down the sidewalk. Quincy immediately turned off the gun and set it aside. “Okay, what the hell was that all about?” Ignoring the tattoo artist, Derek looked at Sadie. “I’d suggest you drop the story, but that would raise his suspicions. Is Blue’s face in any of those?”

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“A few,” Sadie replied, flipping through the camera’s LCD display, “though I’d already planned to crop them because of the upcoming trial. The focus is on the tattoo, not Blue.” “Trial?” Quincy asked. His curious expression gave way to wonder as understanding settled in his eyes. “Wait, I’ve been piercing and inking Jimmy McGowan’s boy?” He rolled his chair back and slapped his knee with a chuckle. “Well, if that don’t beat all. You know he tried to close down all the tattoo shops a couple of years back? Health department was cracking down on places left and right, but my shop came up clean.” “Um, yeah, that particular ‘moral crusade’ would be my fault,” Blue said in apology. He nodded down at his tattoo, the skin starting to flare an angry red around the fresh lines of ink. “I guess that explains why old Jimmy got a bug up his ass,” Quincy said, still chuckling and shaking his head. “Actually? Looking at you explains a lot, Blue.” He immediately sobered as Derek rose and glowered down at him. He held up his hands, palms turned out, the white flesh a sharp contrast to his colorful arms. “Hey, no worries. Tattoo artists are like shrinks, priests, and bartenders. Your boy’s secret is safe with me.” “It may not be so secret,” Derek groused, jaw tense, “if Sadie’s coworker figures out the connection, assuming there aren’t many nineteen-year-olds in town who were born with an albino patch and answer to ‘Shane McGowan’.” Exasperated, Blue finally piped up. “So what if my dad is forced to publicly acknowledge his freaky queer son? It would be about fucking time!” “You don’t get it,” Derek explained in his patronizing tone that grated Blue’s nerves. “If the wrong person discovers who you are, they’ll use you against your father. I don’t give a shit as to how Jim deals with the fallout, but I take issue with my boyfriend being used like a pawn in this city’s dirty politics.” Blue softened, realizing Derek had his best interests at heart, but he had an argument to make nonetheless. “It’s going to come out this summer anyway, after I testify against Zack.” “I know. But your father has some control over that. I’m sure he already has his PR strategy laid out.” “Whoa, wait a minute,” Quincy blurted, his gaze flicking back and forth between Derek and Blue. “You’re testifying at the upcoming Zackary Smith trial? Against ‘The Maple Street Killer’?” At Derek’s deepening scowl, he pursed his lips and retrieved the tattoo gun. “Okay, shutting the fuck up now. Let’s get back to work, Blue.” “I hate this,” Blue murmured. He flopped his head back against the tattoo chair and sulked at the ceiling. “I left that man’s house nearly a year ago, and I still have to answer for being his son. I just want to be myself and live my own life.” In truth, Blue had invoked the DA’s name here and there when it suited his purposes, but his father’s position was a trump card he played in only the most rare and dire of

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circumstances. He’d used it once against Derek even, when he’d been homeless and needed a place to stay. In retrospect Blue supposed that had been an underhanded tactic on his part, yet he didn’t regret that he’d landed his handsome master that way -- a master so loving and caring, he’d recently allowed Blue the pleasure of another man, the conditions being that they couldn’t actually fuck, and that Blue must return home to Derek afterward. Blue wondered how that other man was doing. He’d spoken with Cameron over the phone a few times since the mechanic had moved to a smaller town three hours away. Cameron would be back in a few months to testify against their former classmate as well, but Blue hoped they would have an opportunity to spend time together before summer arrived and the trial commenced. The instant he thought of seeing Cameron, he regretted it. With a flash of guilt, he looked back at Derek. The striking Korean-American with the shimmering auburn mane peered over Sadie’s shoulder, his intense emerald eyes studying the camera’s LCD screen. This was the man who, in taking Blue’s virginity, had introduced him to a world of sensual extremes, ones of dominance and submission, in equal parts pleasure and pain. In the process, they’d fallen in love. Then Cameron had abruptly reappeared in Blue’s life, and Blue had struggled with the realization that his love could extend to more than one person. He found it confusing to have feelings for two different men -- and amazing that he was allowed to have them both. So long as he adhered to the guidelines laid down by his master, Blue could have his cake and eat it too. Yet that was exactly why he felt guilty -- deep inside, he didn’t think he deserved either man. Though Derek and Cameron had agreed to share him, Blue knew they each would have preferred an exclusive relationship. On top of his internal conflict over his complicated love life, there was the upcoming trial Quincy had mentioned. Blue would once again be forced to face Zack, the former classmate turned cold-blooded killer, for whom he’d been the next intended victim. He was also anxiously waiting to hear if he and his best friend Jodi had been accepted into cosmetology school, a career decision over which he still suffered misgivings. To say he was stressed would be a sore understatement. With a sigh, Blue closed his eyes and zoned out to the hum of the tattoo gun, his arm numb and immune to the sting of the needle.

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Chapter Two Derek watched in the mirror and took in his partner’s pale, slender back and smooth, firm ass. He smiled as Blue tested the steaming bathwater with his toe. As expected, Blue hissed and pulled his foot away. “Why’d you run it so hot?” he asked with an accusatory snap. “The water’s fine,” Derek mumbled. “You’ll adjust to the temperature if you just step on in.” With another noticeable intake of breath, Blue eased into the oversized sunken tub. “Ouch,” he muttered. Derek caught him wincing as he propped his right arm on the polished travertine platform. The week-old tattoo was healing rather nicely and had lost its sunburned appearance, but then Derek had followed Quincy’s instructions to a tee and ensured Blue kept his arm properly moisturized. Though with healing came itching, as evidenced by the fading handprint where Blue had slapped the tattoo a minute earlier to ease the crawling sensation. Derek swirled the shaving brush against the round cake of shaving soap, handmade with avocado and tea tree oil. Canting his head to one side, he swirled and pumped the brush against his cheek, building the lather directly onto his face. Still looking in the mirror, his eyes met those of the younger man watching him intently. Blue’s cheeks flushed pink, and he diverted his gaze. “Are you watching me shave?” Derek asked, suppressing a smug grin. “Yeah,” Blue confessed, peering back at him. “For some reason I think it’s sexy.” “You shave too,” Derek muttered through set teeth as he tilted his head back and circled the brush around and under his chin. Inwardly, he was charmed, as he so often was by his adorable imp of a partner. It was one reason he let the brat get away with so damned much.

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With expert grace, he scratched the stainless steel safety razor down the stretched tendon of his throat, following the grain of his beard rather than going against it. “Yeah, I shave too, about once a week.” Blue laughed with a sheepish grin. “I still don’t see how you can use a safety razor without cutting yourself.” “It’s all in the angle of the blade,” Derek muttered, tapping the razor against the sink before moving to his Adam’s apple. “I’ve told you I’ll teach you how whenever you’re ready.” In truth, Derek understood Blue’s hesitance, which was why he still bought his partner the disposable cartridge blades. While he, himself, had grown skilled and confident in using the safety razor, he had yet to brave the vintage barber shop down the street where the elderly owner still wielded an old-fashioned straight blade on his trusting patrons. Blue shrugged. “Maybe one of these days, when I have something worth shaving. At least I don’t have to pay for electrolysis like some of you metrosexual types do now.” Derek opted not to tell Blue he’d considered that very procedure before discovering the lost art of “wet shaving.” His brat gave him enough shit. Preferences for a smooth and healthy complexion aside, Derek found a wet shave with a safety razor to be a satisfying experience. With a little help from Blue, the ritual would soon prove even more fulfilling. In fact, the sheer thought of what he had in store for his pet sent the blood rushing straight to Derek’s prick. As the dominant partner in their relationship, Derek had discovered the ultimate control lay in granting his feisty, blue-haired submissive a bit of freedom. The thought that Blue would always return home to him offered a greater sense of power than keeping Blue strictly to himself. Which was why, before Cameron Carter’s next visit, Derek fully intended to impress upon his pet which master he belonged to. He rinsed his face with warm water, followed by cold, then patted his cheeks dry with a hand towel. He washed the lather from the badger brush, revealing the fine silvertip bristles. He carefully discarded the blade he’d just used. With equal caution, he aligned a fresh blade and screwed the adjustment knob in place. He placed the soapstone, brush, razor, and a tube of shaving balm into one of two stacked ceramic bowls. The kit assembled, he carried his supplies to the tub. One by one, he laid out the contents of the top bowl in the corner nearest Blue. The bowl emptied, he separated it from the other, then dunked both vessels in the water to fill them before setting them side by side on the platform. “What are those for?” Blue asked, one eyebrow quirked in suspicion. Ignoring the question, Derek slipped out of his robe and stepped into the warm tub, his throbbing hard-on leading the way. As he remained standing, he nudged his way between Blue’s knees where they were slightly drawn up under the water. Now both of Blue’s eyebrows winged up at the erection sported directly in front of him.

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Derek’s task required a good, steady hand with no distractions, so best to attend to his own pleasure first. Besides, he’d get it up more slowly and take longer to come the second time, allowing him to better savor the moment when he fucked Blue’s tight little ass. Blue opened his mouth to speak again. Before his curious pet could further question his motives, Derek seized a fistful of cobalt strands and guided his cock between those lush, rounded lips. Blue emitted a muffled gasp as he took Derek’s length into his mouth. The water lapped at Derek’s buttocks as he thrust back and forth. He peered down at Blue through the strands of auburn hair that had loosed from his ponytail. Under his tutelage, Blue had gotten quite good at giving head, and he readily matched and met Derek’s quick-paced rhythm. While Derek normally preferred to take his time, the moment called for the rare quickie. Immediately surrendering all control, he succumbed to the pleasure of his partner’s skillful ministrations. Eyes closed, he tensed his thighs, locked his knees, and held steady as climax washed through him in one violent, heady wave. He heard Blue gasp in surprise at the premature orgasm, listened in triumph as his partner gulped down the load, drop by drop. Spent for the moment, he slid from the warmth of Blue’s mouth with a break of suction. “That was fast,” Blue observed. The afterglow of climax subsiding, Derek tugged his mouthy partner by the hair and pulled him to standing with a loud slosh of water. He drew Blue’s face to his, resisting the urge to kiss those lips where the girth of his cock had left them enticingly swollen and red. “Someone’s forgetting the rules,” Derek growled. With his other hand, he smacked his open palm across Blue’s wet rump. The crack of the slap echoed off the bathroom tiles. Blue uttered a sharp cry, one which quickly softened to a low moan. “What rules?” Blue asked breathlessly, wriggling his lower torso against Derek’s, the barest hint of a smirk curling the corner of one lip. He grazed one fingertip across Derek’s nipple, pebbling the flesh. A tiny shock of pleasure zinged through Derek, threatening to make him hard again. Ignoring his wayward desire, Derek slapped Blue’s ass harder. Blue cried out, the subsequent moan a little less quick to come than the previous one. Derek turned him around and nudged him between the shoulder blades. Bending forward, Blue caught himself and planted his palms against the tub’s platform. His ass protruded in the air just above the water’s surface. Derek reared his arm back and offered another firm smack against one damp buttock. He reveled in the sight of Blue’s muscles flinching, then easing as the imprint of his hand flared upon the pale flesh. “You damned well know the rules.” He smacked the opposite buttock, garnering the same reaction. “You are to address me as ‘Sir.’” Smack. “You are not to touch me without permission.” Smack.

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He paused, allowing his words to sink in as Blue’s ass flared an angry shade of crimson. With practiced patience, he watched and waited for Blue to relax -- then offered another slap for good measure. Blue tensed and glared back over his tattooed shoulder, his eyes brimming with tears but shining with mischief. “What was that one for?” he taunted, lip trembling, tone defiant. “Sir.” “For being a damned smartass.” Trusting Blue’s rump must be stinging as much as his hand now did, Derek offered one final smack, cupping his palm just so for a louder slap, making for less physical impact, but producing the proper psychological effect. Blue’s body shuddered, his yelp no longer of pleasure but protest. Derek knew he should resist making Blue’s punishment enjoyable in any fashion -- this particular spanking was meant for discipline, not pain play. But where was the fun in that for Derek? Caving to his own sadistic whims, he sucked two of his fingers into his mouth. Without warning, he plowed his saliva-coated fingers down the cleft of Blue’s buttocks and plunged both digits to the deepest knuckle. Blue hissed and bucked, the muscles of his inner walls rippling with spasm and then clenching Derek’s fingers tight. Rotating his wrist to an overhand position, Derek scissored and curled his fingers. Scraping the thin wall of muscle directly over the bulb of the prostate, he felt for the two spongy lobes and applied light pressure to the cleft between, knowing direct stimulation could make for both a pleasant and uncomfortable sensation at once. “Ouch !” Blue gasped, even as he wriggled his hips and arched his spine to accommodate more. He stilled, limbs quivering, ribs heaving in shallow gasps, as Derek intermittently flexed and crooked his fingers. Derek listened as Blue’s feathery gasps deepened to short, guttural groans. Slowing his strokes, deepening the pressure, he began to massage the sides of the prostate, avoiding the sensitive bundles of nerves in the center, until his lover’s throaty outbursts lengthened to a drawn-out purr. Reaching around with his free hand, Derek grasped Blue by the cock. He offered a quick squeeze and then held the shaft steady. “Watch,” he commanded in a low tone. Elbows braced, Blue raised his upper body by a few inches. Head hanging, he stared down his torso. In lieu of pumping Blue’s engorged shaft, Derek kept milking the prostate, continuing in this fashion until he felt Blue’s cum flow over his fingers with a slow, steady trickle rather than the usual violent burst. Blue’s shoulders heaved and then sagged. “What…the fuck are you doing…Sir?” he croaked.

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In silent answer, Derek kept up his deliberate massage, gradually easing Blue of his load, the hot fluid spilling from Blue’s slit one long, lingering wave at a time without the benefit of ejaculation. After roughly a minute, Blue’s cock went dry. Retrieving his hands, Derek rinsed both clean. Tugging Blue by the hair, Derek jerked the boy back to standing and then whirled him around. Blue stared up at him, his gray eyes wide, his expression incredulous and just a little awed. “How did you do that, Sir?” Derek’s lips twisted in a smug, wicked grin. “As you are fond of saying, I’ve got skills.” He pushed Blue back by the shoulders into a sitting position, his rump slapping against the damp travertine. “Spread your legs,” he instructed. Blue parted his thighs and stared down at his cock, the shaft still rigid, the crown swollen where it twitched and brushed his pierced, flat navel. “That’s not fair,” he sulked. “Life isn’t fair,” Derek countered. “Wider. Scoot your ass to the edge.” Taking the first ceramic bowl, warmed from the hot bathwater, he emptied it into the tub and then set it back down. He retrieved the brush, pinching the handle between thumb and forefinger, and briskly circled the bristles against the soapstone, absorbing just enough substance to coat the tips. Transferring the brush to the warmed bowl, he started the lather. Knowing the basis of a thick, creamy lather lay in the brush itself, not the soap, Derek alternated between stirring briskly and pumping the bristles against the ceramic. Gradually, he whipped the frothy bubbles into a smooth, fluffy cream that filled the bowl. “Do you trust me?” Derek asked Blue. Blue licked his lips. “Yeah.” At Derek’s glare, he corrected himself. “Yes, Sir.” Blue closed his eyes and angled his head back. He swallowed with an audible click, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Derek stifled a chuckle. As much of a challenge as his brat could be, sometimes Blue made it all too easy. He dipped his fingers in the cream. With a ripple of water, he went to stand between Blue’s legs. He started at the crease of Blue’s left inner thigh. Blue’s eyes flew open. He stared down, then back up again. “Whoa, wait! Are you doing what I think you’re doing?” Derek glared down at him. Blue pursed his lips, then started over, his tone meeker and milder. “Permission to speak freely, Sir.” “Granted,” Derek said patiently, resuming his lathering motions. “I tried this once, a few years ago, and --” Blue uttered a tiny gasp as Derek soaped him under the balls. “Oh?” Derek asked, concealing his amusement. “Why?”

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Blue’s cheeks flared crimson. “I was bored.” Derek fought away the unbidden, highly taboo image of a curious adolescent Blue, lathering himself up in the bath and then -He cleared his throat as he felt his own face go ruddy. “Let me guess. Razor burn.” “Yeah…yes, Sir,” Blue verified. “And then after the hair started growing out, it itched like a --” He hissed as Derek worked the lather around the root of his cock. “It itched like a mofo,” he breathed out. Derek speculated further as he gathered another dollop of lather and worked it toward Blue’s right. “You probably used one of your cheap disposable razors with a cheap can of gel and then shaved against the grain.” Blue responded with a deepening blush of the cheeks and a sheepish duck of the head. Derek’s theory confirmed, he grasped the shaft of his partner’s cock and pressed it downward at a right angle from the pubis. Blue groaned and flinched in response, but remained subdued as Derek lathered the coarse nest of pubic curls. The hair “down there” was the same shade of dark blond that showed at Blue’s scalp between dye jobs, save for the pure white strip that, in Derek’s eyes, marked the boy as something special. Resisting the urge to reach out and thread that very strip of hair through his fingers, Derek reminded himself not to get sentimental, lest he get soft and forget his strategy for the next few days. Satisfied that he’d properly primed Blue for the day’s task, he set the bowl of remaining lather aside. Razor in hand, he turned the dial at the end of the knurl-textured handle and set the blade to allow for the second closest shave. While the individual hairs of Blue’s pubes were coarse, the overall pelt bore a fine, silken texture that would prove easy to work with. Derek knelt with a ripple of water, bringing himself eye level with Blue’s groin. To his approval, he detected the strained tendons of Blue’s thighs as the boy subtly spread his legs wider, affording Derek a fuller view and easier access to the perineum. Though there’d been time for the blood to recede from the veins of Blue’s prick, the shaft twitched and jutted proudly from the creamy white lather, indicating the renewal of his arousal from Derek’s attentions. Returning to Blue’s left, Derek expertly traced the crease between the thigh and pubis, barely grazing the skin with short, slow, downward strokes that slightly overlapped. As he moved inward, the blade nicked through Blue’s curls with a light scratching sound. He swirled the razor in the second bowl of water and tapped it clean on the side of the tub. Blue could attend to the mess later with a simple wad of toilet paper. Taking Blue by the shaft once more, Derek couldn’t help but offer a teasing squeeze of the glans and a rub of the thumb across the slit. A strangled groan caught in Blue’s throat as his stomach sucked in, but he remained still and quiet otherwise. Derek went to work on the thickest patch of hair directly above the root of Blue’s prick.

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He remained focused, doing his damnedest to ignore the throbbing weight cupped in the palm of his hand, his own arousal stirred in response. Minutes later, he’d reduced the nest of curls to a fine layer of stubble. Now came the delicate part. He peered up to see Blue biting his lower lip and watching the process intently. His eyes nervous, but his manner docile and trusting, it made Derek’s heart ache all over again that he’d been granted the privilege -- the authority -- of doing what he pleased with this beautiful young man. Yet with authority came responsibility, and currently he was more responsible for Blue’s safety than anything. He breathed in slowly, exhaled softly, keeping his hand steady lest Blue detected his hesitance. With his left thumb and index finger forked in a vee, he stretched Blue’s ball sac up. Now he shaved the perineum in careful upward strokes until the sensitive flesh, which had already been fairly smooth, lay free of lather. With each movement, he heard Blue softly suck in a breath. His task nearly complete, Derek kept his hold on Blue as he set the razor aside. Cupping his free hand, he splashed water against the base of Blue’s scrotum until the soap was thoroughly rinsed. Unable to resist tormenting his partner further, Derek leaned his head forward. With a deft flick of the tongue, he teased Blue’s taint, the delicates spot directly beneath the testes, eliciting staccato gasps. He slid his hand up, followed by his mouth, nibbling with his lips up the curved underside of Blue’s shaft. Reaching the glans, he gently suckled the precum from Blue’s slit. Removing his mouth, he gave a squeeze with his fingers, then pulled the shaft perpendicular as he’d done earlier. Blue bucked and groaned in protest. Derek rinsed away the soap residue and reached once more for the bowl. He scooped up more lather and applied it above Blue’s cock to the scant layer of stubble. Razor in hand again, he now shaved against the grain. A minute later, satisfied that he’d done a thorough job, Derek stood straight, his erection bobbing above the surface of the water. He reached for the faucet and turned on the water. Thumbing on the detachable showerhead, he stood a few feet back and aimed between Blue’s thighs. Eyes shut, ribs heaving in shallow gasps, Blue leaned his shoulders back against the wall and curled his lower torso to rest on his tailbone, exposing the pink, puckered hole of his anus. Obviously, he enjoyed the sensation of the warm water jetting against him. Derek indulged the boy a minute, focusing once more on the taint. “Stroke yourself,” Derek commanded, modulating his voice to cover the strain of his rising lust. “Use what’s left of the shaving cream.” Blue readily complied. Stretching his left arm over himself, he dipped his dominant hand in the bowl and swiped the remainder of the cream. Curling his fist at the base of his cock, he began pumping, nice and slow, the slick friction of his palm sliding up and down his

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shaft and producing a soft sound of suction. Derek watched, mesmerized, as Blue cautiously lifted his right leg and planted his foot on the ledge of the tub. Sliding his right hand under his ass cheek, he gripped the ledge for additional support. His knuckles whitening, he followed suit with his left leg. Derek’s breath hitched as he took in the wanton display before him. He had fully intended to stand back and watch his partner reach climax before surprising him with a cold blast of water. After all, a good shave required a warm rinse, followed by cold one…and a good Dom exercised as much control over his own libido as he did that of his submissive. In a moment of sheer weakness, Derek decided he didn’t give a shit. Overpowered by the ache in his loins, he dropped the showerhead, leaving it to run where it sank to the floor of the tub. He moved quickly, knowing Blue’s tensed muscles and lengthening moans indicated his nearing release. He wrapped his hand around Blue’s, helping to work the shaft, and coated his palm with the shaving cream that squeezed between Blue’s fingers. Yes, another benefit to using all-natural toiletry products in lieu of cheap drugstore brands -- the glycerin and avocado oil would perfectly suit his purpose. His own cock properly slicked, he hooked Blue under the knees and pushed them back to the wall. Positioning his prick, he sank into the tight heat of Blue’s passage. Derek’s groan blended with Blue’s mewls as a wave of water splashed around them. As he pulled out, Blue’s upper body dropped, and his ass threatened to slip from the damp ledge. Derek plunged back into him with a hard slap of bunched thighs against firm buttocks, causing Blue’s shoulders to slide back up the smooth tiles of the wall. Water spilled over the platform to the floor. Uncaring, Derek continued pounding into Blue, hard and fast and furious, while Blue’s hand flew rapidly to meet the pace. Seeking to regain control of the situation, Derek huffed through gritted teeth between thrusts. “Who…does this ass…belong to?” “You,” Blue moaned, eyes shut tight. “And who…do you…belong to?” “You! You !” Blue cried out, his declaration echoing through the room. As the muscles of Blue’s passage rippled and grasped tight, Derek braced his legs and plummeted over the edge with him. Bracing his legs against the tub, he stood rigid. Head thrown back, he surrendered to ecstasy even as he held himself and his partner steady, his tensed limbs quivering from the last tremors of orgasm. Extracting himself before the water grew cold, Derek turned off the faucet before he flooded the bathroom and inconvenienced his downstairs neighbor. He led Blue from the tub, then wrapped the boy in a towel and held him close. Blue peered up at him, eyes glazed and face flushed in sexual afterglow. “I love you,” he murmured with the freshly-fucked drawl that Derek always thrilled in hearing. Derek smiled and offered a gentle tug against Blue’s scalp. “‘I love you’ what?”

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“I love you…a lot?” Blue grinned with a lazy, coy smile. “I mean, Sir. I love you, Sir.” “Brat,” Derek declared with affection before swooping down and sucking Blue’s lower lip into his mouth. “Let’s get you dried off and into bed.” “Bed?” Blue asked with a teasing lilt. “We’re going to sleep already?” The towel slipped down Blue’s shoulder, exposing his tattoo. Derek marked the flesh above the roses with a teasing nip of the teeth. “Trust me. You won’t be sleeping for a while.”

But then, neither will I, Derek thought, his face spreading with a grin of wicked anticipation.

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Chapter Three Blue knelt upright on the mattress, wrists bound at the small of his back, legs splayed where his ankles had been bound to the bedrails. Derek laid down the rules as he applied the herbal aftershave balm to Blue’s groin, his fingertips gliding with ease over the contours of smooth, hairless flesh. “I’m between contracts until Monday, so I’ve turned off both our phones.” Blue gasped and hissed softly through his teeth, struggling to keep still as Derek had commanded him to do a few minutes before. “But Jodi --” Ah, yes, Jodi -- Blue’s quirky best friend. Derek had already taken her into consideration as he’d grown fond of the girl himself. “I’ve informed Miss Jodi-chan that you’ll be occupied the rest of the week. I think she’s hoping we’ll make her a videotape.” “But the cosmetology school --” More gasps, a quiet groan. Derek closed the bottle of balm and set it on the nightstand, the scents of aloe and rosemary lingering in the air. “Jodi says it will be another week before she hears back about the financial aid.” “But --” “Shut up.” Derek swiftly pulled the ball gag in place, ignoring Blue’s muffled protests. “Your parents think I’m taking you out of town. Your father says no one needs to touch base with you on the trial for the time being.” Derek suspected another certain name had been next on Blue’s roll call. Though in regard to that certain name, Derek had spoken with Cameron the day before too. The tone of the conversation had proved tense, as Derek didn’t doubt for a second that the mechanic still entertained notions of stealing Blue. However, they’d remained focused on their mutual interest in Blue’s welfare. They’d discussed the potential ramifications of Blue’s upcoming

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court appearance, as well as a certain project in the works. But there was no need to concern Blue with the details. As he snapped the leather strap in place at the nape of Blue’s neck, it dawned on Derek how stressed his lover must be. He saw what had been intended as an exercise in discipline could equally serve to take Blue’s mind off his worries. And really, that was Derek’s primary concern above all else -- his partner’s happiness. Still, he’d have to remember not to spoil Blue too much over the next few days. It was time, once again, to get his brat in line. “Chin on the pillow,” he instructed. He stood back a moment, arms crossed over his bathrobe, and indulged in the luscious sight of Blue’s ass. Mine, he thought, the one part of Blue no one else was permitted to have, no matter how else they might touch and pleasure the boy. Turning, Derek knelt down and opened the vintage black leather travel trunk recently purchased from an Internet auction site. With a rattle of chains and a squeak of silicon, he sifted through the growing assortment of toys, some freshly sanitized after being broken in, others shiny and new in their blister packs and begging to be made creative use of. It was a damned shame, sometimes, that he and Blue didn’t have a basement with the proper “equipment” at their disposal, but Derek had learned to make do. His selection made, Derek returned to the bed. Without warning, he slid one finger into his partner’s exposed passage. Blue grunted and squirmed. As he did, Derek dangled the silicon anal beads in front of Blue’s face, the strand longer and the graduated sizes a gauge bigger than the one he’d just retired. “You think you can take all of these?” Derek asked in part threat, part challenge. Blue’s eyes widened. His muscles twitched around Derek’s finger in response. Derek slid in a second digit for good measure. Blue moaned, and his thighs quivered. It was clear from his body’s response that the boy was intrigued by the possibility of testing new limits. Confirming that Blue was still adequately lubricated from their bathtub encounter, Derek replaced his finger with the first of the beads. He paused a few seconds between each bead, exerting a bit of psychology, certain that Blue silently counted. With each insertion, a long, muffled groan emerged from behind the ball gag, while Blue’s muscles accepted one bead after the other, hungrily at first, then growing more resistant. When he felt Blue’s muscles push back four beads from the end, Derek offered a moment’s reprieve. He reached between Blue’s legs and stroked the already stiffened cock, eliciting another throaty purr along with a drop of fluid from Blue’s slit. Derek contained his own rising groan. While he usually outlasted Blue in terms of stamina, his ability to maintain control and fuck his lover senseless could partly be attributed to his need for more recovery time between orgasms. It was his energetic younger partner

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who amazed with the ability to bounce right back after such an intense encounter, with renewed libido and an insatiable desire for more. Given their compatible traits, Derek intended to take Blue through multiple orgasms over the next several hours, until Blue was sore, exhausted, and begging to be left alone. Of course, Derek had proven methods at his disposal to prevent Blue from coming right away. He shoved in the next bead, then jerked Blue back by the hair to an upright kneeling position. He produced the next item from the toy box and presented it to Blue. “I want you to keep the old one around your wrist,” he instructed. Blue nodded mutely. Standing close, their bodies but an inch apart, Derek slid the T-shaped black leather strap under his partner’s balls. He closed the snap in place. Blue cried out from behind the gag. His sadistic side goaded, Derek stretched the second strap up the underside of Blue’s shaft and harnessed the cock ring tight around the corona of Blue’s glans. Blue was trembling now, his chest fluttering with shallow breaths. Taking him by the hair once more, Derek returned his chin to the pillow. As Blue bent forward, the strap between the cock ring and the ball separator went taut. Placed in what had now become a very compromising position, Blue yelped, thrashed, and bucked, then quickly corrected himself by remaining still. When one anal bead escaped, Derek promptly responded by pushing in two. With a smug grin, Derek took in the sight of his poor, tortured pet’s predicament, the orb of each testis squeezed tight between the straps of the separator. A small O-ring glinted where the strips of leather intersected at the taint. He considered the various ways he might make use of the O-ring to enhance Blue’s experience. He could tether the separator to the bedrails, which would send a jolt of discomfort through Blue’s prick with the subtlest movement. He could hang a small weight from the ring -- something as simple as a fishing lead -- to greatly add to Blue’s pleasurable torment. Mentally adding a few items to his running shopping list, Derek simply offered the silver ring a slight tug. Blue whimpered, then quieted. Derek offered a sharper tug, along with a thunk of his fingers against the remaining two beads that protruded from Blue’s puckered entrance. Blue emitted a long, high mewl, prompting Derek to get the blindfold. Better to cover the boy’s eyes before he started crying, lest his tears prove once again to be Derek’s undoing. It wasn’t so much sympathy that broke Derek’s reserve as it was that his need to comfort mingled with his desire to torment. Nothing incited his lust and shattered his sense of control more than the tears cresting in his lover’s pretty gray-blue eyes and rolling down those flawless porcelain cheeks. He slid the black satin mask over Blue’s face. Standing back from the bed, he crossed his arms and admired his handwork. No matter how many times he’d placed Blue in such a

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position, Derek found his breath taken away by the beauty of the sight before him, even as his cock swelled in anticipation, and his ego rushed with the triumph of conquest.

God, what an exquisite image, he thought. And his beautiful blue-haired waif was the most fitting subject, one that Derek fully intended to enjoy for the next few days. Turning back to the travel trunk, he went for his and Blue’s favorite toy -- the riding crop. Derek took pause. He wondered if he should try something new. Perhaps invest in a paddle, maybe a nice, black leather one? Then he ran the shaft of the crop through his fingers, the feel of the nylon braid sending a tremor of excitement up his spine. He cracked the tongue of the crop against his open palm, testing it, delighting in both the sting and the sound produced by the loop of leather coming into contact with his flesh, He whipped the crop back and forth through the air with short, rapid jerks, creating a warbling effect, treating Blue to the audible promise of what was soon to come. Reminded all over again why the crop was his preferred accessory of choice, Derek reared his arm back. “Remember the number system,” he said. “Show me one finger if you want more.” He thwacked the crop against Blue’s buttock. “Two fingers means ease up.” He cracked down on the opposite flank. “Three means stop.” And again, the snap echoing crisply through the loft, Blue’s muscles flinching on each strike. As Derek waited a moment to ensure Blue remembered the numbers, he caught sight of one index finger tauntingly flexed straight.

Brat. The boy might as well have stuck out his tongue. Derek cracked down a fourth time to show he wasn’t amused -- even if, secretly, he was. He’d noticed with recent sessions that Blue’s tolerance for pain was getting higher, that it took a few extra snaps of the crop before bringing his little pain slut to the threshold. Part of Derek was proud that he’d recognized Blue’s masochistic streak the first time he’d touched the boy, that he’d then become the one responsible for cultivating that element of the boy’s darker, sensual side. Just as Derek was the only man to have ever fucked Blue, he was also the boy’s first and only master, the one entrusted with the authority over the delectable body now bound and restrained on his bed. But as he pushed Blue’s physical limits further with each session, Derek was also faced with the responsibility of knowing when enough was enough and never taking things too far. As much as that responsibility awed him, it also scared him to death. Between the numb of endorphins kicking in at higher levels versus Blue honestly learning to crave pain for the pain itself, Derek knew they were starting to tread a fine line on when and where, exactly, to draw the line. He hoped he knew that line when he saw it, because for all his fantasies of finding the perfect submissive, he’d never imagined the possibility of taking things as far as he had with his beautiful blue-haired imp. In being submissive, Blue was the lucky one. All the boy had to do was bend over and take it, but then only because Derek quite preferred to stay in control by doing all the work.

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Deciding that he was overanalyzing things, Derek reared back with the crop again before he lost his groove. He couldn’t have his pet getting bored now, could he?

***** Blue moaned and clenched his jaw, the rubber sphere of the gag giving slightly against the bite of his teeth. He had lost count of how many times he’d been whipped with the crop. He always did, eventually losing himself in the multiple surges of adrenaline that rippled through his limbs with each subsequent kiss of the crop, no longer caring how often the master struck, knowing only that he wanted more, and more. At some point, the fiery stings that smarted upon the flesh of his ass blended into an almost soothing blanket of heat. With it the tears came, seeping from beneath the blindfold as a natural response, no matter how much Blue might welcome and embrace that pain. With Derek, Blue was free to cry. In being allowed, even encouraged, to exhibit what might be viewed as a sign of weakness by others, he could release his frustrations of the day or the week in the form of something pleasurable to be enjoyed by master and pet alike. When they’d first met, Blue had taken as much pain as he could to prove to Derek that he could handle it. Somewhere along the way, that determination to please the master had turned into the need to prove to himself how much he could take. Now, Blue knew only that he wanted the pain, even craved it; like an addiction, he couldn’t get enough. “More?” Derek asked, and Blue could hear the strain of lust edging that sexy, commanding baritone. Some instinctive sense told Blue that his ass had taken enough punishment, but as the heat began to numb, it was hard to tell for certain. Torn between wanting the crop and wanting his master to unleash that built-up testosterone against him in other ways, Blue opted for a compromise. He flashed the number two. Whenever Derek eased up, he blended equal parts pleasure with the pain. On cue, the tongue of the crop brushed between Blue’s legs and tapped under his balls. His engorged prick bobbed up and down, the veins pulsing and swelling in protest against the confines of the cock ring, his own arousal working against him as the strap between his glans and balls pulled tight. Blue groaned from behind the gag. God, that hurt, but it was exactly why it felt so good. On the verge of release, his climax restricted only by the cock ring, he felt the muscles of his ass contract around the beads. In surrender, Blue flashed the number three. Derek had told him they’d be at this for the next few days, so there was plenty of time to test his limits. At the moment, he wanted to come, and he trusted his master would make the experience as mind shattering as ever. He heard the crop hit the floor, felt the mattress shift as Derek climbed onto the bed. He gasped at another tug of the cock ring, moaned from the sharp jolt of sensation shooting through his prick that proved both pleasurable and torturous at once. His moan drew into a

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sigh at the soothing touch of lips against the raw flesh of his ass, at the silken tickle of Derek’s hair spilling over his hips. Though Blue embraced the cruel kiss of the crop, it only made the kiss of his master all the sweeter. Where he had endured punishment, he now succumbed to comfort as inch by inch, Derek’s soft lips and warm breath gently eased away the sting. Shivers coursed through him as the kiss trailed up his spine, Derek’s mane trickling up his ribs, and then he felt a tug at his neck. The ball gag loosed and fell from his mouth. Blue knew what that meant -- his master wanted to him cry out at the point of climax. Blue would be more than happy to comply when the moment arrived. Fingers gripped his hair, jerking his head back, pulling him back to the upright kneeling position that he’d started in, the beads shifting inside his ass and sending another shock of pleasure. God, he loved it when Derek pulled his hair. He loved that brute show of authority, one that he’d never stand for anywhere else, yet in the bedroom, Blue wouldn’t have it any other way. At the feel of the firm body pressed behind him, Blue leaned his head back to rest against his master’s shoulder. He felt the plush texture of velour against his cheek and knew Derek still wore the bathrobe. His senses heightened by the absence of sight, he breathed in Derek’s scent, indulging in the heady combination of shampoo and aftershave, the subtler hint of natural musk layered beneath. Derek’s hands slid down his torso, one lighting on Blue’s cock, the other cupping beneath his balls, and the cock ring was released. Blue cried in shock as blood surged through his prick, his shaft now free to extend to its full length. And now Derek’s hands were working him, the movements skilled and knowing, one hand sliding tightly up and down his shaft, the other roughly fondling his balls, and Blue knew he wouldn’t last much longer. Derek breathed against his ear. “Say when, Blue.” “Now,” Blue managed with a strangled plea. Derek quickly transferred his hand from where it gripped Blue by the balls to the beads that protruded from his ass. As the first wave of climax ripped through him, Blue cried out, long and loud, signaling to the master lest there be any doubt. In response, Derek pulled the first bead out. With each burst of cum, Blue’s cries rose; with each spike in pitch, Derek slipped another bead out until Blue felt the last one slide free. “Oh God, oh God.” Blue gasped, catching his breath. Spent and trembling, he collapsed back against Derek. Lips curved against the side of this throat, and he felt the chuckle rumble from Derek’s chest. “Finding religion, are we?” “When I think I’m about to die from too much of a good thing? Yeah.” “Ready for another round?” Blue smiled weakly. “Hell yeah. But what about you? Don’t you wanna come too?”

