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Paige is waiting for the credit card payment to go through when someone calls her name. Looking up, she finds herself staring into the face of her former fiancé. Her small smile dies, as does her good mood.“Hey,” Rio says.“I’m working,” Paige says, and gets out from behind the counter to return the card and the bill to Curt before escaping into the kitchen.Of all days for Joe not to be at the bar… Paige knows it’s not Joe’s fault that her ex showed up. Joe has been captivated by that cute young cop - and while Joe may deny that it’s anything serious, Paige knows when someone is smitten - so him taking a night off to go out with Officer Mustafa Ali can only be a good thing for him.But Rio is here. Paige kneads the bridge of her nose, wishing in vain that she can be half as intimidating as her boss is. She’s deleted her Facebook account, cut off all contact, and still he has managed to find her. She can’t hide in here forever; without Joe, there’s only her and Becky running the show, and Becky is horrible with the cash register.Taking a deep breath, she ventures out again. Everyone here at this hour is a regular. Rio is seated at the end of the bar, the only one new to this place and unaware of it. What did I ever see in him? Paige has asked herself multiple times. He was handsome and not bad in the sack, but there was always that undercurrent of condescension when he talked to her, just because she never graduated high school. (Joke’s on him - Paige knows she’s smart. She’s practically Joe’s right hand, both in the bar as well as in his other line of work. If he wants information on someone or something, she’s the one to find it.)He smiles at her. “You look good.”“I know. What do you want?”“Can’t I pop by to see my ex-fiancée?” Rio shrugs. “Pal of mine said you were working here. I thought, well, of course she’s in a dive bar.” He leans forward on the counter, smirking. “But I gotta say, you’re as beautiful as ever.”Paige wants to slap that smugness off his face. Thing is, she can’t. She already has a record for assault. Specifically, she struck him when he told her he’d slept with one of his colleagues, like it’s no big deal. (Fucking Lacey with her pretentious flouncing about, always with the ‘darling’ and ‘good gosh’ like she’s not some goddamn bigoted bitch.)She folds her arms. “Buy something or leave.”“Hey, Paige, he botherin’ ya?” Riott calls out as she walks past towards the door, Liv piggybacked on Sarah as usual. Riott eyes Rio with suspicion, who returns the staring with mild disdain. She glances at Paige once more. They are not friends but all the women who frequent Joe’s bar will back one another up without question.Paige shakes her head. “Nothing I can’t handle.”“Alright then,” says Riott and nods at Liv and Sarah to go on out the door.“Bunch of fucking dykes,” Rio mutters.Paige slams her palms in front of him onto the counter. “Don’t use that word, Rio,” she warns.Rio raises an eyebrow, amused, like he thinks she’s being cute. “What? You sleeping with the dykes now?”
Paige draws her hands back and shakes her head. “You’re an idiot.”“I’m an idiot? You’re the one who assaulted me. You’re the one stuck in a dead-end job in this dive,” he sneers. “I came by to see if you’d grown any sense, learn your place. Thought maybe I could give you a second chance.”“Really? You’re giving me a second chance? Asshole, you’re the one who fucking cheated on me!”Rising to his feet and grabbing hold of Paige’s wrist, Rio is about to retort when he’s interrupted by a tap on his shoulder.“Excuse me.”When he turns around, he’s punched across the jaw by Becky, who then shakes out her right fist. “You’re not welcome in here,” Becky tells him. “And don't touch the staff.”“The fuck!?” yells Rio. “Do you even know who I am? I’m gonna fucking call the police on you, you fucking bitch!”Becky cocks her head and smiles at him. “Hey, guys, anyone know who this dope is?” A general murmur of “nope” and “nuh-uh” respond to her query. The redhead’s smile fades and she grabs a bottle - too low on its neck, Paige realizes too late - and says, “This is the asshole who tried to glass me in the face and got my hand instead.”She smashes the bottle on the counter, the sudden explosion of glass startling the bar. Becky, never looking away from Rio, closes her right hand and squeezes. Blood oozes from her fist.Rio gapes. “You’re fucking crazy, I didn’t lay a hand on you-”“You did,” Paige says, cutting him off. “You called her a dyke and she heard you and challenged you, and you tried to glass her with the bottle.”“That’s right, we saw you do it,” says Viktor. Konnor nods.Just two seats down the bar counter, Gallagher sets down his beer and says, “Perhaps you should leave before she presses charges for assault, or before the rest of us defend her honor.”The other regulars start getting up from their seats. Paige grins. She hopes she looks murderous with her dark red lips. “Retreat would be the wiser course, Rio. I mean, unless you think you can take on all of them.”Rio stares around him. Then he flees, nearly falling out the door.Once he’s out of sight, Becky curses loudly and relentlessly. Gallagher sighs and comes over with his handkerchief to wrap her hand up, while Paige orders everyone to get out and settle their tabs tomorrow (“No I’m not forgetting that you owe $25, you think Joe would let you drink for free?”).As Paige locks the bar up and bundles Becky into her car to head to the hospital, Becky asks, “So that was your ex? Real charmer, that one.”“Yeah, wonder why I dumped him,” Paige retorts. Then, with a soft smile, she adds, “You’re a dumbass, grabbing the bottle that way.”“Better to get a fistful of glass than have cops swarming Samoa Joe’s again,” says Becky, resting her head on the back of the seat. “Plus, this way I get the good shit from the hospital. I’m gonna be so fucking high, Paige, you can tie a string to me and use me as a goddamn kite.”Paige snorts. “Don’t think I won’t.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The look on Seth’s face is nothing short of devastated.Always so dramatic, Finn thinks with a smile. Seth’s arm flexes again, his hand moving to grip himself once more, so Finn touches the tip of his index finger to Seth’s chin, tilting his head back further, forcing his eyes onto Finn’s.“Stay still.”It’s said softly, but the command is clear to Seth, who stops completely, breathing heavily through parted lips.“What’s that saying, love? Patience is a virtue?” Beautiful brown eyes roll upward, making Finn work to cover a laugh.
“I think you could do to learn the meaning of that.”Seth’s breath catches, his brow furrows, and he looks even more as if the world is ending around him. Dramatic.“That’s not fa-”“Fairness is relative, darling.” Finn smooths his hand over Seth’s scruffy jaw, thumbing at the corner of plump lips, pressing in just enough to enjoy the feel of Seth automatically closing his lips around the tip before he retracts it, enjoying the pout it brings.
“I want you to learn the pleasures of delayed self-gratification.”“I don’t-”“You’ll speak when I allow it, Seth.” The reminder of exactly which
of them is in control is unnecessary, really, with Finn fully-clothed, sitting casually on the edge of the bed while Seth kneels before him, nude and beautiful, hands clenching and unclenching atop thick thighs, desperate to move where he wants them most. Finn tells him,
“You’re going to watch me,” and begins removing his cufflinks, unbuttoning his shirt, standing and using his foot to nudge Seth back. His hands go to his belt.
“You’re going to watch me and, if you’re a good boy and keep your hands right where they are - the entire time - then
you may come.”Seth’s strangled whimper is music to Finn’s ears.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Aleister has just sterilized his tools and is putting them away for the day when he hears a rap on the door. It’s the young man from the convenience store next door, Seth, and he has a box in his hands.

