Fake Fan Fiction ❯ Not As Dumb ❯ Part 4 ( Chapter 4 )

Warnings for this chapter: handcuffs, bowel movements, fisting, and consent/privacy issues.

Disclaimer: Dee and Ryo belong to Sanami Matoh. I cannot emphasize enough that this is fiction, which means I don't necessarily agree with what the characters say to or about each other or in general. In fact, if I had to live with Dee, I'd probably shoot him within minutes.

Sweet, perspicacious, and unbelievably speedy beta: maribella008

Thank you for reading! To those of you who have been waiting since chapter 3 was posted, I'm so sorry about the wait. This story got way more complicated than the fluffy little drabble I originally had in mind. (!) I hope to post part 5 by the start of summer, but can make no promises thanks to offline life being life-y (i.e., complicated). :-/

(4/30 - uploaded some corrections; still working on part 5.)

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Part 4

With a loud oath, Dee lunged forward, catching hold of Ryo just in time: an instant later, Ryo's head would have collided with the opposite wall.

 

"Asshole," Dee hissed. "Can you try to work on the part about not getting hurt?"

 

"Thanks," Ryo said, with a shaky laugh. "Sure. I'll save the self-concussions for when things get really dire."

 

"Goddammit!" Dee sank his fingers even deeper into Ryo's arms. "That's not how things fucking work! If they get that bad, you won't be able to move your head at all, let alone smash it on anything!"

 

"That was a joke," Ryo said, looking vexed at Dee's belaboring of the obvious. "I don't plan to give our mystery pal any help on having his way with me. Anyway, he won't get this far unless he's already given me a concussion, so I'll be doing my best to stay awake."

 

"Can't we just work on that instead?" Dee didn't try to mask the desperation in his voice. "You, me, back to the living room, shove the furniture to the side--"

 

"You're forgetting the point." Dee felt Ryo's arms flex outward, against the death grip he had on them.

He immediately loosened his fingers. "Oh, shit, I left marks--"

 

"Yeah, you did. Don't worry about it." Ryo managed a slight smile. "I can hold onto the way you hold onto me."

 

"Un-friggin'-real. If I had known that's what it'd take to get you to say something that romantic--"

 

"Right," Ryo said, his lips twitching upwards. "Dare you to try that again."

 

"When you're expecting it?" Dee shook his head. "Even if I had both your hands cuffed, that'd just be begging to get clobbered."

 

"See?" Ryo's smile widened. "My ability to defend myself is so totally not the issue here."

 

Dee opened his mouth to protest -- and then shut it, defeated. "Fuck," he muttered, scrubbing at his face with his hand. "Yeah. I hate it when you're right. No, wait, I don't hate you being right. Shit. I can't even talk about this right -- this whole situation sucks."

 

"We could start with that, if you want," Ryo suggested, adopting his helpful-to-the-public voice. "If I have to go down on anyone with my hands cuffed, I'll be happier if you're my first."

 

"I'll be happiest as your only," Dee growled.

 

"Well, that would make me happiest too," Ryo said, patiently. "But just in case we don't get a choice--"

 

Dee spun Ryo around, silencing his partner with a deep, soul-stealing kiss. When he finally broke away for air, he sighed. "Maybe later, okay? Beautiful as you are, downstairs wants no part of this at all."

 

It was rare for a kiss like that to leave him unaroused. Ryo dropped his head onto Dee's shoulder. "So what should we do to get downstairs to cooperate?"

 

"Nothing, at the moment." Dee glared down at the cuffs dangling from Ryo's left wrist. With another angry exhalation, he pulled them around Ryo's back and joined them to Ryo's right wrist. As he began to undo Ryo's trousers, he said, "This is about things being done to you, not me." His voice harsh, he continued, "First let's see just how much you can take. No sense waking up my dick if things don't get that far."

 

Ryo stepped out of the trousers and underwear obediently enough, but his eyes flashed fire. "Then get on with those things already, so we can set you straight on what I can handle."

 

"Christ!" Dee flung Ryo's clothes out into the hall and yanked open a cabinet door. "You get offended at the craziest things!" He reached in and pulled out a brown bucket.

 

"Well, that answers one question," Ryo said. "I've always wondered how much snooping was going on in here."

 

Dee retorted, "You seriously think our guests don't go peeking into your drawers?"