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“I’ll fuck you soon enough,” Derek said. He leaned away from Blue and snapped the wrist cuffs off. Blue waited patiently as each of his ankles were released. He marveled, as he often did, over his partner’s stamina and discipline. Derek’s ability to hold out between orgasms could be intimidating, yet it made the challenge of bringing the man’s guard down and making him succumb to pleasure all the more fun. Little by little, Blue was learning sneaky, subtle tricks to bring his master to that point. Even when he was tied up, Blue had his ways, but with his hands free, the challenge certainly proved easier. Blue tugged the blindfold off and tossed it aside. He peered over his shoulder and smirked at Derek. Derek cocked an eyebrow. “Did I say you could take that off?” Blue shrugged. “What are you going to do? Spank me?” Blue quickly found the side of his face pressed into the pillow and his arm twisted behind his back. Derek’s lips brushed his ear. “Maybe I should tie you back up and then leave you there for a while.” “Whatever you want, Sir,” Blue said, relaxing his muscles, feigning surrender. The second he felt Derek’s grip ease, he moved fast. Wrestling himself free, he rolled onto his back and pulled the sash on Derek’s robe loose. “Guess you could tie me up with this.” Derek snatched his wrists and pinned them above his head, but Blue’s goal had been accomplished -- the robe fell open, exposing his lover’s erection. Blue spread his thighs, arched his spine, and ground his ass up against Derek’s cock. Derek hissed and pressed his weight down, crushing Blue back against the mattress, but the damage had been done. Within seconds, he slid his shaft up inside Blue’s ass with a harsh, swift thrust.

Gotcha, Blue thought even as his breath left him. Though still lubed from the anal beads, his muscles initially resisted the sudden invasion. With gritted teeth, Blue wrapped his arms and legs around his master and clung tight, absorbing the weight of his partner’s body while his passage accommodated Derek’s length and girth. As Derek’s hipbones slammed against him, Blue’s ass smarted from the earlier cropping, but it just made him thrust back against his partner all the harder. Determined, he squeezed his muscles in time to the pump of Derek’s cock, exerting his own power, thrilling to the grunts and groans that filled his ear and the ragged breaths that puffed hotly against his throat. “Oh God,” Derek huffed, shoving his cock in to the hilt and then stilling, his body gone rigid. Blue felt the hot wash of cum filling him deep inside. Derek collapsed. Blue relaxed enough to let his legs slide down and wrap with Derek’s. As he stroked his master’s hair, a smug smile spread across his face. “Sounds like I’m not the only who’s finding religion.” “Brat,” Derek murmured in response. “I wanted to wait and come with you.”

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“There’s always next time. We’ve got all weekend, right?” Derek propped himself up on one elbow and peered down at Blue. The robe slipped down one shoulder, making for a sexy effect. “That we do. But I’m tying your ass back up so you can’t pull any more stunts like you just did.” Blue gave the most innocent show of affront that he could muster. “What do you mean? I don’t pull any stunts.” The wry lift of Derek’s brow indicated Blue’s transparency. “Give it up, Blue. I’m on to you. On the other hand, you did make a good suggestion.” “What was that?” In answer, Derek untangled his limbs from Blue’s and sat up. His green eyes sparked like fired emeralds as he slid the untied sash from around his robe and then stretched it between his hands. “Oh yeah, that one,” Blue said. With a playful smirk, he willfully crossed his wrists above his head so the master could tie him back up.

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Chapter Four “Shit,” Blue muttered under his breath. “What’s wrong?” Turning, Derek spun his chair around from where he worked at the computer hutch. “Nothing,” Blue mumbled, hurriedly trying to close out the numerous pop-up ads that had suddenly invaded his computer screen. For every one he exited, two more sprouted like the heads of a twisted hydra. He bit back a second curse as his screen locked up. He glanced at Derek. “Everything’s fine. I accidentally closed the wrong window.” Derek turned back to his keyboard. A minute later, Blue was in the process of hitting the control, ALT, and delete buttons simultaneously to close out the frozen browser, when a virus alert sounded.

Fuck. Shit. Goddammit. How was he going to get out of this without drawing Derek’s attention? He was further mystified when the cursor started moving across the screen of its own accord. Frantic, Blue circled his fingertip around the touchpad, but the cursor continued acting with a mind of its own. One by one, the pop-ups started to close. “What the --” “Nothing, you say,” Derek intoned casually. Blue looked up. It took him a moment to comprehend what he saw -- the contents of his laptop screen displayed on one of Derek’s three monitors. “Hey!” Rising, Blue set the laptop aside and stormed over to the hutch. “What the hell? That’s an invasion of privacy!” To Blue’s dismay, Derek continued closing out windows, getting closer to the source that had triggered the pop-ups with each click of the mouse button.

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“Privacy?” Derek said. “You’re on my network, using my laptop, and visiting” -- he paused, one eyebrow cocked at the gay BDSM pay site that came into view -- “hostile websites that threaten my security.” He looked at Blue with a sidewise glance, a smirk playing at his lips. “You know, sites like this are loaded with questionable content that can land your ass in a heap of trouble.” “Oh?” Blue asked nervously. “Like what kind of content?” “Trojans and spyware and such.” “Oh.” Blue forced a laugh. “I didn’t mean to open that site. I was searching for…something else and it…came up.” Derek hit the back button on the browser five times before reaching the site’s index page. “It took you a few pages of their ‘free tour’ to figure out you were at the wrong place.” “So I was curious.” Blue shrugged. “Once I saw what I’d accidentally opened, anyway.” “Really.” The cursor hovered at the back button, Derek’s finger just a millimeter away from clicking. Blue sighed and flung his hands up in defeat. “Okay, fine. I found it through a search engine.” Derek moved the cursor to the forward button and returned to the last page Blue had opened. He quietly watched the thumbnails load in the gallery. A taunting grin spread across his face. “You’ve been holding out on me, Blue. Should I start lifting weights and invest in an all-leather wardrobe? Perhaps grow a handlebar mustache?” Blue felt his face go hot. Crossing his arms, he stood his ground. “I don’t like guys that buff. I prefer my men all…metrosexual and skinny like you. Or --” He stopped himself short of adding, Or like Cameron. Slightly ripped, but not overly beefed up. He stretched for the save. “I was curious about what they’re doing, not how they look.” Derek reached out and tugged Blue by the belt loop. He angled one knee out. “Sit down and finish looking.” “What about the pop-ups?” “They’re blocked now.” “What about the virus alert?” “I’m running a scan on your laptop as we speak. Sit down, Blue.” Thoroughly embarrassed, Blue did as told. Perching on Derek’s thigh, he sucked in his lower lip. With an awkward jerk of his less-dexterous hand, he clicked the next image in the gallery. “Well, now, that’s interesting,” Derek said. “I’ve suspected you might have a leather fetish in the making, but I trust, for both our sakes, that you don’t expect me to wear something as ridiculous as that.” “No, of course not. Just picturing you in a getup like that is damned silly.”

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“Good. I’d feel damned silly wearing it.” Blue laughed, his embarrassment fading to relief. The last time he’d been busted for viewing porn, he’d been thrown out of his father’s house. Sadly, he hadn’t even been looking for stroke material that time. He’d been researching anal sex tips after his one former boyfriend for all of two months had been unable to penetrate his hopelessly virgin ass, and his research had led to a video site that happened to offer expert “demonstrations” of technique. But this time, Blue couldn’t really explain what had compelled him to run the parameters of gay+BDSM+leather+fetish+dungeon through a search engine and see where the virtual wind took him. As he considered viewing a different gallery, he felt Derek’s hand ease under his and take control of the mouse. His master clicked open another image of a submissive dressed in a leather body harness and black rubber shorts. “You, on the other hand, might look good in this.” Derek nuzzled the side of Blue’s throat, his voice lowering to a suggestive tone. “Sans the shorts.” “It holds possibilities,” Blue agreed, his prick stirring at the thought of how Derek might put such an accessory to use. Feeling more confident, Blue took the bull by the horns. “Though I’m honestly not interested in the leather stuff. I was more curious about the…setup.” “Yes, it all looks rather cozy. I wonder who their decorator is.” “Maybe they consulted back issues of Better Homes & Dungeons.” “That reminds me, I ought to renew my subscription.” Derek’s smile faded, his brow furrowing in a more characteristic show of brooding concentration. He selected a sample thumbnail from another directory of images. “Now that’s creative. And a bit more our speed.” An image of a slender, porcelain-skinned submissive came into view. Naked save for a cock ring and blindfold, he lay spread-eagle against an X-frame, his willowy limbs bound and stretched taut. A slightly buff, very stern-faced Dominant pressed against him. Clad in a fishnet shirt, tight leather pants and buckle boots while a fire engine red mane rippled down his back, the attractive Dom gripped his captive by chin-length blond hair and traced the loop of a riding crop up the boy’s inner thigh. While the other photos had borne a gritty snapshot feel, this batch appeared to be a stray studio set shot by a professional photographer. “Too bad we don’t have one of those,” Blue said, his attempt at irreverence betrayed by a tone of wistfulness. He gasped at the feel of Derek’s hand palming his crotch, mortified by the discovery of his hard-on. “One of what?” Derek teased with another rub of the hand. “The blond? Or the St. Andrew’s Cross?” He shifted his leg and settled Blue deeper into his lap. The bulge nudging at Blue’s tailbone indicated more than just one of them had grown aroused.

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Blue licked his lips. “Maybe both, if that’s what you wanted.” Derek’s chuckle rumbled low against his ear. “I have enough on my hands dealing with one brat. But now that X-cross, we could certainly use one of those.” Blue smiled and squirmed against the pleasant friction of Derek’s hand rubbing his crotch. “How so, Sir?” Derek groaned at the swivel of Blue’s hips and thrust back. “I’d chain you up and leave you there for days, at my complete and total mercy.” “Only because I’d let you,” Blue reminded him, his pleasure rising. He reached for the mouse to close the window, suddenly self-conscious about his boyfriend getting him off while they looked at pictures of other men engaged in kinky, erotic acts. Derek grabbed his wrist and stopped him. “No. Pull up the next picture from that set.” His other hand still at work, he began unbuttoning Blue’s jeans. His tongue traced the lobe of Blue’s ear. “Show me what else you’d ‘let me’ do to you.” Derek’s husky tone sent a shiver down Blue’s spine. “Yes, Sir,” he mumbled, goose bumps dotting his arm, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling. Scanning the thumbnails, he clicked on the next image and waited. It seemed the redhead had taken the blond down from the X-frame, or the St. Andrew’s Cross as Derek had termed it, and placed him in an even more compromising situation. “You’re good at tying knots,” Blue murmured. It was moments like this when his appreciation of Derek’s prior sexual experience warred with his jealousy. “Do you know how to tie them like that?” “Yes, I know a few shibari basics. That’s what I use on you.” Blue clicked on the next image. “And that?” he ventured. Derek’s handjob faltered. He shifted and cleared his throat. “We don’t have open ceiling beams, Blue.” “But if we did…” Blue heard the veiled hesitance, the slight delay in response. “No. I’ve never done that sort of thing.” “So if you could,” Blue prodded, “and we had a more…compatible living space…” Derek’s hand mended its pace with a maddening grip, causing Blue to buck his hips and arch his spine. Hot breath warmed Blue’s ear and trickled down his throat. “I guarantee,” Derek murmured, “I would have had you that way several times by now.” As he neared climax, Blue opened another image, followed by more, all of them featuring the same young model, bound and suspended in various positions as his attractive master whipped him, tortured him, and then pleasured him with an artificial phallus.

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“You naughty, dirty boy,” Derek whispered in his ear. “Getting off on pictures of another boy getting tied up and fucked up the ass with a dildo.” Blue retorted between gasps. “You’re…looking too…” His breath hitched at the next mouse click. A second Dominant had been thrown into the mix, a beautiful tattooed Asian boy, his hair twisted in multiple, colorful braids that dangled down his slender, tattooed back where his leather pants hung low on the hipbone. The blond now knelt on the floor, topped from both ends as he sucked the second Dom’s cock while his ass was treated to more whipping from the Alpha redhead. Before Blue could stop the unbidden mental image, he envisioned himself in the blond’s place, submitting to those two beautiful men. Experiencing a jolt of guilt-tinged arousal as Derek drew him to the brink of release, Blue quickly sought to right the image… …by substituting Derek and Cameron into the scenario. Yes, naked and down on his knees, sucking Cameron’s cock, while Derek spanked him from behind. At the mere thought, he was done for. With a low groan, Blue threw his head back, his load pumping and spilling around his partner’s skillful grip. Derek nibbled the line of his jaw. “Clean up your mess,” he murmured, touching his cum-slicked fingers to Blue’s lips. Blue did as instructed, licking Derek’s fingers clean one by one, reveling in the taste of his own salted essence. “I’d rather eat yours,” he said before swirling his tongue up the swell of Derek’s palm. “That can be arranged,” Derek said. In a flash, Blue found himself on his knees between Derek’s legs. He fastidiously unbuckled his master’s belt. He peered up as he parted Derek’s zipper. “You gonna look at more pictures?” he asked. He grasped Derek’s throbbing cock at the root. “No.” Derek shut off the monitor, then seized Blue by the hair. “I’m going to watch you suck me off.” Blue grunted in approval as Derek shoved his head down and stuffed his mouth full.

***** Blue lazed on his stomach, the slick satin sheet cool against his sore buttocks. After he’d gotten Derek off at the computer hutch, they’d transferred their activities to the bed where Derek had really let him have it. Somewhere along the way, it had started raining. A low rumble of thunder shook the building while the musical patter of rain played outside the balcony door. A distant volley of lightning softly suffused the room, illuminating Derek’s long, slender form stretched on the opposite side of the mattress. Reclined on his side and facing Blue, his lower arm stretched under his head, his upper leg drawn so that the sheets slipped partway down his jutted hip, the older man looked like a work of art, a study of

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perfection in sculpture. Blue’s eyes trailed down the planes and contours of his lover’s body, then back up again to catch a glance of Derek’s handsome face. He found open eyes staring back at him, a trace of a smirk playing across Derek’s lush, full lips before the room went dark again. Feathery fingertips drifted lazily down Blue’s spine to the small of his back. “Caught you looking.” “You were looking too,” Blue said smugly. “Guilty as charged. I thought you were asleep.” “I thought you were.” Derek’s fingers traced back up to the nape of Blue’s neck. “So why are you awake? I thought I’d worn your ass out for a change.” “That’s why I’m awake.” Blue laughed softly. “So why aren’t you sleeping?” Derek continued to trace his spine up and down with a languid, relaxing rhythm. “I was thinking.” “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Blue asked. “Those pictures really turned you on.” “You too.” Blue waited, sensing a revelation lay in store. “A few years ago, I received an invitation to a BDSM dungeon club here in town.” “Really?” Blue said. “Did you accept?” “No. For a ‘private’ dungeon, it sounded a bit too public for my taste. I also found the list of protocols a bit rigid, though I suppose in a social setting, a code of conduct is necessary to ensure no one’s toes get stepped on.” “I thought you liked rules and discipline. Or is that only when you’re the one calling the shots?” Derek chuckled. “Something like that.” His fingers trailed past Blue’s tailbone, tugging the sheet with them to expose Blue’s ass. Derek began to knead and rub. Blue winced, but as the massage turned soothing, he wriggled his hips and melted into the warmth of his master’s touch. “So why are you bringing up the club now?” Blue asked. “Are you reconsidering that invite?” “Not from that club specifically. I’m wondering if there might be similar groups that offer private access to their…facilities.” “That’s what the Internet is for,” Blue joked. “Research.” “Like you were doing earlier?” “Yeah,” Blue admitted. “Like I was doing earlier.” Derek continued the massage. As the muscles of Blue’s body relaxed, he found his racing thoughts stilled as well. Gradually, he began drifting.

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“Blue…” “Yeah?” “If there’s anything you ever want to try, all you have to do is ask.” Blue yawned and snuggled his head deeper into the pillows. “I’d rather you surprise me.” “Oh, I’ll surprise you.” Derek brushed the hair back from Blue’s temple, his touch light as a feather. “But you’re free to suggest a starting point. Outside of anything that requires having a basement, that is. Or carpentry skills.” Blue smiled with a lazy Cheshire grin. “What, no X-cross?” Derek’s lips curved against Blue’s brow. “If I were to chain you to one, what exactly would you ‘let me’ do with you?” “Anything you wanted,” Blue whispered. “Anything…”

Anything, he thought once more, nestled and snug in his master’s arms. The sound of rain lulled him into sleep, vague visions of leather and chains and a dark, dim room lit only by candles dancing through his head.

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Chapter Five Blue tilted his chin up. “What do we do?” Derek looked down and met those crystal blue eyes, so trusting, pleading, and -- to one who didn’t know better -- innocent. “I don’t know,” he murmured in all honesty. “Remember, this is new to me too.” “Yeah, that’s right.” Blue laughed nervously, his gaze wavering as he peered around him, taking in their foreign environment, his expression no less intimidated than Derek suspected his own to be. “I’ve watched other people do this, but it’s different when you’re just watching.” “Yeah,” Derek agreed. He nodded over his shoulder. “I guess we should start by taking one of these.” With a clatter of metal, he retrieved the item in question and transferred it to Blue. Blue grabbed hold with a white-knuckled grip. “Okay, Sir. Now what?” “I suggest we quit standing here like two clueless idiots and jump right into it.” He offered Blue a pat on the butt. Blue’s cheeks flared. “Derek!” he scolded in a hushed tone. “Don’t do that here!” He stepped forward, pushing the shopping cart with him. “I’ll do whatever I like, whenever I please.” Safely hidden by a display of canned beans, marked down to just two for a dollar, Derek patted Blue’s ass again and gave a quick grope before letting go. “Pervert,” Blue muttered, glancing back over his shoulder. “What’s first on the list?” Derek squinted at Jodi’s bubbly handwriting, replete with heart-dotted i’s, scrawled across a hot pink sheet of Hello Kitty stationary. Leave it to Jodi-chan to write up such a gay ass shopping list. “Pork ribs and pork neck bone,” he read.

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“Pork neck?” Blue said, his upper lip curling in disgust. “That’s in ramen?” “I’m sure it’s healthier than the crap in the instant cardboard variety. We’ll get the meat last, though.” Blue visibly shuddered. “I guess it’s like what animal parts are ground up for hot dogs -we’re better off not knowing.” Blue froze mid-step, looking up and around in amazement. “Oh my God. Is that a Madonna song?” Derek listened to the strains of Muzak piping cheerfully through the grocery store’s intercom system. “Yes, it is.” Okay, that was it -- Derek officially felt old. The fact that he’d recently turned thirty didn’t help. He’d hoped to let his birthday pass without event or fanfare, but Blue had blabbed and alerted Jodi. In turn, Jodi had offered to cook up a pot of homemade ramen in belated celebration. Derek had fully intended to protest but instead had somehow ended up agreeing to purchase the ingredients for his own birthday dinner. With a quiet but bemused sigh, Derek planted one hand between Blue’s shoulder blades and steered him toward the produce section. He felt Blue flinch, then relax. Derek smiled and shook his head to himself. His normally brash and bold blue-haired rebel could be so timid when it came to displaying his sexual orientation in public. Derek supposed, in his old age, he’d grown beyond caring. That and if anyone harassed them, he was prepared to defend both himself and his partner -- physically, if need be. Out of his element, his grocery shopping experience limited to convenience stores and the Asian food mart, Derek stopped and studied the dry produce selection. While he had a discriminating palate and insisted on quality foods at the finest of restaurants, he had no idea how to properly select fresh ingredients. Going on instinct, he grabbed the garlic and a sweet white onion, pleased to see they were labeled “organic.” As he led Blue around the open refrigerator section, a soft peal of recorded thunder sounded from roughly behind the cilantro, followed by a fine spray of mist that covered the vegetables. Cute, thought Derek with a smirk, tossing a plastic tub of bean sprouts to Blue. Selecting a hand of ginger, Derek considered one of the lesser known uses of the spicy root. He’d tried something similar once on Blue with the juice of a freshly-bitten chili pepper. With devious thoughts that stepped well outside of culinary uses, he twisted the ginger in a plastic bag and passed it to Blue. Taking the bag, Blue stared back at him with a suspicious lilt of the eyebrow. “What’s that look for, Sir?” “What look?” Derek asked, nonchalantly testing an avocado, weighing firmness versus ripeness, even though avocado wasn’t on the list. “Your eyes narrow this certain way when you’re plotting nefarious deeds.” Blue was learning to read him like an open book. “Oh, you’ll find out,” Derek said cryptically, maintaining his cool, downplaying his sense of exposure. He tossed the avocado

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in his hand, considering the possibility of buying a few pieces of the green fruit to make open-faced toasted sandwiches. But then that would entail buying a loaf of bread and a block of cheese. And a cheese grater, he’d have to buy one of those too. And then in preparing the food, he’d dirty up the dishes, and the counter, and the sink. And the toaster oven -actually, did he even own a toaster oven? Deciding the simple purchase of a few avocadoes required too much commitment and came with unwanted baggage, Derek set the fruit back in the pile. “Soy sauce, mirin, Chinese noodles,” he read off the list. “We may need to hit the Japanese market for two of those.” “Jodi says they actually have a decent Asian food section here,” Blue said. Jodi had penciled in aisle fourteen in parenthesis off to the side. Speculating that aisle fourteen might be the Asian food section, Derek strode through the store with Blue and cart dutifully in tow. Locating the aisle, he started down the row and perused the shelves accordingly. “Wow, they have Pocky here?” Blue said in surprise. “Only two flavors, but still…” “I just bought you three dozen packs of strawberry,” Derek reminded him. The proprietor of the aforementioned Japanese market always brought out an unopened carton of the pink-glazed biscuit sticks from the stockroom at Derek’s request. Bending on one knee, he studied the noodles stocked on the lowest shelf. “I got the soy sauce,” Blue announced from a few feet away. “Make sure it’s real,” Derek said. “It is.” Blue had hesitated a moment, indicating he hadn’t actually checked. He held the bottle up and squinted at the back label. “Soybeans, wheat, water, and salt. See? No caramel color, corn syrup or…whatever that other stuff is you told me never to get…” “Hydrolyzed soy.” “Yeah, none of that in here, either.” “I have taught you well, young grasshopper.” Derek considered his pasta choices. While he thought Japanese soba noodles would make for a heartier soup, he selected a package of thin flour noodles. He read the label -- made in California, not China, but the texture and size looked appropriate for ramen soup. He stood, brushing the crease in his trousers straight with one hand as he placed the noodles in the cart. “Do they have mirin?” he asked Blue. “Nope.” Blue shook his head and whipped out his cell phone. “Maybe Jodi knows where else we can find it so you don’t have to drive across town.” “I don’t mind the drive.” While he stood by and waited for Blue to make the call, Derek stepped aside for two fellow patrons coming the other way. His attention caught, he tried not to stare at the two young men, one clinging openly to the other’s arm. The taller one was neither unattractive nor remarkable, simply average, and he didn’t emit a gay vibe. It was the shorter, more slender one who had caught Derek’s eye and set off

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his radar on a few different levels. The boy’s shaggy hair was corn silk blond, as white as Blue’s albino streak, and for a fleeting moment, the light had reflected off the strands and lent them a startling, striking silver shade. As Derek continued his surreptitious observation, he watched the taller partner load the basket hanging from the blond’s arm with several Styrofoam cups of instant ramen. “I’m getting a few of each,” he explained to the blond. “Beef, chicken, shrimp. Should we mark them or just alphabetize?” “They don’t stack well, so let’s mark them in case they topple over in the pantry.” The boy turned his head, ever so subtly, his expression one of having been alerted to another’s presence. As the light illuminated his face, so pale it was nearly translucent, his eyes flashed silver, just as his hair had briefly appeared, before settling on pale gray, a shade lighter than Blue’s. His gaze, strangely blank, fell in line with Derek’s. Derek froze, not used to finding himself in such a predicament -- usually he was the one who caught the boys staring at him. He nodded, offering a slight smile. The boy continued to stare blankly, yet a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He angled his head back toward his companion, his eyes still unfocused. And then it struck Derek -- the boy couldn’t see. Several emotions tugged at Derek at once. How unfair, he thought, for such a beautiful young man to be disabled. That sentiment was quickly followed by a flash of guilt, for Derek could tell by the blond’s proud stance, even as he clung to his companion for guidance, that this was a person who didn’t beg sympathy and would be offended at being viewed any differently than if he were fully sighted. And Derek swore, the boy had sensed another’s eyes upon him. He watched, intrigued, as the young man and his companion rounded the corner of the aisle, the boy’s firm ass displayed in painted-on jeans, his hair shimmering in shades of silver once more before disappearing from view. “What?” Derek asked, alerted to the fact that Blue was addressing him and had in fact repeated himself. “I said, Jodi says we can get mirin at the health food store.” “Oh, okay,” Derek mumbled. He led Blue down the aisle in the opposite direction from the silver-haired boy. As he started toward the meat department, an elderly woman blocked his path, her stance aggressive, but her face aglow with a genial, grandmotherly smile. She held up a tray of crackers spread with some type of green-specked cream. “Would you like a sample, young man?” she asked Derek. “Young man?” Blue snorted, pushing past Derek and taking a cracker for himself. Ignoring Blue’s gibe, Derek took a cracker and thanked his matronly hostess for both himself and his inconsiderate partner. Nibbling at his cracker, he passed through the dairy section, navigating more center-floor displays. He caught sight once more of a flash of silver.

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His gaze trailed wistfully down the lithe, lean torso and narrow hips as the blind boy and his friend rounded the next aisle. He nearly slammed into Blue, who had turned around and was staring up at him. “It’s rude to stare,” Blue said in a hushed tone. “Sir,” he added with a playful smirk. “I admit I found him…curious.” “How so? Because he’s blind? Or because he has a nice ass? I found that ‘curious’ too.” Derek felt heat prickling up his throat. He hooked a finger under his tie and readjusted it. Blue grinned and cocked an eyebrow. “It’s all right. I couldn’t help but notice him too. I thought that guy might be his boyfriend, but it sounds like they’re roommates. As in, honest-to-God roommates and not the code word variety.” “So what were you doing looking at his ass?” Derek asked under his breath. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Blue snapped back in a low murmur, though his tone was teasing, not critical. “You’re the one who likes to bugger the tight young derriere, not me.” Derek managed not to choke on his food sample. “Precisely. So again, why were you looking? I trust you’re not planning to switch positions on me.” “I was just curious as to how I compared,” Blue shrugged, though his otherwise flippant tone suddenly grew edged with what Derek believed just might be a hint of jealousy.

Good, Derek thought before he could stop such smug introspection. It might do Blue good to see how it felt when your partner’s interests strayed to another. He peered down at Blue, who was visibly sulking now. Yes, the boy was jealous all right. And absolutely adorable when he pouted. Softening, Derek reached around Blue’s waist. Sliding his hand down Blue’s spine past the tailbone, he offered a gentle squeeze to one firm buttock. He leaned down and nipped at Blue’s lower protruding lip. Blue’s gaze nervously flitted from side to side, but Derek had already ensured no one could see. He pulled Blue closer, bringing their lower torsos into contact. “This ass here” -- he squeezed the lower curve of Blue’s ass tighter, letting his index and middle fingers stray to the cleft where he applied a touch of pressure. Blue’s body stiffened, and a soft hiss escaped those delectable lips. Derek continued -- “is the only one I want.” “Well, good,” Blue smiled, the usual sly mirth returning to his eyes. “Because you’re the only one who gets to have it.” “Damned right.” Derek gave another teasing rub with his fingertips. Blue gasped again, casting another furtive glance up and down the aisle even as he rubbed his crotch against Derek. At the stimulating contact, it was Derek who bit back a hiss, peering sidelong in both directions to make sure no one bore witness to his public arousal.

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He pulled away, holding back at arm’s length with his palm planted against Blue’s chest. “Let’s get that pork neck bone and get out of here.” “Yes, Sir.” Blue grinned. As he pushed the cart ahead of Derek, he peered back over his shoulder. His eyes trailed down to his own butt, and he gave a slight wiggle of the hips. Derek suppressed a smile and offered Blue a stern lift of the eyebrow. “Keep that up, and I’ll drag you behind that toilet paper tower over there and molest you.” “Promises, promises,” Blue said with an exaggerated sigh. “Brat.” Blue was definitely in trouble when they got home. Yet even as he entertained thoughts of “punishing” his impudent tease of a boyfriend, Derek caught himself looking at the other store’s patrons, hoping for one last glimpse of a certain person in particular.

After all, what was the harm in looking ? Derek asked himself later as he wheeled the Porsche from the store parking lot, but the silver-haired boy was nowhere to be found. Ah well, Derek thought. There was no harm in looking, but there was no point to it, either. The beautiful boy in the passenger seat beside him was the best thing that had ever happened to Derek, and the only boy he needed. Shifting gears, he turned onto the street, then reached over and gripped Blue by the knee. He smiled at the hand that gripped him back.

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Chapter Six Blue stepped into the elevator behind Jodi. He leaned back against the wall beside the control panel. “Going up,” he announced, pressing the button for floor fifteen. Jodi braced her hands against the railing on the opposite side of the carriage. She peered at Blue seductively with contact-colored eyes, the amethyst matching the purple streaks in her black hair. Darting her tongue, she licked her pink-frosted lips. “You ready, Blue-kun?” “Yeah, but we have to make it quick.” The doors swooshed shut, and the elevator began its ascent. Launching into action, Blue swiftly unbuckled the studded black leather belt hanging around his hips and slid it from the one belt loop that held it in place. Jodi advanced toward him in fluid stride, tugging her tight babydoll tee over her head to reveal her black lace bra. She dropped the shirt to the ground as she slammed against him. Blue stretched his arms above his head as she skimmed her hands up his torso and hurriedly slipped his concert T-shirt off. Reaching down, he went to unbuckle her hot pink and black checkerboard belt. He peered at her breasts where they crushed against his chest. “Nice cleavage,” he murmured, his lips an inch from hers. “Thanks,” she said breathlessly. She jiggled up against him. “How do they feel?” “Decidedly squishy.” “I’m a girl. I’m supposed to be squishy.” Stepping back, she raised her arms and let his baggy T-shirt shimmy down her torso. Blue leaned down and retrieved the babydoll tee from the floor. He tugged the tight knit

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black fabric over his head and down his ribs, stretching the kanji characters for “peace” etched in pink across his chest. “Come back here,” he instructed. “Ooh, forceful,” she cooed. “Channeling Derek-sama, are we?” He wrapped his belt around her and cinched the T-shirt at her hips. In turn, she slid her belt around his ass and jerked his pelvis toward her. The elevator chimed and lurched to a halt. The doors flew open just as Jodi finished clasping the buckle in place. Their hips still crushed together, Blue turned his head with Jodi’s and froze. Derek stood there, arms crossed, one eyebrow lifted. “Trading clothes again, I see.” “Any excuse to get your boy topless.” Jodi batted her eyes as she exited the elevator. “I prefer him that way myself.” Extending one arm, Derek gathered Jodi around the waist and pulled her to him. “Not so fast. You owe me one for flashing my boyfriend.” Giggling, Jodi rose on tiptoe to grace Derek’s cheek with a kiss. Derek returned the kiss on her forehead. He slid his other arm around Blue with a quick grab of the ass. The trio started down the hall. “What are you doing out here?” Blue asked Derek. “I can’t get any action with my secret mistress if you’re spying on us.” “I just stepped off the other elevator. I thought I’d invite Sadie over for ramen and ended up talking with her for a few. Nothing as exciting as trading clothes, but then I don’t think her high heels or little black dress would suit me.” “Fancy. What was she all dressed up for?” Blue asked. “She’s going out for dinner with a certain tattoo artist. She said they’ll stop by our place later for a drink.” “Really?” Blue said, eyes widening. “Wow. I guess Quincy likes girls after all.” “I suspect he likes men too, but that’s none of my concern.” “Ooh, a bisexual tattoo artist,” Jodi chimed in. “Is he hot?” “What is it with you?” Blue laughed. “Don’t you like straight guys?” “I can’t share clothes with any that I know. They’re not my size, and their fashion sense sucks.” “And Blue’s doesn’t?” Derek ribbed. Blue ignored him. “I just don’t get the bisexual thing. Either you’re gay, or you’re not. I’ve never even kissed a girl. Well, except for my mom or Jodi, but they don’t count.” “But Blue-kun!” Jodi whined with an exaggerated pout. “I was hoping you’d switch teams just for me.” Derek grew noticeably taciturn, even for him. He released Blue to key in the security code and silently held the door to the loft open, ushering in Jodi, followed by Blue.

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An hour later, the loft was filled with the strong but appetizing scent of pork neck bone boiling in a pot of water with one whole onion and several cloves of garlic. Jodi cocked one hip against the kitchen island. Sucking on a pink Pocky stick, she drummed her zebratipped acrylic nails against the countertop and consulted the recipe pulled up on the notebook computer. An anime theme song from Blue’s J-rock playlist sounded from the speakers. She pulled the Pocky from her mouth. “We boil the tonkotsu for two more hours,” she said. “That would be the broth,” she added for clarification. “And then what?” Blue asked. He hugged her from behind, shoulder-surfing as she scrolled down the browser window. Without looking, Jodi offered him a bite of her Pocky. “We boil the pork ribs in the tonkotsu.” “Mmm, healthy,” Blue joked. He crunched his teeth into the biscuit stick. “I guess we can touch up your bangs while we’re waiting.” “Yeah. I’ll trim them, if you’ll do the color.” “Sounds good. Let me go check on my man first.” He gave her a quick squeeze and took another bite of Pocky before letting go, inducing one of her mirthful giggles. Blue stepped out on the balcony where Derek was working on his laptop at the patio table. “It’s nice out here,” he commented. “Warmer than I thought.” Leaning over, he hugged Derek from behind, but then hanging out with Jodi tended to bring out Blue’s touchy-feely side. “Spring is in the air,” Derek commented dryly, tabbing the down arrow. Indecipherable code scrolled up a split-screen interface. Blue started to ask what Derek was doing, but he figured that between the computer expert’s high-tech jargon and the patronizing attitude that went with it, he’d be lost by the second sentence as usual. Steeling himself, he asked the question that was really nagging at him. “What did I say wrong earlier?” “When?” Holding his ground, Blue refrained from sighing. “When I made that comment about bisexuals.” Derek paused, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. “You came off as rather judgmental. Coming from you, I found it a tad hypocritical.” “Oh.” Blue supposed Derek had a point, but his defensive hackles had still been raised. “I wasn’t trying to be an asshole. I honestly don’t understand how someone can go back and forth between men and women.”

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Derek resumed typing. “Some people can’t understand being attracted to the same sex. Go ask your father why our local sodomy laws are still on the books alongside the one that prohibits hitching your horse in the town square on Sunday.” Blue stood straight. “What the fuck do my dad and crazy horse laws have to do with this conversation?” “You’re very fortunate to have never been in denial about your sexuality, particularly given who your father is.” “What about you?” Blue suspected he was getting to the heart of Derek’s sullen reticence since his comments in the hallway. He pulled out the second patio chair and took a seat. “Your parents sound like they were pretty open.” Derek stopped typing and looked up. “You rebelled against your parents with piercings, tattoos, and hair dye.” “I wasn’t trying to ‘rebel.’ I was just being myself.” “Which is how you rebelled,” Derek countered. “My parents were the complete opposite of yours. They were all about ‘being yourself.’ I never had a set bedtime or mealtime. I went to sleep when I felt like it, asked for food when I was hungry and hoped there was any to be had. The first time I dropped the F-bomb, Austin and Sandy laughed until they cried. When she could breathe again, Sandy taught me to say it in Korean.” “Is that why you call them by their names instead of Mom and Dad?” “Yeah. Sandy and Austin were too hip to be parents. They thought of themselves more as my ‘friends.’” Blue shrugged. “What’s wrong with that?” Derek smiled thinly. “It took all the fun out of rebelling against them.” “So what did you do to freak them out?” “My mother was the fag hag to end all fag hags. She made Jodi-chan look like a homophobe.” Turning his head, Derek stared out over the balcony ledge. “When I first realized I was attracted to men, I wondered if Sandy’s friends and lifestyle had influenced me. I had to know for myself that I was gay because I was born that way, not because I had been influenced by my upbringing or all of my ‘uncles.’ So I rebelled by trying to prove to both my mother and myself that I was hopelessly straight.” Blue pursed his lips. Among the countless topics he’d gradually broached since first meeting Derek, there was one question that had never crossed his mind until now. Derek had always seemed confident in his sexuality, leaving Blue to assume the other man had never suffered any conflict over it. “So you’ve been with women?” he asked quietly. God, he hoped Derek had at least kept count of them. Derek shut the laptop with a soft click. Sliding down in his seat, he extended his long legs and locked his hands behind his head. He met Blue’s gaze directly.

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“One.” “Oh,” Blue said, still shocked, but mildly relieved. “My first lover, in fact.” “Wow.” Blue stood and walked to the balustrade. He peered down at the busy city traffic crawling below. “Was it serious?” “I thought so. I left home at sixteen and moved into her apartment. We lived together for two years, though we’d stopped sleeping together toward the end.” “Oh,” Blue said, reduced to another monosyllabic response. He’d assumed he held the honor of being Derek’s only long-term partner, but then Blue had only asked about the other men, never a woman. Compelled by morbid curiosity, he blurted the next question before he lost his nerve. “Was the sex any good?” “She seemed to enjoy it well enough.” Blue shook his head and laughed wryly. He should have expected such a typical Derek answer. But then his boyfriend’s cockiness was as alluring as it could be annoying. Sobering, he wheeled around and propped his ass against the balustrade. He thought back to Derek’s confession during a heated debate only a few months before. You’re far from the first man I’ve slept with, but you’re the first, the only, that I’ve ever loved. Reading between the lines, Blue wondered if that statement translated to: You’re the only man I’ve ever loved. “Did you…” “Love her? At the time, I thought I did, though I never told her. She stated up front that we were roommates with benefits. By the time I moved out, I realized it wasn’t love on my part, but infatuation and the challenge of trying to make her mine.” Blue snorted in derision, encouraged to know he still ranked as the one and only person Derek had truly loved. “Sounds like she was a bit on the cold and callous side.” “She wasn’t keen on emotional attachment. She worked as a professional Dominatrix and tended to keep the same distance in her personal relationships as she did with her clients. My friends referred to her as ‘The Ice Queen.’” Blue managed to keep his jaw from dropping open. “Dominatrix? Who topped?” “We switched back and forth.” Blue was having enough trouble envisioning Derek in bed with a woman. Add in the element of Derek down on his knees in submissive mode, and the visuals refused to jibe. At that moment, another fact sank in. “Wait, if she was a ‘professional,’ how old was she?” Derek shrugged. “Just a few years older than I was.” “Was that legal? What was the age of consent in New York back then?” “‘Back then?’ God, Blue, thanks for making me feel like an ancient relic.”