Smiling, Aleister waves him in before he pulls off his gloves. “Seth, hey.”

“Hi. Um, do you- do you like cookies? I made oatmeal raisin cookies and I want to give them to you. I should’ve asked before I made them but-” Seth catches himself mid-ramble, and thrusts the box at Aleister.

The tattoo artist takes the box and opens them. The cookies are golden-brown and look delicious. “Thank you,” he says. “I like cookies.”

Seth grins, his eyes bright with happiness. He fidgets with his hands, rubbing at the cuticle of his thumb, and Aleister motions for him to sit down. Once Seth is settled, Aleister lights a cone of incense - sandalwood, as always - and pours a cup of tea for his guest.

“Uh, thanks.” Seth takes the cup. “Do you have someone coming in soon?”

“No.” Aleister waits. He’s found that tea helps people calm down, and silence prompts conversation.

True enough, within two minutes, Seth says, “I wanna ask about your... your collar.”

Touching his collar, Aleister cocks his head. “What about it?”

“I used to wear one,” Seth confides, “and... and that turned out badly. You saw a bit of the aftermath. I just- You said you have someone who puts the lock on.”

“Yes.” Aleister doesn’t share anything about his domme. This is Seth’s time, not his, and his relationship with

Señorita

is their own business.

The other man clasps his hands together tightly, his large eyes downcast. “How did you know she was the one?”

That question makes Aleister pause. How did he know? He weighs his words, mutely topping up Seth’s tea, and then passes him one of the cookies. As Seth eats, Aleister studies him.
Seth

is young, but there is a shadow in his gaze that gives him an air of remembered hurt; there are a few faint scars on his arms, some that Aleister thinks are self-inflicted, and one shiny scar that appears to have been a cigarette burn.

‘Turned out badly’ indeed.

The tattoo artist breathes out slowly. “I’ve known her for some time, and we are honest with each other. I trust her with my life. That’s what wearing the collar means, to me.” Talking has never been his strong point. “I didn’t know what it meant to be vulnerable, to feel. She showed me.”

Seth bites his upper lip. “I... I think I’ve found someone like that.” He hesitates, and goes on: “He saved me. I’m just... I don’t know if this is me with some sort of hero-worship complex, or if it’s

real

. I trust him, though. I’ve only known him for a few weeks and I trust him to take care of me. He's been taking care of me so far.”

“But you’re still afraid.” Aleister tilts his head, watching Seth’s microexpressions. Surprise, rejection, acceptance.

Seth swallows nervously. “Not

of

him,” he clarifies hurriedly. “But... I don’t

know

him. He doesn’t share about his past, and I’m afraid to push. What if my pushing means that I lose him?” He stares at his hands again. “I don’t want to lose him. He is... He’s a good man. I know this. And he cares for me.” Very quietly, he confesses, "I want... I want to belong to him, I want to wear his collar."

“If he cares for you, perhaps he can care enough to be open to you, and then you both can decide together,” says Aleister gently. He thinks about it, and then reaches over to touch Seth’s hand before withdrawing. “But you do not have to rush anything. Wait for the moment. Wait for your courage.”

Seth smiles at him, sweet doe eyes bright and relieved. He nods, and finishes his tea. “Thanks, Aleister. I hope you like the cookies.”