 

"Just like at work," Ryo agreed, his tone peculiarly neutral. Dee shot him a funny look, but then returned to the bucket, removing a stack of washcloths and then lifting out a smaller bucket. Ryo continued, "Of course they might look, but knowing about things like second pails? That takes determination."

 

"I'm a determined kind of guy," Dee said, flatly. "There'd be no living with you if I wasn't."

 

"True," Ryo conceded. "So, since you seem to know where things are, how do you want me?"

 

Dee had picked up the black enema syringe. Frowning at it, he said, "How do you usually work with this? Fill up in the tub, then move to the can when you're ready?"

 

"Something like that," Ryo said. "I fill the pail first, then fill the bulb from that, and then fill me."

 

"Until you're done with all the water in the pail?"

 

"Or until I'm clean. Sometimes I don't need all the water."

 

"But sometimes you do?" Dee looked from the tub to the commode. "That's a lot of trips."

 

Ryo admitted, "Most of the time I take care of all of it over the toilet."

 

"Which you can do when your hands aren't chained? Huh. Maybe I should uncuff you -- make you clean yourself out while I watch. You'd hate that enough, wouldn't you?

 

"Slacker," Ryo said. "Do you ever stop trying to get out of doing the dirty work?"

 

"You are so unfair! After all your bitching about --"

 

"Surely," Ryo said, "a smart, determined guy like you can think around a little pair of cuffs."

 

Dee glared at Ryo. "It would serve you right if I made you use this bucket as a Port-a-potty."

 

Ryo made a face at the idea -- but then he said, "Fine."

 

"Fine!?"

 

"Yeah, it's fine. It's just a pail. We can always throw it out when we're done. Or donate it to the building the next time there's a leak." Ryo paused, and a truly evil gleam appeared in his eye. "Or offer it to JJ as a wine bucket."

 

Dee stared at his lover. "Was he egging Santiago on today? He must have done something to put himself back at the top of your shit list --" Dee broke off as Ryo suddenly threw back his head, peals of laughter escaping him. "What is the matter with you?"

 

" 'Shit list'! I've never heard it used so literally!"

 

Dee mentally reviewed what he'd said, and then he grinned. "Well. If the idea amuses you so . . ." He stood up and steered Ryo onto the seat of the toilet. He then returned to the buckets, moving all the paraphernalia he had removed from them onto the counter before placing both containers in the bathtub, with the smaller pail closer to the faucet.

 

He turned on the water. As they waited for it to warm up, Ryo said, "I wouldn't really do that to JJ, you know. Because he'd share the wine with Drake, and Drake hasn't done anything wrong."

 

"So we save it for the next time Drake and JJ have a fight."

 

"We are not explaining to Drake why we used a bucket as a chamber pot."

 

"We don't have to tell him all of the truth. We just tell him we had a plumbing crisis."

 

Ryo pursed his lips. "I'm starting to regret the idea. If you like it that much there's got to be something wrong with it."

 

"Really?" Dee shut off the water. "So if I start to pretend like I'm actually into this--"

 

Ryo snorted. "How often do I really buy your acting skills these days?"

 

"You do when it suits you," Dee said. "What I can't believe is that you still think this is a good idea."

 

"Then I guess my acting has gotten better over the years," Ryo said, the faint smile back on his lips. "Go me."

 

Dee's lips twisted. "Well, we're pretty much at that point, I guess." When Ryo looked confused, Dee threw him an exasperated look. "As long as you're sitting there. Anything you want to leak or dump without me helping it along, now's the time."

 

"Oh." Ryo turned scarlet. He sat silent for a moment. Then he bit his lip and said, "Might be a minute. Or five."

 

Dee stood up and leaned against the corner of the shower-faucet wall, arms folded. "Take your time. Deep breaths and all that. I'd rather not end up explaining to the EMTs how you ended up giving yourself a stroke."

 

"Agreed," Ryo said.

 

A minute elapsed. Then another. Dee kept his eyes trained on Ryo. Ryo fixedly stared at the shower-curtain rod.

 

Waiting had never been one of Dee's strong points. "Still trying?" he asked.

 

Ryo grimaced. "I will never, ever, ever complain about traffic duty again."

 

"You mean, about dealing with shit that doesn't move fast enough?"

 

"Exactly." Their eyes met.

 

In spite of themselves, they both sniggered at the same time. Seconds later, Ryo's bowels finally cooperated, and several "plops" were heard hitting the water in the bowl.