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“I didn’t mean to make it sound like you’re old or anything. It’s just…I know your family was open, but didn’t they care what was going on? There’s no way in hell my parents would have kept their mouths shut about something like that.” Blue refrained from adding that even though he was a legal adult, his mother had expressed concern about his and Derek’s age difference. She thought her son was too young to commit to a relationship with an older partner. Derek shrugged again. “Sandy was busy discovering her latent maternal side with my sisters and left me to explore my ‘straight stage.’ Austin was out-of-touch on one of his road trips with his latest girlfriend. My stepfather was busy with work and didn’t really have a clue what the hell I was up to.” “So, you lost your cherry when you were sixteen to an older Domme known as ‘The Ice Queen.’ That explains a lot about you, actually.” Derek smiled thinly. “You can thank her for my taste in men. She liked to bring the pretty ones home and then watch me defile them.” Blue’s jealousy over Derek’s past conquests threatened to rear its ugly green head. Seizing the rare moment of his partner speaking so candidly, he swallowed back the bile and returned to the table. He straddled Derek’s lap because, really, his man looked good whenever he stretched out. In turn, Derek slipped his arms around Blue’s waist. Blue toyed with a button on Derek’s silk shirt. “So what drew you to her? I mean, you were gay, but obviously you were attracted to her.” “She offered me something I needed. Discipline. Rules.” He offered Blue’s ass a tight squeeze. “A firm hand.” “Like you give me?” Blue teased. “Trust me, I’m much easier on you than that woman would have been.” “Are you still in touch with her?” “No. We went our separate ways a year before I left New York.” “You ever think about her?” “Jesus Christ, Blue.” Derek’s face twisted to a scowl. With a huff, he hefted Blue under the arms and brought them both to standing.

Shit, hit a nerve, Blue thought. But he had to know. Derek paced across the balcony. He whirled around, hands thrown up. “Why do you insist on prying into the past? New York was an entirely different world. I’m with you now.” Blue looked down at his feet, weighing his words carefully. “I guess I’m trying to figure out what happened. Like you said, you were in an entirely different world before you moved to this shithole city, living this entirely different life. You had parents, sisters, friends, a…a girlfriend.” Blue looked back up. “But when I came along, it was just you, and I thought you seemed really --”

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Derek crossed his arms, his manner surprisingly calm. “Go ahead. Why stop speaking your mind now?” “You seemed really lonely.” Derek turned away. Now it was he who braced his hands on the balustrade and watched the cars below. A light breeze wafted by, teasing the auburn strands that fell in Derek’s face. “I liked being alone. I’d learned I couldn’t trust anyone, and I’d come to value my privacy.” “I guess I screwed that up,” Blue said with a wry laugh. “You could say that. I’m still trying to figure out how I ended up hosting a damned dinner party tonight.” Blue went up to his partner and hugged his lithe frame from behind. He rested his cheek between Derek’s shoulders. “I thought you liked my friends.” “I do, because you do.” “What about Sadie? Or Quincy? You knew them before you met me.” “Yes, but on a casual level.” Derek extracted himself enough to turn in Blue’s arms. Tenderly, he stroked one curled finger down Blue’s cheek, tucking back a stray strand of white hair. Their lips met in a soft, brief kiss. “You’re right,” Derek murmured. “I was lonely. And I’m grateful everyday that you screwed that up for me.” “Good. Me too.” They were but a hairbreadth away from the next kiss when Jodi cracked the door and peeked outside. “Ooh, hot yaoi boylovin’ on the balcony!” Blue laughed, while Derek shook his head and groaned. “What’s up?” Blue asked over his shoulder. “I’m picking up April-chan. She’d just walk here from the restaurant, but she has to carry some stuff.” “I’ll get her,” Derek offered. “I haven’t been by in a while to say hello to her grandmother.” “A while?” Blue said with a smirk. “Maybe she’ll slip you some free gunmandu like she did last week.” “The thought hadn’t crossed my mind.” Derek grinned slyly, indicating he was indeed aiming for another sample of fried dumplings. Like Derek, April was part Korean, part Caucasian, and her grandmother had taken a shine to Derek, often commenting on his good manners and striking appearance whenever he and Blue dined at her Korean barbecue. In turn, Blue sensed that Derek had automatically embraced April and her grandmother as extended family.

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Hand in hand, Blue led Derek across the balcony. He paused at the door. “I’m sorry, Sir. You’re right. I’m too nosy sometimes.” “But you have another question…” Blue gave a sheepish grin. “It’s not too specific, more of a general question.” “Shoot.” “What’s it like with a girl?” “If you really want to know, I’m sure Jodi-chan would be more than willing to give you a tumble.” Blue snorted. “Only if you were participating. You’re the one she drools buckets over, Derek-sama.” “I like Jodi, but I’m well past entertaining an attraction to women,” Derek said. “Though to answer your question, sex with a woman was…softer.” “A ball-busting Dominatrix was soft?” “I mean physically. Compared to a man, she was more…” Derek’s eyebrows knitted as he sought the word. “Squishy?” Blue offered. “Yes, quite.” “But you definitely prefer the tight, firm boy ass?” “I prefer your tight, firm boy ass.” As if to prove his point, Derek trailed his hand past the small of Blue’s back, following the cleft of the buttocks. Fingers curled, he lingered at Blue’s hole, then drifted lower to press his middle finger into the taint. Blue sucked in his breath. “Stop. You’re getting me hard, and these pants leave nothing to the imagination.” “I know,” Derek grinned. Pressing his fingers deeper, he rubbed up and down. Blue managed to catch his breath. “Let’s cancel dinner.” “What? No. I’m quite looking forward to my dinner party.” He took Blue by the shoulders and steered him inside. “Get back in the kitchen and help your friend. I’ll be back in a bit.” “Yes, Sir,” Blue sighed. With stiff-legged gait, he grabbed one of the rarely-used dinette chairs and carried it across the loft. Jodi stood at the bathroom door and stared wistfully at Derek’s backside as he exited the loft. “Damn. Derek-sama makes me wish I were a cute little twink like you.” “I like you just fine as a squishy girl, Jodi-chan.” “A fat lot of good that does me,” she said with her trademark bubbly giggle. Blue followed her into the bathroom and set the chair down to face the mirror. “You’ll find the right guy someday,” he said. “A straight one, even.”

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“You and Derek and Cameron are the only decent men I know.” She picked up the barber shears laid out on the counter. Angling the blades, she snipped the ends of her bangs. “Speaking of Cam-san…” Blue met her kohl-lined amethyst eyes in the mirror and saw the apology there. “Yeah?” “We talked today for a few.” “Oh?” Blue asked nonchalantly, hiding his envy that the mechanic had called her, but not him. He busied himself mixing the purple tint. Ammonia fumes assaulted his nostrils, prompting him to take shallow breaths, though he was well used to the smell and the burn in his sinuses. “How is he?” Jodi knew that his and Cameron’s relationship had extended beyond friendship, but she wasn’t aware of the arrangement Derek had allowed for -- an arrangement that had only been acted on once in Derek’s presence. “He’s doing good. He says he misses us. You know how he is. That means he misses you.” “He has a funny way of showing it.” “Yeah, well, that’s probably why he hasn’t called you. It’s got to be hard for him, living alone, away from you, knowing that you’re here with Derek. And you know, you can always call Cameron.” When Jodi dropped the Japanese honorifics and nicknames, it meant she was serious. “He’s working overtime,” Blue countered, “and is probably tired when he gets home. It’s better if he calls me when he has a moment. He called you. He can call me.” “Cameron could argue that it’s easier for you to call when Derek isn’t around. Let’s be honest, you can’t exactly speak freely to Cameron with your possessive alpha boy around.” “I thought you liked Derek-sama.” “I love Derek-sama. And I love Cam-san. I love them both.” She set the scissors aside and took her seat in the chair. “Just like you do.” Blue swallowed. Either he was that transparent to his friend, or there was something to be said for women’s intuition. He draped the plastic apron over Jodi and tied it behind her neck. Standing between her knees, he tilted her chin up. She closed her eyes as he began brushing the tint through her bangs. “So whose side are you on?” he asked. “Derek’s or Cam’s?” “I’m on your side, Blue-kun,” she answered quietly. “Why?” She smiled. “Because I also love you. You’re like my brother, and I want you to be happy.” “A brother, huh?” he smiled back.

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“Yeah, I always wanted one, but I’m stuck with a bratty sister.” “Well, I’m an only child who always wanted a bratty sister. Guess we’re perfect for each other.” Moved, he leaned down to give Jodi a kiss on her frosted pink lips -- a chaste kiss with closed mouths, but one that lingered a bit longer than befitted platonic friendship. He pondered giving her a quick slip of the tongue, just to see how it felt to give a girl a real kiss. Hell, Derek had fucked a woman over the course of a two-year relationship and had still turned out gay, so what was the harm in an innocent kiss? A lot, that was what. Deciding against it, Blue stood straight and went back to work on Jodi’s bangs. “Why’d you stop?” Jodi said. Blue sensed a hint of disappointment beneath her taunting lilt. “That’s no way to kiss your sister.” Turning, blushing, he set the tint and the brush on the counter. He glanced at his red-faced reflection in the mirror and did a double-take. “Shit, I’ve got purple in my hair. In my white streak, no less.” Giggling, Jodi stood and turned him around. She threaded his bangs with one hand and took the tint brush in her other. When she was finished, she turned him back toward the mirror. A thin vein of purple ran from the roots to the ends of his albino patch. “You know that’s going to wash out to pink,” he said. “And then it’ll be another week or two before the pink fades.” Jodi propped her chin on his shoulder and gave him a playful smirk. She cooed in his ear. “That’s what you get for kissing your sister.”

***** Blue peered over his shoulder at the colorful quartet sitting on the floor around the coffee table. The ramen had been a big hit, the cake April had baked even bigger. Jodi and Sadie had hit it off immediately and were now engaged in lively conversation, their conversation peppered with bubbly giggles, while the shyer April with her fuchsia-dyed bob took in their banter and smiled. Quincy sat beside Sadie, obviously smitten, latching on to her every word, interjecting his own witticisms here and there. Derek returned to the table with another tray of the strong cappuccino he’d brewed up. Resuming his spot between Sadie and April, he slid back into the conversation with ease. For someone who was supposedly anti-social, Derek knew how to work a room. Seeing that his partner was fully entertained and occupied, Blue ducked outside for a moment alone on the balcony. He hit speed dial for Cameron. As he waited for his nemesis-turned-friend to pick up, Blue visually traced the well-memorized outline of the nearby downtown skyscrapers lit against the night sky. He was about to hang up when a groggy voice answered on the other end.

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“Shane?” Cameron had known Blue since fifth grade, well before the first dye job that had earned Blue his colorful nickname. The first time they’d met, Cameron had left Blue with a bloody nose and a trip to the school nurse’s office. They’d shared a complicated relationship ever since, their most recent encounter in Derek’s bed a more pleasurable one than their introduction years before on the playground. “Hey, Cam. Did I wake you? I can call later.” “No. No, it’s okay. I’m glad you called.” Blue heard the smile warming the familiar baritone. In his mind, Blue pictured that smile complete with lush lips, perfect teeth, and dimpled chin. He smiled back, even if the handsome brunet on the other end of the line couldn’t see. As his vision mentally panned, he imagined Cameron’s half-dressed buff body stretched out in bed, his wispy hair mussed from sleep. Blue felt his face go hot. Clearing his throat, he walked over to the balcony’s ledge to bask in the evening breeze. “How’ve you been?” he asked. “Busy, but it keeps me out of trouble.” “Jodi says you’ve been busting ass at the garage.” “That, I have,” the mechanic said. “And when I’m not working, I’m painting the house in exchange for part of the rent. And when I’m not doing that, I’m sleeping.” “What? No partying out there in the boonies? You could invite your new hillbilly friends over to brew up some moonshine. Maybe go hunting or fishing.” Blue couldn’t help but tease Cameron over his decision to move to a small town three hours outside of the city. Cameron laughed. “Oh, come on, Bethel Ridge isn’t that bad. A bunch of hippy and artsy types settled here back in the seventies, and now they own most of the shops and businesses. There’s a small gay community here too, and they’re fairly open about it.” “Really?” Blue said, surprised. “For some reason, a small town up in the hills brings dueling banjos to mind.” Cameron chuckled, the richness of his laugh washing over Blue in pleasant waves. “Deliverance country would be the next town over. It’s not like that here, though. It’s kind of like if Jericho Pass and Oakwood were combined into one little town.” “It sounds like it,” Blue said. “So I guess they don’t mind having a, um, gay mechanic?” Blue had started to stay “queer mechanic,” but he and Cameron shared a less-than-pleasant history with use of that particular adjective. “I don’t think too many folks have caught wind of me just yet. One of my customers dropped hints about the gay bar out on the highway, but I haven’t gone. I’m not really looking to meet anyone right now.”

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Blue wasn’t sure what part of Cameron’s statement proved more difficult to absorb -his reference to the highway, as in the only one that ran through town, or the fact that a gay bar existed on said highway. There was also the loaded meaning behind Cameron’s comment that he wasn’t looking for anyone. “I guess you lucked out,” Blue said. “Bethel Ridge sounds like it’s kind of a cool place.” “Yeah. It’s a lot quieter here than it is back home, but that’s what I like about it.” Cameron paused, and Blue sensed more from the other man’s silence than anything spoken aloud so far. “You should visit before you and Jodi start school. I’ll show you around. Grab a drink over at the moonshine still, maybe do some hunting and fishing.” Blue laughed, though the gesture proved a bit forced. “I don’t know. Maybe I could talk Derek into driving out there some time soon.” Of course, Blue and Cameron both knew he was just talking out of his ass. There was no way in hell that Derek would drive over to Podunk, bohemian atmosphere or not, certainly not for another threesome with the man he considered competition. Which was a damned shame, because Blue wouldn’t mind getting caught in the middle again as the other two men vied for dominance. “I meant just you, Shane,” Cameron said quietly. “Last time we talked, you told me Derek said we could spend some time alone.” “I think he meant here, when you come back for the trial.” “Yeah, yeah, I get it. So long as we play on his turf, he’s cool with it.” Blue found himself at a loss to respond. On one hand he understood Cameron’s impatience with their “open arrangement” that wasn’t necessarily so open; on the other, he wished the mechanic could appreciate Derek’s selflessness in permitting them to spend any amount of intimate time together.

This is why I haven’t called him, Blue realized. As much as he wanted to hear Cameron’s voice, previous phone calls had left him frustrated and confused. He supposed that when it came to Cameron, some things would never change. And yet Blue couldn’t wait to see him again. He decided to tell Cameron so. “Same here,” Cameron said in turn, and Blue heard that infectious smile behind the words again. “I can’t wait to see you either, Shane.”

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Chapter Seven Derek paced with deliberate stride around the coffee table, trailing the tongue of the riding crop up Blue’s flesh, the leather loop flicking over the strands of rope that secured the boy’s right thigh to the coffee-table leg. He traced over the flank of Blue’s buttock, resisting the urge to smack it just yet, then teased his way up the spine one vertebra at a time. He followed the curve of the shoulder hunched beside Blue’s ear, the boy’s head propped chin up, his face obscured by a rich cobalt mess. That simply would not do. Derek wanted to see his lover’s face. Rather than break out the blindfold and ball gag for this particular session, he fully intended to watch each facial expression and hear every protest. This was a first for him too, after all, and the experimental process required observation. With the crop, he brushed back the white bangs tinged with a fading streak of pink, leaving the strands to fall in place behind Blue’s studded ear. There, much better. Satisfied, Derek traced the taut sinews of the slender arm stretched across the tabletop, to the skinny wrist ringed with bracelets and tethered to the table leg opposite Blue’s thigh. As Derek circled around the table, he caught his partner cutting an accusatory glance his way. Derek smirked back down at him.

What the hell are you doing with that ? his pet had dared to ask earlier as he’d watched Derek stand over the sink, take a paring knife to the ginger, and hone his latent carving skills.

You’ll see, Derek had replied. Now, he asked a question of his own. “How does it feel?” “Cold, Sir,” Blue said, eyes narrowing. “But then you dunked it in a glass of ice water. Pervert.” The boy knew something was up, something that went beyond kinky food play. He just hadn’t figured out what yet. Little did Blue realize the cold water helped the ginger retain its

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natural slickness, an important factor since adding lubricant would have diminished the root’s effects. His own anticipation rising, Derek switched to the wrist anchored to the left table leg and resumed mapping his lover’s body with the stiff loop of leather. As he returned to his starting point, he danced the crop back down Blue’s vertebrae and over the tailbone. Reaching Blue’s nicely exposed entrance, he tapped the end of the makeshift butt plug. The scent of ginger wafted through the air. Blue squirmed -- at least as much his compromised position would allow -- and his buttocks flinched. Within seconds, he let out a whimper of surprise. “Ouch, it burns.” “Really? You don’t say.” Derek cracked the crop across one buttock. Blue yelped, his ass flinching again. “Shit! What the fuck? Get it out.” “The rules, Blue.” Derek applied several slaps of the crop in rapid fire succession, his hapless partner flinching and hissing at each smack. Derek contained his chuckle. His brat had yet to deduce that contracting his muscles only served to squeeze more juice from the irritating root. Blue was smart though and would catch on soon enough -- and that was when the real fun would begin. “Please take it out, Sir.” Derek smacked Blue’s ass again. “Why? We’ve done something like this before. It’s called ‘figging.’” “It wasn’t this intense. It didn’t --” Blue’s protest trailed off with a hiss. “Fuck.” “You like it, don’t you?” Derek coaxed. “Yeah. No. I don’t know…” Blue groaned and squirmed. Yes, the six-inch plug of ginger was serving its intended purpose. The juice not only made for the intense burning sensation but served to increase blood circulation to the area where applied. In effect, it was a natural aphrodisiac; hence, the beauty of figging. Derek grinned, the sadist in him emerging full force. “Be glad I didn’t stuff a sliver down your cock.” “You can do that?” Blue asked, his question ending with a screech. “Oh, I could do all kinds of things to you, Blue, if I were so inclined.” Derek cracked the crop from left to right, relishing the slaps that echoed through the loft. “I’m pretty easy on you, all things considering.” Blue gasped between smacks. “Was your mistress…easy on you?” Derek abruptly stopped the whipping. He stood there a moment, seething, before he walked to the other end of the table. Easing the crop under Blue’s chin, he angled the boy’s head back just an inch higher.

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“I told you, the past is the past. Don’t ever bring her up again. Understand?” “Yes, Sir,” Blue muttered, averting his gaze. “Look at me. I didn’t hear you.” The boy met Derek’s gaze, blue eyes…humble ? “Yes, Sir. I’m sorry.” Well, that was unexpected. Derek had been prepared for the usual defiant glare paired with the sullen tone of voice. A bit taken aback, he carefully lowered Blue’s chin, then took a seat in the opposite chair.

He’d submitted to her three times, and three times only. The final time, it had taken weeks for the welts to completely heal. His composure regained, Derek leaned over, elbows braced on spread knees, the crop dangling between his legs. “The sting should wear off in another ten minutes,” he casually informed his tortured pet. “Should I take it out now?” Blue peered back at Derek with unfocused eyes. He bit into his lip as his ribs slowly inflated, then deflated. “No, Sir,” he finally croaked with a whisper. “I’ll wait.” “Good.” Rising, Derek returned to his original position behind Blue’s trussed form. He traced lazy circles with the crop around his partner’s red-streaked ass, mentally marking the pale spaces that begged attention.

At the first sign of blood, he’d dared her to keep going. “What’s the matter, bitch?” he’d taunted. “Don’t have the balls?” And they had both loved it, every minute of it. Yet the morning after, once the giddy rush of testosterone, endorphins, and yes, the alcohol had worn off, Derek had stood in the shower, wincing as the scalding water beat against his raw flesh, watching the crimsonstained water spiral down the drain. He’d asked himself, how much further could it go, should it go? He’d arrived home from his tech support job a week later to find their first boy tied to the bed and waiting to be fucked. She’d purred in Derek’s ear as she passed him the riding crop. Now that you know your limits, you’re ready to test those of another. He’d struggled with his own dark and twisted urges from that day forward. Returning to the present, Derek cleared his throat. “Should I whip you while we’re waiting?” he asked Blue. “Or should I give this tender little ass of yours a break?” Blue waited a beat before answering. “More,” he whispered. “I can’t hear you.” “Whip me more, Sir. Please.”

More. He wanted more. “Tell me” -- Derek paused, partly for effect, partly as he heard for himself how lust had thickened his voice -- “when to stop.”

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Outside of the number system that Blue flashed with his fingers when gagged, they had never actually agreed on a safe word. Derek suspected that now was the time to establish one, because he was ready to tear into Blue’s ass like he never had before. “When you’ve had enough,” he continued, fighting to maintain a cool, collected tone, “I want you to say…” Shit, what was a good safe word? He needed to come up with something, and quick, before he lost momentum.

Colors. Some couples used the names of colors. They could go with something poetic, or amusing. Periwinkle? Puce? “Blue ruin,” he decided. An audible click sounded as Blue swallowed. “Yes, Sir,” the boy answered, a nervous tremor of anticipation edging his words. Derek reared back with the crop. Directing his strength to his biceps, while focusing his attention on the flick of his wrist, he came down hard. Goaded by Blue’s stifled cry, Derek came down again, and again, until Blue tensed his muscles and yelped out loud. Derek took pause, watching, waiting. Blue took a few deep breaths, and his muscles visibly relaxed. His flesh had broken out in a fine sheen of sweat. Derek wanted to stop, right then and there, and taste the salted drops that dewed down Blue’s spine, retrieve the ginger root from Blue’s entrance and perhaps enjoy a taste there as well. “I didn’t say the safe word,” Blue murmured. “Sir.”

Why that brat… Derek slapped down again, the remaining traces of untouched flesh burning red until Blue’s ass had flared into one angry welt. He reared back, ready to strike again, but stopped short at the quiet sob that escaped Blue’s throat. Derek listened, heard Blue suck in his breath, saw how the boy’s rib cage remained a bit too still. He realized Blue was trying to hide his tears. Which meant Blue wanted more. Derek swiped the back of his left hand across his brow to slick back the hair that had loosed from his pony tail. At the hint of dampness, he realized his partner wasn’t the only one who’d broken out in a sweat. That was it. He needed to stop long enough to let Blue suck him off so he could concentrate better. Tossing the crop aside, he stepped into Blue’s view. He took off his shirt, then he went to unbuckle his pants. His fingers lingered on the buckle clasp. He pulled the leather strip free. “Sir?” “Yes?” “Why don’t you use that on me?” Uncertainty wavered behind Blue’s moist eyes, but his voice sounded sure, his query more like a statement.

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Derek paused. He’d considered using the belt once, during the first few weeks that he and Blue had gotten together, but then Blue had confided that his father’s preferred form of discipline had been the belt, and so Derek had refrained, no matter how tempting the visual proved. Entertaining the prospect now, Derek looped the belt between his hands. With a tight jerk, he snapped the two halves together with a sharp crack. “You want me to use this on you instead?” Blue licked his lips. There it was, that uncertainty again, yet it was obvious the boy wanted to try something new. “Yeah,” he finally said. “I can take it.” Derek cocked an eyebrow. He snapped the belt again. “Are you sure?” Blue’s expression went hostile, and he bared his teeth. “Yes, goddammit, I’m sure!” “Fine, you fucking brat.” Derek stormed back around the table. Taking aim, he cracked down. Blue cried out, his buttocks clenching enticingly. Gaining his stride, Derek hit harder, relishing the crack of leather upon flesh backed by the hoarse sobs that filled the loft. “More?” Derek asked, knowing full well he was about to cross a line of no return, and ready to bring Blue with him. “Did I say the goddamned safe word?” Blue cried. “Is that the best you can do?” “Oh, I’m just getting started.” Derek cracked the belt down again, taking care to aim for the meatiest area where the buttocks met the thighs, not only to ease the amount of bruising, but to avoid the area nearest the lower back lest the end of the belt stray and strike the kidneys. He hit a few more times, his excitement mounting. With his other hand, he whipped his cock out and started stroking himself. Blue yelled now. “Oh, God! Stop! Derek, stop!” “Just say the safe word, Blue, and I will.” He waited a moment, gripping his cock, catching his breath. At Blue’s silence, Derek cracked down again. “You said you could take it.” “I can’t!” Blue sobbed. “Stop!” On the verge of coming all over that red ass, Derek grasped himself by the balls and held back. He asked himself what he had once asked her, his own words coming back to haunt him.

What’s the matter, bitch? Don’t have the balls? He opted to strike, just a few more times, and then he’d stop, safe word or not, and he’d get Blue off. He let loose with the belt as he stroked his cock with rapid flurry. Climax tore through him, the adrenaline rushing straight to his head as the knot in his groin sprang free.

Oh, God, yes, yes…

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Detached from his own senses, knowing only the power and the pleasure had melded into one indescribable force, Derek watched the cum splatter on Blue’s raw ass, saw the belt crack across one flank. Blue emitted a strangled plea, some indecipherable string of syllables. As the rush of ecstasy faded, Derek cracked down one more time for good measure. And then he saw it -just a few drops, the flesh barely broken, but it was there. Blood… Derek threw the belt aside. “Shit. Hold on, Blue.” His head still spinning, Derek hurriedly pulled up his pants and buttoned them. Leaning down, he tugged and slid the makeshift plug from Blue’s ass. He chunked the ginger in the general direction of the garbage can, surprised to hear it land squarely in its intended target, then fumbled for the item on the nearby end table. He’d learned from a previous experience to keep a pocketknife handy, in the event he needed to free Blue from his binds quickly. Heart racing, Derek steadied his trembling hands and opened the knife. Once the rope was cut, Derek sat on the floor, cradling Blue in his arms. Blue clung to him, sobbing uncontrollably. “Shhh,” Derek soothed, murmuring into Blue’s hair. “It’s okay. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have --” His voice cracked before he could finish. I shouldn’t have hit you that last time, but I was too busy tossing off, too wrapped up in getting off on your pain and your tears. Blue pulled away from Derek’s chest. “No, it’s not okay. I didn’t say the safe word!” “What?” Derek asked stupidly. “You think I’m some baby? You think I can’t take it?” Blue’s sobs gave way to venom as he flailed his fists against Derek’s chest.

What in the hell had just happened ? Derek wondered. Overwhelmed, he gripped Blue by the wrists. He rose to standing, hefting his distraught partner with him. “Come to bed,” he instructed, wincing at the limp in Blue’s step. “Lie on your stomach.” Blue did as he was told, his mouth tight, his tear-streaked face sullen. Derek opened the drawer of the nightstand and took out the jar of mentholated balm. Straddling Blue’s legs, he began to knead into the flesh. Minutes later, the flesh began to cool. To his disquietude, Derek found he’d grown halfway hard again. “Why did you stop?” Blue murmured into the pillow. “You were bleeding.” “So?” Blue shifted beneath him and rolled over, displaying his own arousal. “What if I want to bleed?” Derek shook his head. “No. It’s too much, Blue.” “Who says?”

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“I say.” Reaching out, Blue opened Derek’s trousers and tugged them down with a sharp jerk. He thrust up and slid his shaft against Derek’s. “Fuck me.” Derek hissed at the contact. Ignoring the pleasant shiver of sensation, he pulled back. “No. Not right now.” “You’re hard. We both are.” Blue stubbornly wriggled his hips, his prick coming into contact with Derek’s once more. “We need to give your ass a break.” “But I want you to come again,” Blue countered with a seductive pout. “And this time, inside of me.” Stretching his arms above his head, he gripped the bedrails. He shifted again and drew his knees up, angling his hips to grind his ass against the base of Derek’s balls. Derek grabbed Blue by the knees and fell forward. He slid his shaft up and down the crevice of Blue’s ass. His loosened hair draped down, framing the boy’s face with his. “Does it still burn inside?” he asked, his lips a hairbreadth from his lover’s mouth. “A little,” Blue answered. His tongue darted, hot and wet, and licked Derek’s lower lip. “So hurry up and fuck me before it wears off.” Surrendering, Derek slid inside. He bit back a groan as Blue stifled a gasp. He began to thrust, slowly and carefully, penetrating Blue’s passage by only a few inches. “If it starts to hurt, tell me to stop. No safe word. Just say stop.” The corner of Blue’s lips curled as he rocked his hips upward. “But I like it to hurt.” His buttocks smacked hard against Derek’s thighs. “I know,” Derek grunted in response, picking up that pace. “That’s why I trust you to say when enough…is enough…” “I would have.” Blue smiled coyly. “I was going to let you spank me, just one more time, but then you stopped before I could say anything.” He met Derek’s next thrust with another impatient slap of flesh against flesh. Grunting, Derek grasped Blue by the wrists and sheathed his cock to the hilt. Blue bucked back, his legs wrapping around Derek’s waist. Derek stilled a moment. “I’m not playing, Blue. You can’t place all your trust in me and leave it at that.” “But I like to leave it all up to you,” Blue said. “It’s part of the thrill for me, to know I don’t have any say, to know you can do whatever you want to me.” Tightening his legs, he tried to wriggle his hips and thrust again, but Derek held him firm. “Blue, that trust has to work both ways. I could have hurt you really bad tonight. If it wasn’t for the blood, I might --” He closed his eyes, and the truth spilled out. “I might not have stopped at the safe word.”

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He opened his eyes, and saw that the boy’s smile had faded. “Sir?” Blue said meekly. “If I tell you something, promise you won’t get mad?” “I promise.” Blue squeezed his eyes shut, sending two stray tears to trickle down each cheek. “Part of me doesn’t want you to stop.” “I know, Blue. Believe me, I know. That’s why we both have to be careful.” Derek kissed the tears away, then burrowed his face against Blue’s throat and resumed thrusting, holding back from outright plowing into the boy. He came moments after his partner, losing himself in the rhythm of muscles rippling around him and milking him dry, shivering at the brush of lips against his ear as Blue breathlessly chanted, “I love you, Sir. I love you. I love you.”

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Chapter Eight “What’s the matter, sugar? Ain’t ever seen a naked drag queen before?” Jodi giggled. Blue fanned his fingers where he’d instinctively hidden his eyes behind his hands. He peered hesitantly at Thomas. The handsome African-American gentleman made for a rather incongruous sight. A knotted nylon stocking had been stretched across his close-shaved scalp. His cocoa complexion had been smoothed with heavy pancake makeup, his hazel eyes shadowed with glittery earth tones and framed with thick fake lashes. His generous lips were glossed ruby red. Topless, the housepainter by day, female impersonator by night boasted an attractive masculine build with contoured biceps, squared pectorals, and defined abs. His narrow waist tapered to the hem of his support hose. From there, rounded hips smoothed down to a pair of taut thighs, arched calves, and slender ankles that would have put a leggy 1940s pinup girl to shame. “Well,” Blue answered, dropping his hands, “no. I can’t say that I have.” “Well, now you can, honey!” Thomas patted Blue on the shoulder and belted out with a hearty laugh, a sharp contrast from the dainty titter he used onstage as Miss Doreena Dee Vine -- Dee for “delicious.” Taking in Thomas’s appearance openly, Blue could discern the bare outline of the pads used to fill out the drag queen’s hips and butt. However, Blue could not help but express his curiosity regarding Thomas’s gams. “How do you get your legs to look so, um, shapely?” “Special calisthenics,” Thomas explained. “That and walking around in heels will tighten your calves like nobody’s business.” “Where do you find women’s shoes that big, anyway?” Jodi asked. “Where do drag queens buy anything for that matter?” Blue added. “Fabulous Bitches ‘R’ Us ?”

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Thomas burst out with another deep chuckle. “Oh, honey, you crack me up. But to answer Miss Thang’s question, most shoe stores carry higher sizes for women, they just store them in the back so as not to offend those delicate female sensibilities. Though, do you know, one time this sales clerk refused to wait on me or let me try on shoes? And do you know what Miss Doreena told him? I told him, my money is just as green as the next bitch’s, honey. I walked on out the door and took my business to a store where they appreciate Miss Doreena’s hard earned dollar.” “Good for you, Miss Doreena,” Jodi said. “Yes, good for her!” Thomas sat down at the table. Crossing one knee over the other, he daintily extended his long, sculpted nails as he opened the Styrofoam container. “Thanks again for bringing me lunch, sweethearts. I don’t keep this girlish figure by starving myself. Miss Doreena likes to eat.” Blue shrugged in turn. “No problem. Thanks for paying for ours.” Mouth watering, he opened up his own lunch from the burger joint down the street. What with having a gourmet connoisseur for a boyfriend, it had been months since Blue had enjoyed a greasy cheeseburger with salty fries on the side. He sank his teeth into the burger, indulging himself in the guilty pleasure of juicy beef and melted cheese slathered with extra mayo. He and Jodi had decided to visit Oakwood after they’d finished touring the cosmetology school earlier that morning. Determined to hang out in the rainbow district and break his established pattern of getting drugged, knocked in the head, kidnapped, or nearly killed, he and his friend had enjoyed window shopping and people watching for two quiet, pleasant hours. While they were at it, Blue had decided to see how reconstruction was coming along at Blue Ruin. Upon seeing Blue, Thomas had embraced him in a tight bear hug, followed by one for Jodi even though they’d just met. They’d talked cosmetology for a few, then Thomas had slipped Blue a wad of cash to go get them all some lunch. In exchange, Blue and Jodi had agreed to help paint the new club after they ate, since Thomas had to prepare for a show that evening at another bar. “What’s up with all the ones?” Blue had asked. “Tips from Miss Doreena’s last bachelorette party,” Thomas had explained with a wink. Blue had walked away, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that women would hire a drag queen to strip for a bachelorette party. Jodi said she’d hire one for hers if she ever got married. Blue decided Jodi was officially weird. He took another bite of burger and looked around the club. He tried not to dwell on the fact that a body had been found in the charred remains of the former Blue Ruin, while Thomas had discovered a dead teenage prostitute in the dumpster behind the new incarnation just a few months before. For all the bad that happened there, Blue Ruin was where Blue had met Derek -- hell, the club’s name was their safe word now -- and he’d been intrigued to hear someone had purchased the property with plans to reopen. When he’d

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realized proprietor Thomas Vines was none other than Miss Doreena, the drag queen who’d performed at the bar the one night Blue had bused tables there, his curiosity had been piqued. “So what are you doing with the place?” he mumbled around his food. “It doesn’t look trashy like the old dive.” “Oh, mercy, no,” Thomas said, waving a French fry pinched between two fingers. “The new and improved Blue Ruin will offer some much-needed class and distinction to the Oakwood ghetto. Miss Doreena will be heading a drag cabaret, and my girls will be serving wine and brie. Except on Trash Disco Tuesday. That’s when we’ll tap the keg and bring the hot male dancers in.” Thomas eyed Blue. “You are such a pretty little thing, sugar. Don’t think you’d cut the mustard for go-go boy, but you’ve got perfect features for drag. Why don’t you come work for Miss Doreena?” Blue nearly choked on his burger. Before he could answer, Jodi chimed in. “Ooh yeah! I’d love to make Blue-kun over!” “No, thanks, that’s okay,” Blue demurred, feeling his cheeks blaze. Just because he’d put on eyeliner and traded shirts with Jodi again -- her black-and-blue striped V-neck sweater for his black henley pullover -- didn’t mean he intended to start dressing in women’s clothes and makeup. “Oh, come on, try it just once,” Jodi said. Thankfully, her cell phone started ringing. Blue knew what was up by the second sentence that came out of his friend’s mouth. She was needed at home to take care of either her sister or some errand. Normally, Jodi seemed keen to help her disabled mother. For the first time since he’d met her, however, Blue detected a resentful edge to her tone as she promised her mother she’d be home soon. “I’m sorry,” she said with a sigh. Visibly sulking, she clicked her phone shut. She looked at Thomas and started to open her miniature metal lunchbox turned purse. “I’ll have to take my burger to go. Let me pay you back since I can’t help paint.” Thomas held up one hand, palm out. “You put that wallet right back in your purse, girlfriend. Why don’t you come by after you start that nail design course and practice on Miss Doreena?” “Okay, deal.” Her face brightening, Jodi turned to Blue. “You want to come with me, Blue-kun, or see if Derek can pick you up later?” “I’ll stay,” Blue said. “I can take the bus home.” No need to bother his man, especially since Derek wasn’t fond of Blue visiting Oakwood, given his track record for finding himself in interesting situations the minute he set foot past Elm Street. An hour later, Blue was pleased to find he was still alive and well. He sat on the end of the scaffolding and dipped the paintbrush into the bucket. As cheesy as he found disco music, he had to admit the beat thumping through the newly installed sound system lent

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him a good rhythm to work to. He slapped the brush against the plaster and resumed painting in time to Donna Summer’s club staple “Hot Stuff.” From the corner of his vision, he saw that Thomas was now in full Doreena mode, replete with prosthetic breasts, wild ebony curls, and sequined red gown. The talented diva sashayed across the stage and shook her voluptuous fake curves as she lip-synched in flawless unison to the taped music. The song came to an abrupt halt, followed by what sounded like the Chipmunks singing in reverse. Blue peered over his shoulder and saw Doreena at the corner of the stage rewinding the antiquated reel-to-reel cassette player. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “I forgot my moves. Got to start over from the top. Miss Doreena demands no less than perfection.” “You know what I was thinking? You should leave the scaffolding up and reinforce it as a permanent structure. Then you could let your go-go boys dance on them in tight paintsplattered jeans.” “Not a bad idea,” Doreena said with a wide grin of approval. “You’re thinking like a true queen now, honey. Miss Doreena will convert you yet.” One lacquered red nail hovered over the play button when a loud banging sounded at the metal entrance. Doreena and Blue both jumped. “Heavens, who is that?” Doreena descended the stage with a sway of her hips. She peered through the peep grate set in one of the double doors. “Oh shit.” Doreena turned, wide-eyed. Hands fluttering, she scuffled across the floor as fast her high heels and tight skirt would allow. “Get down from there, sugar. Hide in the kitchen. Don’t come out until I say…oh, what’s a good code word? Pink garters. Don’t come out until I say ‘pink garters.’” “Oh-kay,” Blue said, doing as instructed. Thomas shooed him into the half-built kitchen and shut off the light. Blue stood in the dark beside the mop bucket and listened. He heard another scuffle of heels, followed by the sound of the heavy door being opened. “Why, hello there, boys,” Doreena greeted, still in character with a flirtatious tone. Blue easily imagined her batting her false eyelashes while pressing one hand to her fake bosom. “Doreena, Doreena,” a masculine voice chided in what sounded like a thick Russian accent. “The boss, he wants to know where is his money? He sees you can afford to rebuild this club. Why do you not have the money to pay him?” “I bought this property with a legitimate bank loan.” It was Thomas’s baritone now, the nervous strain evident in his voice. “Blue Ruin is what you might call an investment of sorts.