Aleister smiles back. “Drop in anytime, cookies or no.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

It has taken so long for them to get to this point where Seth trusts Finn enough to try it, but they are not quite there yet. The second the blindfold is secured over his eyes, Seth becomes utterly still, his chest not even rising and falling with his breath. Finn is still learning Seth and his limits, so naturally he asks if Seth is okay, but the younger man doesn’t respond at all. Then Finn sees the blindfold darken with wetness and realizes Seth is crying. He doesn’t panic, only whips off the blindfold and pull Seth into a tight embrace, murmuring reassurances and pressing kisses to the younger man’s face.Seth’s forehead is clammy with sweat, and his hands are cold. He keeps repeating I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll be good, I’ll do better, don’t be angry, please I’ll be good; not for the first time, Finn wants to murder Hunter for everything he’s ever done to Seth. However, Finn just rocks Seth against himself, tucking the younger man as close as he can and promising that it is all okay, that they don’t have to do this, that he isn’t angry with Seth.One day, Finn vows to himself, he will seek Hunter out and set Balor loose on the bastard.***“If the CIA really is monitoring my internet searches, there are going to be so many questions,” Seth quips. He squints at the document Finn gave him earlier. “What the hell is ‘forniphilia’?”“Human furniture,” Finn supplies, wandering back into the den with a glass of wine. He sits on the couch behind Seth, who has taken up his usual spot on the floor. The younger man leans against Finn’s shins and tilts his head back for a kiss, which Finn gladly supplies. “Some people like being useful.”“Human furniture? Like... I don’t know, like the human sushi platter sorta thing?”“Like being a chair or a coffee table for their dom.” Finn strokes Seth’s long hair idly. “Back in Tokyo, I had a client who loved being my clothes rack while her partner was being whipped. She never had to serve anyone her whole life, so she loved being Finn-denka’s clothes rack. Didn’t get to say a word, wasn’t allowed to move until we were done with the whipping.”Seth gazes at the older man over his shoulder. “Denka? What’s that?”“It’s an honorific for a prince,” says Finn, smiling serenely. He runs his fingers along the line of Seth’s jaw, petting his scruff. “Do you think you might be into it?”The young man frowns at the list, and ticks off a ‘5’ - mild curiosity - before he continues with the rest of the checklist. It’s quiet, only a low murmur of music filtering in through hidden speakers, and domestic, except for the kink negotiation form that Seth is filling out. After another five minutes (Google gets a workout), Seth moves onto the couch and sits next to Finn. “I think the biggest no-nos are anything dealing with sharp objects,” he says, pointing those out, “and electricity. I’m not sure about collars at the moment.”Finn brushes Seth’s hair from his face with great fondness. “The blindfold? The last time we tried it, you didn’t like it.”“Didn’t like it” is putting it mildly. Finn remembers the one time they tried it, not long after they got together, Seth froze up and began crying in minutes.“It’s a 2 for me right now,” Seth admits. He plucks at the hem of his shorts, nervous, and adds, “But I used to really love it. I’d like to get that sense of fun back.”Relieved and proud, Finn kisses his boyfriend on his cheek. “We’ll start slow, sweetheart. Just closing eyes, then hands over your eyes, then a lace blindfold and so on.” He nuzzles into Seth’s neck. “We’ll get lots of practice.”“I like the sound of that,” Seth murmurs, and turns to kiss the Irishman. Lots of practice. Yes, that sounds really good.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Finn sips his whisky slowly and watches with immense fondness as Seth and Mustafa bicker lightly over the merits of different types of donuts. They don’t even have donuts here at the party, but that’s how Seth and Mustafa interact.

Joe gestures to Mustafa and the
young man immediately goes to him, taking his usual spot next to the big man, tilting up his chin for Joe to check if
the new collar is chafing the pup's skin. Finn shakes his head. Joe and Mustafa. Who would’ve thought?

There will be trouble, Finn suspects. Those two are from entirely different worlds. Something has to give. He won’t spoil the mood tonight, of course.

He is so preoccupied that he doesn’t notice Seth sidling close, until he feels warm hands close around his own. Large doe eyes blink at him in mute question and Finn smiles at him.

“Nothing, sweetheart. Just thinking that they look cute.” He offers his drink to his boyfriend, who shakes his head.

“It’s almost midnight,” Seth says. It’s clear what he wants.

Finn slides his other hand over the back of Seth’s head, and gently directs him down into a kiss.

He hears the countdown on the TV, but keeps his mouth on Seth, drinking him in and tasting the beer that he was drinking earlier.

“…3! …2! …1! HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

Finn releases Seth, grins at his slightly dazed look, and pulls him in for another that has Seth clutching at his shirt and moaning throatily.

When he finally lets go of Seth, the younger man is flushed pink and happy.

“Last kiss of the year to see it off.” Finn brushes his thumb over Seth’s soft lower lip. “First kiss of 2019, to make sure you get off on a good note.”

Seth grins and nuzzles his nose against Finn’s. “Happy new year.”