 

At the noise, the flush on Ryo's face deepened to an even darker red. Dee couldn't remember when his lover had last looked so mortified; it was a shade he associated with the really old days, back when Bikky had been practically a regular down at juvie, each venture into crime sending Ryo into a state of demonic fury.

 

Ryo had usually gotten it out of his system by giving Bikky what-for, often in the form of several well-calibrated bops on the head with a fist. But Ryo's hands were behind his back now, cuffed and incapable of providing any defense, never mind punishment. As Ryo had already pointed out, for someone to get this far with him, they'd have to catch him in a bad state. One where he couldn't fight off the cuffs or anything else they wanted to do to him.

 

Dee failed to repress a shudder as he considered some of the ways someone up to no good could incapacitate his Ryo. Ryo had returned to staring at the shower-curtain rod, but at the sound of Dee's distress, he turned his head back toward his lover.

 

Ryo's face was still an alarming red, but his voice was cool -- almost taunting, in fact. "Too much for you to handle?"

 

Dee flinched, but he had to hand it to Ryo: traitorous blushing aside, his lover wasn't letting on how much this had to be bothering him. It was exactly what Dee would be praying for if someone succeeded in kidnapping his Ryo: Defiance. Pride. Calm.

 

Striving to match Ryo's tone, Dee said, "Can I get you a glass of water? Or a stiff drink?"

 

Ryo said, almost sneering, "Trying to make me feel at home?" Something must have flashed across Dee's face at that, however -- a hint of hurt, or of desolation -- for Ryo suddenly reverted back to true Ryo-ness, sounding both contrite and concerned. "Dee. Dee, Dee, Dee, I love you so much. Honest to God, I know you're just looking out for me." Looking rueful, Ryo added, "If we were going for making this more real, you probably should try to drug me."

 

"Yeah, but then you'd be too relaxed. Sort of misses the whole point of this if you're too out of it to mind."

 

Ryo said, slowly, "I may regret telling you this, but you know how, at the dentist, laughing gas is supposed to make everything okay?"

 

Dee nodded curtly, bracing himself.

 

Ryo continued, "It does its work, on the surface. My gums don't hurt while she's digging at them, and my reflexes turn into pudding. But it also completely sends my adrenalin through the roof, you know? Giving up control like that, even when I'm supposed to -- even when I absolutely have to, for her to do her work -- it's like an instant panic attack. Kinda like you when you're stuck anywhere without your gun."

 

"This is why you can't make me go to the dentist. I'm totally not sitting anywhere near sharp objects without my gun on my hip."

 

"And you call me a control freak?"

 

"Babe, I'm not even in your league. You're the one going out of your way to freak yourself out now so that you don't freak out later."

 

"If it makes you feel any better," Ryo offered, "I'm feeling better about what could happen."

 

Dee studied Ryo's face for a long moment. Then he said, "Be back in a few," and abruptly left the bathroom.

 

~ ~ ~

 

It was more than a few minutes before Dee returned. Ryo had heard the opening and shutting of assorted drawers and cabinet doors in the kitchen, as well as the footsteps of Dee's trips between the kitchen and what sounded like Bikky's room.

 

Ryo grimaced: Dee really did know him too well. Sex on his son's bed? That was going to make things skin-crawlingly awkward the next time Bikky came home, even though the kid no longer regularly occupied said bed, and even if they never told the kid that they had borrowed it for kinky diversions.

 

And Dee knew him well enough to know that he would already be tying himself into knots over all the possible consequences, even though they might not even get to the room itself, and even though Bikky probably already assumed they were doing gross things on his bed when he wasn't around. After all, Dee had never been shy about pouncing on Ryo everywhere else in the apartment.

 

Everywhere other than this room, until now. Ryo wriggled his wrists inside the cuffs. He was starting to feel chilly and cramped, and his body had evacuated everything it was going to on its own. It was past time for Dee to be back--

 

As Ryo teetered on the edge between fretting and fuming, Dee stalked back into the bathroom, tumbler of whisky in hand.

 

"Drink," he said roughly, not giving Ryo a chance to reply before pressing the glass to Ryo's mouth.

 

Ryo automatically parted his lips and tilted his head back, letting Dee pour the liquid down his throat. As he did so, his thoughts wildly flitted from He's forcing me. . . to He's forcing himself to force me. . . to Hello panic, my old friend. . . to Dee's doing this to me first. No one will be able to take that from me. Yes.

 

The glass went away, Dee replacing it with his own mouth. The whirl of frantic thoughts whooshed straight out of Ryo's head as the kiss went on and on. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. . .