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After I open, I’ll be able to make payments on a monthly basis. I’ve calculated the figures, and I can pay you boys back in just six months.” “Is that with or without the interest?” another male visitor asked, his words flavored by the same accent. His English was more refined, his tenor softer than that of the first voice but nonetheless intimidating. “Okay, maybe a year,” Thomas corrected. “I just need a little more time. Please.” “We need collateral,” said the first voice. “I have jewelry,” Thomas offered. “Real diamonds, mind you, not this tacky paste shit the other queens wear.” “That cannot do, Doreena,” said the second voice. “We will take the deed to the club.” Blue peered around the corner to get a peek at Thomas’s uninvited guests. He expected the mobsters to be seasoned hardboiled types. He was wholly unprepared for the sight of two young men, not much older than he was. One was tall and svelte with handsome chiseled features, his sharp cheekbones complemented by short, spiky hair bleached white. He stood dressed in head-to-toe black, a long leather trench coat thrown over a fishnet shirt tucked into tight leather pants. His partner was shorter and even more slender, with soft facial features framed by waist-length golden blond curls that spilled from a half ponytail. Also dressed in black, his outfit consisted of a long vinyl jacket paired with halter top and pants crafted of the same shiny material. A rosary hung from the boy’s neck, the cross dangling at his exposed navel, while the knuckles of his hands were adorned with silver claw rings, the type that were popular among the goth set. Both young men wore tall boots with buckles to the knee. The mobsters contrasted and complemented each other at once, one hard, the other soft, yet their eyes, lips, and noses were shaped the same, lending them a similar look. Brothers, Blue deduced. Thomas wrung his hands. “Oh no, not the deed. I’ve worked too hard and too long to repair my credit after my ex-boyfriend ran off with the charge cards, that two-timing, nogood bitch. It’s why I went to you boys two years ago when my niece needed that transplant. Can’t we discuss alternatives? Where’s Georgi? He’s always been reasonable.” “Georgi?” the tall one said. “He is locked up at the county jail. It is one reason that the boss is in a bad mood. Without Georgi to cook, we have not eaten a decent meal in many weeks.” The shorter thug snorted. “The boss is in a bad mood for many reasons. And the boss wants his money.” Blue took all this in from his hiding spot in the shadows. County jail ? he wondered. It struck him that Eastern European mobsters would normally be prosecuted on a higher level, which meant two things -- their friend Georgi must be in for a relatively minor charge

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outside of mob activities, and someone in the sheriff’s department was likely trying to strike a deal with him to get to the more serious stuff perpetrated by the higher-ups. And both the city and the county fell under James McGowan’s jurisdiction. Blue emerged from the shadows. “What’s Georgi in for?” Doreena’s eyes went wide, as did those of her guests. The slighter built boy with the luxurious curls approached Blue. “What do we have here, Drago?” He circled around, his shoulder brushing Blue’s. “Pretty little thing,” he purred in Blue’s ear. “What is your name?” Blue stiffened. It hadn’t bothered him when Doreena had described him with those exact words earlier. He took offense, however, at hearing it from someone who was only an inch taller than him, just as skinny, and with long curls pulled back in a ponytail. “Blue,” he answered sullenly. “Fitting,” the young hoodlum said. He stopped in front of Blue, their bodies pressed together. Up close, the boy’s eyes shone a brilliant shade of sapphire veiled by long, pale lashes. He threaded a strand of Blue’s white bangs through his fingers, tracing the tip of one claw ring down Blue’s cheek. “Mine is Luka.” “Sounds like a girl’s name,” Blue said with a sneer. He didn’t appreciate having his personal space invaded, either. Luka appeared unfazed. “I assure you that I am all boy.” “You can help Georgi?” Drago interjected with his gruffer voice, arms crossed, tone skeptical. “How?” “I have connections,” Blue said, stepping back from Luka. “Now answer my question. What’s he in for?” “Assault and battery.”

Oh. That one might be a bit tough to work around. “Who’d he rough up?” Luka rolled his eyes. “That big, stupid oaf. He saw this guy beating a puppy at the park. So Georgi beat him.” “Oh, is that all?” said Blue, somewhat amused. Okay, that was workable. Beating and torturing someone’s grandmother because they owed the Russian mafia drug money, not so much. He steeled himself with a deep breath, knowing the information he was about to impart and the plan he had in mind would likely land his ass in yet another interesting situation. At least this time, he’d chosen to get involved. Blue assumed they could take care of everything right there at Blue Ruin, but at mention of his father’s name, the situation grew a touch more interesting than he’d considered. According to Luka, he would have to meet “The Boss” in person to negotiate the finer details. The mental gears churning, devising a way to work the turn of events in his

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favor, Blue allowed Luka and Drago to escort him out the door, one arm gripped per brother. He peered over his shoulder and fired off a phone number to Thomas. “Call Derek. Let him know I’m okay before he hears from my dad.” At least Blue hoped he was still “okay” by the time all was said and done. Blue slid in the back of a vintage black Lincoln Continental with leather seats and tinted windows. A rosary hung from the rearview mirror alongside a faded air freshener depicting a haloed Virgin Mary. “Sweet ride,” Blue commented, feeling like he’d unwittingly been cast in a Tarantino gangster flick and so should recite the script accordingly. Drago slipped behind the steering wheel and pulled out a pair of sunglasses from the window visor. “Thank you.” Luka slid in beside Blue with a squeak of vinyl and a jingle of silver. He slammed the door. Apparently, the scowl on his face was permanently affixed. “Call your papa, mali.” “Already on it,” Blue said, bristling, suspecting he’d just been insulted in Russian or whatever language the blond spoke. He hit speed dial for his father, then passed his cell phone to Drago. Pressing the phone to his ear, Drago smoothly wheeled the Lincoln from the curb with one hand. Blue shuts his eyes and complied as Luka wrapped the blindfold around his head. As his vision went dark, he wondered if the flutter in his stomach stemmed from fear or excitement.

***** Derek checked his watch again. He found it ironic that if a patient arrived late for a dental appointment, they were penalized and forced to either wait a few hours to be penciled back in or pay a rescheduling fee for another day; yet punctual arrivals languished in the waiting room well past their appointed time slots. Derek had wanted to bring Blue in with him, offering to pay out of pocket since a basic annual exam and cleaning were fairly inexpensive, but his pierced-and-tattooed masochist of a partner had blanched at mention of the dentist. “They have a playroom with a Lego table,” Derek had teased, but as it turned out, Blue had conveniently been scheduled to visit the cosmetology school that morning, now that Jodi’s student loan had been approved. Then again, Derek couldn’t fault Blue’s hesitance. In spite of warm beige walls adorned with muted abstract prints, comfortably plush seats of mango suede, or the bubbling indoor fountain to soothe raw nerves paired with potted bamboo to inspire a false sense of Zen, he’d winced more than once the past hour at the whine of the drill wafting through the closed clinic door. While he was more than happy to indulge Blue’s pain fetish in the bedroom

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courtesy of his own sadistic whims, Derek didn’t wish the horrors of the dentist’s chair on anyone. The drill sounded again. Seeking a distraction, he’d already scrolled through the various news and blog feeds he subscribed to via his smartphone. Tucking the gadget in his pocket, he resigned himself to the periodical collection on the waiting room end table. He sifted through the women’s, parenting, and sports magazines for anything news related. From there, he narrowed down to the most recently dated. The portrait on the cover grabbed him first -- a close-up of a red-robed Buddhist monk in prayerful repose, contrasted against a row of black-clothed military police with batons and shields in the background. Then he read the headline: Political Unrest in Burma. The last time Derek had heard from his father, Austin, the fifty-year-old was en route to Burma after having visited other famous Buddhist locales throughout Asia. A few years before, Austin had divorced his third wife -- technically his second, as he’d never married Derek’s mother Sandra, but the burned-out photographer had counted his legal marriages as the second and third regardless. From what Derek had gathered through limited correspondence, the divorce had sparked Austin’s midlife crisis, leading to some sort of spiritual epiphany, followed by the photographer’s pilgrimage East with the goal of “finding himself.” Sitting back with his foot propped on his knee, Derek thumbed through the glossy pages of the magazine and located the story, dominated by more stunning photographs like the one featured on the cover. He skimmed through the article, reading of the recent clashes between the monks and the state police which had then sparked citizen protests. As he read, his eyes continued to stray from the words to the photos. He couldn’t quite finger it, but somehow, the photographer had truly captured the emotions and energy of the protesters, more than what one normally found in a news spread. Something about the photographer’s approach to light, color, and composition rang familiar. The credits at the end of the article confirmed Derek’s growing suspicion.

Photographer: Austin Graves. It seemed that in the process of finding himself, Austin had brought his camera along. His new artistic direction proved a far cry from the rock stars, bohemian refugees, and trust fund dilettantes he’d once celebrated during the glory years of the New York glam scene. Ruminating over bittersweet memories, of reciting Korean once for Andy Warhol at one of Sandra’s parties, only to subsist on ramen the following week while his parents struggled to meet the rent, Derek returned the magazine to the coffee table. He’d hear from Austin sooner or later. At least they’d have something interesting to discuss for a change. Sitting straight, Derek caught the brunette sitting cross-legged across from him, peering at him over her own reading material. She shifted her eyes away, but he caught the telltale blush creeping up her cheeks.

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Due to his biracial Asian-American heritage, Derek had been stared at and considered an exotic curiosity for as long as he could recall. The attention neither boosted his ego nor disturbed him; if anything, it left him mildly puzzled. Over the years, Sandra had often shared the story about the elderly shopkeeper she and her three-year-old son had met while making the stroller rounds in their East Village block. At the time, children had been a rare sight in the neighborhood. The woman had stopped sweeping the sidewalk and leaned down to greet the toddler. “Such a beautiful child,” she said, eyes crinkling. “I know,” he replied matter-of-factly. At that stage, such compliments had already become a fact of Derek’s young life. The woman stood straight a moment, stunned, then burst into hearty laughter. “You’ve got a confident one there,” she told Sandra. To this day, Derek still couldn’t grasp what all the fuss was about. Blue was the pretty one. The clinic door opened, breaking his reverie. Derek hazarded a glance at the exiting patient and saw that the gentleman looked a little peaked but didn’t appear too traumatized. The young assistant behind him looked at her clipboard. “Mr. Graves,” she announced. The brunette across from him breathed a quiet sigh. Whether because she was relieved or annoyed that she had to continue waiting, Derek couldn’t tell. As he took his seat in the exam chair, his phone vibrated, then chimed. Pulling the phone from his pocket, Derek was surprised to see the name Blue Ruin displayed on the caller ID. “Hello?” he answered. A tear-strained voice filled his ear, the words strung in a breathless, panicked rush. “Oh, sugar, this is just terrible. They took Blue. Or well, they didn’t really take him, it’s more like he voluntarily offered to go but…he told me to tell you he’s okay. But, honey, that boy of yours is crazy for even walking out of here with those thugs!” “Doreena?” Derek asked, comprehension sinking in as his stomach dropped. He rose from his seat and started for the door. “Er, Thomas. Take a deep breath and give me a minute.” He barged passed the assistant, who was returning to the room with dental tray in hand. “Emergency,” he told her. “Tell the receptionist to reschedule for next month and email me a reminder.” “Um, sure,” she called after him down the corridor. “I’ll have her waive the rescheduling fee.” “Damned right she’ll waive it,” Derek growled. “Thomas, you still with me? Slow down and start at the beginning.” By the time Derek got the full story regarding Blue’s self-staged “kidnapping,” Derek couldn’t decide if he was relieved, even more worried, or highly pissed.

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He ended the call and set the phone in the middle console of the Porsche, awaiting the inevitable phone call from the District Attorney. He’d play along with his foolish imp’s cunning plan to an extent, but he’d let Jim know that Blue wasn’t necessarily in peril. Apparently Blue was still under the impression that his father was a cold-hearted bastard more interested in wheeling and dealing than the welfare of his own son, but then the boy hadn’t seen the look of fear that had crossed Jim’s face the night he and Derek had believed, for a few harrowing moments, that Blue was dead. Yes, he’d inform Jim that Blue was “okay.” And if Derek had his say, he would be escorting the released prisoner and making the exchange for Blue. Merging onto the freeway, he shifted gears, stepped on the gas, and shot well ahead of the other drivers who were already exceeding the speed limit. The cops couldn’t catch all of them. Stretching his right arm, he opened the glove box for his emergency pack of cigarettes. After a minute of fumbling, he came up empty-handed. Goddammit, Blue, he thought, as touched as he was annoyed. By the time he got off the phone with Jim, Derek was already nearing the exit to city hall. “If Blue gets out of this in one piece,” he muttered, “I’m going to wring his neck.”

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Chapter Nine When Luka tugged off the blindfold, Blue saw the mob hideout was pretty much as he’d envisioned it -- a dank, dusty, abandoned building, likely tucked away in the warehouse district. Drago mounted a creaky set of wooden stairs while Luka held Blue back with one hand. Reaching the top, the taller brother scanned the open loft space. He nodded at someone in greeting, then motioned for Luka and Blue to follow. As he topped the stairs, Blue caught sight of a young thug who better fit his concept of the Eastern European mobster than Drago or Luka. Topless and dressed in camouflage fatigue pants with combat boots, he had what some might term a hardboiled look, enhanced by bulging biceps and steely pecs adorned with tattoos. His hair was shorn to a thin layer of stubble, lending a hard edge to his pug-nosed facial features. Perched on a wooden stool, he glanced at Blue over a magazine cover featuring a buxom blonde and brunette clad in naughty nurse uniforms. The women clutched one another under their white vinyl micro-skirts as they sneered at the camera. Whether they were supposed to look seductive or pissed off, Blue couldn’t tell. “Who the fuck is this?” the thug asked, his accent thicker than that of Drago. Rising, he folded his lesbian porn back and set it aside on a nearby crate. Blue swallowed nervously at the AK-47 that had magically materialized in the thug’s hands. “Blue, this is Yuri,” Luka offered in introduction. “Yuri, this is Blue. Say hello to the nice man with the big gun, Blue.” “Um, hi,” Blue said with a timid wave of the hand. Yuri smiled, displaying a sizable gap between his front teeth, though the smile did not reach his cold, beady eyes. “Should I escort him to the boss’s parlor?” he asked. The three gangsters shared a ribald chuckle, lending Blue the distinct impression he was standing on the outside of a private joke.

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“I will take him,” Luka said. He gripped Blue by the upper arm and jerked him along. Yuri shrugged. He turned to retrieve his magazine, revealing a sizable work of body art. Blue looked over his shoulder in awe. A dark-haired vampiress outfitted in full Dominatrix regalia plunged her fangs into the heaving, blood-drenched bosom of a limp and naked blonde, the look on the victim’s face one of sheer rapture. Blue couldn’t help but notice a running theme with Yuri’s interests, and though he did not share that particular interest, he admired the skill that had gone into the back piece. Luka led him through a labyrinth of wooden crates. Blue could only imagine what the crates contained -- illegal weapons, kilos of cocaine, perhaps a corpse or two sealed inside a heavy steel drum. They stepped into a freight elevator. Luka manually slid the accordion gate shut, then pushed down on a lever. The lift rattled and ascended with a groan of gears. Blue held his breath, hoping the cables held. It screeched to a jerking halt, causing Blue’s gut to lurch. As he stepped out of the elevator, Blue found himself awash in a soft glow of color. His eyes went wide at the arched stained-glass window, wider at the lavishly furnished space. Lit by a pair of large brass candelabra dripping with molten white wax, the floor had been converted into a gothic parlor replete with antique brocade furniture and adorned in sumptuous velvets, silks, and leather, mostly black, trimmed in varying shades of red. It was a bit much for a warehouse and definitely didn’t meet city fire codes. The only thing missing was a chorus of altar boys singing in the background. “What the hell is this?” Blue asked, feeling like he’d dropped down the rabbit hole and landed in some cheesy goth music video. “Interview with the Vampire ?” Luka snorted with what almost passed for laughter. “The boss, his style is a bit…dramatic.” He waved one hand in elegant flourish, the candlelight glinting from his jeweled knuckles. “It looks like a church,” Blue said, his eyes traveling back up to the stained glass. “It was,” Luka said. “The boss, he says the factory used to be outside of the city, and that there were no other buildings. Many of the workers lived here, and many of them died here. So the factory, it was built with its own chapel. Drago and I wanted this for our room, but the boss made us flip a coin.” “I take it the boss won?” Luka’s lips curved ever so subtly. “Sasha always wins.” With a whirl of his coat and a click of his boot heels, the blond turned and stepped back into the elevator. “Make yourself comfortable. Sasha will soon arrive.” He shut the gate and descended from Blue’s sight, his diabolical chuckle fading with him. “Sasha?” Blue mumbled to himself. What was up with these hardcore thugs with girly names?

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Hands at his sides, Blue stood helplessly as he more fully took in his surroundings. He walked across the parlor, the squeak of his sneakers upon the polished concrete floor echoing, muffled somewhat by the plush furnishings but still reverberating through the open space. He wondered what lay beyond the curtained perimeter. Hoping no ghosts of mangled factory workers lurked in wait, he peered through one set of velvet panels. He found himself looking into an equally lavish alcove, lit by more candles, the antiquated term “bedchamber” being the only fitting description. Candles burned in varying colors and sizes atop an antique chest of drawers, and Blue detected the cloying though not unpleasant scent of patchouli. A massive four-poster bed put Derek and Blue’s king-sized model to shame. Covered with burgundy satin sheets, the mattress was piled with pillows cut of matching damask, the tall bedposts draped with more of the same. Blue immediately recognized the bed for what it was, the same as he had the first time he’d woken in Derek’s -- the satin-sheeted lair of the predator. As reality sank in, Blue voiced out loud what he’d been wondering since he’d inadvertently offered himself as collateral earlier that day. “What the fuck have I gotten myself into?” “That is a good question, maleni.” Blue jumped, startled by the gruff baritone clipped with the same exotic accent as the other thugs he’d met so far. He stopped himself short of whirling around. Casually, he pivoted to face his host. He froze as his breath left him; his stomach clutched, and he went weak at the knees. He opened his mouth to speak. Unable to find his voice, he clamped his jaw shut. Every Hollywood stereotype of the evil Russian gang lord played through Blue’s mind. For all he knew, the man standing before him was a ruthless murderer, rapist, drug trafficker, pimp… And he looked like a rock star messiah. A really hot rock star perfectly suited to be cast in the cheesy goth video Blue had thought of earlier. The tall, svelte man advanced toward Blue, his movements touched with feline grace, his features blessed with a dark beauty befitting only that of a fallen angel. Dressed all in black, his style fell somewhere between that of Drago and Luka. His fitted silk shirt lay unbuttoned to reveal a Slavic cross hanging from a thin silver chain, displayed against a backdrop of tattooed flesh. Tight leather pants clung low to narrow hips, so low that Blue could see where the tribal piece inked upon the man’s pale, flat abdomen followed the treasure line well past his navel. Blushing, Blue diverted his wayward gaze back up to the man’s face, framed by luxurious ebony waves that brushed his shoulders. And his eyes -- perhaps it was a trick of the candlelight, but they appeared to be as black as his hair, their dark hue enhanced by

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thick lashes and a proud brow. His nose, prominent yet not unattractive, lent the man a distinct sense of character and served to balance the plush width of his pillowed lips. The mob boss stopped just inches from Blue. Craning his neck, Blue met his host’s lofty gaze. He’s taller than Derek, Blue realized, estimating the other man’s height at six feet three or four. He gauged his host’s age to be around Derek’s as well, but with a man this flawlessly beautiful years were beside the point. “Greetings,” said his host. “I am Sasha.” The gruffness of his voice touched Blue at some primitive level, one which instantly responded to the mob boss as a man who took what he wanted and was rarely denied. In other words, the type Blue was generally drawn to. With a nervous lick of his lips, Blue opened his mouth a scant moment before the words came. “I’m Blue,” he managed to say, his introduction barely above a whisper. “Fitting,” Sasha said, his short i drawn into a long e, the sexy rasp of his voice sending a pleasant thrill down Blue’s spine. Long, elegant fingers traced down the streak of Blue’s bangs, sending another shiver at the feathery touch that teased at his temple, leaving him overwhelmed by the sheer, sensual charisma which Sasha exuded from every pore. “Well, you know, my hair…” “I speak of your eyes. They are blue, like the sky is blue.” “I’ve always thought of them more as gray,” Blue said. “No. They are blue.” The man smiled, a genuine and warm smile, and yet the dangerous glint still shone in his eyes. “Luka tells me you have an offer Sasha cannot refuse.” He moved a single step forward, closing the remaining distance between them, his torso meeting Blue’s. Blue recoiled, not in distaste but at the unwitting jolt of arousal incited by the stranger’s body against his. He retreated a step back, into the curtains. “Y-yes,” he stammered. “I’m here to negotiate on behalf of Miss Doreena, I mean Thomas Vines, the owner of Blue Ruin.” Sasha extended his arms up and out. Parting the curtains, he stalked toward Blue once more. Blue stumbled back into the bedchamber. “And your terms, plave oči ?” Sasha asked. By candlelight, his coal black eyes gleamed like those of a hungry wolf.

No, not a wolf, Blue mentally corrected himself. More like a panther, of the sleek, black variety. The back of Blue’s knees buckled against the side of the bed, and his ass plopped to a sitting position. He scrambled back across the mattress before considering that was exactly what his captor had anticipated. Sasha crawled across the mattress after him. On all fours, he straddled and hovered over Blue, his cross dangling an inch from Blue’s chest, his ebony curls wildly framing his face. Blue shrank back into the pillows, distressed to find his body favorably responding once more to the thug’s commanding presence.

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“I think you’ve misunderstood. I’m not part of the terms,” Blue murmured. Turning his head aside, evading Sasha’s seductive gaze, he noticed the chain with double wrist cuffs that snaked out from under the pillows. Ah, so Sasha played that way. With that realization came the unbidden visual of Sasha tethering him to the bed. His face on fire now, Blue cleared his throat and shifted his hips. “I already have a master.” Sasha’s smoldering eyes sparked, coal fired to obsidian. He lowered his face to the base of Blue’s throat. With a scant brush of the lips, he traced the line of Blue’s clavicle back and forth. “Oh? Where is your collar?” he asked. Blue tried his damnedest to ignore the tiny ripples of sensation induced by Sasha’s breath. “Um, well, we’ve never used one of those,” he replied. He wondered why, actually. The thought of being chained by the neck and led around by Derek proved a rather arousing prospect. The mental image did nothing to ease Blue’s vexed state. Sasha lifted his head and sneered. “I do not mean like a toy. Did he brand you, then?” “Brand me? You mean like they do with cattle?” At Sasha’s nod, Blue added, “With a hot branding iron?” Granted, he was a submissive with a pain fetish and a penchant for tattoos and piercings, but the thought of getting burned and permanently scarred seemed a tad excessive. Jaw set, Sasha spoke to him with what Blue recognized as forced patience, the same kind that Derek exhibited when he’d launched into condescending mode. “How does your master mark you as his?”

By banging my ass six ways from Sunday until I can’t sit down or walk straight for a week, Blue considered saying. Then it struck him, Sasha sought some physical symbol of ownership. Not that Derek “owned” him per se, but Blue agreed that in certain respects, he belonged to his master. There was his right nipple piercing; he opted to keep that mark of ownership to himself. Instead, he held up his right wrist. He hooked one finger under the black and blue cock ring. Sasha’s eyebrows winged up. “Your master, he goes easy on you.” “We retired this one and upgraded to something more…intensive,” Blue explained, feeling his cheeks flush anew. Lowering his face again, Sasha murmured just below Blue’s ear. “Tell me this, Blue. Does your master know where you are?” At the warm puff of breath against his throat, another shiver coursed down Blue’s spine and straight to his prick. He swallowed. “No.” “No? What are the terms of your contract?” “Contract?” Blue asked. He was starting to feel really ignorant, answering questions with questions.

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“You do not have a contract?” Sasha asked, shaking his head, his tone smacking of disapproval. At Blue’s silence, he made a guttural sound of disgust from the back of his throat. “You mean to say, you come and go as you wish and do not account to your master for your whereabouts? A foolish master, letting one so pretty and so young as you out of his sight.” “I only answer to him in the bedroom,” Blue said, bristling at the assumption that in being submissive he was supposed to be a doormat. He shoved at Sasha’s chest, ignoring the pleasant contact of his palms slapping against bare flesh. He sat up partway, braced on his elbows. “What does this have to do with my sex life? I told you, I’m here to negotiate. I don’t know how you do things back in Russia, but if you’ll check an English language dictionary, ‘negotiate’ does not translate to ‘let some horny pervert have his way with me.’” Sasha knelt upright. His scowl faded to a smile. He laughed, his chuckle deepening into a hearty rumble. “Your master, he chose a feisty one.” Sitting back, Sasha drew up one leg. He rested one arm across the footboard, and propped the other on his knee. His shirt sleeves pulled up, revealing more body art. “And I am not born from Russia. I am Serb. Now, enough teasing, maleni. What are your terms?” Blue caught his gaze drifting back to Sasha’s tattooed navel. Trailing lower, he noted the bulge in the man’s tight leather pants. Ignoring the fact that this gorgeous specimen of the alpha male variety desired him, Blue focused on the mobster’s face and directly met those coal black eyes. “I get Georgi sprung. In exchange, you forgive Thomas’s debt. My father is orchestrating Georgi’s release as we speak.” “The debt itself, I am willing to rescind in the event Georgi is freed.” It was evident by Sasha’s tone that he was unconvinced Blue’s end of the bargain could be met. “But there is the matter of the interest. A favor, it is all well and good, but I have my own financial concerns, ones which warrant cold, hard cash. What do you think, Blue? I bet you will fetch a pretty price on the auction block.” “What?” Blue croaked with a surge of alarm. “Ah, yes. Sasha has ties. Very bored and very rich businessmen who will pay top dollar for a young slave boy.” “You’re shitting me, right?” Blue said. Sasha laughed with his deep, throaty rumble. “Yes, I am sheeting you, Blue.” Without warning, Sasha lunged. Blue once more found himself crushed back into the pillows, both wrists pinned above his head in one of Sasha’s wide palms. “But I do not tease when I say I would enjoy a taste.” “A taste of what?” Blue ventured, his tone more flirtatious than he’d intended it to be. “A pretty little brat like you, one who is in need of a firm master with a strong hand.”

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“My master takes care of me just fine,” Blue muttered. “Oh?” Sasha asked. “If your master has trained you properly, you will respond to only his touch.” To prove his point, Sasha slid his free hand up Blue’s inner thigh. Blue squirmed, feeling his cock go harder at the physical attentions of the attractive, alluring and -- yes -dangerous man. “Bullshit.” Blue wriggled to escape, his futile efforts serving only to create friction in the last place he needed it. “It’s…it’s a natural physical reaction. I have no control over that.” “Exactly,” Sasha breathed against his pulse point, sending another jolt of pleasure. “You have no control. This is where your master fails you.” “No, he hasn’t failed me,” Blue countered. “I can’t…” He bit back a moan. “I can’t help being turned on, but I can…” He stifled a gasp. “I can help acting on it.” “And if I chain you?” the Serb taunted him. In a flash, the leather cuffs were snapped around Blue’s wrists before he could react. “You will not fight me, no? Not a fickle brat like you. You will hold this firm little ass in the air and let me have my way. You will beg and moan for Sasha to do more.” “No…” Blue said in feeble protest, twisting and tugging at the chain, feeling himself melt and ooze like putty in what he did not doubt to be very capable hands. Sasha was right. He was fickle, and he had the painfully throbbing erection to prove it. As for being taken against his will, he couldn’t necessarily claim that he’d be so unwilling. Something told him that if he only consented, Sasha could take him to levels even Derek would not dare imagine.

But Derek…oh God, Derek. He was the one and only man in whom Blue could ever fully entrust himself to such intense pleasure. “I have an idea,” Blue said, “to help settle the interest for Thomas.” “You will let Sasha train you?” “No,” Blue said firmly. “My master. You can train my master.” Of course, he wouldn’t want Derek anywhere near this dangerous place, but he’d worry about that later. He was simply buying time and attempting to stave off Sasha’s amorous advances while they awaited word on Georgi. Blue suspected that once Sasha saw Georgi had indeed been released, he would be content to forgive Thomas’s debt in full. Sasha stared back down at him with a wry lift of the eyebrow. “You will negotiate on behalf of your master? You are a most unusual slave indeed.” The grinding screech of the elevator sounded. Luka’s muffled voice wafted through the curtains. “Sasha, I have received a phone call. Some guy is waiting at the rendezvous point with Georgi. He will make the trade for Blue.” Sasha’s eyes lit. “Georgi is out?” He beamed down and patted the side of Blue’s face. “You impress me, plave oči. I am sorry to have doubted you.” He angled his head back toward the curtains; raising his voice, he addressed Luka once more. “A cop is with Georgi?”

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“No. The guy says his name is Dereek.” “Derek!” Blue’s eyes went wide, and he jerked at the wrist cuffs. Shit, Derek wasn’t supposed to get involved in this mess ! He looked to Sasha and found those onyx eyes peering back down at him with wicked mirth. “Ah, so Dereek is your master.” Blue started to deny it, lest Sasha found some way to use Derek’s involvement against him, but under that penetrating gaze, he knew Sasha would see right through the lie. He nodded mutely. “The way you call his name -- no boy has ever said ‘Sasha’ in that way,” the mob boss observed quietly, his gaze softening. “You are truly devoted to him, this Dereek.” “Yeah,” Blue said. “I am.” “Maybe there is no need to train your master after all.” Sasha released the chain from the bed but not Blue’s wrists. “I will like to meet this man.” Sasha rose from the bed and jerked the chain. Blue lurched to standing. He followed the mob boss through the drapes and back into the parlor. Sasha addressed Luka but grinned down at Blue, his smile now gone sinister while his eyes sparked with mischief. “Blue stays here with Yuri. I will go with you. We will bring Blue’s master back here.” “What? No!” Blue dug in his heels and jerked back at the chain. “Derek has nothing to do with this!” “He is your master. If you are involved, he is involved.” Coiling the chain around his hand, Sasha shortened the length and dragged Blue across the floor toward another draped area. Luka watched them both, his stare cold, his mouth grim. “Are you sure?” he asked Sasha. “We have what we want. Georgi is free.” “You will question my orders, Luka?” “This guy, he may be bugged.” “It is your job to make sure he is not. Do as you are told, maleni. There is more at stake here than you realize.” “Of course,” Luka said sullenly, casting a “go to hell” look in Blue’s direction.

Shit, Blue thought. His plan was going more horribly awry by the second. Sasha pulled him through the curtains into a shadowy alcove lit by a few candle sconces set in the wall. As Blue’s eyes made out the shapes in the room, his mind dimly registered what he was seeing. The blood drained from his face, and he felt like vomiting. Sasha caught him before he could swoon. “Do not worry, Blue. This room, it is reserved for the pleasure, not the business.”

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“Oh,” Blue mumbled, enjoying the feel of the Serb’s strong arms around him more than he should have. His vision adjusting, he got a better look at the room’s furnishings.

Oh, Blue thought again. It seemed Sasha’s goth-as-fuck living quarters included a personal dungeon. Sasha steered him to what looked like a large-sized wooden sawhorse, the support bar padded with black leather. With efficient movement, Sasha whipped the end of the chain and wrapped it up one leg of the sawhorse, then looped the links through an O-ring bolted at the head of the support. He grinned down at Blue and winked. “That should hold you for a few minutes, maleni.” With sinuous stride, the mob boss disappeared through the curtains. Seconds later, a long, loud screech signaled the elevator’s descent. After several fumbled attempts, Blue unclasped the end of the chain from the O-ring. It took him another few minutes to uncoil the links from the sawhorse. Bundling the links in his bound hands, he stood and surveyed his surroundings. The gears churned as he pondered how to best swing the situation to his and Derek’s advantage.

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Chapter Ten Arms crossed, Derek leaned against the Porsche. He glanced over and up at his new acquaintance, a bald-headed Bulgarian giant with the face of a baby. Georgi crunched into the oversized waffle cone and slurped up another lick of mint chocolate chip ice cream. A few drops of green dribbled onto the pink T-shirt he wore under his extra-large black leather blazer, landing just below the heavy gold chain that adorned his thick neck. He spoke, his voice surprisingly soft, his English good but stilted from what was likely a numbed tongue. “I miss this the most. I miss this more than the sex. Thank you.” Derek nodded. If stopping by the ice cream parlor was a more definitive celebration of freedom to the behemoth than having sex for the first time in months, then Derek was certainly happy to have obliged Georgi’s request for the former than the latter. A light breeze wafted from the west, carrying with it the promise of spring, scattering a pile of leaves and litter across the cracked asphalt of the parking lot. From behind his sunglasses, Derek’s gaze drifted absently to the nearby building. He read the words Montgomery Ward still spelled out across the sun-bleached stucco. “Labelscars,” they were called when the shop name remained legible long after the sign had been taken down. According to Sadie’s recent Urban Weekly pictorial on local “dead zones,” the mall had once been the most popular shopping mecca in town. That had changed after a new supermall had opened a few freeway exits to the north. Eventually, the older mall had been gutted and converted into an indoor swap meet. When the building’s air conditioning system failed, the owners decided it was cheaper to close shop than cover repair costs. The vendors were sent packing, leaving the mall to be sealed and shuttered while the surrounding area was reduced to a virtual ghost town. When the DA and the mobster contact had started haggling over a rendezvous point, it was Derek who had suggested the location.

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He wished now he’d chosen some place a little less haunted, as looking at the forlorn building did nothing but evoke a sense of dread in him over Blue’s plight. Derek tried to push his misgivings away. Mafia dealings aside, he didn’t receive the impression that his lover was in any immediate danger, but the sixth sense he seemed to have acquired since meeting Blue told him other complications were afoot. He heard the DA speak into his ear. “Graves, there’s a car coming down the frontage road. I think these may be our guys. Get ready to make the exchange.” While McGowan had backed his refusal to conceal any recording devices, Derek’s wish to make the exchange unsupervised had been denied. He’d compromised on wearing a oneway transmitter so long as the DA ensured no weapons were raised. Georgi’s broad face lit as a vintage black Lincoln Continental wheeled around the corner of the mall. The driver made a beeline for the Porsche, then braked to a smooth stop. Derek squinted, attempting to make out the car’s passengers through the tinted windows. He saw three figures, two in the front seat and one in the back. His stomach twisted into a knot of dread. He didn’t think Blue was among the trio. The driver emerged first, tall and slender in a black leather trench, his bleached, spiky hair suited to his fine-boned Slavic features.

Why, he’s not much older than Blue, Derek thought with surprise. He was wholly taken aback by the diminutive passenger who stepped out next. Derek’s first impression was that the boy was very pretty, the type he would have once talked into his bed, if anything to peel off that painted-on vinyl and see those glorious curls fanned out over the pillows. At the angry scowl on the boy’s face and the chrome butt of the gun peeking from the top of one boot, Derek’s second thought was that looks could be deceiving -- this was not a young man you’d want to piss off. Georgi nodded to the taller one. “Drago.” Drago nodded back and approached Derek. “Hands on the car,” he instructed, his words thickened with the expected accent. Derek was not one to take orders but for Blue’s sake, he complied. As Drago’s hands skimmed under his suit jacket for weapons or tracking devices, Derek peered over at the Lincoln and the shadowy occupant in the backseat. He had a bad feeling about this. “You’re doing fine, Graves,” the DA encouraged. “Keep cooperating.” The shorter thug stepped up to Georgi, his heavy boot heels crunching against the asphalt. Craning his neck, he addressed the giant in a language that smacked of the Old World eastern hill countries. Georgi popped the last bite of waffle cone into his mouth, then grinned broadly. Opening his beefy arms, he swooped the boy up in a tight embrace. “Ugh, put me down, you oaf,” the boy scolded, but a thin smile ghosted his lips.

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Once he’d been set down, the blond reached inside his jacket and pulled out a small silver handgun. He passed the weapon to Georgi, who tucked it into his belt with the casual nonchalance that only one accustomed to firearms could have. The blond turned to Drago. “He is clean?” “Yes.” “What is that in his ear?” The boy had a sharp eye. Derek brushed his hair back. “Transmitter. I can hear them, they can’t hear me.” “How many?” Drago asked. “Only a few,” Derek answered in truth. “They are armed?” the boy asked. Derek gave him a pointed look. “Yes, they are. Where’s Blue?” “Ask Sasha. He is the boss.” The blond gestured toward the Lincoln with a nod of his head. On cue, the third passenger slid across the seat and opened the door. One long leg stepped out, followed by the other. The tall, dark gentleman rose to standing. He strutted across the parking lot, smooth and svelte in black leather gloves and long black coat with fur collar, the breeze tousling his ebony curls. Derek immediately recognized his own kind and instantly knew what the complication was that had been nagging at his gut. Coming to a halt, the mob boss swept a cool gaze around the parking lot and surrounding buildings. He cocked his thumb and first two fingers in the shape of a gun. Pretending to aim and shoot, he pointed in three different directions. With each faux cock of the pistol, he barked a name. “Drago. Georgi. Luka.” The trio instantly spread out, each of them aiming a weapon at their assigned rooftop. “Shit!” the DA hissed in Derek’s ear. “He’s made us.” Derek considered disarming one of the men, preferably the pretty blond who was apparently named Luka, and using him for leverage. Confident he could do it, he quickly decided against it. If the cops made one wrong move, Derek didn’t know what might become of Blue, wherever the fuck he was being held. Standing his ground, he whipped off his sunglasses and met Sasha’s piercing gaze. “Where the fuck is Blue? You were supposed to bring him in exchange for Georgi.” Sasha’s shoulder nudged against him in challenge. Derek bristled at the invasion of his personal space but stood his ground. The mob boss circled around, his scent reeking of leather and patchouli. Glove-clad fingers teased the length of Derek’s hair, pulling the strands aside to expose his ear. Gently, Sasha pulled the transmitter loose. The crunch and grind of plastic against asphalt sounded from under Sasha’s boot heel.