“Happy new year, sweetheart,” Finn murmurs. “Now do you want out of the shackles?”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Joe bids goodnight to Finn and Seth, the latter leaning against Finn as they leave the bar, his
eyes heavy-lidded with sleep, dark and beautiful as always, his curls mussed. Karl and Luke are waiting in the car outside (Joe had offered his spare room, but Finn had insisted on getting Seth home), Karl getting out to open the door for them, laughing at something Seth mumbles; Joe shuts the door and locks up before he hears Karl’s response.A soft call of his name gets his attention - not that he’s forgotten Mustafa, cuddled up in the booth farthest from the door, away from any cold air that may force its way through, wearing his thick blue sweatshirt from his police academy days (and isn’t that something, Joe thinks to himself, an assassin and an officer - not that Mustafa is aware of the irony)
over the thin shirt Joe knows is underneath.“Yeah, baby?” Joe’s voice is amused; that humor only grows, a touch of fondness trailing it, as he watches the way Mustafa’s eyelids droop, his fingers tightening and loosening in short intervals around the half-full bottle he’s gripping.“Did they get a ride?”Joe nearly snorts at the way Mustafa’s concerned officer
persona peeks out from his tipsy Mustafa
one, but just replies,
“Karl and Luke drove them,” and proceeds to wipe down the final table he’d told Finn to fuck off from, upending the chairs and setting them effortlessly atop the cleaned surface.“Good,” mumbles the younger man through a yawn, grip slackening entirely on the beer bottle now, hand slipping to the booth’s tabletop, palm open, fingers curled inward. A quiet snore rumbles from him, and Joe does
snort now, but continues setting the rest of the chairs onto tables before moving behind the bar, putting away bottles of liquor and washing shot glasses, wiping down the bar top until everything is finished, tidied up and clean.Finally, Joe walks over to Mustafa, slumped against the wall and the table, lips parted, little snores still escaping him. Joe circles one hand around Mustafa’s ankle, thumb rubbing tiny circles over the fabric of his pant leg, and says,
“Alright, time to get up,” eyebrow lifting when a snore cuts off halfway and Mustafa’s dark eyes open, his brow furrowing. The older man rolls his eyes and moves his hand, offering it to him, and Mustafa takes it, grunting when Joe tugs him easily out of the booth and to his feet, steadying him with his other arm around a slim waist, tugging him into Joe’s space.
“I’m not carrying you up the stairs, baby.”Mustafa exhales, sounding amused.
“If I asked nicely, you would.”Joe smirks.
“What would that entail, hm?” His other hand goes to Mustafa’s hip, squeezing, slipping beneath the hem of the sweatshirt to slide around to his lower back, pulling him closer.Lips part, a pink tongue darting out to wet them, saliva shining in the soft light.
“Anything you want,” breathes the smaller man, voice low, inhaling heavily before he adds a raspy,
“Daddy,” and Joe’s dick takes an immediate interest, but-Mustafa’s eyes are heavy-lidded, both from sleep and drink, so Joe
hums and both hands come up to gently grip the sides of Mustafa’s head, bringing it close enough to press a kiss to Mustafa’s forehead. His voice is a little deeper when he says,
“Another night, baby,” and he reaches to snatch the beer bottle from the table, his free hand returning to the small of Mustafa’s back, guiding him toward the back room, to the stairs that connect the bar to the apartment above, Mustafa relaxed and content at his side.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Joe glances around, feigning indifference. It's Regal's club, his "Court", and it's done up so posh and English that it makes Joe feel stifled. Cigar smoke and overstuffed leather chairs, dim lights and
quiet voices; Joe heads straight to the bar and orders
his usual. He lean against the polished mahogany and lets the others stare. As an American Samoan, he stands out from this group of distinguished gentlemen and elegant ladies with their "pets" and "darlings" and "dears".

He doesn't like the place. Never has. But he has a membership nonetheless, and he's here every time he passes through London to another part of the world.

The English dom is with his favorite, of course. Regal is seated in the heart of his domain, clad in his custom three-piece suit, in a dark tweed because he's a stuffy old queen, and Finn Balor, lounging at his knees in a long black silk kimono, a collar around his neck, the leash loosely wrapped around Regal's fist. There are a few others, doms and subs, ranged about the pair, but Regal and Finn are clearly the focus of the room.

Joe isn't certain how he feels about Finn. He likes the guy, sure. They have fun together in bed and outside of it. Finn may be a kept boy (despite his insistence that he's in training to be a dom) but he's also a fearsome fighter, unafraid to take on anyone. Joe and Finn got into a brawl with patrons of a seedy bar the last time they hooked up, because some idiots didn't like seeing two men being friendly. Finn had nearly beat one dude's face to a pulp, which led to Joe fucking Finn harder than he'd ever done in his crappy hotel room after they'd made their escape.

It's not love that Joe feels. That much he knows. But it's something covetous and hungry, that wants to keep Finn close to him; he's absolutely sure that the Irish bastard would laugh if he knows.

It's Regal who notices Joe at the bar. Smiling graciously, the dom raises his glass and tips it in Joe's direction, and Joe returns it with a nod before knocking back his own drink (a good fifteen-year single malt whiskey) and asks for another. Regal bends forward slightly to whisper in Finn's ear, and the younger man turns to seek out Joe. When he finally sees the Samoan, he grins, mischievous and anticipatory. He whispers to Regal, his kimono slipping to reveal a pale shoulder, and Regal laughs.

The whiskey is good. Joe contents himself with watching, assured that Finn will be coming over to him soon now that the younger man knows he's here. As if reading Joe's mind, Finn moves across the floor while on his knees to face Regal, back to Joe, and sheds his kimono in a smooth, practiced move, leaving it draped from his elbows, baring his torso to the room. Stripes -
of dark purples and fading pinks - cut across the white expanse of his back, symmetrical and
beautiful. Joe has to admit that the old English dom is a master at what he does.

If he didn't know that Finn and Regal aren't in a sexual relationship, Joe might have thought Finn is going to give his dom a blow job right then and there. Instead he knows it's a performance solely for him. He sips at his drink, admiring the way the black silk brings out the fairness of Finn's complexion, and the fading bruises over his bare back. Regal pats Finn on his dark hair, and undoes the leash clipped to the young man's collar. Finn stands, wearing the kimono draped from his arms. The Irish brat is smirking as he sashays across the room in heels to Joe, his stubbled chin closely trimmed. He's wearing lacy panties and garters and stockings, and many patrons' eyes follow him as he walks past.

"Sir wishes you a good evening," Finn informs Joe primly, as if he's not almost naked in front of the big guy.

Shifting slightly so he can tip his drink at Regal, Joe answers, "It's getting better." He reels Finn in with a large hand round the back of his fair neck, and tugs the Irishman in for a kiss.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“You did

what?”

The incredulous expression on Christian’s face is hilarious, but Roman holds back his mirth; this is serious business. “That’s why I quit. Because I wanted to-”

“Kiss. Tyler. Breeze. You quit because you wanted to

kiss Tyler Breeze

.” The older man covers his face in exasperation. “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.”

“We haven’t done that,” Roman supplies helpfully.