 

Ending the kiss, Dee hauled in a huge breath. His gaze on Ryo was unsettlingly like that of a questionably sane artist admiring a masterpiece in progress. "If anyone else ever gets to see you like that," he said, "there won't be anything left of them to lock up. Not when I'm done with them."

 

Ryo husked out, "If anyone sees me like this, they'll know I'm thinking of you. And I really, really, really want you to behave if any of this comes to pass. As much as you'd enjoy beating the shit out of them, I'll feel much better if you're around for whatever's left of me."

 

"Oh for fuck's sake!" Looking like he desperately needed to smash something, Dee sagged into Ryo, hands sliding down Ryo's arms in parallel with his head nuzzling its way down Ryo's chest.

 

But when he reached Ryo's belly, Dee drew back in surprise, his eyes round as he stared at Ryo's groin. "I can't believe you're hard from this."

 

"Force of habit," Ryo muttered. "When I clean myself out, it's always before we're about to have sex, y'know?"

 

"Well," Dee said, suddenly way more cheerful, "far be it from me to disrupt your wholesome habits."

 

"Dee!" Ryo protested, but Dee had already sealed his mouth around the erection. Ryo was even more shocked when it took less than a minute -- a couple hard sucks, a flutter, a lick -- for him to explode in Dee's mouth.

 

He would have bet all the money in the world on it taking longer. His hands cuffed, his ass not even wiped -- it wasn't natural. It wasn't him. It should have taken longer.

 

"For someone who just came," Dee said dryly, "you look massively unhappy."

 

Ryo could feel his cheeks heating up again. "It was amazing," he said. "You're amazing. It's not your fault I think too much."

 

"Damn right you do." Dee pressed his forehead against Ryo's. "But as long as I'm somewhere in those thoughts. . ."

 

"Oh yes," Ryo assured him. "You and only you, forever."

 

"Well, then." Dee reached over to the toilet paper holder and tore off a couple squares. "Let's wipe you down and rinse you out, and then we'll see if we can't persuade that brain of yours to take a break."

 

~ ~ ~

 

Ryo stared at the weight bench in Bikky's room. Dee had covered it with several beach towels, and pushed a folding chair against the end closer to the door, sideways, draping its seat with a towel as well. The floor underneath the chair was covered with a large towel as well. Nearby, Dee had set a stack of kitchen towels, a tub of Crisco, and a bottle of vegetable oil.

 

Ryo swallowed, and tried for a joke. "So where's the whip, the flour, and the gang of beer bottles?"

 

Dee rewarded him with a tight smile. "You think my hand won't be enough for you?"

 

Ryo jerked his head at the Crisco and oil. "You need all that for just your hand?"

 

Dee said, "If you're going to let my whole hand into you, yes."

 

Ryo became very still, his eyes huge and scared as he re-assessed the scene with Dee's plan in mind. The bench. Him on the bench. Him flat on his back, open to Dee -- Dee, whose hands were neither small nor soft.

But they were extremely talented hands, and over the years, Dee's fingers had stroked and pinched and plucked from him sensations he hadn't known he could feel -- sensations he hadn't known it was possible to feel. Ryo loved Dee's hands on him. He loved the feeling of being cared for. Even the enemas he'd just endured -- the actual ordeal hadn't been anywhere as horrible or humiliating as he'd feared. It was Dee tending to him the way Dee might have to take care of him if his luck ran out for good.

 

It was reassuring to know for sure that Dee could handle it, even though Ryo had been just as glad to avoid the issue during his earlier extended leave from the precinct: at first, Ryo had been too weak and too heavily medicated to notice who was helping him with his ablutions, and following through with the rest of the case had kept Dee far too occupied to play nursemaid. By the time Ryo was released from the hospital, he had been able to tend to himself where bathroom matters were concerned; without being asked, Dee had covered all the shopping, cooking, and cleaning until Ryo had regained enough stamina and strength to insist on things being done his way once more.

 

His enforced stay on the sidelines hadn't been wholly devoid of enjoyment. Dee was staggeringly competent when he wanted to be, and Ryo had sometimes allowed himself the simple delight of studying his partner's hands in motion. It was a self-indulgence that never would have occurred to him when healthy: there was always, always too much to do, and when he wasn't busy with that, he was either fending off Dee's roving hands or succumbing to their wicked ministrations.