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Hot breath took the transmitter’s place. “Blue did not tell me his master is so handsome.” Derek’s jaw clenched. “Where is he?” “The terms of the bargain, they have changed.” “How so?” “Blue will stay with me for a few days.” Derek’s fist clenched next. “If you’ve laid one finger on him…” “Do not worry, Dereek. I want Blue, but I respect that I cannot have him. This is why you will stay with me too.” “What?” Sasha chuckled. “It is quite simple, Dereek. You have something Sasha wants. Sasha has something you want.” “That something would be my boyfriend.” “More than that. Blue thinks we might strike a bargain.” Derek felt the muscles of his temple twitch. What in the hell had his brat gotten them into this time? “You can’t just keep him,” Derek countered. “You do realize who he is.” Sasha offered him an indulgent smile. “The DA, he cannot touch me. I am well outside of his jureezdiction.” Standing close, much too close, he reached inside Derek’s jacket and pulled out the cell phone. “Call Jimmy. Tell him you are taking a little ride with Sasha and visiting for a few days. You are not to be followed.” Glaring, Derek did as instructed. “Graves!” the DA barked. “What the hell is going on down there? Where’s Shane?” “I’m going with them as insurance,” Derek said. “Don’t follow us. They’ll release me and Blue in a few days.” “What? No! You tell that son of a bitch no deal!” Derek looked at Sasha. “McGowan says no deal.” Sasha’s features remained impassive, his tone cool and calculating. “Tell Jimmy to send my regards to Martina. He sees her, what, three times a week now that he has got her a nice little place downtown?” Luka jerked his head toward Sasha, eyes wide. “I see,” he muttered, his tone one of respect. “I should not have doubted you.” Processing the bombshell that Sasha had just dropped, Derek repeated the message. The ensuing silence on McGowan’s end spoke volumes and confirmed who, exactly, Martina was and the extent of the DA’s relationship with her.

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McGowan finally spoke, his voice audibly strained. “That bastard won’t use something like that against me. Not when it comes to my son. I’ll fire from the roof and put a bullet in him myself if he doesn’t agree to let Shane go now.” “You do that, and we may never see Blue again,” Derek said. “I’m going with them. I’ll leave the keys to the Porsche on the hood. You can take your Russian girlfriend out for a spin.” “Goddammit, Graves. You get him out of there. You get my son home safe.” “I always do.” Derek ended the call. Slowly, he pulled his car keys from his pocket so as not to incite suspicion and set them on the hood of his car beside his cell phone. Turning, he narrowed his eyes at Sasha. “Does Blue know about Martina?” “No. I am not that big of a bastard.” Sasha waved his hand toward the Lincoln. “Get in the car, Dereek. We have much to discuss.”

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Chapter Eleven Blue lay curled in the pillows, seeking some half-remembered primordial comfort in the fetal position, trying his best to ignore the dull ache in his stomach and the cuffs that bound his wrists. Yuri had come up to the chapel earlier with a gun clutched in one hand, a warm pizza balanced on the other. Apparently Domino’s delivery zone extended to mafia hideouts in the warehouse district. The scent of pepperoni had induced both hunger and nausea in Blue at once. The gap-toothed thug had shrugged at his guest’s polite decline and returned to his guard post downstairs. Two hours had passed since Sasha had left. During that time, Blue had searched for another exit besides the elevator, but to his dismay found the chapel fully secured. Returning to the bedchamber, he’d tried opening the chest of drawers and the armoire, looking for anything that might help him open the cuffs and potentially be used as a weapon, but they were both locked. With nothing to do but sit and wait, he’d toed off his sneakers and climbed into bed. All Blue could think about was Derek, and how he hoped his assertive master didn’t dare take the mob boss on. For all his cosmopolitan suaveness, Derek had done his time in the punk scene and partied on some of the rougher sides of New York. The man knew how to fight, and looked sharp doing it. But Sasha and his comrades were armed, whereas the only ammunition at Derek’s disposal was his fists and his wits. If anything bad happened to his master, Blue would never forgive himself. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting the tears that threatened to breach. “Please be okay, Derek,” he murmured into the pillows. “Please be okay.” At the whine of the elevator, Blue sat up with a start. He waited and listened. He heard the gate scissor open, followed by a set of footsteps. The door shut, and the lift descended. “My God,” a familiar baritone murmured. “I’ve died and woken up in Castlevania.”

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“Derek!” Blue lunged from the bed, the concrete floor cold against his bare feet, the chain trailing from his wrists and rattling behind. He burst through the curtains. At the sight of his lover, relief washed through him, matched by that same emotion which shone visibly in the other man’s face. Blue slammed against Derek’s chest. His master caught him with open arms and held him close. At the thud of Derek’s heartbeat in his ear, the tears hit, and the words rushed out. “Oh God, Derek, I’m sorry. I was just trying to help Thomas. I didn’t know they were going to bring me here and keep me. I didn’t know they’d bring you here too.” Derek cupped his face and angled his head back. “It’s okay. What matters is that you’re all right.” He padded his thumbs across Blue’s cheekbones, wiping away the tears. A mixture of sympathy and lust warred behind those emerald eyes, betraying the same strange reaction that Blue’s tearful displays always provoked in Derek. The taller man leaned in. Blue rose on tiptoe to meet the kiss. “You taste like alcohol,” he commented, licking the hint of beverage that had transferred from Derek’s lips to his. “I sealed our contract with Lord Master Sasha in the back of the Lincoln over a stiff shot of vodka. Believe me, I needed it.” Stepping back, Derek set to work unsnapping the wrist cuffs. “What? You negotiated without me?” At the wry lift of Derek’s brow, Blue floundered for an explanation. “I didn’t think Sasha was serious. I was trying to buy time after he made it clear that I wasn’t just going to waltz out of here.” “There’s more to it than that.” Derek tossed the cuffs aside, sending them to the floor with a clatter. He took Blue by each wrist and massaged them with his thumbs. Leaning back in, he kissed Blue’s dampened cheek. “What did he do to you?” Blue shook his head. “Nothing. He got kind of close, but he backed off when I told him to stop.” Derek brushed his lips to Blue’s other cheek, his attentions growing more amorous by the second. “Define ‘kind of close’ and when, exactly, you decided it was time he backed off.” Blue sniffed. “You said all that matters is I’m all right.” “It does.” Derek closed his lips over Blue’s, the hint of vodka on his tongue now tinged with salt. Seeking hands trailed down to Blue’s waist, then tugged the hem of the sweater up to his chest. Eager fingertips lit upon his nipple rings. Blue emitted a soft series of moans as the other man broke the kiss. “Where’s the bed?” Derek murmured thickly. “Through the curtains?” “Yeah,” Blue responded with a sigh, swept up for a moment in passion. His eyes went wide with a jolt of alarm as he realized what he’d just consented to. “Whoa, wait. You want to fuck now? Here? In Sasha’s bed?”

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Derek eased Blue’s arms up. In spite of his protests, Blue curled his limbs and allowed Jodi’s borrowed sweater to be pulled over his head. The striped fabric fell to the floor as nimble fingers made quick work of Blue’s belt buckle. Derek leaned down and nibbled against his throat. “I’ve been assured the sheets are clean. It would seem Lord Master Sasha hasn’t had any in a while.” “Really?” Blue said, surprised. A walking wet dream like Sasha with God knew what connections couldn’t get a piece of ass? Then again, Blue supposed it made for a real conversation stopper when the mob boss got to the part about what he did for a living, or offered to let his gun-toting goons escort a potential trick back home to his secret mafia hideout. “Yes, imagine that,” Derek said drily. “From what I gather, that’s why his boys brought you here instead of working out details at the club. The boss has been grumpy lately, and they thought he could stand to get laid.” “Great,” Blue said with a smirk. “So they dangled me in front of him like I was a piece of shark bait. That fucking asshole Luka.” “Ah yes, Luka. The boy with the face of an angel and the attitude of a pit bull.” Derek rolled one shoulder free of his jacket, then the other, until the garment pooled on the floor alongside the discarded sweater. Blue’s bare back brushed against velvet as Derek pushed him through the curtains and propelled him toward the bed. “Derek, we can’t. What if Sasha comes up here?” “He’s going to watch every move we make for the next three days, so you’d better get used to the idea.” “What?” Blue croaked. “Three days?” “That’s better than him keeping you here indefinitely, Blue.” “What if he goes back on his word? He already tricked us with the exchange for Georgi.” “Sasha is big on contracts, and according to Luka, once the contract is clinched the boss remains good to his word. In turn, all that is required of you and me is doing something we already well enjoy.” “You agreed to let him watch us fuck?” In truth, the concept proved titillating, as evidenced by the sudden surge of blood to Blue’s already throbbing prick. Sasha watching, guiding…perhaps touching, participating,

like Derek had allowed Cameron to do once…only Sasha had hella more experience than Cameron did and would be the one calling the shots this time… Derek nodded. “I agreed to let him watch me take you, yes, so that bastard knows without a doubt you’re mine. Though he agreed to leave us alone tonight. That was one of my stipulations.”

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“What else did you and ‘Lord Master Sasha’ agree to, Dereek ?” “You’ll find out.” Derek lowered Blue into the pillows. “Show me where he touched you. I know he turned you on.” “Sasha told you about that?” “No. You just did.”

Busted. Blue swallowed the lump that suddenly formed in his throat, afraid to tell his master the full details. Yet as he watched the other man loosen his tie, it called to mind Derek’s reaction after Blue had confessed to an indiscretion with Cameron. While Derek had been angry, he’d also reclaimed Blue as his own in a rather blistering encounter. And then the night Derek had invited Cameron to their bed, Blue swore Derek’s testosterone had been spurred on by the sight of another man giving his partner pleasure. It had proved quite the enjoyable experience, to be caught between the two men as they’d competed to bring Blue to climax. He could only imagine the challenge that lay in store for Derek up against a commanding Dominant like Sasha. And Blue’s body would be their proving ground. Stifling a smug smile, he kept his tone level and directly met Derek’s piercing glare. “He had me down on the bed, like you do now.” “Really.” Eyes narrowing, Derek lowered his face to nuzzle Blue’s throat. “Did you try to get away?” “I did at first, but then he pressed his lips right there, where yours are. He teased me with his breath, across my collarbone.” “Like this?” Derek asked. He mimicked the Serb’s actions and then some, adding the flick of his tongue into the mix, pausing to suck a patch of flesh between his teeth and offer a sharp bite. “Ouch,” Blue hissed, bucking his hips. Going harder, if that was possible, he ground his crotch against the bunch of Derek’s thigh. “Where else did Sasha touch you?” “He ran his hand up the inside of my leg…right to the crease.” “Like this?” Derek’s palm slid up while his mouth trailed down. Blue gasped at the hand curled under his balls and the lips ghosting his nipple. “Yes.” “Yes, what?” “Yes, Sir.” “Did you fight him?” Before Blue could answer, Derek bit down on his pec and sucked hard. Blue uttered a sharp cry. He’s marking me, Blue realized. He wants Sasha to see where he’s been. He struggled to speak between gasps.

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“I tried to get away but…he held me down tighter. I kept squirming and…I accidentally brushed up against him and… you know…” Derek released Blue’s flesh from his pleasantly cruel kiss with a loud pop. “You were hard.” “Yes, Sir.” Blue paused for effect. “He was, too.” “I’m sure he was. Did he touch your cock?” “No, Sir.” “Did you want him to?” Blue waited a heartbeat. “Yes, Sir,” he whispered. Derek’s lips and teeth drifted lower, pausing to tug at the navel ring. Blue felt warm breath where his jeans now lay unbuttoned, heard the soft hiss of the zipper being slid down. “You are to be commended,” Derek murmured, “for standing up to him. That much, Sasha told me. That’s why he wants you. That’s why I love you.” Blue gasped and writhed as Derek left another hickey directly above the fringe of his pubes. At the warm, wet swirl of Derek’s tongue around the crown of his prick, Blue lifted his hips. Wriggling his ass, he helped tug the tight denim off the rest of the way. Once naked, he cried out as his lover’s mouth engulfed him to the hilt. Per their established rules, only after Derek had initiated sex was Blue allowed to touch back and express his own desires -- providing his hands weren’t bound, of course. Free of restraint, he twined his fingers through the silken mane tickling over his hips and raked the hair back from Derek’s face. He arched his spine to match and meet the suckling rhythm, striking the back of the other man’s throat with each upward roll of his hips, pausing a moment and moaning at the delicious tug against his glans as his skilled partner swallowed him down, only to relish the ripple of Derek’s tongue curled around the underside of his shaft as he pulled back out. Fingertips brushed Blue’s lips, coaxing his mouth open. Derek slipped in two fingers, but Blue swept his tongue and sought a third, showing his master exactly what he wanted. When those same spit-slicked fingers breached his entrance, Blue spread his thighs and bore down, taking all three digits to the knuckle. Derek grunted in approval and sucked all the harder. He immediately lit on Blue’s prostate, deftly working the sensitive bundle of nerves, intermittently applying pressure to match the rhythm of his mouth and tongue, bringing Blue nearer to release with each cresting wave of pleasure. Blue was set to fall over the edge when Derek abruptly removed his fingers. He released Blue’s cock with a slow, excruciating slide of suction. “Nooo,” Blue groaned, the tension coiled at the base of his balls unbearably tight. “Don’t stop. Don’t leave me like this.”

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“I’ll leave you this way all damned night if I want,” Derek murmured. “Lucky for you, I intend to get off too.” He flicked his tongue up Blue’s torso. At the feel of flesh sliding upon flesh, Blue realized Derek’s shirt lay open. Eager to assist, he slipped the shirt down Derek’s shoulders. Once the shirt was off, he fumbled with Derek’s belt buckle, only to have his hands smacked away and then pinned above his head. Derek leered down at him. He ground his crotch hard, the fabric of his trousers coarse against Blue’s aching prick. “You want it? You beg for it.” “Fuck me,” Blue hissed, teeth gritted. “Please fuck me. Or I’m gonna come without you.” Derek’s eyes sparked at the plea turned threat, but he quickly released Blue’s wrists and went to work on his belt. As his trousers slid down his thighs, he hooked his hands under Blue’s knees. In turn, Blue planted his feet firmly against his master’s shoulders. The head of his cock positioned against Blue’s entrance, Derek pivoted his hips and sank in, bending Blue’s legs back as he went. Both men cried out together, one in triumph, the other in surrender. With each thrust, Derek pumped harder, faster, pulling Blue’s hips back to meet him. In turn, Blue lifted his rump from the mattress to meet his master’s demand. Yet even as Blue gritted his teeth and took the brunt of their shared passion, he watched Derek’s face in the candlelight, waiting for the play of struggle in those handsome features as the master lost control for a fleeting moment and succumbed to the throes of ecstasy. Whether it was Derek who took him over the edge, or he who brought Derek, Blue was beyond caring. Clawing the sheets, he closed his eyes and lost himself in his own cries of climax as master and pet tumbled over the precipice together. They regrouped in silence, Derek collapsed, Blue wilted, their limbs entwined and their bodies melded. His breathing slowed back to normal, Blue spoke. “Thanks. I forgot, for a little while, that we’re being held hostage by the gay Balkan mob.” Derek’s lips curved against his scalp. “That was the idea.” He propped himself up on one elbow and peered down somberly at Blue. “You’ve got to be more careful. You’re a smart kid, but you continually land yourself in these dangerous situations. It scares the fuck out of me, Blue. I don’t want to lose you.” Blue smirked back up at him, though he tenderly stroked a finger down one chiseled cheekbone. “I’m not a kid.” Heaving a sigh, Derek rolled onto his back. One arm under his head, he stared up at the underside of the bed’s canopy. “God, I want a cigarette.” “From the mind-numbing sex we just had? Or the stress of being here?”

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“A bit of both. I’m surprised none of the guys here smoke. I would have fingered Sasha as the kretek type.” “Kree-tech?” “Clove cigarettes.” “I knew that,” Blue said with a laugh. “I guess the guys here are all a bit different than what you’d expect. I assumed Sasha would be this big, scary old guy, not some hot, young dude.” “Hot, huh?” Blue felt his cheeks flush, but there was no point in denying it. “Well, yeah. You met him.” “I suppose if he’s your type.” Derek arched one eyebrow. “Sasha says you’re a spoiled brat with a wayward eye and in need of discipline. I must say that I concur.” “Oh yeah? Well, Sasha thinks you suck at being a master and haven’t trained me properly. I told him he was wrong.” Blue laced his fingers across Derek’s chest and propped his chin there. “He asked where my collar was.” Derek cleared his throat. “Really.” “Yeah, he seemed to think it was a big deal. Is it?” “In some circles of the BDSM scene, yes.” “How so?” Derek’s expression grew visibly strained. “A collar is viewed as a binding symbol between master and slave. Some consider it to carry the same significance as a wedding ring.” “Is that why you’ve never put one on me, even just to play?” Blue asked point blank. It was interesting to put Derek in the hot seat and watch him squirm. “I’ve never thought about it,” Derek answered, his eyes shifting, his tone evasive. “Sasha brought up some other weird stuff,” Blue said. “Like this thing he has for contracts. He seemed appalled that you and I don’t have one.” Derek’s tone shifted from evasive to stern. “I have my views on the subject, Sasha has his. Let me to point out that I’m the one in a committed relationship, while he has to kidnap someone else’s boyfriend to get any action.” “Fair enough.” Blue laughed at Derek’s usual cocky assertiveness. Sobering, he studied Derek’s face in the play of candlelight. “Why are you being so cooperative with him, anyway? When I realized he was going to meet you, I was scared you’d try to fight him. I figured if they didn’t bring you back here in a body bag, then it would be Sasha. Or maybe Luka.” Hesitance wavered behind Derek’s eyes. “I considered it. But Blue, these are very dangerous men. My primary concern, above all else, is to get you out of here in one piece. I’ll

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do whatever it takes outside of letting Sasha do with you exactly as he pleases. Your father told me to bring you home safe and sound, and I’ll see that it happens.” “Really? I figured my dad would be pissed at me for involving him with some freaky drag queen’s problems.” “Jim has bigger concerns than who you associate with in your private life, Blue. But you involved him with this situation the minute you used his position to swing a deal, and he’s genuinely worried for your safety. You’re still his son, no matter what differences you and he may have shared in the past. And what about Polly? Do you think Jim wants to be the one to break the news to her if something ever happens to you?” At mention of his mother’s name, Blue detected another note of hesitance in Derek’s tone. He studied the other man’s face in the candlelight. His master was hiding something.

He’s protecting me on more than just a physical level, Blue thought. But from what? What dire circumstance had given Sasha the means to hold Derek by the balls like this? Blue forced a smile. “Well, at least this time I have company while I’m being kidnapped. Three days, huh?” At Derek’s nod, he pondered the possibilities. “Wow. I guess we should make the most of them. I assume we get use of the dungeon?” Derek raised his head up from the pillows. “Dungeon?” “Yeah. Isn’t that in zee contract ?” Derek sat up now, lifting Blue with him. “Sasha claimed to be an experienced Dominant with the necessary skills to train you. He alluded to having access to certain equipment but left it at that.” Blue rose from the bed and slipped into Derek’s shirt. “Come here. You have to see this.” Derek stood, hefting his trousers up with him. He followed as Blue led him by the hand across the parlor and into the opposite alcove. Derek stared in a rare show of wide-eyed wonder. “Oh,” he murmured. “Yeah, that’s what I said.” Derek looked up, one arm crossed, thumb denting his chin. “Open ceiling beams. With hooks set in them.” “I noticed that too. And something tells me Sasha knows how to tie the knots.” Derek peered down at Blue with a wry lift of the brow. “If my ears don’t deceive me, it almost sounds like you’re looking forward to being exploited.” Blue gave an unrepentant shrug. “If Sasha is going to take advantage of us, then we might as well use him too. We’ve talked about finding some place like this, and then look what happens? It’s like the fairy dungeon master waved his magic bullwhip and transported us here.”

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“That may be,” Derek muttered. He looked back up at the hooks in the ceiling. “Just pray our Cinderella asses are out of here before the clock strikes midnight and we turn into pumpkins.”

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Chapter Twelve Before he opened his eyes, Blue knew he was alone in the bed. He sat up with a start. The sheets beside him were cold, indicating the length of Derek’s absence. Through the curtains, Blue heard the clink of utensils. The scents of patchouli and burnt beeswax mixed with that of food and very strong coffee. His stomach rumbled with a hollow growl, reminding him that his last meal had been yesterday’s lunch. Bleary-eyed, he rose from the bed. Still in Derek’s shirt, Blue scanned the room for his pants. They seemed to be missing, as were his shoes, though Derek’s jacket had been folded neatly and draped over the bed’s footboard. Hugging the shirt around him, wondering what his master had worn for a top, Blue stepped toward the curtains. He hoped Derek was waiting on the other side, but gut instinct told him differently. With timid hesitation, he peered out into the parlor. Sasha sat hunched on the diamond-tufted settee, fussing over a tray set out on the low mahogany table. Blue’s mouth instantly watered at the sight of a full-course breakfast. His stomach rumbled again, loudly enough to catch the Serb’s attention. Blue froze, feeling like a deer trapped in headlights. Sasha stared back at him, his lips spreading with a humorless grin. “Good morning, plave oči.” Blue started to speak, realized his throat had gone dry. He cleared his larynx and tried again. “Where’s Derek?” “Dereek is keeping Yuri company. And you…you are having breakfast with Sasha.” He nodded toward the spot beside him on the settee. “Come. Sit.” Blue hesitated. The only thing more enticing than the food on the table was the delicacy on the settee, presented once more in tight black leather pants paired with a sheer black gauze shirt. In the morning light, with his ebony curls rumpled from sleep and a hint of stubble ghosting his cheeks, the man was sex incarnate. Yet gone was Sasha’s warm,

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inviting tone from the day before, but then the Serb’s prior attentions had been fueled by lust. Today, his mood was notably brusque and commanding, one which Blue strangely found all the more alluring. Shifting his feet, Blue thought back to Derek’s last words before they’d fallen asleep. “Do whatever Sasha tells you,” Derek had said, his face grim, and Blue had seen his master struggling inwardly with the terms of Sasha’s contract. “So long as he doesn’t try to fuck you, we’re on his turf, and your freedom is at stake. Just remember, no matter what he asks, you’re mine.” Derek had said more, extracting a certain promise, but it had been such a morbid oath, Blue now pushed it from his thoughts. He stepped through the curtains. Tugging the hem of Derek’s shirt down, ensuring his ass didn’t show, he padded toward the settee. The concrete went from cold to warm against the soles of his feet as he crossed a sunlit patch of floor before transferring to the plush rug of the sitting area. Keeping hold of the shirt hem, he perched on the edge of the settee. Blue studied the breakfast tray which boasted traditional Western foods like eggs and bacon alongside more exotic fare. He identified blood sausage, which he’d once tasted as part of an “English breakfast” during a family vacation. Wedges of flaky phyllo pastry were stuffed with a meat filling and sprinkled with sesame seeds. Squares of thin, flat cornbread were stacked next to a small tub of what looked like cream cheese. Beside the tray sat a copper plate with two small ceramic cups set inside of matching copper shells. Two large sugar cubes skewered with long toothpicks had been placed next to each cup. Between them stood a steaming carafe, also made of copper, with a long-stemmed handle attached at a perpendicular angle. Sasha was in the process of spreading a dollop of the white cream onto a slice of the cornbread. “Yuri says he brought food to you last night, but you refused to eat.” “I wasn’t hungry,” Blue said. “You are hungry now, yes?” “Yes.” “Pour the coffee,” Sasha instructed, nodding at the copper plate. “Carefully. The grounds settle at the bottom of the džezva.” Pouring the coffee required letting go of his shirt and leaning over. His face hot, Blue managed to do as told without mooning his host. The steaming beverage proved thick and dark. As fine black specks dotted the brim of the cups, he worried he hadn’t poured correctly, but a peek inside the džezva revealed a sludge of powdered grounds contained at the bottom of the wide, flared base. Sasha continued spreading the cream onto a second slice of bread. “I do not know what your master’s rules are about food, but here, you eat what is offered to you, when it is offered to you. It is rude to say no.”

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Blue attempted to formulate some snide-assed retort, considering his lack of appetite the night before had stemmed from his worries over Derek being taken hostage. He opted to bite his tongue lest he cost himself another meal. Setting the bread back on the stack, Sasha leaned toward the coffee tray. His arm brushed across Blue’s bare thighs, his cross pendant tickling between Blue’s knees where it dangled from the necklace. Blue stiffened, prepared to fend off the man’s advances. To his shame, he found himself growing aroused at the prospect of being pinned back against the settee; to his relief, Sasha sat straight, a skewered sugar cube pinched between thumb and forefinger, while in the other hand he cradled one of the coffee cups. Blue watched, intrigued, as the Serb sucked the sugar cube before taking a sip of the viscous brew.

When in Rome, Blue thought, following suit. In spite of the hint of sugar left on his tongue, he gagged at the pungent bite of the bitterest damned coffee he had ever tasted in his life. He managed to swallow it down, but his distaste did not go unnoticed. Sasha chuckled, and Blue saw a touch of the mirth from the day before spark those dark eyes. “Such a face, maleni. Try it this way.” Sasha dunked his sugar into his coffee a moment, then set the cup on the table. He inched over, his legs coming into contact with Blue’s. He brushed the coffee-soaked cube across Blue’s lips. Blue couldn’t help himself. He darted his tongue, taking a lick before curling the cube into his mouth. Sasha indulged him a moment, watching the teasing display through hooded gaze. He pulled the sugar cube from between Blue’s lips and sucked it into his own mouth. “Is sweeter, no?” he murmured, his lips teasing at Blue’s. “Yeah,” Blue whispered, his heart racing, and he didn’t think it was from caffeine. “I have agreed that I will not fuck you.” Hot breath traced Blue’s jaw line. “The contract, it says nothing about the kissing.” Lips brushed Blue’s pulse point. “It says nothing about the touching.” One hand slid up Blue’s outer thigh. “Or…the giving of the pleasure.” The other hand twined through Blue’s hair and angled his head back. “Really?” Blue mumbled, experiencing a streak of guilt mixed with his growing arousal at thoughts of the kee-sing, the touching, and the gee-ving of the pleasure. Derek trusted him entirely too much, more than he trusted himself. He tried to think back to the night Derek had laid down the rules in regards to their semiopen relationship. “Ree-ly.” The Serb chuckled, his breath coming in warm, pleasant bursts against Blue’s throat where one shirt button had mysteriously come free. “I see Dereek has marked you here for my benefit. Where else did he mark you while he fucked you in Sasha’s bed?” “Everywhere,” Blue murmured. What had his master said to him that night, after he’d come clean about Cameron? No one can touch you here without my… “He marked me everywhere. And you can’t touch me anywhere without his permission. Does the contract give you permission?”

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Sasha paused, his lips hovering at the vee of Blue’s shirt, his fingers resting at the next button. “Dereek made no mention of permission. What should that matter, so long as I do not take this sweet little ass?” He slid his other hand under Blue’s thigh to the buttock and gave a squeeze. Blue bit back a gasp and tried to squirm away as seeking fingertips breached his cleft. If Sasha’s touch went any deeper, he was done for. “That’s mine and Derek’s rule. It predates the contract. I won’t dishonor my master’s wishes.” Sasha pulled his head back and glared down at Blue with a feral gleam. He licked his lips, calling to mind Blue’s comparison of the man to a panther. He knew, in that moment, that the only thing preventing his ass from getting plowed right then and there was Sasha’s sense of propriety, no matter how twisted that propriety might be. “You have done well, maleni.” He patted Blue’s butt, then released his grip. Sitting straight, he returned to his spot on the settee. “Eat your breakfast. You need your energy for today.” “Thank you,” Blue mumbled, wondering what exactly he needed his energy for. He readjusted the hem of his shirt. He went to button it back up, seeing now that the top two buttons lay open, but found his hand smacked away. “I want you naked during your stay, but I have compromised with your master on the shirt.” Sasha’s eyes flared dangerously a moment, then went warm again. He passed Blue one of the phyllo wedges. “Here. Try the börek. I think it will be to your liking.” One minute, he was being groped and fondled while the next, his host was playing Miss Manners. Going with the flow, Blue took a bite of the food. The flaky pastry melted in his mouth as he tasted eat, potatoes, and a sharp cheese. “It’s delicious,” he said between bites, and he meant it. “What kind of cheese is this?” Sasha pointed to the cheese he’d been spreading on the cornbread. “Kajmak.” “Kay-muck ?” Blue repeated, not quite able to replicate Sasha’s accent. “Yes. Back home, the kajmak, we put it on everything.” Sasha crunched into a slice of bacon and beamed, his mood swinging at the drop of a pin. Easy on the eyes or not, it was no wonder his goons wanted him to get laid, if the constant cycling of emotions Blue had witnessed in just the past hour was any indication of the boss’s daily behavioral patterns. “So who made all this?” Blue mumbled around his food. “Georgi. He made everything fresh this morning. He is Bulgarian, but he knows how to make many dishes from my home. You will help him in the kitchen today.” Blue shrugged. Kitchen patrol duty didn’t sound so bad. Finishing the last bite of börek, he absently licked his fingers, one by one, savoring the hint of flavors. Suddenly aware that Sasha watched his provocative display, Blue dropped his hand. In all honesty, he hadn’t meant to flirt like he’d done when sharing the sugar cube.

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The Serb reached out and grabbed Blue by the shirt, drawing their faces close together. Smirking, he fingered two more buttons open, leaving Blue exposed just inches above his navel with only a few buttons left to conceal his lower torso. “Much better,” Sasha murmured in approval. His wistful gaze swept downward, and Blue felt the color rise to his face. “Such a pale, smooth beauty. Dereek is a lucky master indeed.” He rose from the settee, his eyes gone sinister again. “There is one more thing I will allow you to wear, maleni.” He disappeared behind the bedroom curtains. Blue heard the sound of drawers being opened and objects being rummaged through. Sasha stepped back into the chapel, an item in each hand. Blue’s eyes went wide, and his face went hot. “I’m not wearing that. You can’t make me.” “Oh yes, you are.” Blue shook his head. “No. I’m not letting you put that thing on me.” Or in me, Blue thought, even if the mere prospect had just made his erection all the harder. “I will not put it on you, Blue. You will put it on yourself.” Sasha flicked the lube open with his thumb. He squirted a dollop of the clear liquid onto the six-inch dildo that jutted from the leather harness. “What is wrong, maleni? You cannot take it?” Blue’s stood up, fists balled at his side, his indignation rising by the second. “I can take it. I just don’t want to.” “You say you do not want to. But your body, it is saying something else.” Sasha’s leer trailed down Blue’s body. His face spread with a lewd grin. Blue looked down. To his chagrin, he could see his hard-on tenting the fabric near the hem of his shirt. Flustered, mortified, he shut his eyes and turned away. Footsteps drew up behind him. The Serb’s firm body pressed against his backside. Soft lips brushed Blue’s ear, sending shivers. “There is no shame in wanting it, maleni. There is only shame in denying it. Do not lie to me. Do not lie to yourself.” Blue swallowed, his cheeks flaring hotter. “Put it in,” he whispered. “Ah. But Sasha does not have your master’s permission to touch you.” “You have my permission.” To prove so, Blue climbed back onto the settee. Kneeling, he braced his hands on the back of the sofa.

I can’t believe I’m doing this, Blue thought. With Derek absent, and Blue flouting the very rules he’d insisted on just moments before, the mob boss could do anything he wanted at that moment -- like fuck Blue senseless right then and there on the settee.

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But if Blue’s resolve was going to be tested, then, by God, Sasha’s would be too. He peered over his shoulder to see the Serb standing there, hesitating even as his onyx eyes lit with the fire of lust. His brazenness bolstered by Sasha’s uncertainty, Blue’s lips curled up at one end in a smirk. “Well?” he asked, meeting his host’s gaze. “What are you waiting for?” Splaying his knees wider, he dipped his spine and allowed the shirt to ride up his hips. As he exposed his ass to the other man, a wanton rush of arousal surged through him while his mantled face flared to scorching. Determined to best his captor, he maintained eye contact. With a grunt of amusement, Sasha closed the lube and tossed it onto the table. Gripping the dildo, he worked the liquid up and down the artificial shaft. He stalked toward the settee. “Does Dereek know he has a little exhibitionist on his hands?” “Who do you think made me this way?” Blue said. He thought back to the first time he’d been made to get down on hands and knees and scrub the floor in nothing but a shirt, displaying his then-virgin ass to Derek well before they’d finally gotten around to fucking. He’d liked being looked at by a near-stranger then. He liked being looked at by one now. He tensed at the nudge of the dildo against his ass. Willing himself to relax, he breathed out as the first inch of the phallus stretched and breached the outer ring of muscles. Mentally preparing himself to take more, he gasped in shock as the remaining five inches filled him in one swift, single slide. Sasha’s breath trickled down the back of his neck. “It is not Dereek who makes you like this. No one makes you like this.” His hands slid around to Blue’s groin, his spread fingertips teasing near the base of Blue’s swollen prick. “Put on the cock ring,” he instructed. “Why?” Blue murmured, painfully aware of the man pressed against him and the plug stuffed up his ass. “Don’t you want to do it?” Sasha chuckled. “It is you who wants me to do it. And because of this, no, I will not touch you. Now, not too tight. Only enough to hold the harness in place.” Biting back a disappointed sigh, Blue did as told, his front side obscured from Sasha’s view. The leather strip of the cock ring snapped easily and comfortably in place. His frame trembled, and his cock twitched as Sasha’s fingers skimmed his flesh to thread the buckles at his hips. Once the straps were adjusted and secured, Sasha climbed onto the settee. The palm of one hand slid up Blue’s shirt to press against his sternum, the other down the front of one thigh. “To think, that could be Sasha’s big cock inside you.” Resisting the urge to melt back against the Serb, Blue tried to make light of the situation. “Big, huh? I bet you say that to all the boys.”

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Sasha’s lips curved against Blue’s ear, and his chest rumbled with a low chuckle. “Only the boys who want it.” He ground his groin against the pouch of the harness, causing the dildo to shift. Blue gasped, his knuckles going white where he gripped the settee. Sasha’s voice lowered to a gruff whisper. “The boys like you, maleni. The bad ones, who will swallow Sasha right up.” Abruptly, the mob boss released his hold and rose from the settee, leaving Blue’s backside cold. He strode around the settee. Leaning down, he braced his hands atop Blue’s, his face drawn to eye-level view. “Now. Be a good boy and help Georgi in the kitchen. You do not take the plug out. You leave it in, all day. I will take it out tonight before your master returns.” His dark eyes narrowed to slits. “Do you understand this?” “Yes, I understand,” Blue said with a bare nod of the head. Leave the plug in, and Derek would never know that Sasha had inserted it in the first place. That seemed simple enough. At least, Blue thought so, until he rose from the settee and took his first step toward the elevator.

***** Derek pondered his next move as he sucked on his sugar cube and twiddled with the toothpick. His decision made, he pulled the cube from his mouth and moved Queen’s bishop to King’s three. He normally preferred to take an offensive strategy in chess, but Yuri’s skills had caught him off guard and reduced him to defensive mode. Sitting back, trusting he’d at least stalled his opponent for a few more moves, he took another rich, smooth sip of the best damned Turkish coffee he’d ever sampled in his life. From the opposite side of the crate, Yuri frowned down at the chess board and drank his own coffee. He took a breath between sips, the air whistling slightly through the gap in his teeth, the half-melted lump of sugar clenched beneath. Derek knew some Russians took their tea that way, filtering the beverage through the sugar cube. He wondered where, exactly, from the former Soviet bloc Yuri hailed. At long last, Yuri made his move. “Shek-mate,” he announced, grinning in triumph around his sugar cube.

What ? Derek thought, sitting straight. How in the fuck… As he saw the move he’d missed, he mentally smacked himself in the head. “Remash?” Yuri slid the chessmen he’d stolen from Derek across the makeshift tabletop. “Yes,” Derek nodded, grudgingly passing back the few pieces he’d secured from his opponent. “Rematch.”

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His chessmen returned to their home ranks, Derek sat back and waited for Yuri’s first move. Absently, he hooked a finger under his loosely-knotted tie. Retro 80’s style aside, crimson silk didn’t pair well with the black linen shirt he’d borrowed from Sasha, but putting the tie on that morning had proved a comforting ritual and lent Derek a sense of normalcy in the midst of a rather surreal situation. In turn, chess had provided a distraction while he spent the morning away from his lover. Not that he could completely focus on the game, given his worries over Blue. If anyone could hold their own against the likes of Lord Master Sasha, it was his blue-haired brat. But Derek also knew that his brat was easily aroused, naturally submissive, and no matter how much the boy might deny it, highly attracted to the mob boss. He didn’t doubt for a moment that Blue had played a greater role in their current predicament than he’d let on; though to the boy’s credit, Derek didn’t think Blue meant to act so coquettish or seductive. He realized that his partner’s naturally open, amiable manner could easily be interpreted by the egotistical sort as flirtatious -- which was why Blue really needed to think more about how his actions were perceived by others. But what was Derek supposed to do? Reel the boy in with rules of expected behavior, only to extinguish that vibrant spark that had drawn him to Blue in the first place? On top of that, Sasha was about to be let in on their private relationship, even if in the role of supervisory voyeur. Derek tried to find comfort in the fact that he and Sasha were at least around the same age, whereas Blue’s recent dalliance with the younger Cameron had been as much a slap to his thirty-year-old ego as it had been his feelings. The dynamics of the current situation were a bit different, at least. For one thing, Derek and Sasha were on an even footing in terms of age. They were roughly the same size too, as was evidenced by the shirt borrowed from the slightly taller, equally slender Serb. And unlike the hotheaded Cameron, Sasha understood the rules. Granted, he’d bent the rules in taking Blue hostage in the first place and wasn’t above extortion to manipulate the situation his favor. But the man respected this much -- that Blue belonged to Derek, and anyone who wanted the boy had best go through the master first. But in terms of experience against the other Dom, Derek found himself in the rare and uncomfortable position of being out of his league. Yes, Lord Master Sasha presented a most interesting challenge indeed. Better for Derek to focus now on a petty game like chess; the true test lay ahead that night when he and Blue would partake in their first session with the Serb. Indulging in another sip of coffee, Derek advanced his first pawn two squares forward.