Christian glares daggers at him. “I don’t give a

shit

if you have fucked him or not. The fact that one of our employees hooked up with one of our clients is what I give a shit about.”

“Again, I quit before I-”

“You have to give two weeks’ notice, you big idiot. Two weeks!” Christian groans. “Bloody hell, Reigns, this isn’t some rom-com grand gesture, okay? If you should break up - and given his history, you probably will - and Breeze’s lawyers even get wind of this, they could tie us up in litigation or something. And he has

very good

lawyers. McCool alone...”

Roman shifts his weight from foot to foot, uneasy.

Sighing, Christian leans back in his chair. “Write your damn resignation letter now, and date it to yesterday. For these two weeks, do not - I repeat,

do not

- be caught with Breeze, you hear me? I’d tell you to avoid him until the two weeks are up but I’m gonna guess that you’re not gonna do that, so for the love of God,

don’t be caught with him alone.”

The older man chews on his thumbnail. “You have to talk to him, make sure he does not talk about the kiss. As far as anyone else is concerned, you two got together two weeks from today.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Joe closes his eyes, right arm outstretched and palm resting at the small of Mustafa’s back, thumb caressing the smooth skin there, his left arm bent behind his head, and attempts to tune out the brightness of the laptop screen and the light clicks of the keys as Mustafa searches for whatever it is he’s looking for.

Finally, after a good five minutes, Joe gives in and sighs, “It’s good you wanna research, baby - and you should - but it’s two in the morning and I’ve been up for nearly twenty hours, so I’m gonna need you to put that thing down and go the hell to sleep.”

The clicking stops, a sudden silence in the room, and Mustafa’s muscles shift beneath Joe’s hand as the light disappears and the younger man bends to the side to place the laptop on the nightstand, a soft thud reaching Joe’s ears before Mustafa rolls back to him, Joe’s arm wrapping around Mustafa’s waist, Mustafa’s soft voice offering a quiet apology; Joe’s hand moves up to long hair, fingers threading through the silky strands, nails scratching gently, yawning out a tired, “What were you looking up, anyway?”

Mustafa is silent for a few seconds and Joe’s eyes are closing a little longer than normal by the time the smaller man replies with, “Breath play.”

Joe goes still and asks, “What about it?”

“Safety and risks and all,” he tells Joe, long eyelashes brushing against Joe’s neck before he continues, “You told me earlier, when I said-" He trails off, but picks up again quickly. "I want
more of that."

Joe feels a little niggle of excitement, but tamps it down to tell him, words chosen carefully, “That’s not a thing you do with just anyone; there’s a lot of trust required, from both sides.”

Mustafa’s fingers tap rhythmically against his ribcage, his voice coming out confident as he says, “I trust you.”

A warm feeling flutters just under where Mustafa’s fingers are still tapping; Joe hums and tells him, “Well, do some more research; we’ll talk about it, too, but I want you to think about it for a while before we do anything serious.”

Mustafa’s smile is a sweet one against Joe’s neck as Joe finally gives in to sleep.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Seth thanks the courier and takes the package into the main office, his other hand holding his precious coffee. There are two drafts that he has to complete by today, and Tucker want him on a site visit later to help take notes.It’s a far cry from the days of him stuck in a one-bedroom cabin, bored out of his mind. He sets the package on Deville’s table and goes to his cubicle, but as he puts down his coffee, the door to the meeting room opens and out steps Otis, Mandy, and someone Seth never thought he’d see again.“Thanks again, Dave,” says Otiz.
“You have a safe flight tonight. Mandy will email you our proposal by tomorrow noon.”Seth hasn’t sat down. He doesn’t know what expression he’s making, but it catches the attention of their latest potential client, who takes off his tinted glasses.“Seth?” Dave Batista grins in sheer disbelief.“Mr Batista,” Seth says. He manages a smile.
“Hi.”*
“Who are you, then?”

“My name is Seth, Mr Batista. I was told to come here tonight to entertain you.”

“Hm. Well, you’re pretty enough. And I’m not averse to pretty boys.”
*“You’re no longer with Hunter, then.”On hearing his ex’s name, Seth’s throat threatens to close, but he just shakes his head.
“I got away. I have… I’ve a new boyfriend now. He got me out.”“Good for him.” The big man sighs and sips his blackberry tea.
“I’m very glad, Seth. You never deserved any of that.” A faintly guilty look passes over his face.
“I ought to have done more, even back then. Not like that backstabbing bastard could do anything to me.”Seth chuckles, though not in mirth.
“He would’ve if he could get away with it. You know he would.” Shyly, he reaches across the cafe table and squeezes Mr Batista’s hand.
“I never forgot how kind you were, Mr Batista. I’m sorry I didn’t take your advice when I could.”“Call me Dave.” Mr Batista -
Dave
- turns his hand palm up to hold Seth’s fingers.
*
“How much?”

“How… I don’t understand, sir.”

“You’re a paid escort, aren’t you?”

“Um, no, sir. Master sent me.”

“…Master? Hang on, what are you saying?”

“Hunter. He’s, um, he’s my dom. He said I have to make you feel good. Oh god, was I… If I wasn’t good enough, please, if I didn’t - please don’t tell him-”

“Hey, hey, don’t panic, it’s good, we had fun last night, I won’t tell him anything other than that.”

“…thank you.”