 

As physical as they both were, they had rarely merely held each other's hands. But that had been all Ryo could manage during the first month of his recovery, and he had taken so much comfort from the size, strength, and warmth of Dee's hand as it cradled his. But to have that whole hand plunged into him? Ryo was still trying to wrap his head around the reality of their evening so far -- of his taking enema after enema from Dee without passing out from sheer humiliation. Dee's hands had felt enormous on him as they spread and held him open in order to insert the nozzle--

 

Dee had moved behind him, closing a hand around his left wrist. Ryo heard the scrape of a key within one of the locks, and then the rasp of the cuff being pulled open.

 

Dee lifted the freed hand to his lips, lingering over each knuckle before he lifted his gaze back to Ryo's. "It was just an idea. I'd be just as happy going to our bed, ditching the props, and having some super-ordinary sex."

 

Ryo rubbed his knuckles against Dee's cheek, caressing. "And if I vote for staying here?"

 

Dee closed his eyes briefly and muttered, "God give me strength."

 

Re-opening his eyes, Dee searched Ryo's face as he said, "You keep not freaking out when I expect you to. Don't tell me you've actually thought of this?"

 

"I hadn't," Ryo admitted. "It never struck me as something we'd want to try."

 

"I wouldn't have bet on you even having heard of it."

 

Ryo flushed. "You know that bundle of books JJ and Drake gave me last year? The one with Sex for Homos 102, Dizzy in Dungeons, and Bondage for the Bourgeois?"

 

"Of course I do. Not too shabby for a gag gift. You were redder than Santa's suit after you opened that box."

 

"Yeah, well, I still don't like what they were getting at," Ryo said. "But I did skim through those books."

 

"Did you now." Dee caught hold of Ryo's wrist. "So, this -- have I stumbled into one of your fantasies?"

 

"No," Ryo said. "I never pictured it as something we'd get into. You don't have the patience and I can't stand that kind of mess."

 

Dee wrapped his other hand around Ryo's other wrist, just above where the handcuffs still dangled from it. His voice low and tense, he spoke into Ryo's ear. "No one else would be worth me being that patient." He inched them a step closer to the bench. "We've survived me deep-cleaning your ass, and this will be far less filthy."

 

~ ~ ~

 

Dee gently guided Ryo into the chair, seating him so that his legs faced the door, the back of the chair on Ryo's right. "Lean against my hands," Dee murmured; as Ryo obeyed, he lowered Ryo's upper body to the surface of the weight bench. Crawling underneath the bench, he drew Ryo's wrists together. After a deep breath, he shackled them together once more.

 

Standing up, he stepped back a foot to look over his handiwork: his Ryo, gorgeous and naked and at his mercy. The bench was heavy and immovable, such that Ryo could buck and roll and strain to escape without it budging an inch. His ass was supported by the chair for the moment, but once his legs were draped over Dee's shoulders, Dee would shove it away. Ryo would have to surrender to gravity and to Dee -- to there being nothing holding him away from the floor except whatever Dee chose to provide.

 

Ryo was breathing hard and fast -- not quite openly panicked, but definitely signaling how out of his depth he felt. Dee knelt down by Ryo's side, placing one arm across his lover's chest and the other one above his head. He started to brush his lips over Ryo's face and neck, applying the same light soothing circles he'd used on Ryo's hand when they'd first entered the room. As Ryo's breathing returned to something closer to normal, Dee began to steal small kisses, savoring each taste of Ryo's mouth as he incrementally demanded more from it. His left hand slid down to his jeans, undoing the button and zipper holding them closed.

 

As Dee drew away and stood up, Ryo said, almost plaintively, "Why are you stopping?"

 

Dee hoped he sounded jauntier than he felt. "Who said anything about stopping?" He quickly tugged off the jeans and underwear, and then swung a leg over the bench in order to straddle Ryo's chest.

 

"Oh!" Ryo sounded startled, and then pleased. "Finally enjoying ourselves, are we?"

 

Dee shuffled forward so that the tip of his cock bumped into Ryo's chin. "I still don't like the fucking cuffs, but there's something about you not getting away from me. . ."

 

"Ah," Ryo said. "I've heard that power turns some people on. I can't imagine why you hate being told you're like the Commi --"

 

"Oh my God, shut up!" Dee pushed his cock into Ryo's ready mouth.