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Chapter Thirteen Blue limped into the kitchen, the leather plug moving inside of him, making him entirely too aware of his each and every step. “Um, hi,” he said, addressing the very broad backside of a very tall, very bald man dressed in a very pink T-shirt and washing dishes at the sink. At the lack of response, Blue noted the earphones. Hoping he wasn’t about to get himself pummeled or shot, he timidly approached the Bulgarian while trying to ignore the movement of the butt plug. Falling into what he hoped was the other man’s peripheral vision, he reached up and tapped one beefy shoulder. Georgi gave a start, nearly dropping the plate he was washing. In turn, Blue jumped back, hands held out. “I’m sorry,” Blue said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” The irony of his statement hit him as he made it. This monstrously proportioned guy, scared of him? The giant stared down at him a moment, then his face broke into a warm and open grin. He pulled out one of the earphones and let it dangle by the fat gold chain that graced his thick neck. “You are Blue.” “Yeah,” Blue confirmed with a nod, returning the smile. “I’m supposed to help you in the kitchen today.” “You are Dereek’s boy. I like Dereek. He buys me ice cream when I get out of jail.” “Really?” Blue laughed, envisioning the scenario. “That was nice of him.” Georgi’s gaze drifted down, taking in Blue’s state of half dress. His fat jowls going pink, he turned to a peg on the wall and pulled down an oversized apron. “Here,” he said, holding the garment open toward Blue. “You wear this in Georgi’s kitchen.”

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“Thank you,” Blue said, truly grateful. He slipped the apron over his neck. It wrapped completely around his backside and then some. He looped the strings around his waist twice and tied them in front. Georgi passed Blue a vegetable peeler. He nodded toward a short stool and a burlap sack stuffed with potatoes. “You can peel those.” Blue carefully took his seat, wincing at the brief pressure of the plug settling deeper inside of him before his muscles readjusted. He glanced at Georgi, but the other man was thankfully oblivious to Blue’s predicament. The rotund man hefted and tipped a plastic tub onto the stainless steel prep table. Several heads of cabbage tumbled out with a volley of thuds against metal. Taking a butcher knife from a hook on the wall, he began slicing the produce with swift, proficient chops, his skill incongruously graceful for someone with such thick fingers. Blue studied the knife collection, currently out of his reach. He looked at the potato peeler clutched in his left hand. Unless he was planning to peel someone’s face off, he didn’t think it would make a very useful weapon. Sighing, he grabbed the first potato from the sack and set to work. Half a sack later, his wrist hurt and his back was starting to cramp, but the discomfort served to take his mind off the indignity of the plug and its placement. He found himself settling into a rhythm while thinking long and hard on the men he seemed to attract. The things he hated about his father, the very traits he’d avoided cultivating in his own personality, were the same ones that seemed to draw him to confident, commanding men, whether it was Derek’s suave, aloof manner of possession, Cameron’s more brute and pushy expression of desire, or Sasha’s dark aura of dangerous power. He wondered why this was, outside of the fact that men like that were generally drop-dead sexy and, as he was learning, super freaks in the bedroom. In turn, it was that type of man who seemed to seek Blue out, even when he wasn’t looking to be had by one. What psychological dynamics were at play? Was it dysfunctional of him to desire such strong, overbearing men? Or did it say something about his own strengths in that he’d been the one who had more or less “tamed” Derek even as he’d taken on the submissive role in bed? He supposed opposites attracted. And he guessed peeling potatoes while ignoring the plug shoved up one’s ass made for some deep moments of introspection. So lost was he thought, it wasn’t until the cut on his right index finger started stinging that he noticed the blood. “Fuck,” he muttered, experiencing a mild wave of nausea. Taking a slow, deep breath, he rose to rinse his hand at the sink, the butt plug’s presence made known to him all over again in agonizing reminder. He held his hand under running cold water until the bleeding appeared to stop. He inspected his knuckle, then bent his finger to see how deep the wound was. Big mistake. He returned his hand to the water. Georgi glanced over at him, and his face visibly blanched.

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“You are hurt?” he said, removing his headphones. He lumbered over to the sink. He took Blue’s hand out from under the running water, the touch of his wide paw surprisingly gentle. “Sorry,” Blue said, making light. “I didn’t mean to add protein to the potatoes.” “There is much blood.” “It’s not too deep,” Blue explained, “but it’s on the knuckle, so if I bend my finger the cut opens.” Georgi held Blue’s hand up and steered him toward the prep table. Before Blue could protest, the giant had lifted him off his feet and plopped his ass down on the table. He sucked in his breath and tried not to grimace as the shock of the butt plug reverberated to his core, leaving him unwittingly aroused and sorely aggrieved. “Stay still,” Georgi instructed.

Don’t worry, I will, Blue thought, shifting his hips, accommodating the intrusion in his passage once more. Georgi opened the pantry door and rummaged through some boxes on the bottom shelf. He returned to the table with a first aid kit. Blue sat docilely as Georgi tended to his wound. “You have tetanus shot?” he asked. “Yeah, I got my booster shot back in high school.” “You use your left hand?” At Blue’s nod, the giant continued. “My grandmother back in Bulgaria, she is Roma. When she reads the cards, she cuts them with her left hand. She says the left hand is nearest to the heart.” “That’s interesting,” Blue said. “Over here, people used to say it was the hand of the Devil. You could get burned at the stake for being a lefty.” Georgi snorted. “And the people, they say those of us who are from Bulgaria are superstitious.” His face softened as he taped the bandage in place. “Thank you for getting Georgi out of jail. I am happy to be home with my friends.” Blue shrugged. “I was helping one of my own friends.” “It is good to have friends,” Georgi said with a sure nod of his massive head. His face grew somber. “Sasha is like a brother to Georgi. I would lay down my life for him. But brothers, they do not always agree. I am sorry that he makes you and Derek stay here.” He wrapped a thin layer of gauze around Blue’s finger. “Sasha is a stubborn man. Everything that this man does, he has a reason, even when it does not make sense to us. It is why we love him. It is the same thing that makes him difficult. This does not make sense to you probably.” “No, it makes complete sense,” Blue said. “I’m like that with Derek.” “Dereek is a good man. He buys me ice cream.”

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Blue laughed. He liked Georgi. As the gentle giant had pointed out, it was good to have friends, and Blue suspected he had found one in Georgi. And as long as he was being held hostage by the gay Balkan mob, he could use at least one friend on the inside. His finger bandaged, Blue carefully slid from the table. With cautious steps, he started back toward the potatoes. Georgi stopped him. “No, you are hurt. Sit and relax. I will not tell Sasha.” Blue shook his head. “I need to do something to pass the time, and you really look like you could use the help.” “Okay.” Georgi scanned the kitchen. His eyes lit on the broom and dustpan propped in the corner.

Oh shit, Blue thought with dread. Of all the tasks Georgi could have come up with… “It is hard for me to sweep because I am so tall, and the broom, it is too short. It hurts my back.” Blue forced a pleasant smile and took the broom. “Sure. Not a problem.”

***** Blue shoved the elevator gate open. He hobbled into Sasha’s parlor, his ass sore, his cock throbbing, his temper flared. Sasha’s long, lean form lay sprawled across the settee, one leg propped up, the other bent to the floor. His sheer shirt lay open to reveal his tattooed flesh, his pants slung enticingly low. Blue found himself torn between picking up the nearest blunt object and hurling it in the general direction of Sasha’s head, or pouncing on the man and demanding to be fucked senseless until they were both bruised and bleeding. Sasha stared back coolly at Blue. He spoke into his cell phone, the foreign syllables clipped and guttural. He flipped the phone shut and tossed it onto the table. “Back so soon, maleni?” Blue started toward the bedchamber. “I’m taking it out.” “The contract --” “Fuck the contract! You can beat me for all I care!” “That can be arranged.” Blue tore through the curtains with Sasha close on his heels. He hurriedly freed one of the buckles of the harness at his hip, then fumbled at the opposite strap. Sasha snatched his wrists. Twisting Blue’s arms behind his back, the Serb shoved him toward the bed. “I was waiting until tonight for to do this, but you give me no choice.” As Blue hit the mattress, he noticed the getup Sasha had prepared. His struggle proved futile, but he put up a good fight, his shirt sliding down his right shoulder as Sasha locked

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one elbow, then the other over the spread bar, swiftly cuffing each of Blue’s wrists in place. Kneeling behind him, Sasha slid one hand under Blue’s shirt to the hip. He buckled the harness back in place, then slipped his hand over Blue’s stomach. Fingers splayed, the knuckles barely brushed Blue’s swollen prick, but it was enough to elicit a pitiful whimper. The other hand fanned up Blue’s throat, forcing his chin back. Breath puffed against his ear in maddeningly heated bursts. “You want I should take the plug out?” “Goddammit, yes,” Blue hissed. “A little humility, it goes a long way, Blue. Or has your master failed to teach this lesson as well?” Blue huffed impatiently, then quickly brought himself in check. He wasn’t only making himself look bad, but his master. “Please,” he mumbled. “Please take it out.” He couldn’t bring himself to address Sasha as “Sir”; that honor was reserved exclusively for Derek. “Are you certain that is what you really want?” Sasha’s crotch ground up hard against Blue’s ass, sending a jolt of movement through the plug and straight to his prostate. A gasp escaped Blue’s lips as his cock twitched painfully. “Think about it,” Sasha continued, easing to a slow grind, sending one torturous ripple of sensation after the other through Blue, bringing him dangerously close to climax. “Dereek is not here. You cannot escape, you cannot fight. Do you really want Sasha to bend you over and slide that plug out of your sweet little ass?” To his shame, Blue caught himself arching his spine and pressing his ass back to meet Sasha’s thrusts. When he felt the tip of his prick go wet with precum, he stilled his movements. “No,” he managed to answer, legs trembling, breath coming in shallow pants. “No. Leave it in.” “That is what Sasha thought.” Taunting lips brushed the curve of Blue’s ear, sending shivers and doing little to ease Blue’s distress. “Now, you wait here like a good little boy, and I will fetch your master.” “No!” Blue cried in protest. Sasha chuckled with wicked glee. “What is this? You do not wish to see your master?” “No. I mean, yes. I mean --” Flummoxed, Blue heaved a sigh and decided to shut the fuck up. Apparently, he didn’t know what he wanted. He knew what he needed, and that was to get off. Derek would likely be more than happy to assist him in that goal, but he was embarrassed to let his partner see how worked up the Serb had left him. Sasha rose from the bed, leaving Blue’s backside cold, but his blood still heated. He walked around the bed to face Blue. Reaching under the pillows, he pulled out something attached to a silver chain. Holding the chain up, he let several of the links slide through his

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fingers. Blue gaped at the accessory that dangled and swung from the end. Licking his lips, he found his voice again. “Derek’s going to be pissed if you put that on me.” Sasha grinned down at Blue, a conspiratorial glimmer in his eyes. “Good.” As Blue stared back at the other man, something in his mind clicked, and in that moment, he experienced epiphany. It wasn’t that Sasha was working against him. Sasha was working with him. He’d taken Blue up on his offer to train the master. Closing his eyes, Blue tilted his chin up and bared his throat. The smooth grain of leather curled around his neck. A crisp snap sounded at the button being secured at his Adam’s apple. One finger curled between the leather and Blue’s jugular, testing to ensure the collar was not too tight. He opened his eyes to see Sasha looking down at him with a satisfied smile. The Serb grazed his knuckles up Blue’s jaw line, teased the pad of his thumb across Blue’s lower lip. “Now you see, maleni,” he murmured. “Yes,” Blue said quietly. “Now I see.” Sasha leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his brow. Straightening, he walked across the room. “Sasha? What does ‘maleni’ mean?” Blue asked quietly. “I’ve heard you call Luka that too.” Sasha paused at the curtains. He peered back over his shoulder. “It means ‘lee-tle one.’”

Little one. Blue smiled, strangely touched. He should have known.

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Chapter Fourteen Derek exited the elevator first, Sasha casually falling in step behind him. He tried to quell his rising sense of panic. While he certainly couldn’t complain about seeing Blue sooner than expected, he worried what situation had precipitated Sasha coming to get him a few hours earlier than scheduled. He pushed through the velvet panels and froze, rooted to the spot by the sight on the bed. A swarm of emotions bombarded him at once -- arousal, anger, jealousy. Moved to action, he started for the bed, but not quickly enough. He found his arm twisted behind his back and the crook of an elbow at his throat. Instantly assessing the situation, Derek chose not to retaliate. He knew, from having forced others into the same position, that his opponent had the advantage. One misjudged move on Derek’s part, and his arm could be dislocated at the shoulder or his trachea permanently crushed. Blue’s eyes went wide a moment, then narrowed to an angry glare. “Let him go!” he cried at Sasha, jerking at the cuffs around his wrists, rattling the chain that obscenely leashed his neck to the bedpost.

That bastard Sasha. He’d collared Blue, knowing full well the significance behind the practice. “Take that thing off of him,” Derek growled. Sasha breathed in his ear and twisted his arm tighter. “Why? You have not bothered to collar the boy. Why not let a more worthy master claim him?” Sasha steered Derek toward a simple wooden chair that sat across the room from the bed. In a flash, his ass thudded against the seat, his arms jerked behind the backrest. At the subsequent click that sounded, Blue’s eyes went round as saucers. Derek tugged at the handcuffs, feeling the metal cut into his flesh. He tried to slide his arms up and stand, but the angle he’d been placed in made upward movement impossible. He

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attempted to move the chair, prepared to tip it over so he could slip his arms free, but the chair legs wouldn’t budge. The Serb stepped around the chair, eclipsing Derek’s view of the bed. Straddling Derek’s thighs, he grinned down at him, his eyes gone maniacal. “The chair is bolted to the floor, Dereek. Give me a little bit of credit.” Derek spoke in an undertone so that only Sasha could hear. “What the fuck are you doing? You’ve just undermined any authority I have over him. That was not part of the contract.” “You agreed to let me guide you. I am guiding you.” Derek was incredulous. “Guiding me?” he hissed. “How? By handcuffing me to the chair while Blue watches? By restraining him and getting him turned on while I’m out of the room?” Sasha stepped back. As he paced around the chair, Blue came back into view. The boy met Derek’s gaze, his expression one of guilt and confusion. His blue eyes glistened with moisture.

Oh God, Derek thought. Not now, Blue. Don’t lose it now, while I’m helpless to do anything for you. “I’m sorry, Sir,” Blue mumbled. “Did I permit you to speak?” Sasha snapped, his baritone echoing harshly through the room. “Do not interrupt when I am speaking to your master.” Blue blinked, his dewy eyes sparked in defiance, his mouth screwed into an angry pout. Derek saw the boy was trying to hide his tears so as not to give Sasha the satisfaction. Sasha’s boot steps stopped behind the chair. Lips brushed Derek’s ear, while fingers twined through his hair, holding his head in place. The Serb spoke at a low, husky volume for Derek’s benefit alone. “Such lovely hair. It is a shame you and Sasha are both tops, no?” His grip tightened, ensuring Derek continued to face forward while Blue stared back. “How far have you taken him, Dereek? Have you truly broken Blue? Or do you fear what you might learn of yourself?” Derek pursed his lips, jaw clenched, unable to answer lest Blue heard his reply. And Sasha knew it. He damned well knew it, that son of a bitch. “You must teach him, Dereek. A high-spirited boy like that, he will never be completely yours until you shatter him and then pick up the pieces. You know this, but you will not do it. You are too soft on him. “I know what you are thinking. You are thinking, ‘But Sasha, it is too much. I do not want to break him. I do not want to hurt him.’ But in saying so, you deny Blue what he seeks from you. I know this, because I feel it in his body when I press against him. I read it in his eyes when I hold his wrists. You know this of him, or you would not have brought the boy

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to your bed in the first place. You would not have done the things with him that you have done. “You saw the potential, Dereek. You knew Blue for what he was, the first time that you laid eyes on him. You showed Blue this part of himself. And then you stopped! Why? Why did you draw that line?” Derek hated to admit it, but Sasha made a valid point. He had to ask himself why he’d indeed taken Blue so far, further than he’d dared to take anyone before, only to draw some line in the sand based on mistakes from the past. He’d told Blue himself -- the past was the past. And yet he’d allowed that same past to dictate every move he’d made for the next several years. As Sasha stepped away, Derek’s gaze remained fixed on Blue. In turn, the boy peered back, curiosity and suspicion both sparking his eyes. His attention shifted from Derek to Sasha as the man approached the bed. Sasha reached out with something akin to affection and threaded his fingers through Blue’s cobalt locks. With a sharp tug, he jerked the boy’s head back. Blue hissed in protest, but what Derek saw waver behind those blue eyes thoroughly unsettled him. For all the stubborn defiance, it was clear to him now that Blue indeed wanted the other man, and not in the way he’d desired Cameron. Blue had just wanted Cameron to fuck him. But with Sasha, this was a different kind of want -- Blue wanted this man to dominate him. With a rattle of chains, Sasha shoved Blue’s head forward, bringing his chin to rest on the mattress, tilting his rump in the air. The shirt rolled up Blue’s hips, exposing the harness strapped around his hips. Derek experienced another rush of arousal tinged with anger. How long had Blue been wearing the plug in his ass? More importantly, who’d put it in? How much coercion on Sasha’s part, if any, had been involved? The shamed look on the boy’s face spoke volumes, the frequency raised when, rather than meeting Derek’s gaze, Blue closed his eyes “No,” Sasha chided. “Look at your master. Do not break eye contact.” Blue did as told, his cheeks flaring pink, his eyes swimming with tears again. Derek felt his own face go ruddy. For every part of him that wanted to bust free of the handcuffs and punch the Serb’s lights out, another part of him reveled in the sight of Blue bound, helpless, and shamed. While he would have preferred placing his partner in such a vulnerable position himself, he had to give Sasha points for presentation. Sasha’s steps echoed crisply as he walked out of Blue’s sight to the wide armoire on the opposite side of the bed. He felt around the top of the armoire and produced a skeleton key. He turned the key in the lock, then opened the double doors with an ominous creak of hinges. He stepped back, granting Derek a full view of the contents hanging within. Derek managed to hide any show of surprise or approval at the assortment of crops, paddles, and floggers, all crafted of black leather.

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Sasha considered the selection, one arm crossed as he thumbed his chin. Reaching out, he stroked his fingers in a horizontal line across his collection, leather slapping softly against leather in a rippling wave. He stopped at one of the paddles and removed it from its hook. Turning to face Derek, he displayed the paddle between both hands. He bent the leather up and down, demonstrating the leather’s stiffness versus flexibility. Sasha grinned. “How is this one? Too little? Too much?” Derek thought back to the incident with the belt. Blue was better accommodated to the riding crop and so might be able to take one of the floggers, but not the stiff, broad-strapped paddle, certainly not one wielded by what Derek guessed to be a heavy-handed user. Granted, the dildo harness would act as a barrier between Blue’s flesh and the paddle to reduce the sting, but the boy would still feel the strength of the impact. Not to mention the dildo would be rammed hard into Blue’s ass with each smack, and that treaded too damned close to Sasha fucking him to suit Derek’s tastes. “It’s too much.” Sasha’s grin widened. “Good.” He walked up behind Blue. Gripping the paddle in one hand, he reared his arm back. “No!” Derek barked as the leather made contact with Blue’s ass. A sharp crack resounded through the bedchamber. Blue yelped, caught off guard and unknowing as to what he’d just been hit with. “You should at least prepare him!” Derek said. “Prepare him?” Sasha smirked. “Blue has been ‘prepared’ since breakfast. Am I correct, plave oči?” He smacked again, and again, his form smooth and practiced, his curls whipping in his stern face. Blue gritted his teeth, his yelps lowered to grunts as he absorbed the impact. Derek found himself torn, wanting to intercede and stop the act even as he watched, intrigued by Sasha’s approach, mesmerized by Blue’s reactions. “Tell Dereek how you almost came earlier. Tell him how you humped your pretty little ass back against Sasha’s cock.” “What?” Derek blurted. Blue stared back. “I didn’t mean to, Sir,” he murmured, his voice strained and barely above a whisper. “I stopped when I realized what I was doing.” On the fourth smack, Blue’s grunt drew into a groan. On the fifth, he squeezed his eyes shut, two tears dripping down his cheeks and soaking into the sheets below. He bit his lower lip, his body trembling, his ribs heaving with shallow gasps. Derek knew from personal experience that the boy was close to climax. Sasha seemed to recognize the signs as well. “You are going to come for Sasha,” he taunted. “You are going to shoot your load all over my sheets while your master watches.”

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“No,” Blue protested, lip quivering. Derek’s cock swelled, his arousal betrayed by the bulge that strained against his trousers. He knew Blue saw, perhaps finding some comfort in knowing he wasn’t the only one turned on, and yet Derek hated himself for it, hated that his lust had been spiked as he watched another man take control of his brat and nearly get the boy off by spanking alone. Sasha strode around the bed, finally showing Blue the paddle. He walked back over to the chair. He laid the paddle across Derek’s thighs, and then he took his place behind the chair. Once again, he lowered his mouth to Derek’s ear and spoke. “Yes, my friend, you have drawn a line. If you refuse to take Blue across that line, he will seek another master, one who is not afraid.” A single hand slipped around Derek’s wrists. “Now, I am going to free the cuffs. You may choose to do one of many things. You may try to beat the shit out of Sasha, though I assure you, I will hate to scar that pretty face of yours. You may go to Blue and paddle him, or you may throw the paddle down and comfort him, get him off, fuck him, I do not care. Or…” “Or?” Derek asked. Sasha’s lips curved against the side of his throat. “You may sit back and continue to watch.” The cuffs clicked open and slid free of Derek’s wrists. Stunned by Sasha’s final option, Derek remained fixed to his seat. Pulling his arms around, he tore his gaze from Blue and focused on his hands. He rubbed one wrist then the other, easing the circulation back into his veins. From the corner of his vision, he saw Sasha had come to stand beside him, one palm rested on the back of the chair. Derek picked up the paddle from his lap and studied it, turning it over in his hands, flexing the leather as Sasha had done. Handcrafted by the looks of it, with meticulous detail to the stitching, the paddle was a true work of art, one meant to be appreciated by those with certain proclivities. He peered back up at Blue and spoke. His words rang hollow in his ears, but he knew it wisest to remain detached now. “I told you to obey Sasha, so long as you remembered who you belong to.” “I did, Sir,” Blue mumbled, his eyes shifting to the side. “I told you I stopped.” “Yes, you always stop, don’t you?” Derek said, recalling that was the same argument Blue had offered in regard to that one night spent with Cameron, in another man’s arms, in another man’s bed, while Derek had been away on a business trip. “And you’re to be commended for that. It’s not easy to stop. But what I want to know is why do you start?” “I don’t know --” “Look at me and speak up.” Blue eyes focused ahead. “I don’t know, Sir.”

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Derek took a breath. He sat straighter, steeling himself. It was time to take charge of the situation. He passed the paddle back to Sasha, while his eyes remained on Blue. “Continue where you left off,” he instructed. “With pleasure.” Sasha started back around the bed. Blue’s eyes went round again. The chains at his wrists rattled. “Wait! Are you serious?” Derek crossed his arms. He crooked one leg, propping his foot on his knee. “Yes. Quite serious.” He nodded, cueing the mob boss to resume the paddling. Sasha cracked down on Blue’s ass with a firm, solid wallop. “Ow! Fuck!” Blue cried out, much more loudly than he had at Sasha’s first strike. Tears streamed openly down his face, but his mantled cheeks and hooded gaze indicated pleasure more than pain. “Feel free to call out the safe word anytime,” Derek prompted. “Otherwise, I’ll trust you’re enjoying this.” Sasha smacked Blue’s ass four more times, one snap echoing after the other with no letting up in between. Blue shut his eyes and rounded his lips, letting out a short, sharp cry with each smack, each mewl rising in pitch before blending to a hoarse howl of pleasure. Derek rose. “Get out,” he told Sasha. Sasha arched one eyebrow in affront. “You would throw me out of my own room? I do not think so, Dereek.” “I think so. Per the terms of our contact, you stay in on each session until Blue comes.” Sasha’s lips thinned in a grim line, his dark eyes narrowed to black slits. “Fine. But you will not trick me next time. I will watch you fuck him before you leave this place.” Sasha stormed from the room. A moment later, the elevator gate slammed violently, followed by the whirr of descent. Still panting, Blue looked up at Derek with scorn. “You let me come in front of him, but he can’t watch you?” “It’s what you wanted,” Derek said with a shrug, masking the maelstrom of emotions whirling through him. He unclasped the chain leash from the bedpost. “You wanted him to be the one that made you come, not me.” Before Blue could insult them both by attempting to argue otherwise, Derek walked around the bed, chain in tow, and climbed onto the mattress. He took in the sight of Blue’s ass and thighs, reddened but with no signs of bruising or broken flesh. Sasha was good, Derek would have to hand him that. With his free hand, he slid each buckle of the harness free. He eased the glistening plug out, eliciting a sigh of relief from Blue. He cast the plug and harness aside, tossing them to the floor. Let Sasha pick up his own damned toys.

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Kneeling between Blue’s splayed legs, Derek unbuckled his belt and unzipped his trousers. Gripping one chafed buttock, he positioned the head of his cock at Blue’s entrance. He wrapped the chain around his hand a few times, then gave a sharp jerk. Blue reared back with a strangled gasp. As he did, Derek thrust upward and penetrated the boy’s passage with ease, plunging right to the hilt with one swift pivot of the hips. Blue’s muscles enveloped his length with a tight ripple of heat. Derek knew he wouldn’t last long, but that was fine. His motive at the moment wasn’t marathon sex. He slid his free hand up the shirt and around his partner’s taut stomach. “Grind your ass back against me, like you did to Sasha.” Blue spoke between grunts as he met Derek’s thrusts, the chains on the spreader bar rattling in time. “It’s…too soon. I can’t…come again yet.” “You’ve already had your cum shot, Blue. It’s my turn.” With one hard, final thrust, Derek tugged the leash tighter and pressed his hand against Blue’s navel. He held the boy there as the rush of climax overtook his senses, feeling Blue’s passage go hot and slick with each satisfying pump of seed. Once the high of orgasm had subsided, Derek extracted himself from Blue and zipped his pants. He released his partner’s bindings, leaving the collar for last. Free of restraint, Blue stretched out on his stomach, wincing as he moved, stewing in silence. He turned his head away from Derek. Resting his cheek on his hands, he stared at the wall. Caving to his natural instinct to comfort and soothe, Derek ignored the show of stubbornness and began massaging his partner’s shoulders where the half-buttoned shirt had slipped down. Blue stiffened at the first touch, but soon relaxed. “What did you do to your finger?” Derek asked, feeling a twinge of guilt that he hadn’t noticed the bandage sooner. He rolled his thumbs down Blue’s spine and back up again. “I cut it peeling potatoes.” “I take it potatoes are on the menu tonight?” “Yeah. And cabbage.” “I wonder if Georgi makes a Bulgarian version of kimchi,” Derek joked. Blue turned his head, his lips curved in a slight smile. “Georgi told me his grandmother was Roma. What’s that?” “The Roma are gypsies,” Derek said, happy to see Blue warming back up to him. He planted the heel of his palm against Blue’s tailbone and rubbed in a slow, circular motion. “Roma are expected to marry within the tribe. They’re generally looked down on by nonRoma, or what the gypsies call gajo, but the Roma aren’t too fond of gajo, either. I suspect there’s an interesting story of forbidden love behind Georgi’s heritage.” “I suspect an interesting story behind all these guys.” Blue closed his eyes. “That feels good, by the way.”

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“The nerves of the spine are centered here,” Derek said, increasing the pressure. “Rubbing the tailbone loosens your muscles throughout the body and makes them more receptive to massage.” “I’ll make a note of that,” Blue said. “How come you’ve never asked me to give you a massage? It seems like it’s something I should do for you, but it’s always you who gives me one. And there’s other stuff. You give me baths, you wash my hair. Sometimes you feed me. But you never let me do anything for you, other than housework.” Derek paused. “Is this something Sasha brought up?” “No,” Blue murmured. “It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while now.” Derek transferred the massage to his partner’s ass, keeping his touch light and delicate. “I don’t need you to do anything for me, Blue, other than stick around.” “But I’d like to do more while I’m ‘sticking around.’” Derek scooted down the mattress and kneaded Blue’s thighs. “You can answer a question for me. Did you see any way to get out of here today?” “Other than taking Geor-zilla hostage with a potato peeler? No, I didn’t. No doors marked ‘emergency mobster exit,’ either.” Derek moved down to Blue’s feet. Forming a vee with his fingers, he started at each ankle and pressed up the curves of the calves to the back of each knee. “You remember what I said last night.” Blue heaved an exasperated sigh. “Yes, I remember. If anything ‘weird’ happens, and we have to get out of here…” His voice cracked, and he buried his face in the pillow. Derek slid up Blue’s frame and stretched beside him. “Hey,” he said softly. He ran his fingers through Blue’s hair, coaxing the boy to turn his head and face him. “It’s my fault we’re both here,” Blue said, sniffing. “I don’t want to think about something going wrong. I can’t stand to think that if I’m the only one who can get out, you expect me to just leave you behind.” “You have to think about it, Blue. You need to be prepared.” “Prepared to do what? Abandon you?” “If that’s the choice you have to make? Yes, I fully expect you to do so. And last night you promised me you would do just that. Don’t renege on me now. “ Blue squeezed his eyes shut. “Fine. What if I’m the one who can’t get out and you can? Will you make that same promise to me?” Derek opened his mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. “No,” he finally said. “I couldn’t leave here without you.” “That’s not fair.” Blue huffed and turned his face away.

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“Life isn’t fair.” Derek rolled onto his back and stared up at the candlelight playing upon the velvet canopy. Closing his eyes, he breathed in the heady scent of patchouli mingled with the musk of sex. He offered a silent prayer, to anyone who might care to listen, that neither he nor Blue would find themselves in the position to test their arguments.

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Chapter Fifteen Shivering slightly from the chilled air of the warehouse, Blue hugged Derek’s shirt around him. While he wished Sasha would allow him to wear more clothing, he was at least grateful the butt plug had been left out of the equation that morning. He entered his assigned room for the day. The space was sparse and simple, a far cry from Sasha’s extravagant quarters. A small crucifix adorned the gray cinderblock wall; below it, tea-light votives burned on a simple altar around a patron saint candle, The Virgin Mary depicted on the glass casing. Blue cautiously drew closer to the bed, a single twin mattress on the floor. Drago and Luka lay together on top of the sheets, fully clothed with jackets off but their boots on. Curled toward one another, their black-clad limbs entwined, the older brother slept with one hand threaded through the younger one’s curls, while the hand that peeked out from under his spiky hair clutched a small pistol. Luka gripped an identical weapon in one hand and clutched the rosary at his chest in the other. Even in sleep, the younger sibling scowled.

They’re protecting each other, Blue thought. With this realization, he knew he’d best proceed with caution or else he’d find a gun in his face. He was deciding which brother would be safer to rouse when he spied Luka’s jacket on the floor, the top of his confiscated cell phone poking out of one of the pockets. Blue looked back at the brothers. Their chests rose and fell in synch, their shared breaths coming slow and deep. Blue padded as softly as possible around the bed. He wasn’t going to try anything foolish like call for help or establish a tracking link. He simply wanted to see if the phone was charged so he could text Jodi and let her know he was okay. Maybe he’d hint that he and Derek had been having marathon sex again, just to paint a nice visual for her. As he thought of his manlove-obsessed best friend, the rush of emotion followed by the pang that twisted his gut caught him off guard. God, he missed Jodi. When he got out of

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here, he’d do whatever she wanted, even let her and April drag him to the sushi bar for karaoke night like they’d been begging him to do the past few weeks. Crouching, he peered back over his shoulder at the brothers. Satisfied they were sound asleep, he went for the phone. His heart skipped a beat at the hand on his wrist and the click of a gun being cocked. He turned his head and was greeted by Drago, the gun pointed up at the ceiling. “Be glad Luka did not wake first.” Blue managed to swallow, his throat gone dry. “I just wanted to send a message to a friend. She worries if she doesn’t hear from me twenty times a day.” “I am sorry, but I cannot let you do that.” Drago rose, tugging Blue to standing. He clicked the safety back on and slid the weapon into his pocket. He took the phone from Blue’s hand and tucked it in his pocket alongside the gun. “Why are you in my room?” “Georgi won’t need me in the kitchen until later. Sasha said to ask if you or Luka need me to do anything.” Drago nodded over his shoulder. “Luka, he needs to sleep. Sasha sent us to pick up a late night shipment.” He swept his gaze over the room’s scant furnishings. His eyes lit on a wooden tool box, the red paint flecked and fading. “My boots are worn. You know how to polish shoes?” “Yeah. I learned from watching my dad polish his dress shoes when I was just a kid.” In fact, Blue had been meaning to buy a shoe polish kit so he could touch up his buckle boots. His impeccably dressed-to-the-nines boyfriend didn’t seem to own such a kit, surprisingly enough. “You spend much time with the DA when you are small?” “Yeah. That was when we still got along.” Drago smiled, but something sad passed behind his eyes. “It is good you remember a nice time with your father.” Blue shrugged. “I guess. Things change, though.” “Yes. Things change.” Drago went to pick up the wooden box. As he stepped past the bed, Luka shifted positions. The curly-haired blond let go of the rosary and felt across the mattress, his silverclad fingers searching. He asked something in a drowsy murmur, eyes still closed. Drago answered Luka in their language. The blond uttered a noncommittal syllable in response. Clutching his rosary once more, he resumed sleeping. Returning with the red box, Drago took his seat in one of two wooden chairs set at a small table. He set the box down between his feet. Sitting straight, he crossed his arms over his chest.

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Blue carefully knelt on the floor, ever mindful of his half-dressed status. He took the items from the box and set them aside on the floor. One tin of black wax polish, a six-inch horse-hair brush, a round applicator brush, two soft flannel cloths stained black in spots, and one chrome Zippo like Derek had used before he’d quit smoking. Blue twisted the metal wing on the side of the polish tin. With a pop, he levered the lid off. He took a shallow whiff, being the rare soul who quite liked the scent of shoe polish, perhaps because he associated it with a happier and more innocent time in his life, before the world had gotten so ugly and complicated. Taking the lighter, its purpose in the polish kit the one and only use for lighters which Blue approved of, he tried to ignite it. After three attempts, the spark finally took. He touched the flame to the well-rubbed center of the polish. In seconds, the heated wax caught fire. Blue quickly shut the lighter, then set the tin down and clamped the lid in place, smothering the flame. Drago crooked both boot heels on the tool box’s handle. Blue set to work with the larger brush to clean any dust and dirt from each toe cap. “So,” Blue prompted, hoping his question wouldn’t be considered out of line. “Where are you and Luka from?” “We are born in Bosnia, like Sasha.” “I thought Sasha was Serbian?” “Yes, he is.” Drago nodded patiently, giving Blue the impression that he’d explained this before. “Sasha is Serb. Me and Luka, we are Croat.” “Oh.” Blue remembered studying in school about the complicated conflicts and politics of the post-Soviet nineteen-nineties, but he could never quite keep the names of the countries and various ethnic groups straight. “I thought you guys didn’t get along back home.” “Who says we get along now?” Drago chuckled. Blue laughed with him, relieved to see the tough talking thug bore a sense of humor. “I guess it’s different here in the States.” Drago nodded again. “All of us lost family to the war. So here in America, we make a new family.” “But you and Luka are real brothers? You seem very close.” Drago smiled. “We are all that is left of our blood family.” His smiled faded and his gaze drifted absently. “I remember a little of the time before the war, before my father left to fight and was killed. But Luka, he does not know a time before the war. He does not remember our father. “The day that our mother died, I was seven years old, and Luka was six. The streets were quiet that day. Our mother hears there is bread at the store. She does not come home again. I find out later there has been a car bomb. Everyone in the store is found dead, or they are missing.

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“Luka and me, we are just little boys. But we take care of ourselves for many days. Then one night, our street is bombed. We escape before the fire spreads to our house. We come back later to see what is left. There is nothing, only ashes and black walls.” Though Drago had shifted to the present tense, his voice took on a detached note, as if he were relaying an incident he’d witnessed secondhand. As Blue quietly listened, he set the duster brush aside and reopened the polish tin. Taking the applicator brush, he circled the bristles in the polish to gather a teaspoonful of the waxy substance. Applying the first layer of polish to one toe cap, Blue continued listening, intrigued by Drago’s tale, curious as to why the Croat had chosen to divulge such a personal story. “Two men come -- mercenaries. I do not know which side they fight for. Looking back, I think they do not know, either. They are simply there to fight, to pick the meat from the bones of the dead like vultures. I take Luka’s hand, and we hide together behind a pile of burned wood. “The men poke their rifles through the remains of our home. One of them finds our mother’s rosary. This rosary, it has been in our family for many generations. It is made of glass and silver. The silver should have melted in the fire, but it is whole. The man tosses our mother’s rosary like it is nothing to the other man. He catches it and shoves it in his pocket. “Luka breaks away from me. He is in a rage. He howls and runs to the man and begins to beat with his little fists. The men, they are laughing. They are shoving Luka back and forth between them. I run out to stop them. “One man holds my arms and makes me watch. The other man, he pins Luka to the ground. His boot is in Luka’s back, and he is unzipping his pants. My brother’s face is in the dirt and the ashes, and he is crying. It is the first time he cries since our mother has not come home. I do not know this yet, but it is also the last time I will see Luka cry. I fight to get away from the man who is holding me, but I can do nothing to help. “Then I hear shots. Bang, bang, it happens fast. The man holding me falls first. The man who wants to hurt Luka, he falls next. I look at the men and see they are dead; they have both been shot between the eyes. I ask myself, who is crazy enough to shoot this man while he is holding me in his arms? Who is good enough to do this without hitting me too? “The soldier comes in. Luka and I see he is Serb, and we are very frightened. The solider puts his gun down. He holds out his hands. He tells us, ‘Shhh, do not to be afraid.’ “He takes off his helmet. The age to fight is dropped because of the war, and I see the soldier is young. Maybe he is sixteen, maybe he is seventeen -- older than me and Luka, but still a boy. “He comes closer and squats to the ground. He asks us when do we last eat. I say we have eaten a little the day before. He says ‘It is safe for you to have this, then.’ He reaches in his jacket and pulls out a bar of Russian chocolate. Have you ever tasted chocolate from Russia?”