*
“Are you still living in New York?” Seth asks, as they walk back to Seth’s workplace.“Based in New York, but I also have work in LA and Manila. I spend too much time in the air nowadays.” Dave sighs and smiles, lines crinkling around his eyes. “Came by this week because I have to renovate my new building; Otis and Tucker came highly recommended.” He glances at Seth. “I’d give them the project, on one condition.”Amused, Seth raises an eyebrow. “Isn’t that unethical?”
“It’s my company. Anyway, they do good work. I just want you to be the liaison, email me with regular updates.” They're already at the glass door and both Mandy and Sonya are pretending not to be looking at them. The big man flashes a grin at the two girls and holds out a hand to Seth. “I’d like to keep an eye on you in my way.”His concern touches Seth. The young man ducks his head, blushing, before he takes Dave's hand and shakes it. “I can do that,” he promises.
*

“Seth, you wanna leave with me, come to New York?”
“What? No, no I can’t, I’m
loyal.”
“Hunter scares you. I don’t like that.”

“He doesn’t - he gets angry only when I’m stupid, but I’m getting better, I know I can make him proud of me-”

“Shh, hush. It’s okay, then. Just… be careful, kid. Be careful.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“You want to what?” Joe pauses in the middle of kissing Mustafa.Mustafa is flushed from face to chest, his chest heaving from their make-out. He stammers, at first, trying to form the words. Eventually he gives up and hides his face in Joe’s neck. Joe loves when he gets the young man too flustered to be coherent. He keeps one hand on Mustafa’s hip, and his other hand smooths down the sweat-slick back.
Once Mustafa gathers his composure, he murmurs, “I wanna fuck you, Daddy.”That is surprising. Mustafa hasn’t indicated that he is dissatisfied with their usual arrangement. Gently pulling on Mustafa’s hair so his boyfriend stops hiding, Joe peers down and smiles. “You want to fuck me, baby? Right now?”“Yeah.” Mustafa’s voice is very small and full of doubt, like he thinks it’s too much to ask from Joe. “But only if you’re okay with it.”Joe isn’t a fan of being penetrated. He’s tried it, when he was younger, because it’s only fair to know how it feels for his partners, but he didn’t like it then and he doubts he’ll like it now. Mustafa is back to pressing kisses to Joe’s neck and jaw, his fingers plucking at the big man’s nipples and scratching lightly over his chest. Joe drops his head back to let Mustafa work while he considers the request.Finally, he grabs the back of Mustafa’s neck and pulls him off. The younger man purrs at the manhandling, his lips parting on a sigh. After coaxing a kiss from him, Joe says, “It’s not really my thing but, alright, baby. Make Daddy feel good.”***It does not feel good.Joe doesn’t hate it - how could he? It’s his Mustafa, his baby, doing his best with fingers and tongue and lots of lube to open him up - but he can’t really relax into it. Instead of focusing on the unwelcome intrusion, Joe admires the lines of Mustafa’s shoulders, his silky hair a mess of tangles from where Joe’s grabbed him; the younger man is clearly enjoying himself with Joe’s erection in his mouth and his fingers up Joe’s ass, his eyes shut to focus on what he’s doing.Then he pulls off Joe’s cock with a wet pop, a thin line of saliva trailing from his plump lips, and his cheeks are red. Joe smiles at him and grabs another pillow to tuck under his hips. He doesn’t want to be on his knees even though he trusts Mustafa; the uneasiness of someone behind him will further reduce what little pleasure he can gain from this. Nonetheless, the younger man looks so contented that Joe feels a gentle warmth bloom through him. That look in Mustafa's eyes make it worth the surrender of control.“Come on, baby,” Joe urges, and Mustafa slots himself between Joe’s thick thighs with an eagerness more befitting a puppy, his eyes bright and his smile wide and happy. Mustafa swallows nervously as he slicks up his cock. The older man hooks an ankle behind him and pulls him a little closer. “Baby, Daddy’s waiting.”“Oh god.” Mustafa’s voice is shaky, but he pushes in steadily and firmly. Biting the inside of his cheek, Joe exhales slowly and relaxes, accepting the intrusion. Mustafa is visibly trembling now, his palms on Joe’s thighs clammy, and Joe thinks he sees a glimmer of tears in the younger man’s dark eyes. “Daddy, you’re so hot, fuck, I can’t… I don’t think I can-”“Baby, it’s alright, I’m good,” Joe reassures him. The intimacy of having his lover in him is worth any irritation and soreness.
Mustafa presses closer, with his hands now braced on Joe’s shoulders as his hips flex. Joe runs his hands along Mustafa’s arms and grips the side of the young man’s neck gently, urging him on. It feels like a long time before Mustafa is fully in him, and Joe has to swallow his unease. He's done this once, and that had been an unpleasant experience; this is better, barely. It's nowhere near as good as Finn described it to be.
Breathing heavily, the young man starts moving, and soft, high gasps escape his lips on every thrust. Joe grounds his heels into the mattress and concentrates on Mustafa’s sweet, open face of adoration and love, and watches the flex of his pert ass driving into Joe. There’s a growing ache in Joe’s lower back and he’s going to feel this for a couple of days.The big man can’t get more than half-hard like this, and he’s okay with that; Mustafa asked to fuck him, and Joe will satisfy him. Mustafa picks up the pace, one hand hiking Joe’s left leg up more, and he’s lost to his own pleasure, face twisting into a new expression that Joe’s never seen before and that is a gift he hasn’t expected.
Eventually, though, the discomfort becomes hard to ignore. Joe cups Mustafa’s cheek and presses his thumb into his mouth, pushing hard on his tongue. “Come on, baby, come in Daddy now.”Mustafa whimpers and tenses as his cock pulses, his shoulders shaking with effort, and then he just goes limp and collapses on Joe. The older man cradles him, wincing as Mustafa’s cock slips out of him, and then tugs the pillows out from under his hips. Damn, his back is going to hate him in the morning. While Mustafa catches his breath, he presses his face into Joe’s neck again. To Joe’s concern, he can feel Mustafa’s cheeks are wet.“You okay, baby?” Joe asks gently, lips pressed to the side of Mustafa’s forehead. “What’s wrong?”The young man's lower lip wobbles and his lashes glisten with tiny droplets. “I couldn’t - I was so focused on me… I didn’t make you come, I should’ve and I didn’t, how could I have been so selfish-”Joe sighs and kisses Mustafa on the mouth, tender and loving, before he can become more upset. “Baby, it’s okay. It felt alright. I felt good with you inside me. I don’t like being penetrated, that's all. But it was nice, you obviously loved it, and I love when you’re enjoying yourself.”“But…” Mustafa looks rebellious even as he sniffs. “You didn’t come.”“Doesn’t mean it wasn’t good.” Joe kisses him again and sighs when he sees the crestfallen look on his face. “You really wanna make it up to me?”Mustafa nods.Joe smiles, the predatory one that always gets the younger man ready for some fun. “Alright, baby. Go get a towel, clean me up, then grab a couple of your favorite toys. Daddy’s gonna play with you until you beg to stop.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Joe noticed it last week, but didn’t think it was something he should mention, but seeing Tyler again scratching absently at the crook of his left arm raises alarm bells in the back of his mind.