 

His partner really did have a warped sense of humor. That was a definite smirk on the face servicing his cock, and oh, that made him even harder: he loved it when Ryo let his wicked streak out to play, even when it was sometimes at his expense. He loved the crinkles of amusement around Ryo's eyes as his mouth massaged Dee's length; he loved that, of all things, giving Dee head was calming Ryo down even more -- that it was now for Ryo a familiar and comfortable, comforting act.

 

Oh, it felt so good. Too good. If he let Ryo take him all the way--

 

"Now why are you pulling away?" Ryo complained. A hint of uncertainty crept into his eyes. "Was I doing something wrong? It's different, with my arms behind--"

 

"No, no," Dee reassured him, kissing and licking his way down Ryo, back to the end of the bench. As he reached the chair, he pushed himself up and off, bringing his left leg back over to join his right and standing up. Then he circled around to the front of the setup, crouching down and lifting Ryo's legs to his shoulders.

 

"Still okay?" he asked.

 

"Yeah," Ryo said. "It's strange, but okay."

 

Dee slathered his right hand with the Crisco, nibbling at the inside of Ryo's left thigh as he prepared his fingers. He thought he could hear Ryo's breath speeding up again, but it wasn't the shallow, panic-laced panting from earlier; it was much closer to the way Ryo usually sounded when Dee was about to stretch him -- the quickening of anticipation, like the way they walked faster the closer they got to a scene, a stadium. . .

 

One finger. Two. This was standard procedure for them, in spite of the damn cuffs, and Dee had to admit -- just to himself -- that it did add a touch of spice, this new-to-him angle from which he was pressing his fingers into Ryo. He was never going to get enough of his partner's body, not even if Ryo ever caved in and agreed to Dee's dream week at the shore: just them, no clothes, and no phones -- no interruptions whatsoever.

 

It will never happen. When he's not, say, deranged with grief, or chasing a lead that even Dee thinks he shouldn't, Ryo's far too responsible to cut off contact from the rest of the world. And even if he were to lose his mind long enough to agree to it, for the sake of humoring Dee, Ryo wouldn't be able to stem the compulsive second thoughts and subsequent backup plans that would follow such a move, and that would totally kill the whole carefree hell-with-the-world point of getting away from the crowd to begin with.

 

Dee shook his head, shooing the fantasy back into the shadows. He had Ryo in front of him, willingly captive, a feast unbelievably all for him and only for him. He carefully began to slide a third finger into Ryo's hole. They'd gotten this far before, but usually with a lot less lubrication and a lot more urgency: in spite of his prim, by-the-book approach to every other area of their lives, there was seldom anything reserved or orderly about Ryo once they reached this point. Ryo could be slow to arousal -- the disparity in their sex drives had triggered more than a couple fights during their first year together -- but once his hormones were kindled, Ryo was as eager as any other man Dee had ever met to rush toward feeling good as fast and hard as possible.

 

But Dee couldn't go any faster with this, not if he wanted to do it right -- to free Ryo from his mind's incessant churning and bring him back intact. To push Ryo past his limits and still be loved. As he scooped up some more shortening with his free hand, Dee thought to himself that people who did this with strangers had to be crazy. He couldn't imagine taking this much time and care with someone he hadn't gotten to know, really know, over months -- years. He couldn't picture doing this right without having learned how to tell "Fuck!" (ouch, you son of a bitch) from "Fuck!" (that feels incredible, give me more, NOW) from "Fuck. . ." (what was that, I don't know how I feel about it yet).

 

Maybe some people just had a knack for decoding intimate gibberish right off the bat, the way some freaks picked up Spanish or Polish within seconds of chatting with someone's grandmother. Dee took considerable pride in being a quick study about most things -- it was what let him get away with slacking off on chores and assignments he found boring -- but mastering foreign languages wasn't among them. But he couldn't get enough of learning Ryo, and it had taken a long time to become even remotely fluent in making sense of the man: as much as he ribbed Ryo for being an easy read, the fact was that Ryo was deep and complicated enough to keep surprising him. To keep him spellbound, savoring the cadences of Ryo's curses and whimpers and knowing that he was the one drawing them forth.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Ryo had never been penetrated by anything wider than Dee's three fingers. Even with infinitesimally attentive stretching and copious quantities of Crisco, his channel was not immediately welcoming the fourth finger Dee had slowly worked into it.

 

The handcuffs were making it easier: not having to wonder about where his hands ought to be was turning out to be a relief. His mind kept flashing back to the first time they had really slept together. That night, they'd gone to his old apartment: he hadn't been handcuffed, he'd been on all fours, and there had been absolutely zero finesse in Dee's rough and hasty prep before fucking him.