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Blue looked up, surprised by the abrupt detour in conversation. He’d really gotten sucked into Drago’s story. “No, I can’t say that I have.” “It is much different from American chocolate. It is more dark. It is not as sweet as Hershey bar, but that is what I like about it. It is better without so much sugar. Ask Georgi for some Russian chocolate when you go back to the kitchen.” “Okay, thanks. I will.” Bitter coffee, bitter chocolate -- apparently Eastern European guys were too macho for sweet things. With a layer of polish now swirled on the second boot while the first boot had dried, Blue set the applicator brush aside. He wrapped one of the flannel cloths around his left index finger. He realized he’d forgotten to ask for a glass of water. Oh well, they didn’t call it ‘spit shine’ for nothing. He looked back up at Drago. “Is spitting on someone’s boots back in Bosnia considered an insult?” Drago grinned back down at him. “No. Spit is good! It is how a real man shines his boots!” “Okay, here goes.” Blue deposited a drop of saliva as politely and neatly as possible onto the toe of Drago’s boot. With the pad of his finger, he applied slight pressure and rubbed the cloth in his spit to refresh the oils. When the matted swirls started to take on a glossy shine, he dabbed the cloth into the tin, then started building the second layer of polish. “So,” he ventured, “the solider offered you some candy…” “Ah, yes. Luka and me, we are both hungry, but we do not take the chocolate. The solider, he sees we do not trust him. He unwraps the candy. He takes a bite and swallows. Suddenly his eyes become round. He grabs his throat, and he is choking. He falls onto his side. Luka and I look at each other. We think maybe this crazy Serb has poisoned himself? Then the solider sits up and starts to laugh. I laugh too, then even Luka smiles. When the soldier holds out the candy again, Luka snatches it and tears off all the paper. He breaks the bar and gives me the half that is missing a bite. When I finish eating, I say thank you to the soldier. I tell him that it is the best chocolate I have tasted in my whole life. “The Serb smiles and says I am too young to have lived a ‘whole life.’ Then he asks Luka what is so damned important that he will raise his puny fists to such big, scary men. I will never forget. Luka’s curls, they are a mess, and his face is smeared with dirt and ash and chocolate. He goes to the dead man and reaches inside the man’s pocket. He pulls out the rosary and puts it around his neck. Then he spits on the dead man, kicks him, and calls him a bad name. “The Serb laughs! He laughs so hard, he falls to his side, and he is crying. I tell myself, this boy who is also a man is mad in the head, but I like him. Finally, he stops laughing. He sits back up and wipes his eyes. He tells us he is leaving the army. He tells us a secret group of men will help him leave the country. He says my brother and me, we can come too. He warns us that the men are very powerful and dangerous, but then he laughs and says that

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Luka is so mean, the men will be scared of him! He promises to always protect us. And so we go with Sasha, and we make a new family.” Blue stopped buffing the polish and stared up at Drago. “Sasha was the soldier who saved you?” “Yes.” Drago nodded. “Sasha, he is a crazy bastard, but he is my pobratim.” Drago thudded his fist against his sternum in emphasis. “In my language, pobratim means you are not brothers by blood, but you are brothers in spirit, you are better than brothers even. Can you understand this?” “Yes,” Blue said quietly. “I do. I have a friend like that. Well, she’s a girl, and she’s like a sister, but I love her.” “She is your posestrima, then, and you are her pobratim.” “Yeah, I guess so.” At least next time Blue saw her -- if he ever saw Jodi again -- he could one up her knowledge of the Japanese language with some exotic foreign terms of his own. Digesting Drago’s story, he studied the first boot. Satisfied with the glossy shine, he spit on the other toe. As Blue bulled each coat of polish, Drago sat in silence. Blue supposed the Croat had said all he wanted to say. When both boots were polished, Blue stretched the second cloth between his hands and buffed each toe cap to mirror-like sheen. “All done,” he announced, returning the contents of the kit to the tool box. Drago looked down at his boots and nodded in approval. “Very nice. I can see my face.” He dropped his feet to the floor with a light thud of his heels and rose. Extending his hand, he helped Blue to standing. As Blue started out the door, Drago spoke. “Your posestrima,” he said quietly. “She is the friend you wish to call?” Blue stopped in his tracks and turned around. “Yeah.” Drago took the cell from his pocket. He tossed it across the room. Blue caught it between his hands. “You can send her a message. Only one. Then turn the phone off. Give it back to me.” “Thanks.” Seeing the phone still had a little bit of charge, Blue checked his inbox. Sure enough, several messages from Jodi awaited him. He opened the most recently sent.

Where r u? I miss u! :( Turn on ur damn phone, bitch! :P He scrolled down and checked a few other messages at random.

April-chan found a local cosplay group. She is looking n2 it. One month til we start beauty school! I’m sooo excited! *squee* I am so sick of doing shit for my mom. I know she needs help but I have my own life too!

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Blue frowned. He worried Jodi was going to collapse under the burden of her caretaker duties one of these days, and the cracks were definitely starting to show. However, he couldn’t help but laugh at her next missive.

This hawt guy moved n2 the next building. He has silver hair! 4 real! I have only seen him 2x and have not talked to him yet. U need 2 meet him & tell me if he’s straight or gay! Smiling and shaking his head, Blue returned to the most recent message and thumbed a quick reply. I’m ok. Got kidnapped by the gay Balkan mob. Miss u 2 hon. Will call soon. I promise. He hit the send button. Never in a million years would Jodi believe that she’d actually been told the truth regarding his whereabouts. Truth could be stranger than fiction, as was often attested to by his own insane life. Blue wondered who was in charge sometimes -- some bored higher power who’d decided to cast him in a really fucked-up manga or anime series? Ruminating on his latest predicament, he powered the phone off and tossed it back to Drago. The gay Balkan mob indeed; and yet the past two days had proved to be the most interesting he’d experienced to date. He watched a moment as Drago sat on the bed beside Luka’s sleeping form. The young Croat gazed at the candles burning on the altar, his eyes taking on a haunted look. Absently, he stroked his sibling’s curls where they spilled over the pillows. Blue couldn’t help but find the scene touching. Gun-toting members of the criminal underworld or not, he was glad that a disillusioned adolescent soldier named Sasha had once come along and rescued two orphaned brothers from the war-torn rubble of their home. Tugging his shirt down, Blue quietly turned away and started down the hall to the kitchen. He reminded himself to ask Georgi for some Russian chocolate.

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Chapter Sixteen “Harder,” Georgi grunted. Sweat beaded his heavy brow. Yuri clenched his jaw, his breath whistling raggedly through the gap in his teeth. “I am trying, you big oaf.” “Get a more firm grip! Stick it in more deep!” “I am trying, I tell you, but it is too tight!” “Could you two use a hand?” Derek asked wryly. “No, it is fine.” With a huff, Yuri gave the crowbar another push. Georgi did the same on his side of the box. Derek had to admit, he was curious as to the contents of the unmarked wooden crate. According to Yuri, Sasha was involved with what he cryptically termed “the import business,” and Drago and Luka had picked up a new shipment of goods during the night. Whatever was contained in the box, Georgi and Yuri seemed particularly determined to get to it. There was loud groan of splintering wood, and the face of the crate gave. The wooden slats hit the floor with a dull clap, a cloud of dust and wood chips sent swirling in its wake. As the dust cleared, Georgi’s eyes went as wide as a kid’s in a candy shop, as did Yuri’s. Derek experienced a similar reaction. “Russian chocolate,” he pronounced. Several hundred bars, from the look of it. His gaze shifted between each of the mobsters. “This is what Sasha deals in?” Yuri grinned. “Are you disappointed, Dereek? You were expecting a cache of AK-47s? Or maybe some fine Brazilian cocaine?” “I don’t know.” Derek smiled. “A Cuban cigar would be nice right about now.”

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“Sasha can get you that too,” Yuri said. “But much of what he deals in, it is food from places like Russia, Serbia, and Ukraine. It is in demand for our community here in United States. But there are many restrictions on foodstuffs, very stupid ones. Some of the old Soviet sanctions are not lifted back home. And then here in America, there are high tariff taxes. There are -- how do you say it in English, when only a certain number is allowed?” “Quotas,” Derek supplied. “Yes, quotas. There is that too.” Georgi had already opened one of the red foil-wrapped bars and taken a hearty bite. “I will call the girls,” he mumbled around his candy as he lumbered off. “I will ask what they will trade.” “The girls,” Derek said. He wondered if he might coax more information from Yuri. Blue was good at extracting information. What would Blue do? He’d come right out and ask, that’s what. “Does Sasha deal in girls too?” “Bah. Sasha?” Yuri chuckled. “No. Sasha is no pimp. I am the only one here who likes girls.” His gap-toothed grin broadened. He flexed a bulging set of deltoids, displaying one of his numerous lesbian-themed tattoos. “And then I like the girls who like each other.” “So I gathered.” “The girls we know, they are in business for themselves. And so we trade. We give them chocolate, candy, cookies, coffee, tea, sometimes the cigarettes, always the vodka. The girl who is the boss -- the ‘madam’ I think you would say -- her grandmother owns a tea room and gift shop. So she gives much of the food to the old lady to sell. The cigarettes and the vodka, the girls share with their ‘clients.’ They say it makes the men feel like they are sleeping with a true Russian woman.” Derek suspected he knew the answer to his next question, but he sought confirmation. “And what valuable commodity do the girls offer Sasha in exchange?” Yuri’s voice lowered to a conspiratorial murmur. “A very valuable one. Information.” “Ah.” Derek nodded. So that was how Sasha knew about the District Attorney’s mistress. Derek trusted that Sasha would never throw that particular bone out to the hyenas. Chances were this Martina wasn’t going to let a good thing slip away, either, considering Jim had set her up in a private apartment. But what was to stop her employer or one of the other call girls from slipping key information to the wrong person for the right price? Derek could care less how the DA handled the resulting scandal -- it was Blue’s reaction that was his primary concern. The nineteen-year-old nonconformist had grown up under his father’s constant scrutiny, his choices questioned on everything from his penchant for colorful hair to the fact that he’d been born gay. A childhood like that would have been difficult enough for any rebellious kid. Add to that the father’s status as a high-profile

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political figure who’d built his career on a return to old-fashioned morals and family values, many of them with a homophobic slant, and you were talking one pressured childhood. The last thing Blue needed to know was that he’d been raised under the roof of a twofaced hypocrite and that every expectation ever imposed upon him was based on a lie. Then there was Polly, Blue’s mother. Derek liked Polly. If past political scandals involving adultery were any indication, chances were Polly already knew of, or at least harbored suspicions regarding her spouse’s extra-marital activities. She had likely dealt with the issue privately for some time. But in the event the situation went to press, Mrs. James McGowan would be forced to publicly weather the whirlwind alongside her philandering husband. The McGowan family would already be facing crisis when Blue testified at the upcoming murder trial. Mother and son didn’t need the additional stress of the DA’s personal indiscretions coming to light. Ruminating on all this, Derek took a bar of chocolate for himself and tucked it in his shirt pocket. He was interested in testing the effects of a jolt of stout Russian chocolate on a certain blue-haired imp.

***** Derek broke off a square of chocolate. He touched it to Blue’s lips but pulled it away before the boy could take a bite. Derek taunted him a second time. Blue pouted, appearing to give up, only to grab Derek’s wrist and snatch the candy away with greedy fingers. “Tease,” Blue said. He poked out his tongue, the silver stud flashing in the candlelight. He nibbled at the dark brown square, his brow knitted. “It’s really bitter,” he said. “But Drago’s right. It’s good.” “That’s how real cacao tastes,” Derek said. Blue popped the square into his mouth. He climbed onto Derek’s lap, straddling Derek’s thighs. “I missed you today,” he said. Derek smiled, feeling himself go soft inside, always touched to hear that Blue thought of him when they were apart. “I missed you, too.” “I’m also horny,” Blue added. Derek’s grin broadened. “Chocolate is a natural aphrodisiac. The darker, the better. Here, have some more.” Blue laughed. As the next square of chocolate touched his lips, he started to bite, then pulled his head back with a sly smile. “Who’s being a tease now?” Derek said. “You know you want it.” “I want it all right.” Blue took the proffered bite between his teeth and leaned in. Derek parted his lips to take the bite back, only to have Blue pull away and crunch the whole square in his mouth.

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“Brat.” Derek smacked his hand against Blue’s ass. Blue wiggled his hips. “You love me anyway.” Before Derek could respond, Blue’s tongue filled his mouth, muffling his groan of surprise. He broke the chocolate-tinged kiss to catch his breath. “Remind me to bring a few bars of this stuff home with us. Souvenirs from our stay at Chez Sasha.” Blue laughed. “Don’t forget the T-shirt. ‘I was kidnapped by the gay Balkan mob and all I got was this lousy T-shirt.’” They kissed again, slow and sweet at first, but soon the kiss deepened with Derek vying for control even as Blue pushed his tongue back. Fingers threaded through Derek’s hair, their grip tightening against his scalp. My, but his tiger cub was frisky tonight. His lust provoked, Derek threw Blue back into the pillows. When he felt Blue’s muscles tense in struggle, he eased his grip, enough to see what the boy had in mind. He was wholly stunned to find himself flipped onto his back, his wrists now pinned into the pillows. Derek peered up into sparkling blue eyes veiled by equally blue hair. “What’s gotten into you?” he murmured. “I think there’s more than chocolate at work here.” “Maybe it’s from hanging out with mobsters all day. I’ve been breathing all the testosterone and danger in the air. Must be going to my head.” “It’s going somewhere.” He saw Blue’s eyes dart to the side. Before Derek could see what had caught Blue’s attention, he found his mouth being plied with another ravenous kiss. He grunted at the feel of Blue’s ass grinding against his crotch. He thrust back in natural reflex, his cock swelling, his pelvis pressed hard against his partner’s buttocks. Blue broke his brutal kiss and turned his head toward the curtained door. A wicked smirk spread across his face, and his eyes shone in spirited challenge. “Hello, Sasha. How long have you been standing there?” Derek sat up with a start, his arms circling Blue in protective instinct. Though Sasha had already gotten a fairly good view of things, he tugged the shirt down over the boy’s exposed ass. Then it dawned on him -- Blue had known the other man was standing there all along and had decided to put on a show. The brat was playing them both. Sasha stood at the room’s entrance, arms out, shirt open, a velvet drape clutched in each hand. He leered back at them with blatant desire, doing nothing to hide the fact that he’d been playing the part of voyeur. He fixed his heated gaze on Blue. “Are you ready to play in the dungeon, plave oči?” Derek didn’t speak Serbian, but he recognized the affectionate lilt of a pet name when he heard it. With a surge of jealousy, he tightened his hold on his lover.

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Blue held eye contact with the mob boss. He flashed the taunting, playful grin that had been the bane of Derek’s existence since the first night he’d brought the seductive imp home. “I thought you’d never ask.” Sasha slunk toward the bed, the cadence of his step like that of a sinuous dance. He climbed onto the mattress and knelt behind Blue, his knees nudging between Derek’s thighs and Blue’s calves. Derek’s hackles rose as he watched Sasha’s arms snake around the boy shared between them. He was outright shocked, however, to feel the mob boss’s hands light on his own chest. One finger hooked under the knot of Derek’s tie. “Nice tie, Dereek. It goes well with my shirt.” Silk whispered against linen as Sasha slid the tie free of Derek’s collar. Sasha stretched the strip of crimson between his hands and drew it to Blue’s face. In turn, Blue closed his eyes, remaining passive as the makeshift blindfold was knotted at the back of his head. Sasha trained his eyes on Derek. In a slow, deliberate manner, he brushed his lips down the right side of Blue’s throat, tracing the tendon where it tightened as the boy angled his head to the side. A muted sigh escaped Blue’s lips. Derek watched, transfixed, intrigued by his pet’s sensual response as much as he was incited by it. Following the curve of Blue’s neck to the shoulder, Sasha slid down the shirt sleeve to expose the rose tattoo. The sleeve draped lower to reveal Blue’s nipple ring, the silver hoop glinting in the candlelight where it graced the pink circle of flesh.

Mine, thought Derek. He’d given Blue that piercing. Leaning in, he flicked the tip of his tongue against the black captive bead that held the hoop in place. Taking the bead between his teeth, he gave a quick tug. Blue gasped, his fingers gripping Derek’s shirt, his spine arched against Sasha. “Unbutton his shirt, Dereek,” Sasha instructed, his voice gone thick with husky command. “I need your boy naked if we are to progress further.” Encouraged by Blue’s soft moan, while the Serb’s ardor only served to fuel his own desires, Derek complied and freed the few buttons left to open. Sasha slid the garment from Blue’s arms and tossed it aside. As much as it should have made Derek’s blood boil, he found himself awed by the sight of his partner naked, blindfolded, and aroused in the arms of the other man. Sasha’s dark gaze trailed down Blue’s pale, slender torso. His eyes swam with longing as they lingered over the swollen cock that jutted from the nest of blond and curved to the boy’s smooth navel. “Such a beautiful boy you have, Dereek.” Derek cocked a smug smile. “I know.” Sasha spoke into Blue’s ear. “Do you trust your master, maleni?”

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Blue nodded, trembling against Sasha, clutching Derek’s shirt tighter. “Yes,” he whispered. “Do you respect his decision?” “Yes. I do.” Sasha directed his attention to Derek again. “Dereek, you will give authority to me?” Derek swallowed, his own anticipation rising. If he’d learned anything last night, it was that he could trust the other man to honor their agreement. It was time again to hand the reins over to Sasha. He’d content himself for now to watch, and learn, until the moment was right to step in and take back control of Blue. “Yes,” Derek answered. Closing his eyes, he leaned in to press a gentle kiss on the pale brow above the blindfold before releasing his hold on the boy he loved.

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Chapter Seventeen Derek leaned against the brick wall, arms crossed, one leg crooked. He’d initially watched and observed, taking mental notes. He now stood entranced by the beautiful contrast of black nylon braid snaked artfully around Blue’s porcelain smooth flesh. With his paleness incandescent in the glow of candlelight, the bound and blindfolded boy made for a breathtaking nawa jujun, or what was known among practitioners of Japanese bondage as “one who submits to the rope.” Derek had always found the term poetic and at that moment, Blue made for a fitting example. Derek stood equally awed at Sasha’s skill. While the other Dominant utilized a basic shibari “body harness” pattern with which Derek was well familiar, he’d taken the intricate web structure a step further with multiple passes of rope, weaving bights and knots to bind additional body parts, demonstrating how the rigging system for suspension differed from that of merely binding one’s partner for show or to restrict movement. To start, the primary mount point was centered between Blue’s shoulder blades. From there, one strand looped around the Blue’s neck and draped his shoulders to form an X over the sternum. The rope then circled Blue’s ribs under the armpits. The strands looped through the rings of the suspension bar balanced between the crooks of Blue’s arms and braced across his middle back. The rope came back around Blue’s narrow waist, knotted at the navel, then followed the dip of his groin to the juncture of his thighs, squeezing on either side of the balls to induce and maintain erection. The strands met, knotted against the taint for additional pressure, then pulled up the cleft of Blue’s ass to his wrists where they crossed at his tailbone. From there, separate strands curled around each thigh, spiraling in fluid symmetry down Blue’s calves to the ankles, each end threaded and knotted through the rings of the second bar that braced his feet apart where they were planted against the floor. Sasha paced slowly around his captive, inspecting his handiwork. His boot heels echoed off the bricks, resonating throughout the room. “You are comfortable, maleni?” he asked.

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The blindfolded boy licked his lips. “Yes,” he replied. The Serb stopped behind Blue. “Move your fingers for Sasha. Good.” Derek smiled in approval. For all his tough talk and skepticism of Derek’s more lenient approach to “the lifestyle,” it appeared Lord Master Sasha still took his jujun’s safety and well-being into account. Reaching out, Sasha grabbed the wide leather strap attached to one of the heavier chains which swung from the pulley point affixed in the overhead ceiling beam. With a clink of steel, he curved the hook through the loop of the butterfly knot between Blue’s shoulder blades and clasped it in place. He repeated the process with two thinner straps, the links on the chains of a narrower gauge, attaching them to either end of the bar mounted between Blue’s arms. Brow knitted, Sasha took turns testing each strap, the chains rattling with each vigorous tug. Bending to one knee, Sasha turned his attention to a pair of thick, adjustable canvas straps which lay slack on the floor sans chains. He hooked one to each end of the ankle bracer. Rising, he held the ends of the straps in each hand. He nodded for Derek to join him. Casually taking his cue, even as his stomach rolled from excitement, Derek approached his bound and helpless lover. Pressing against Blue’s front, he cupped and angled the boy’s face up. “Nervous?” he asked. “Yes, Sir,” Blue murmured. “A little.” Derek smiled. “Only a little?” He brushed his lips against Blue’s ear and whispered. “It’s okay. I’m nervous, too.” Blue laughed softly. “Don’t tell me that.” Stepping back, Derek took one of the two straps from Sasha. “Now,” the Serb said, the candlelight glinting wildly in his eyes, “we may do a few things. Here is one thing that we may do.” Stretching his arm up, he caught hold of another heavy chain that dangled a few feet in front of Blue. He secured the ankle strap to the lowest link and gestured for Derek to do the same. “Stand back, Dereek,” Sasha commanded. “Do not rush to him. Do not catch him.” Sasha went to one of a series of winch cranks bolstered to a nearby support beam. Gripping the crankshaft, he started turning. The chain linked to the ankles straps drew up, pulling the leather straps taut. One second, Blue’s feet were planted against the ground; the next, they slid and jerked up from the ground as his legs were pulled out from under him. Blue cried out in surprise, his body dropping a few inches as the straps supporting his upper torso went tense. Derek jumped, his first instinct being to run to Blue, catch him, before the boy hit the floor, but he stopped short, seeing that Blue was safe. He watched, spellbound, as Blue’s legs were pulled straight out from his body, followed by his lower

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spine, leaving his upper back bowed in a semicurled position. Blue’s head fell back, stretching the tendons of his throat. Sasha locked the winch in place. Derek went to stand behind Blue, the boy’s head coming to his waist. Circumventing the straps and chain, he stroked his fingers through the boy’s cobalt hair, careful not to loosen the blindfold. His gaze trailed up and down the slender torso stretched tight, the legs spread in a most compromising position, the cock in between standing fully erect. Derek and Sasha could have easily taken turns fucking the boy if that had been part of their arrangement. Derek cleared his larynx, his throat suddenly constricted at thoughts of truly dominating Blue by standing back and allowing Sasha to have his way. “How does it feel?” he asked. “Like I’m floating,” Blue said. “I thought it would be more uncomfortable.” “I can make it uncomfortable, maleni,” Sasha informed with a wicked chuckle. Standing at Blue’s feet, he took hold of the slides on each of the straps. He eased the metal brackets down, shortening the strap as he went, taking a step forward with each inch. Blue’s legs gradually drew up, his upper spine bowing deeper, until his knees reached his shoulders. “Okay,” Blue hissed. “That’s uncomfortable.” Sasha gripped the ankle bracer and pressed his crotch against Blue’s exposed ass, eliciting a soft sigh from the bound and hapless boy. He murmured in a husky tone. “Think of what I can do to you, right now, if only Dereek will approve.” Blue’s cheeks flushed under his blindfold. Derek felt his own face go ruddy, considering he’d entertained that very prospect, even if for a fleeting moment. He glowered at the Serb and was met with a taunting grin. Sasha winked. “But perhaps another time.” Sasha stepped back, extending the straps to their full length as he straightened Blue’s legs. “Hold him under the arms, Dereek.” As Sasha turned the crankshaft and lowered the chain, Derek supported Blue, helping the boy stand when his feet touched the ground. Sasha unhooked the ankle straps from the chain. He walked up to Blue, pressing close, his face meeting Derek’s over Blue’s shoulder. He placed the straps in each of Derek’s hands. “You will hook these to the chain at his back.” Sasha came around to stand behind Derek now. Pressing against Derek’s back, his arms slipped around Derek’s waist, his shirt sleeves pulling up to display his tattooed flesh. One hand slid up Derek’s chest, the other down his thigh. “Adjust the slack,” the Serb murmured in Derek’s ear. “Pull the straps tight until there is no give. Yes, like that.” Derek shivered pleasantly at the contact. Not that he cared to start playing bottom anytime soon, and it would be a cold day in hell before he revisited the submissive role, yet what with him already aroused, he could not help but react physically to the other man’s commanding touch. Though Derek had chastised Blue the previous night for toying with

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Sasha and nearly succumbing to temptation, he had to credit Blue for resisting the Serb’s advances as well as he had. Feeling himself eased back, Derek stepped away from Blue. Sasha returned to the winch cranks and set to work. Derek saw immediately what the Serb meant to do. He waited with bated breath, anticipating his lover’s surprise. Blue’s body drew up, his thighs bunching, calves arching, feet stretched to tiptoe. In a blur of movement, the weight of Blue’s upper body gave way, pitching him forward as his legs went horizontal, the knees bent at a slight angle. Blue gasped sharply, ribs heaving a moment from the shock, his hard cock bobbing and twitching where it pointed toward the floor. Sasha hoisted him a few inches higher and stopped. With a come-hither curl of the finger, he beckoned for Derek once more. Standing on either side of their captive, each man took a strap slide. Derek moved with Sasha, ensuring they drew Blue’s feet back at the same rate. As Blue’s toes neared his elbows, his muscles flinched, and he let out a grunt of displeasure. Sasha motioned for Derek to ease the slide back just an inch. “Is that better, maleni?” “Yes,” Blue murmured. “Good.” Sasha stepped back and dusted his palms together. He grinned over at Derek with a satisfied gleam of triumph in his eye. Together, they evenly paced around Blue, Sasha inspecting the rigging, Derek drinking in the vision of his partner’s body displayed in a manner that proved not only alluring and sensual but somehow graceful and elegant. The sight of any attractive young man restrained in such a position would have proved an appealing one, but the fact that it was Blue made the visual all the sweeter. “What now?” Derek asked. “We leave him this way, for just a little while.” “And then what?” The other man whispered in his ear, each word inducing ripples of sensation down Derek’s spine and throughout his limbs, his prick swelling harder with every pleasurable wave. “You will fulfill your end of the contract, Dereek. You will let Sasha watch.”

***** Blue felt buoyed, weightless, floating. His body swayed gently, the rope creaked softly, his throbbing cock the only part of him of which he remained truly aware. It had been exciting, to stand naked and blinded before Sasha, to feel the rope loop around his body as

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the Serb’s musky scent of patchouli and leather had titillated Blue’s sense. The fact that Derek had handed him over to the other man and then stood back and watched made the experience all the more thrilling. He knew both men were still present in the room. For the past several minutes, he’d heard their footsteps echo off the walls, his ears perked by furtive whispers that slipped and slid around him like caresses in the dark, tickling his flesh and sending shivers through his spine. He wondered what Derek and Sasha were talking about. He wondered what they were doing. He wondered what would happen next, anticipation setting his nerves on edge. Blue knew what he wanted to happen -- he wanted both men to have him, to start out taking turns and then dominate him at the same time. He knew Sasha wouldn’t be allowed to actually fuck him, but as Blue was learning, there were other delicious and varied ways to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh outside of fucking. He hoped to enjoy some of those pleasures before the session was over. In turn, all he had to do was submit. Strange that in turning control over to another, he was freed to simply enjoy. Suspended from the ceiling, bound by rope and chain, he was free to simply be. Footsteps sounded again, drawing near. Blue lifted his head.

Derek’s. His shoe heels produced a crisper sound than that of Sasha’s heavy boots. The steps stopped at Blue’s head. Derek’s familiar scent enveloped him, confirming Blue’s educated guess. Fingers threaded Blue’s hair. Yes, that was his master’s touch, gentle but firm. His head was pulled back, and he could smell the heat of Derek’s arousal. His body responded, as it always did, with an agonizing rush of blood to his already swollen prick. He wanted to grind his cock up against something, to lose himself in the rhythmic friction and ease his distress, but he was helpless to move, to even thrust his hips. He let out a soft moan, expressing his longing, frustration, and desire. “Problems?” a voice whispered, backed by the slide of a zipper, and Blue heard the smirk behind the query. Yes, it was Derek all right. The hard tip of Derek’s cock teased the line of his lips. Blue flicked his tongue, tasting the salt of precum beaded on Derek’s slit. As he did, a quiet hiss sounded, not from Derek but several feet away. Blue opened his mouth, eager to please his master, ready to put on a show for the other man who watched. Derek’s cock slid down his tongue, the head nudging the back of Blue’s throat. Well-acquainted with his master’s preferences, Blue hollowed his cheeks and sucked hard. Applying pressure with his tongue, he dragged his piercing against the engorged vein of Derek’s shaft. In turn, his master gasped and groaned. Derek began to thrust. Blue suckled in time, nice and slow, the way he’d been taught. Boot steps echoed in the air. Sasha’s musk blended with Derek’s scent. “You are both beautiful,” Sasha’s gruff voice murmured. “You are beautiful together.”

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A strangled gasp sounded, one which Blue recognized as Derek struggling for control. Another set of fingers twined through Blue’s hair, their touch rougher than Derek’s, more demanding and insistent. Sasha’s fingers slipped through his hair, taking the blindfold with them. Blue squinted, his eyes adjusting to the scant light. He saw Sasha’s hands looping the silk tie around the base of Derek’s prick. Gripping each hand, Sasha pulled tight. Derek let out a short, guttural grunt. His hold against Blue’s scalp tightened, his cock thrusting harder and deeper into Blue’s mouth. Blue gagged, eyes watering. He swallowed down, willing his throat muscles to open, taking Derek an inch deeper, determined that, together, he and Sasha would bring Derek to earth-shattering climax. In turn, Sasha let the tie go slack before giving another sharp pull, eliciting another tortured grunt from Derek. The Serb held tight a moment, then let go with one hand and whipped the tie free. “Oh, God,” Derek groaned. He gave another hard thrust, and then his body went rigid. Blue swallowed again and again, his muscles gripping the head of Derek’s cock with each hot spurt of cum that washed down his throat. As Derek’s cock slid from his mouth, Blue gasped for a much needed breath of air. His gaze trailed up his master’s torso. Derek’s ribs heaved where his shirt lay open, the tendons of his throat corded where, to Blue’s wonder, he had thrown his head back against Sasha’s shoulder for support. The Serb brushed back the strands of hair plastered in Derek’s face. With his other hand, he cupped Blue’s chin. His dark gaze fixed on Blue as he planted a kiss against Derek’s pulsing jugular. “Are you hurting yet, maleni?” he asked. “What do you mean?” Blue asked. Other than his raging boner, paired with a slightly stiff neck from his head being held back, he felt perfectly fine. Sasha’s lips curved against Derek’s neck in a diabolical smile. “We will wait a little longer, then. We are only getting started.”

Getting started ? Blue wondered whose eyes had just gone wider -- his, or Derek’s.

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Chapter Eighteen Blue stared down at the floor. And stared. And stared some more. When his vision had been deprived, he’d experienced a distortion of time and space; yet free of the blindfold, with all five senses enabled, he was surprised to discover time passed even more slowly. With each languishing minute, his muscles had grown sore and his joints stiff while his erection had receded. He’d tried to close his eyes a few times, to relax and recreate the previous sensation of weightlessness, but each time he did, Sasha alerted him with a swat to the thigh with the riding crop. He wished Derek would come back. Feebly, he lifted his head to meet Sasha’s stern, narrowed gaze. “I want down,” he announced for the third time. The Serb leaned against the sawhorse, one ankle crossed over the other. He casually studied the crop in his hand. “It has only been half an hour, Blue. You are too impatient.” “That’s what you said before.” God, had it really only been thirty minutes? Where the hell was Derek? He would have intervened by now. At long last the elevator sounded. Derek entered the dungeon, a bottle of water and a plastic bag in hand. At the sight of his master, Blue loosed his frustration with a roll of hot tears down his cheeks. “I want down! I asked him three times to let me down!” Derek set the items he carried aside and rushed to Blue. Sasha clucked his tongue. “You did not cry while your master was away.” “Let him down,” Derek growled. “Now.” He cupped Blue’s face, wiping the tears with his thumbs as he often did. Blue melted into the touch and choked back a sob. He honestly hadn’t intended to cry and garner Derek’s sympathy, but his master’s return had evoked a powerful surge of emotion. Sasha heaved a resigned sigh. “Very well. But we are not finished.”

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Blue’s knees popped as they were straightened, his calves cramping in protest when his feet touched the floor. His head lolled and felt heavy as he tried to hold his neck straight, but Derek was there to support him. He heard a snap of hooks, a rattle of chains, and then his weight gave, pitching him forward into his master’s arms. After Sasha removed the ankle bracer, he carefully unwound the nylon from Blue’s legs. At Blue’s flinch of impatience, the mobster snapped. “Be still! The rope, it will burn your skin if Sasha takes it off too quickly.” Once his legs were freed, Derek helped him limp to the sawhorse. His arms still bound behind his back, Blue eased his rump onto the leather cushion. The rope between his thighs drew up, and the knot pressed into his taint, causing his cock to twitch and stiffen anew. Retrieving the items he’d brought in, Derek offered Blue a sip from the water bottle. The cool, refreshing liquid washed down his parched throat. “What’s in the bag?” Blue mumbled. “This,” Derek said. He popped something square between Blue’s lips. The sweet flavor of sugar filled Blue’s mouth. He sucked on the sugar cube. “Healthy,” he muttered. “It will boost your energy,” Derek said. At the touch of the water bottle against his lips, Blue took another hearty swig, drinking until the sugar cube dissolved and washed down his throat. “What about my arms?” Blue asked. “Is Sasha going to finish untying me?” In reply, Derek pivoted Blue around on his tailbone and hooked one leg over the sawhorse to straddle it. He nudged Blue between the shoulders, pushing him forward onto his chin. His ass arched up in the air as one ankle, then the other, was secured to the legs of the sawhorse. Derek knelt down, his face coming eye level with Blue’s. “Traitor,” Blue hissed. “You said you wanted down, Blue. You didn’t ask us to stop. Do you want to stop?” Blue wetted his lips with the tip of his tongue. Of course, he’d known they weren’t finished. Now that he’d taken a brief break and enjoyed a bit of sustenance, he felt better and realized he was up for more. “No, Sir,” he answered. “I don’t want to stop.” Derek nodded. “You know the safe word. I trust you to use it when you’ve truly had enough. Understand?” “Yes, Sir,” Blue answered. “I mean it, Blue. I won’t tell Sasha to let up until you say the word.” Blue’s eyes narrowed, his love of challenge provoked. “Not if Sasha tires out first.”

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“Sasha never gets tired,” a gruff voice said from behind. The first slap of the paddle came down across Blue’s rump with a sharp crack of leather against flesh.

***** Derek stood in the wings, waiting for his cue, watching, listening. Blue stood facing the X-cross with only his wrists secured, his ass still flared from the paddling on the spanking horse, his back and thighs now covered with welts from the cat-o’-nines expertly wielded in Sasha’s hands. Derek preferred to use the riding crop on Blue as he liked to determine exactly where each strike would land. Yet he had to admire the skill required to twirl the baton of the whip and build just the right momentum before flailing down. As the leather braids whipped wildly in the air, the effect of their sound was not wholly lost on Derek, either. The recipient would hear the whip coming and know it would strike, but they couldn’t predict how, when, or where, thus lending the Dominant the upper hand. Sasha certainly had the upper hand now. His drenched shirt tossed aside, his leather pants clinging precariously to his hips, the Serb was a study in darkly elegant authority, his brow creased in concentration above glittering dark eyes, his muscles flexed and bunched beneath the sweat-slicked tattooed flesh of his long, lean back. Aiming between Blue’s shoulder blades, he swung the cat-o’-nines. The braids hit randomly, scattering across Blue’s back and biceps. The boy threw his head back and cried out hoarsely. The first few strikes, the brat had dipped his spine and thrust his ass outward, blatantly daring Sasha to whip him more. But as the whipping had progressed, Blue had gradually gone limp, his moans sounding less of pleasure and more of genuine pain. Taking pause, Sasha brushed the braids up and down Blue’s spine. He whispered something in the boy’s ear. Blue nodded with a bare tilt of the head. Sasha gestured over his shoulder for Derek’s assistance. As Sasha released the wrists cuffs, Blue fell back against Derek. His head lolled, and his eyes were glazed, fevered from exhaustion combined with the endorphin rush as his body’s natural defense system kicked in and sought to numb the pain. It was at this point that Derek normally preferred to pleasure Blue, the sedated stage rendering the boy prime for a long, hard fucking. But Sasha had different means and methods, and because Blue wanted to push his limits, Derek was willing to try a new approach. Resisting the urge to slide his hand down and pump Blue’s swollen cock, Derek ignored his own arousal and turned his lover around. Derek pressed Blue back against the X-cross and held the boy there, allowing Sasha to bind the boy’s wrists back in place. He maintained his hold as the other Dominant pulled Blue’s right leg to the side. Planting Blue’s foot firmly on the pedestal, the Serb secured the slender ankle to the wooden slant.

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Sasha paused behind Derek before moving to Blue’s left leg. He whispered in Derek’s ear. “Your boy is close. Be ready.” Once Blue was secured to the cross, Derek stepped away. He chose a closer spot, leaning against the nearest support beam. With a rush of tender affection mixed with sheer, unadulterated lust, he studied his partner restrained in yet another tantalizing pose. Blue’s torso was already red in a few spots where the flogger’s braids had strayed and wrapped around his ribs. Stepping back, Sasha whirled the braids in the air and treated the front of Blue’s body to the same punishment. Lash upon lash fell across Blue’s skin, striking the sensitive flesh under the arms, the chest and nipples, the soft spot below the sternum. Blue flinched and cried out, his erection bobbing, his moans growing louder by the second. “Stop,” Blue finally pled. “No more.” Sasha looked to Derek. “Is ‘no more’ the safe word? I do not believe that is what you told me.” “No,” Derek answered, gripping the corner of the support beam, his voice gone thick. “Keep going.” Sasha swung the cat-o’-nines again, moving down to the upper thighs, evenly distributing the pain so that Blue’s body received the full effect of punishment without any one part suffering the full brunt of the lash. He skillfully avoided Blue’s prick, demonstrating his expertise once more in that he bore some control over even the random strike of the braids. Sasha reared back again. Blue’s lips moved, his whisper barely audible, but Derek heard it. “Blue…blue…” Moved to act, Derek strode briskly across the floor. Reaching out, he gripped Sasha by the wrist. “Wait,” he said. Pushing Sasha aside, Derek pressed up against Blue. “What did you say?” Blue’s eyes swam, unfocused and brimming with tears. “No…nothing…” “Yes, you did. I heard it. You said ‘blue,’ the first half of the safe word.” “No…didn’t…didn’t say it yet…” “Goddammit,” Derek hissed. “Don’t you do this. I need to know if you’re ready to stop.” He felt himself pulled back, felt the grip of the flogger pressed into his hand. “He is holding out,” the Serb whispered. “He is holding out for you. Give your boy what he needs, Dereek. Be the master that he seeks.” Sasha released him. Derek stood and looked at Blue. He’d taken Blue to the edge before, skirting the limits, pushing the boundaries a little each time, preparing them both for the moment when they would cross that line together. They’d come close a few times, so very close, but it was Derek, not Blue, who’d always retreated.