He doesn’t speak to the brat, though. Tyler is currently with Seth and Roman and their friends Dean and Renee, the five of them playing darts and laughing. When Tyler isn’t engaged with any of the others, the smile on his face fades, but he instantly brightens when spoken to or when someone is looking at him. That worries Joe - if Tyler is putting on an act with Seth and Roman, then there’s something more serious brewing.

Finn is talking to Paige - probably imparting some knowledge about using the Grapevine - so Joe just signals to the Irishman before disappearing into his office.

It’s not been five minutes when Finn comes in, eyes bright with mischief. “You and I haven’t had office sex for ages.”

“And we’re still not having office sex,” Joe tells him. Then he swipes Finn’s feet off his desk as he sits down. “I’m concerned about Tyler.”

All hints of humor fades from Finn’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“You know what happened to him in the basement?”

“I do. Did he tell you?”

“You know that he knows you’ll tell me if you thought you should. And I think you should.” Joe chews on the inside of his cheek. “I saw him scratching at the inside of his elbow. Saw it last week too.”

Finn blows out a breath and leans back in the crappy plastic seat. He stares at Joe, unblinking, before he finally shakes his head. “He’s been calling me when Roman isn’t staying over,” he admits. “Princess is feeling the pull. I’ve got a rehab center sourced for him, just in case, but I’m... I don’t like that he doesn’t want to tell Roman.”

“What happened in that basement?”

“He got pissed on and his face rubbed in some vomit. You know how he is about humiliation.” The corner of Finn’s mouth curls slightly. “The main problem is that he knows what they planned for him. They were gonna get him hooked on drugs again, milk him as a cash cow.”

Joe sighs and kneads the top of his nose. “You should’ve told me.”

“I was dealing with it.”

“Well, now we’re both dealing with it. And Roman should know, too.”

“No. Tyler is adamant that Roman doesn’t know.”

“At least tell the guy that our brat may relapse,” Joe argues. “We need to make sure he’s prepared.”

Finn doesn’t budge. “If you tell Roman, Tyler’s going to be very angry at you. And you know he’s liable to do anything if he feels betrayed.”

And Joe does know. He grunts in frustration. Tyler came to him after Finn got him clean, but the socialite has always been honest about his struggle with addiction; his surrendering control to Finn and Joe is as much a displacement activity as it is a form of self-care, because neither of them will let him use again.

“Tyler has to tell Roman something,” Joe decides at last. “We can’t have the brat hurting while trying to protect Roman, and Roman knows that something is definitely wrong. Kid’s worried. And I don’t want him blindsided.”

Finn exhales slowly. Eventually, he nods and stands up, straightening his jacket. “Let’s get him in here.”

A text is sent to the blond, while Finn and Joe stare at each other, trying to determine through telepathy who should speak. When Tyler comes in, a brilliant smile on his pretty face, Finn’s the one to wave him in.

“Office sex? That’s not appropriate when our friends are outside,” Tyler quips.

Finn smiles and kisses him. “I wish it was office sex, but we’ve something to talk about.”

A look of concern flits across Tyler’s face. “You sound serious.”

“We are serious,” says Joe. He holds out a hand and Tyler takes it, willingly stepping into Joe’s arms. “We’re worried about you. Are you feeling stressed?”

“No more than usual. The business, the appearances, you know.” Tyler averts his gaze.

“Brat, don’t lie to me.” Joe takes Tyler by his chin to look him in his eyes. “Finn told me about the basement. About what they planned to do to you.” Panic flares in Tyler’s brown eyes, and Joe kisses him lightly on his lips. “Hey. You know Finn and I don’t keep secrets from each other. Be honest with me. Is it getting worse?”

He doesn’t have to explain what it is; Tyler licks his lips, shoulders tense, before he nods quickly, jerkily, and looks away again. Joe sighs and hugs him, rocking him gently in his thick arms.

“You silly brat,” he murmurs. “Pretty boy, you know you should’ve told me too. Both Finn and I will take care of you.”

“M’kay.” Tyler’s voice is suspiciously wobbly, but he burrows his face into Joe’s neck. “Thank you, Daddy.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Joe says. He presses another kiss to the side of Tyler’s head. “You have to tell Roman something, okay? Kid is worried as fuck about you. It’s not fair to him that he doesn’t know how to help you.”

“But-but,” Tyler straightens, his sweet brown eyes wide, “I don’t want him to know. I don’t want him to know what happened to me, the... the whole. No. I can’t.”