 

This wasn't like that at all, and yet, Ryo felt as if he was reliving how that night had changed him: the thrill and discomfort of Dee's fingers invading him was dominating his consciousness, leaving little room for his chronic self-second-guessing. That was like that first time: he wasn't fretting overmuch about how he didn't know what he was doing, or whether he was responding the way he should, or how on earth he was going to reciprocate later.

 

Dee had displayed possessiveness from the very beginning, long before Ryo had even considered him a friend, never mind a plausible partner for life, but this slow, excruciatingly careful claiming of Ryo was nonetheless new territory. Dee's usual m.o. with Ryo tended to fall more along the lines of gleeful ambush, outright molestation, or blunt demands, all so very Dee that Ryo had never expected anything else.

 

That Dee's fingers were crooking and curving against every millimeter they traveled across was not a surprise; it was the time and concentration that Dee was lavishing on making sure he could take them in. It was making Ryo's heart race twice as fast than a hard, quick screw would have done, even as slow tears leaked from his eyes.

 

He could sense that, upon seeing those tears, Dee had nearly called a halt to the night. But his lover had simply asked, "Like Christmas, is it?"

 

Ryo had breathily answered, "Yes!", and after another beat, Dee had resumed the rocking of his fingers inside Ryo's ass. There wasn't any space between the fingers and the walls of muscle surrounding them; the rocking was more of a sustained hint of motion than a true back-and-forth. It was like earlier in the evening, when Ryo had tested his arms against Dee's grip on them: slight as it was, the rocking was doing its job, coaxing the newly-stretched muscles to accept all four fingers.

 

It was only when Dee paused to pour some of the oil onto his hand that Ryo became aware of the chair no longer being under him: at some point, Dee had indeed pushed it out of the way. Its disappearance gave Dee unrestricted access to Ryo's ass, since there was now nothing to block his hands from any angle they wanted to take.

 

Ryo had glimpsed at least two photographs of body slings in the books from JJ and Drake. At the time, he'd internally recoiled at the notion of being suspended like that. To be unable to move, his ass exposed to any passing predator -- that was the stuff of nightmares, not sexual gratification. Yet here he was, his body anchored by the weight-bench and Dee, Dee blowing lightly across his buttocks as if to underscore their unguarded state. That there was nothing now protecting him -- nothing between his entrance and any would-be marauder except Dee.

 

Dee's entire hand was now striving to assert possession, thumb tucked securely underneath the four fingers. The tip of the thumb wasn't a problem at all, but the way its lower knuckle jutted out from the rest of the hand -- even with Dee's other hand massaging all around the rim, trying to spread it wider as his fist tested angle after angle -- it wasn't happening, and Ryo felt tears of true frustration starting to prick his eyes.

 

Then Dee said, imploring, "You've trusted me this far. Let me in, Ryo. Let me feel what it's like for you to own my hand."

 

Ryo felt his body all but melt at the words, and with it the resistance to Dee's insistent press into his body. Ryo gasped as his entrance closed around Dee's wrist, Dee's fist huge within him like a knot of coals.

 

It was terrifying. It was exquisite. Dee murmured, "Easy there. I'm not doing anything yet."

 

"You don't have to," Ryo panted. "I can't. . . I can't. . . ohhhh!" He felt Dee's gaze on him as the first spasm overtook him, his body surrendering to the sheer presence of the hand it now surrounded. He felt as if every nerve ending within him had been suddenly magnified a hundredfold, each unleashing a shower of sparks into his blood as the heat from Dee's fist spread through his body and ignited them.

 

The notion of simply resting against Dee's hand was utterly ludicrous. His flesh yearned to escape it, but each stretch of his muscles away from the intrusion shifted new crevices and folds against the bulk, flooding him with a fresh wave of pleasure before he'd recovered from the previous one.

 

Through the haze of simultaneous discomfort and bliss, he heard Dee say, "God, you're so fucking gorgeous. And such a gorgeous fuck." His lover's voice was rough with awe. Ryo didn't need to open his eyes to sense Dee's lips curving upwards as he continued, "Let's see where I can take you to."

 

"Aaaaahh!" Ryo strained against his bonds, writhing as Dee deliberately began to rub his fist against Ryo's interior walls. Each movement was microscopic -- a minute twist to the left, a slight tug to the south, a slow clench and release -- but each one rocked through Ryo with the force of a size 7 earthquake.