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Why ? Sasha had asked him. Why did you stop ? Derek had told himself it was because he’d been afraid of truly injuring Blue, on both a physical level and an emotional one. But that hadn’t been why at all. Derek had been protecting himself. Because once you made someone truly yours, you stood two very dangerous risks -- the risk of letting them down and the risk of being let down. Yet he saw now that if he didn’t take that risk, he was doomed to lose Blue regardless. Reaching out, he nudged the grip of the flogger under Blue’s chin. “Look at me,” he commanded. Blue’s dazed eyes shifted, searching, seeking, until they locked onto Derek’s. “Tell me when to stop, Blue. I mean it.” “Yes…Sir…” Stepping back, Derek turned to his right. He began to twirl, slowly at first, then faster, the braids slicing through the air. Feet braced, spine straight, Derek reared his arm back. Focusing his aim, directing his energy through his biceps to his lower arm, he flicked his wrist and cracked the flogger across Blue’s left thigh. Pivoting to his left, he crossed his forearm over his chest. Head and eyes pointed straight at his target, he lashed out with a backhanded stroke against Blue’s right thigh. He repeated this technique, alternating between each thigh, watching the muscles bunch and then relax, the flesh going redder, his partner crying out each time. Finding his stride, fallen sway to his own rhythm, Derek broke into a sweat. He reared back to strike again, and then a sob escaped Blue’s throat, and with it the words, the words Derek needed to hear, the ones Blue needed to say. “Blueruin…blueruin…” Derek dropped the flogger to the floor. Before he could speak or move, Sasha had already stepped in to release the first ankle clasp. Once Blue was freed, Derek carried his limp form through the chapel and back to the bed. He stretched the boy out on the mattress, leaving him propped against the pillows. They kissed, Blue’s mouth opening wide, meeting and matching Derek’s ardor with languid but desperate sweeps of the tongue. “Fuck me,” the boy mumbled between kisses, his words slurred. “Hard…hard as you can…” “I fully intend to.” Derek slipped out of his shirt. “Sasha…let Sasha watch.” “He’s already in here.” Leaning against the armoire, in fact. Uncaring as to the other man’s presence, knowing only that he wanted Blue and wanted him now, Derek shimmied his trousers down to his knees. Pushing Blue’s legs back, he assumed the mounting position. With a loud groan and a roll of the hips, he sheathed his

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cock to the balls. He began to thrust, pulling out to the maximum extent, pushing back in to the hilt, grinding against Blue’s buttocks with one loud, resounding smack after the other. “Harder,” Blue begged, arms sprawled across the pillows. “Deeper.” “I’m going as deep and as hard as I can,” Derek growled, his momentum faltering. He felt the mattress shift. From the corner of his vision, he saw that Sasha had climbed onto the bed. “Get Blue on top,” Sasha instructed. “He’s too weak right now,” Derek huffed. “Trust me. Stay inside him.” Derek rolled, pulling Blue with him. Sasha straddled Derek’s thighs and slid his tattooed arms around Blue’s chest to hold the boy up. “Lean against me, maleni.” Sasha hooked his hands under Blue’s knees and drew them back, spreading the boy’s thighs wide. He lifted Blue up, sliding him a few inches up Derek’s shaft, and then he let Blue drop. “Oh God,” Derek groaned, drowned out by his lover’s sharp cry. Between Blue’s stretched-open entrance and the natural force of gravity, Derek’s cock penetrated Blue deeper than ever before. As Sasha lifted Blue again, Derek was ready. He dug his fingers into Blue’s buttocks and thrust up, slamming hard against Blue’s ass when it dropped back against him. By the third drop, Sasha and Derek easily matched one another’s rhythm, Blue moaning and gasping between them as they gave it to him harder and deeper, just like he’d wanted. Derek held back long enough for Blue to come first. As the first drop of fluid splashed across his chest, Derek closed his eyes and let himself go, content to lie back while Sasha worked Blue up and down, the boy’s muscles contracting around Derek’s shaft and milking him of his load. Through hooded gaze, Derek watched Sasha drop Blue’s legs. Embraced from behind, Blue let his head roll back against Sasha’s chest. He graced the Serb with a weak smile. In turn, the other man pressed a gentle kiss to the boy’s sweat-dewed brow. Derek smiled too, feeling no sense of jealousy at the affectionate gesture whatsoever. After all, he and Sasha both knew who Blue belonged to.

***** Derek finished buttoning his shirt -- the shirt he’d borrowed from Sasha, anyway. Blue’s clothes from the day he’d arrived at the hideout lay folded neatly on the nightstand. Blue snored softly, curled up in the pillows, the marks from the flogging session already fading from his skin. Derek would break out the mentholated heat balm after they got home, their departure from Sasha’s den slated in just a few hours after Blue finished resting.

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Right before Blue had passed out, he’d whispered a request in Derek’s ear. Derek had balked at first, but the more he thought about, the more he realized Blue’s suggestion was only fitting -- and not altogether unappealing. He turned to his ebony-haired host. Sasha stood with one hip cocked against the chest of drawers, still topless save for the cross around his neck, his flesh permanently swathed in body art. Derek approached the mob boss and stopped just inches from him. “Thank you,” he said. “Anytime, Dereek.” Sasha paused, his brow knitted in thought. He glanced past Derek’s shoulder at Blue’s sleeping form. “I trust you will understand. I did not intend to use the DA’s affair against you. I meant only to use it against McGowan. It is not until you came here that I could truly see. You are devoted to your boy, in the same way that he is devoted to you. So you see, Dereek, I could not know to use that against you when we first meet in the parking lot. I could not know how much power Blue holds over the master.” “I realized as much,” Derek said. “In turn, I trust you will use your connections to keep a lid on the situation with McGowan.” “It is already done.” Sasha’s mouth curved up at one corner. “Maybe you and Blue will choose to visit Sasha again.” “We won’t. You know I’ll never let you have him.” The Serb nodded, his plush lips touched with a sad, sweet smile. “I realized as much.” “However…” Reaching out, Derek hooked one finger under the waistband of Sasha’s pants. He dropped to his knees. One by one, he snapped the buttons of the leather fly open. “Do something nice for Sasha,” Blue had whispered before he’d closed his eyes and gone to sleep. Honoring Blue’s request, Derek slid the pants lower, revealing the tribal piece that trailed completely down Sasha’s groin to frame his fully erect cock. His rather generous, fully erect cock. Derek swallowed and cleared his throat. Fingers twined through Derek’s hair and angled his head back. “Dereek,” Sasha said, peering down through the black curls that fell in his eyes. He gave a sly smile. “I watched your boy suck your cock today. Are you as good at sucking the cock as he is?” “I taught him everything he knows,” Derek said with a smug grin. “But I’m better.” Sasha groaned as Derek opened his mouth and took the other man’s entire length down his throat at once.

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Chapter Nineteen Blue bit into his second helping of pita bread stuffed with ćevapi. The savory juices of beef mixed with lamb filled his mouth, the hand-rolled mincemeat sausages perfectly complemented by grilled onions and, of course, the creamy kajmak. “Mmm, this is so good,” he mumbled around his food. “You should open your own restaurant, Georgi.” Derek spoke between bites of his own ćevapi sandwich. “I must concur with Blue.” Georgi’s face lit with his trademark childish grin. “You think my food is good enough?” “Yes.” Blue nodded emphatically. “You could buy mint chocolate chip ice cream by the tub and serve it for dessert.” “I do not know,” Georgi said, his face darkening. “I am a criminal. I have stayed in jail.” “So?” Blue shrugged. “You can start over with a clean slate. You can do whatever you want, Georgi.” Luka appeared at the kitchen door. Arms crossed, face twisted in the usual scowl, he leaned against the wall. “Drago is waiting with the car.” Derek extended his hand to Georgi. “I guess this is good-bye.” “Yes, it is.” Georgi solemnly shook Derek’s hand, then turned to Blue. Blue smiled back up at him. “Thanks for being so nice to us while we were here.” Georgi enclosed Blue’s hand in his big meaty paw. Next thing Blue knew, his feet were dangling in the air as he was crushed in a bear hug. Derek placed a hand on the giant’s shoulder. “Leave something for me, Georgi.” Georgi set Blue back down on his feet. He grinned, his face turning pink. “I am sorry. I am too emotional.”

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Luka shook his head, a ghost of a smile gracing his otherwise downturned lips. “You are a big, stupid oaf who is too soft for his own good.” He reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out Blue’s cell phone, dangling it as bait. “Come, hurry. Drago and I have much work today.” They stopped at Yuri’s station. His latest magazine cover paired a brunette goth girl with a blonde cheerleader embroiled in a catfight set in the girl’s locker room. Naturally, the snarling goth girl had the upper-hand with a firm hold on the blonde’s ponytails, while their buxom bodies pressed together in strategic locations. Both models looked a little long in the tooth to be high school students, but then Blue supposed that was a good thing. A chessboard left at mid-play sat on a nearby crate. Derek moved one of the black pieces. Yuri peeked over his magazine and grunted. “Bah. I will e-mail my next move to you.” “You do that,” Derek said. “You gave Yuri your e-mail address?” Blue asked, incredulous. “Yes. I have Sasha’s cell number too.” “Wow,” Blue said, impressed. “I don’t think my dad has that one, even.” “Probably not, though I’m sure Jim and Sasha have a few friends in common.” There it was again -- that cryptic, guarded tone to Derek’s voice. He knows something, Blue thought. He resolved to sniff out the big secret once they got home. They were following Luka down the stairs when Drago burst through the door. In a split second, Blue comprehended the pistol in Drago’s hand, the rip in his tight leather pants, the exposed flesh of the gouged thigh. “Upstairs!” Drago barked at Luka. “Go!” Luka’s eyes went wide, even as he smoothly produced a pistol in each hand. “Your leg is bleeding.” “I am fine. Go!” “How many men?” Yuri asked coolly. “Enough. The bastards, they shot my car.” “I will hold them off. Get these two to the boss.” Yuri stood aside as Derek ushered Blue back up the stairs. “Shit,” Derek said. “I should have known, the minute we tried to set foot out the goddamned door…” “You don’t think my dad sent in the cops, do you?” Blue speculated. “They are not cops,” Drago said. Georgi lumbered out of the kitchen, blocking their path down the hall. An assault rifle was expertly braced between his big hands, his sweet, chubby baby face transformed to that of the hard, seasoned thug. He barked something in his native tongue, his voice noticeably dropped a few octaves.

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Gunfire erupted from behind them. Blue jumped. Derek’s grip on his arm tightened. In a flash of movement, more swift than Blue would have expected of a lumbering giant like Georgi, he and Derek were pushed aside, the Bulgarian placing himself between the couple and the shooters. He aimed his rifle and fired a round down the hall. Blue had heard the sound of semiautomatic fire plenty in movies, but he was unprepared for just how loud and jarring the experience proved in real life. Cringing, he gripped Derek’s shirt as the stench of gunpowder and hot metal assaulted his nostrils. Fuck, this was real. It wasn’t like playing a video game with cheat hacks for infinite health and unlimited ammo. We could die, Blue thought. He and Derek could die. Any one person in the hideout could die. Yuri came bounding toward them, unfazed by the bullets that Georgi fired over his head. “Fuck! Fucking fuckers! I hit three, but there are too many.” A palm pressed between Blue’s shoulder blades. Blue looked up to see Sasha materialize in black fur-collared coat and matching leather gloves, his movements lithe and graceful as always, but with brow furrowed, eyes hard, and a long black rifle in his other hand. “I did not think I would see the day that our rivals have joined together. Georgi, Yuri -take out as many as you can, then go out the east door. I will see if the south exit is clear.” “We will retreat?” Luka asked, the permanent crease in his brow deepening. “Do not argue, maleni. If Yuri says there are too many, then there are too many.” “And if they have found the back doors?” Yuri asked. “You know another way, yes?” Yuri’s tone did not smack of accusation in the least. Apparently, it was expected that the boss should be aware of one alternative known only to him. All eyes went to the Serb, and Blue saw in that moment just how much the men trusted their boss. “There is another way,” Sasha answered. “It is in the boiler room. There is a drainage grate that opens to the sewer.” His eyes shifted to Georgi. “You are maybe too big, my friend.” Georgi nodded in silent acceptance. Sasha looked at Drago’s grazed leg. “You can still shoot?” Drago smiled tightly. “Bah. It is nothing. Just a flesh wound.” “You and Luka will back me up.” Sasha looked at Derek. Some unspoken understanding seemed to pass between the two men. “Do not worry. I will get your boy out of here.” Derek looked down at Blue. “Remember what I said?” “No!” Blue said, clinging to Derek with a white-knuckled grip. “Fuck what you said!” Sasha grabbed Blue by the arm and jerked him away. Reluctantly moving his feet, Blue looked over his shoulder to see Derek flanked several paces back by Drago, while Luka made up the rear of their fleeing entourage.

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They navigated a maze of crates, a flight of stairs, a catwalk, more crates, until reaching a lone corridor with a single door set at the end. They sidled toward the exit, backs flush against the wall, Sasha in the lead with Blue, Drago and Derek pulling up in the middle, while Luka stood guard, facing outward from the hall’s entrance. When they reached the door, Sasha stretched one arm across Blue’s chest. He raised the barrel of the gun to his lips with a silent shhh… With a sharp kick of his boot heel, he sent the sturdy metal door flying. As Blue eyes adjusted to the morning light, he made out a fire escape. Sasha braced the rifle against his shoulder. Aiming, he fired a few test shots outside. Bullet casings clinked to the floor near Blue’s feet. Seconds later, someone returned fire. Sasha cursed. “Sheet. They have found the back door. Move!” They scurried back down the hall with a scuffle of shoe soles, Sasha pushing rather than pulling Blue now. At the end of the hall, Luka pivoted with a whirl of curls and coattails, both pistols drawn. Drago and Derek veered around him to the left. Blue started to follow after them, but Sasha jerked him to the right and flung him around the corner against the wall. As hurried footsteps echoed from the end of the corridor, Luka stood his ground and fired several shots. He threw himself around the corner, landing alongside Sasha just as return gunfire erupted. A hail of bullets dinged a metal support beam. Holes littered a stack of crates, followed by a powdery white haze clouding the air. “Don’t breathe,” Sasha said. “Move.” They navigated another series of boxes, stopping to take shelter behind a stack of metal drums. Blue knelt down, winded. “I take it…that wasn’t…chocolate back there.” “It is a damned waste of time and money, that is what it is,” Luka spat. Crouching, he dropped a spent cartridge to the concrete floor. He reached in one of his numerous jacket pockets and produced a fresh cartridge, reloading the pistol with unsettlingly smooth efficiency. “I buy the drugs, and then I hold them,” Sasha said with a shrug. “That way, no one else may buy them, or sell them, or use them.” “Bah, it is pointless. You make no difference.” Luka clicked the chamber closed. “But you are a goddamned stubborn Serb who does not listen to me. It is one reason the other gangs are here now.” Sasha sighed. “Yes, that is true. They want Sasha’s stash of poison.” He smiled tightly down at Blue, his eyes suddenly aglow with mad fervor. “They are in for a surprise.” A musical whistle sounded from nearby. Luka’s head jerked. He responded with a differing pattern of chirps. At another singsong round of birdlike twitter, he bolted off, still crouching.

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“Drago,” Sasha said for Blue’s benefit. “He and Dereek are both unharmed.” Blue breathed more easily. “You got that from a set of bird whistles? Or did you just make that up to make me feel better?” Sasha looked clearly affronted. “It is a very sophisticated system of communication. We will wait for Luka’s signal and then move to our next position. Sit down. Give your knees a rest.” Blue shifted from kneeling to sitting. He rested his back against one of the drums, legs drawn to his chest. Sasha leaned against the adjoining drum, extending the leg closest to Blue. He crooked the other leg and propped the gun against his knee. Blue looked up at the Serb. “Sasha? You told me what maleni means. What does plave oči mean?” Sasha smiled down at him. Reaching out, he cupped his gloved palm under Blue’s ear, traced his thumb up Blue’s cheekbone with a smooth sweep of leather. “The first time Sasha calls you that, what else does he say to you?” Blue quivered as always at the Serb’s possessive touch. He thought back. “I told you my name. You said it was fitting. I thought you meant my hair, but you said no, it was my eyes. You said they made you think of the sky.” “I told you then what plave oči means.” Sasha thumbed back a strand of white bangs where they’d fallen in Blue’s face. “You did?” “Yes, I did…blue eyes.” “Oh.” Blue felt his cheeks warm and his gut tug at the description, so simple in its meaning, and yet it left him breathless. Even in this dangerous situation, he couldn’t help but fall prey to the handsome Serb’s charms. Reaching out, he raked the ebony curls back from Sasha’s face. Sliding his hand behind Sasha’s neck, he angled the other man’s head closer, until their lips touched in a brief kiss. “Thank you, Sasha,” Blue murmured. “Thank you for showing Derek what I needed.” Sasha’s lips curved against his. “No, it is I who should thank you, maleni. I understand what has been missing. I see why my boys do not renew their contracts and always leave. I know now what I need.” “And what is that? What do you need?” “A little brat like you. One who loves Sasha in the same way that you love Dereek. A boy who will stay, not because the slave is devoted to the master, but because the master is devoted to the slave.” “Keep looking. You’ll find him.” “I hope so.”

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They kissed again, a little longer, lips chastely closed, but with Blue very consciously aware that one slip of the tongue would lead to a more passionate sendoff. More whistles sounded. Sasha’s head jerked. “Yuri and Georgi. Dammit. We only have one way out.” Rising, Sasha pulled Blue up with him. “Go.” They navigated yet another twisted labyrinth of crates, took a flight of rickety metal stairs down to the next level of catwalks. Blue looked down upon a wide expanse of warehouse space. More crates were stacked to either side of the floor. A double row of iron support beams lined an open alley to a single set of wooden steps which led to an elevator. Blue caught movement from the corner of his vision. He flinched, then puffed his cheeks with a sigh of reassurance at the sight of Luka, Drago, and -- thank God -- Derek lined up against the wall on the other side of the stairs. Blue’s eyes locked with his master’s, and he saw that same relief mirrored there. “It is too quiet,” Sasha murmured. Lifting his head, he sniffed the air, nostrils flaring, while his eyes narrowed and scanned the surrounding area. His lips curled in a sneer. “I can smell their stinking Russian blood. They are all around us. They are watching, and waiting.” He looked over at Luka and nodded, then focused back on Blue. “Do you trust Sasha?” A brief vision of the previous night’s events flashed through Blue’s mind. “Yeah. I do.” “You will do exactly as I say?” Blue nodded. “Yes.” “You will run first. Run as fast as you can to the elevator and do not stop. Luka, he will be right behind you.” “What?” Blue’s voice cracked. “You’re sending me across first?” Sasha cocked an eyebrow. “You said you trust me.” “Yeah, but with all due respect, what the fuck kind of logic is that?” “First man out is never shot,” Sasha said. “It is those who come after that are at the most risk. Here, hold this.” With open palms, he held out his gun. “What?” Blue hissed, recoiling. “I don’t know how to use that thing!” Sasha chuckled. “I am not giving you the gun to use, maleni. I only want for you to hold it a moment.” Blue took the weapon, timidly at first, afraid that his mere touch would be enough to set if off, but as the gun threatened to drop from his reluctant hold, he clutched it tight. Hands free, Sasha slipped out of his coat. Reaching behind his head, he pulled the cross from around his neck and over his ebony curls. He held the chain wide and extended it toward Blue. “Put this on, maleni.” Blue tucked his chin and felt the chain slide over his head. He watched the Slavic cross drop and come to dangle just below his sternum. Relieved to pass the gun back to Sasha, he

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took the pendant into his hand. He stared down at it, delicately tracing the pad of his thumb across the intricate lines etched into the slanted silver beam. He looked back up at Sasha. “You said first man out is never shot.” “Yes. So the last man always is. And I will be last man out today.” Blue realized Sasha was not giving him the cross to wear as protection -- he meant for Blue to have it. The blood drained from his face, and he wanted to throw up. His lower lip trembled. “Oh God, Sasha.” Sasha shrugged. “A good captain, he goes down with his ship, no?” As if on cue, Georgi quietly appeared at Sasha’s opposite side with what Blue swore to be a handheld grenade launcher. Not that he was an expert on firearms, but he’d watched enough action movies to have a general idea. The pink-shirted giant and the black-clad Serb traded weapons. Georgi then passed him a bandolier full of grenades. Blue swallowed. Yep, it was a grenade launcher all right. It seemed the captain planned to sink the ship himself. Sasha strapped on the bandolier. He cupped Blue by the back of the skull and nudged their foreheads together. “I would kiss you good-bye, but your master is watching. Now, go.” Blue crept to the stairs. He looked over at Derek, who was now flanked by Yuri. “I love you, Derek,” Blue said. “I know.” Fear wavered behind Derek’s otherwise steady gaze. “Now get your ass to that elevator, and don’t look back.” Blue swallowed and nodded. “Yes, Sir.” With a deep breath, he turned. Heart pounding, hoping he didn’t fall, he started down the stairs. When his feet touched the floor, he pounded across the concrete. Focusing on the elevator, he ran several feet. Nothing happened, but he kept running, picking up the pace, his hurried footsteps resounding through the warehouse. The echo was broken by the first crack of gunfire. Something zinged past Blue’s head, and he heard the bullet ricochet off one of the iron beams. At the second shot, he pumped his arms harder, moved his feet faster, yet as he increased his speed, time seemed to slow, with the elevator impossibly out of reach, and then he was engulfed by a hail of bullets. He heard them all around him, felt them hit behind him, saw them -- my God, he could actually see them -- flying and hitting in front of him, bouncing off the beams, tearing through the crates, leaving holes in the floor. He wanted to cower, to cover his head, but instinct kept him running, momentum kept him moving. Propelled forward, he looked back over his shoulder, defying both Derek and Sasha’s orders, and saw Luka running the gauntlet with him, curls streaming, body flying, his mouth wide in battle cry, bullets pumping, shells littering the floor as he shot from left, right, left, right.

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Blue looked straight again, moving fast, faster, the elevator looming close, closer. He slammed into the accordion gate with a rattle of metal. Time moved again. Still on autopilot, he tried to open the gate, but it wouldn’t budge. Comprehending why, he jerked desperately at the padlock. “Move!” Luka barked behind him. Blue instantly turned and moved aside, back planted against the wall. Luka took aim and fired. The lock busted in one shot. Blue shoved the gate open and leapt into the carriage. Taking cover, he pressed his spine against the scant space between the corner and the door. Luka followed him. Shoving one gun into a pocket, he slammed the gate shut and crushed up against Blue. A few bullets zinged off the scissor grid, but for the most part the elevator seemed to shelter its occupants from the line of fire. Luka looked at Blue, eye level, jaw clenched, eyes fierce. “We are supposed to go down first, and let Drago and Dereek send the lift back up. I say fuck that. The four of us go down together.” “I agree.” Luka peered through the gate. “Here they come.” Turning his head to the side, Blue craned his neck and watched too. Time stopped again, and Blue’s heart with it, as he saw Derek light at the bottom of the stairs. The hot rush of adrenaline had fueled Blue’s run through the gauntlet, but now that it was Derek’s turn, Blue was left to helplessly stand and watch. Petrified, he experienced nothing but the cold stab of fear. He watched the bullets fly as Derek ran, knowing a single piece of metal could take his lover at any second. He chanted under his breath. “Hurry, Derek, oh God, hurry, please hurry…you’re halfway there…keep going, keep going…” Drago fell into step behind Derek, guns blazing. Blue heard Luka’s breath hitch. He felt the boy’s ringed fingers slip between his, found his hand being guided to Luka’s rapidly thumping breast. The blond’s lips moved against Blue’s throat, murmuring a string of syllables in time, reciting his own mantra in his own language. Together they clutched the rosary, the same one that had miraculously survived the fires of war, then been taken from the pocket of a dead thief by the little boy who now clutched his mother’s cherished heirloom and prayed that his brother made it through the ambush unscathed. As both men drew close, Drago dropped shoulder-first to the ground, sliding several feet on his side, his guns not once letting up. Luka released his hold on Blue and slid the gate open. Derek lunged into the elevator. Blue immediately pounced on him. “Oh God, you made it.” “Of course I made it.” Derek returned the embrace, shielding Blue’s body from the door. “What the hell? You’re supposed to already be out of here!” A sharp cry sounded. Blue’s head jerked with Derek’s. Drago had stopped sliding and was now dragging himself across the last few feet of concrete to the elevator. It was then that

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Blue saw the blood and realized Drago’s stuntman-styled drop hadn’t been intentional. Luka stretched his arm from the elevator. When their fingers didn’t meet, he ran back out onto the floor. He pulled one of Drago’s arms over his head and tried to heft the taller brother. Blue tried to tear away from Derek. “We have to help him!” “Goddammit, Blue! Stay here. I mean it!” Derek rushed back out of the elevator. He lifted Drago under the other arm and dragged the injured man to the haphazard sanctuary of the elevator. Blue slammed the door and pushed the lever to descend. The elevator clanked and shuddered, the gears grinding in rust-laden protest, then finally it descended, Blue’s stomach dropping with each sharp, jerky movement. Luka knelt on the floor of the rickety carriage, cradling Drago’s head in his lap. The older sibling had been hit in the chest near the shoulder, and there was blood, lots of it. They were arguing in their native tongue, Luka heated and fervent, Drago weak but determined. There was no translation needed for Blue to catch the gist of their debate. It was the same one he’d be having right now if it were Derek lying on the floor hurt and bleeding. The lift screeched to a halt. Blue opened the gate and stood aside as Derek helped Luka haul Drago out of the elevator and prop him against an old water tank. The younger sibling looked up at Blue, the hard mask of anger melted away by tears. Blue remembered something Drago had told him -- that Luka had not cried since he was six years old. “I will stay here with Drago,” the boy said, his voice strained with grief, but his tone strong and resolute as ever. “I will wait for the others. Find the way out.” “Come on.” Derek gripped Blue by the hand and pulled him through the network of pipes and valves that zigzagged through the cold boiler room. Together they scanned the floor, Derek looking one way, Blue the other as they searched for the drainage grate. The gears of the lift groaned and squeaked, indicating at least one of the three remaining mobsters had made it through the warzone. “Found it!” Blue announced, yelling for Luka’s benefit. “Go all the way to the back and take a left! It’s by the big green pipe!” The round grate was roughly the same size as a manhole. Blue’s triumph at finding the emergency exit was quickly squelched by the sinking sensation in his stomach. Sasha was right -- the opening would be too narrow to accommodate Georgi’s girth, assuming the dilapidated elevator even held the Bulgarian’s weight and got him downstairs in the first place. Derek crouched to the ground and fingered the rusted grid. “Shit. The slats are too close together. I can’t get a grip. I need something to lever it.” Blue looked in the immediate area. He spied a crowbar and a flashlight sitting in a cobwebbed recess alongside a fire extinguisher. All three items bore a worn vintage look, like

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something straight out of a museum. Clearing the cobwebs, he passed the crowbar to Derek, then smacked the flashlight against his palm a few times. The light was dim, but it worked. “Thanks,” Derek said. “What would I do without you?” “Probably live a quiet and boring life.” The elevator gears groaned, signaling the lift’s descent. As Derek pried the grate, the ground rumbled. A muffled explosion like distant thunder sounded overhead, signaling Sasha’s “surprise.” The groan of the elevator cogs thinned to a high-pitched whine. The sound of tension gave with a loud snap, followed by a loud din of crushing metal that reverberated through the boiler room. Luka shouted some curse. “What the fuck was that?” Blue asked, the bile rising in his throat for the countless time since the first gunshot had been fired. “Did the elevator just crash?” There ground trembled again, the pipes shook, and the air of the room suddenly went hot. Derek took the flashlight and guided -- shoved -- Blue toward the opening in the floor. “It doesn’t matter. Get your ass down that ladder before this whole place goes up in smoke.” For once, Blue didn’t feel compelled to argue. He gripped the rusted rungs of the ladder and descended into the dark sewer tunnel. As his feet touched the slimy bottom, the walls of the tunnel rumbled from a third explosion over head. When the captain had vowed to go down with his ship, he’d intended to go out with a bang. “Sasha, you crazy ass bastard,” Blue muttered, blinking back the tears that stung his eyes. There was no time to cry. Once Derek was down the ladder, he gripped his lover’s hand. Together, they headed toward the scant rays of sunlight at the distant end of the tunnel.

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Chapter Twenty Blue buffed the chamois strip across the toe of Derek’s wingtip shoe. As the matted polish begin to take on a glossy sheen, Blue thought back to the morning he’d polished Drago’s boots, and a lump formed in his throat. Maybe it was wrong to feel sympathy or concern for a bunch of lawbreaking thugs who’d kidnapped him and his boyfriend, but Blue would always hold a certain fondness for his Balkan mobsters. He’d checked the local headlines earlier that day, but other than mention of the cleanup efforts after the recent fire in an abandoned sector of the warehouse district, there’d been nothing. No mention of bodies, no speculation as to who had started the fire or why, and -- of course -- nothing that alluded to the growing presence of the Russian syndicate in their fair city. Not under Jimmy McGowan’s watch, Blue thought with a smirk. He’d tried to pry information from his father, even, but the DA seemed more tightlipped than usual and told Blue to drop it. He’d also tried Sasha’s number from Derek’s cell a few times. His first attempt had taken him straight to voice mail, while the second had gotten him a disconnect message. His third and final try, he’d been greeted with nothing but dead silence. While he still harbored suspicions that Derek was hiding something from him -- some key element that had played a role behind negotiations with Sasha -- Blue was beginning to think he should just drop the matter along with his quest for information regarding the gang’s fate. Between the upcoming trial and Cameron’s inevitable visit, it was best to focus on the present and forget his recent adventure with the criminal underworld. It helped that he’d been allowed to do more for his master recently than just housework. Pushing his nagging concerns aside, Blue concentrated on the task at hand. With a sense of accomplishment, he finished buffing the shoe to a high glossy sheen. “All done,” he announced.

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Derek nodded down in approval. “Nice job, shine boy.” “Thanks. Where’s my tip?” “Your tip?” Derek smirked. “I’ve got your tip right here.” Leaning down, he gave the leather leash a sharp tug. Blue’s head jerked up, and the tether strap between the collar and the head of his cock went taut, pulling the length of his shaft flush with his navel. His subsequent moan was swallowed by his master’s kiss. The door buzzer startled them both. “This better be good,” Derek grumbled, dropping the leash. Rising, he peered down at Blue. “Don’t move, or I’ll send you to bed without any spankings.” “You sick, cruel man.” Blue poked out his tongue. “You just wait. I’ll show you sick and cruel.” Derek crossed the loft with his easy, longlegged stride. He hit the speak button on the intercom. “Yes?” A tinny female voice wafted through the speaker. “I’ve got a delivery here for…well, the names are kind of weird, but…Blue?” Derek turned and cocked an eyebrow at Blue. “Yes, we have one of those here.” “Okay. And a…Der-eek? Maybe that’s supposed to be Derek.” Blue jumped to standing and stared at his master. Derek looked back at him, waiting a moment before he pushed “speak.” “Yes. That would be me. Bring it on up.” He turned back to Blue. “I told you not to move. But for this, I’ll make an exception.” Blue started for the bed. “I need my robe.” “Sit your ass back down on the floor. I’ll step outside and wait for the delivery girl.” Blue did as told, anxiously digging his fingertips into his kneecaps. He glanced at the open copy of Urban Weekly spread across the coffee table. Close-up “before and after” images of his rose tattoo graced one page, the bearer identified only as “Blue.” Ironically, the article on the opposite page included a corner inset ad for the grand re-opening of Blue Ruin, hosted by none other than “the one, the only, and most highly fabulous Miss Doreena Dee Vine.” Blue couldn’t help but smile at Doreena’s self-proclaimed description. He was happy to have done his part in helping the grand diva realize her vision for the new nightclub, and he wished her all the best. He’d have to stop by and see her next time he was bored enough to test his luck in Oakwood. Derek stepped back into the apartment. As the door clicked shut, it took every ounce of Blue’s self-restraint not to jump up, rush across the room, and jerk the package from his master’s hands.

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Derek stopped on his way through the kitchen and grabbed a pair of scissors. Package cradled in one hand, scissors turned blade down in the other, he returned to the den and quietly took his place on the sofa. “Well?” Blue demanded, his patience wearing thin. “Who’s it from?” “It doesn’t say.” “Then where’s it from?” Derek squinted at the postmark. “According to the zip code and timestamp, it was mailed from downtown yesterday afternoon.” Derek cut the twine with a sharp snip of the scissors. He peeled off a strip of the brown parcel wrapping with a crisp rip of paper. Blue watched and waited, about ready to jump out of his damned skin. He wondered if Derek was deliberately taking his time to build suspense, or, like Blue, was he as afraid as he was curious to see what, exactly, the contents of the package would reveal? Tossing the crumpled paper aside, Derek opened the lid of the simple white box to reveal a bundle wrapped in tissue paper, a single piece of stationary placed atop the bundle. Blue snatched the note, ignoring Derek’s growl of admonishment. He read the words scrawled elegantly across the paper. “One from each of us. Do not eat it all at once, maleni. S.” Blue stared up at Derek. “Sasha?” “I don’t know. Maybe it’s from Sadie.” “Goddammit, Derek! What the fuck’s in there?” “I was getting to that. Calm down.” Derek unfolded the tissue paper. Lifting up on his knees, Blue peered inside the box. Together, he and Derek studied the contents in silence. Five bars of Russian chocolate. “I’ll be damned,” Blue finally said. “They all made it.” He looked back up at Derek. His astonishment fading to relief, he broke into a laugh. “I don’t know how they did it, but all five of those fuckers made it!” “It appears to be the case,” Derek said. He took out one of the candy bars. Holding it up, he considered it with a look bordering on reverence. Blue folded his hands across Derek’s knee and propped his chin there. “Do you think we’ll see any of them again?” he asked. Derek shrugged. “They’ll be lying low for a while. But you never know when or where one of those crazy bastards might turn up.” He set the box with the remaining four bars aside. He peeled open the red foil wrapper of the bar he’d kept. Taking the end of Blue’s leash back in hand, he touched one corner of the candy bar to Blue’s lips. Closing his eyes, Blue opened his mouth to take a bite…

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…and bit down on air. “Hey!” he said, his gaze slicing back up at Derek in accusation. The other man smirked back down at him, the candy held out of reach. “You read the note. Lord Master ‘S’ specifically ordered you not to eat it all at once.” “Yeah? Well, Sasha isn’t here, now is he?” Blue clambered up into Derek’s lap. Raking his fingers through that silken mane, he angled Derek’s head back against the top of the sofa. “Which means you have to handle me all on your own.” “I handle you just fine.” Derek touched the chocolate back to Blue’s lips. “And I quite prefer you all to myself.” Blue crunched down on the candy, the bitter tinge of cacao filling his mouth. “You don’t think any of our ‘almost threesomes’ have been hot?” Derek shifted his legs beneath Blue’s. He took a bite of candy. “They have their merits. But I’m not fond of sharing. I’ve only allowed it for your benefit.” “Hmm.” Swallowing, Blue took another bite of candy. “You say that. But what if we brought another sub in here? What if I recruited another skinny little twink for you to play with? Or better yet” -- pausing, he kissed Derek, transferring the chocolate to the other man’s tongue -- “for me to play with while you sat back and watched and told us what to do? Would you say you weren’t fond of sharing, then?” Derek grunted as he swallowed the candy. He shifted his hips again, his cock noticeably swelling against Blue’s ass at the mere proposal. “Where do you come up with these ideas, Blue?” “I don’t know. Maybe the chocolate is already kicking in.” “It does seem rather potent. Here, have some more.” Derek tugged at the leash before offering the next bite. Blue hissed and groaned as the tether system pleasantly tortured his prick. As the strap went slack again, he looked down at his beautiful master and smiled. While it thrilled his ego to no end to know that Derek desired him, and him alone, Blue intended to put his latest suggestion to the test, one way or the other. Derek had introduced him to a world of sensual delights that most men could only dare imagine, and Blue wished to return the favor. He wanted to lavish Derek with every pleasure imaginable, even if it meant recruiting some outside help. He’d just have to find the right boy to make it possible, one who was his master’s type, but whom Blue found attractive as well; one who was willing to play, but would respect the fact that after all was said and done, Derek belonged to Blue, and no one could come between them. At least outside of the bedroom, no one could come between them. If Blue could find the right person, he suspected that behind closed doors, anything would go, and he was quite curious as to how his master would handle a truly cooperative three-way. For the moment, however, Blue was content to be selfish and keep Derek all to himself. Succumbing to the magic of leather, chocolate, and sex, he hooked a finger under Derek’s tie

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and pulled it free. Leaning in, he opened the first few buttons of Derek’s shirt. He flicked his tongue down the column of Derek’s throat, eliciting a long, low moan of approval. It was nice to be the one to make Derek moan for a change. Opening the next few buttons, Blue trailed his lips down the exposed, smooth flesh. Fingers threaded his hair, and the leash against his neck tightened, guiding him lower. Taking his cue, Blue followed the treasure line as he slid back down to the floor to his knees. He unzipped Derek’s trousers and set to work, taking pride in what he did best, reveling in what he enjoyed most. And what Blue did best, and enjoyed most, was pleasuring the man he loved.

Katrina Strauss Katrina Strauss discovered her love of romance with sneak peeks at her grandmother's dog-eared, spine-worn paperbacks. Inspired to pen her own twist on the timeless genre of romance, Katrina explores the darker side of love -- or, what one reader has dubbed “Romance for the Black Coffee Crowd.” Katrina resides with her husband and three children in the beautiful Sonoran Desert near Phoenix, Arizona. When she's not immersed in writing, Katrina enjoys sewing, music, anime, and entirely too much yaoi. To find out more about Katrina and her work, please visit her author site at http://www.katrinastrauss.com/