 

It was like being kissed until he couldn't stand up, over and over. Ryo had thought he had known what fire was, but this was being consumed alive with his own body as its pyre. This wasn't going to calm him down the way sex normally did -- he wasn't going to survive it, period. His body couldn't possibly contain all the heat racing through his veins; his lungs couldn't possibly draw in enough air; his bones felt as light as threads of ashes.

 

And yet, and yet -- he heard himself gasp out, "More, Dee. I want you to. You won't hurt me. Please, Dee." He heard his lover's sharp intake of breath, and then he felt -- ohhhhh. Dee's fist ground into him, possessive and conquering, sending Ryo even deeper into the waves of overwhelming sensation. He was past caring about the fact that he was now howling with abandon, unable to respond in any other way to the pain-tinged pleasure Dee was inflicting upon him.

 

"Is this what you were after, Ryo?" Dee rasped out. There was both pride and desperation in his voice as he demanded, "Is this what you'll keep with you?"

 

Ryo's reasons for propelling Dee and himself into using the handcuffs had completely evaporated from his mind. His body was shaking so hard that he couldn't steady himself enough to nod, but he managed to whisper, "Every... you're my everything, Dee. You... only you..."

 

"Dear God," Dee choked out. "There is no way I'm ever letting you go."

 

With no breath to spare for more speech, Ryo mouthed, "There...there was, before?"

 

"Of course not," Dee said, a note of reluctant satisfaction in his voice. "Not gonna stop me from reminding you." He tilted his head so that his mouth could fasten onto a succulent spot just inside the curve of Ryo's right thigh. As he began to suck, his free hand wrapped itself around Ryo's cock, which had risen to attention as Dee complied with Ryo's plea for "more."

 

"Dee!" Ryo cried out, his legs and hips bucking hard in response to the new jolts of stimulation from Dee's lips and hand. His body pulsed around the fist still buried within it as Dee ruthlessly stroked him, the hand inside and the hand on his cock both caressing him towards total capitulation. Ryo was flying, his entire world a blur of lightning and heat and Dee -- Dee was the sky and the sea and the sun, and Ryo couldn't bear it, this marvelous agony of almost touching the sun. He was going to drown in Dee -- there was going to be nothing left of him --

 

"I love you," he heard Dee say, the words raw with need. "I love how strong and stubborn you are. I love how much of you is only for me. How much of it no one else will ever, ever see. You own me, Ryo. I couldn't do this for anyone else." Ryo moaned incoherently -- he was so exhausted, and yet so close to the edge -- and Dee's voice deepened. "I won't ever let you go. Come for me, Ryo. Don't hold anything back. Let me catch you. Let me hold you. I'm yours, Ryo--"

 

The words sent Ryo spinning into his release, his ejaculate flowing out of him as his fears relinquished their last, tenacious grip on his consciousness. As he trembled and groaned through the orgasm, Dee chanted "I love you" and "yes" and "yours" over and over.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Throughout the rest of the night, Dee didn't dare leave Ryo alone for even a second. His eyes never left his partner as he eased his hand back out, and he hungrily lapped at Ryo's navel and ribs as he brought himself to his own climax, savoring the way Ryo quivered beneath him. He promised himself that he would make Ryo look like that again: Ryo wore the expression of a man not only thoroughly sated, but happily stunned at finding himself besieged with yet more pleasure. It was a very, very good look on him, but Dee wanted to earn it without the help of the goddamn handcuffs.

 

As he carried Ryo to bed, Dee knew he could congratulate himself on an exceptional performance, all the way through the cleaning-up. After unlocking the cuffs and finally getting to hurl them aside, he had helped Ryo back to the bathroom, Ryo drowsily snuggling against him as Dee soaped and sponged away the grease and semen and tears. Within seconds of Dee tucking him under the covers, Ryo fell fast asleep.

 

Dee switched off the light and climbed in on the other side, but instead of lying down straight away, he propped himself up on an elbow, resting his head against the fist he hadn't used and gazing at Ryo with a grim, tight-mouthed tenderness. The moonlight streaming in through the window accentuated the almost preternatural elegance of Ryo's features: The hollows of the neck and ears. The high cheekbones. The mouth that had called his name again and again without once begging him to stop.

 

Tamping down the urge to clutch, to shake, to berate, Dee pressed his lips against his lover's hair. "You and your damn secrets," he quietly said. "I know there's more to all this than you're telling me."