Finn comes over to smooth down Tyler’s golden hair. “You don’t have to share the details, princess, but you have to let him know that you’re struggling to keep clean. He’s with you more often than either of us, and I’ll teach him some ways to help distract you. And I’ll give him the number of the rehab center, just in case. Fair enough?”

Tyler bites his lower lip. “B-but I... He thinks I’m brave and strong and- I don’t want him to see how weak I am.”

“Oh, darling.” Finn pulls Tyler away from Joe and cups his cheeks. “Even the strongest and bravest people need someone to watch their backs. Plus, Roman knows you’ve struggled with this in the past. He’ll understand.” With a firm kiss to Tyler’s soft lips, Finn says, “Tell him tonight, okay? I want him to call me afterwards, to get the number of the rehab center. I’ll be expecting his call.”

Joe ruffles Tyler’s hair and smacks his butt. “And you text me once every night. One star for feeling balanced, five if you need me to step in.”

“Can I use eggplants instead?”

Rolling his eyes, Joe smiles with exasperated fondness. “Yes, brat. Eggplants are fine.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Tyler wanted a grand opening, but Mustafa shuts that down - he doesn’t want the gym to become a hangout for rich clients. There’s still a small celebratory opening though, and his family and friends show up in force. Cedric, Sasha and Bayley sign up for memberships immediately. When Tyler shows up - over forty-five minutes late with Roman being extra apologetic - he comes armed with dozens of Breezey swag bags that he gives away.

Joe doesn’t turn up at all. Cedric sniffs in disapproval. “He of all people should be here.”

“It’s Friday night, the bar is busy.”

“So? You’re his boyfriend.”

“And he’s already helped me lots with the gym,” Mustafa chides his best friend. Before he can say more, he hears his parents laughing, his father’s booming chortle instantly recognizable. Glancing over his shoulder, Mustafa’s mildly alarmed to see that Tyler is with them. “Sorry Ced, can you help me see if Dana and Emma have something to drink? I gotta get to my mom and dad.”

Mentally crossing his fingers and praying that the blond hasn’t said or done anything too outrageous, Mustafa winds his way through the guests until he gets to his parents. “Hey, how’s everything? Mom, do you need more of those mini matcha cakes?”

“No, dear, thank you. Tyler was just telling us that you’re his new personal trainer. You didn’t tell us!” Mustafa’s mum, Hazimah, pretends to scold him, slapping him on his arm. “A celebrity’s personal trainer! I’m proud of you. I was worried that you won’t be able to find a job after you quit.”

Personal trainer? Since when? Mustafa only smiles at Tyler, narrowing his eyes. “I’m not supposed to. Privacy issues and all that, you know?”

Tyler waves his hand about airily, playing up his ‘airheaded celebrity’ persona. “Ah, that’s not necessary. I told Stafa that he should let me organize a huge shindig so I could introduce him to more of my friends, but you know how modest he is. I mean, he’s the hero who saved me from a mugging, and he didn’t want any reward or recognition. Like, no one else in LA would be so selfless! They’d have been on Instagram with a video the second they knew they’d rescued me. And this silly guy said it’s okay, he doesn’t want anything. I had to insist on investing in this gym. Both of you have such a good son.”

Mustafa’s father, Rayan, pats Mustafa on the back. To Tyler, the older man says, “My boy didn’t tell us that it was you he saved from a mugging, and Joe wouldn’t say either. I’d half thought his injuries came from Joe hurting my son.“

“Joe would never-” Mustafa begins, indignant on Joe’s behalf, but Tyler laughs like Rayan has told a joke.

“Oh, Mr Rayan, Joe would more likely burn off his own face before he hurts a hair on Stafa’s pretty head!” Tyler says, then mock-whispers behind a hand, “If you ask me, Stafa is more likely to bully Joe than the other way round. Joe adores Stafa to bits. The way he looks at Stafa? It’s like he thinks Stafa hung the stars and the moon. It’s so romantic.” Tyler rolls his expressive eyes. “My Roman doesn’t ever look at me like that.”

Mustafa suppresses a groan. Instead, he takes Tyler by the hand to lead him away from his parents. “Thank you Tyler, it’s very lovely of you to say all that. I’m sure you haven’t said hi to Sasha or Bayley so let’s go.”

“Bye, Mr Rayan, Mrs Hazimah!” Tyler waves cheerfully at Mustafa’s parents. “Do follow me on Instagram, I’ll be posting workout videos with Stafa soon!”

Once out of earshot, Mustafa hisses, “You are not helping.”

“I’m making sure they’re proud of you!”

“Yes, and they will follow you on Instagram to see us training together,” Mustafa mutters.

Tyler rolls his eyes. “So? I am hiring you as my personal trainer. You can’t expect me to come here all the time - you’d have a paparazzi problem from day one. And I wanna see more of you. Daddy keeps stealing Roman away to go to shooting ranges on the weekends for hours.”

Mustafa sighs. So that’s what this is about. Tyler hasn’t let go of his hand, however, and when he looks up at Tyler’s pretty brown eyes, his heart softens. “Okay, fine. We’ll set up a schedule later.”

Tyler beams at him. “Yay! Love you, Stafa.” He pecks Mustafa on the cheek and then shoos him off. “Get back to your parents. Joe needs you to butter them up on his behalf. If they make you break up with him, I get to have him.”

“You’re incorrigible. I can’t stand you.” Mustafa’s grin belie his words. He’d love to kiss Tyler back, but now is not the time nor the place. It doesn’t matter though; they’ll find a moment soon.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Roman entered the relationship knowing that Tyler is kinky as they come, but he’s still a little embarrassed when he finds a selection of skirts, dresses, and women’s lingerie in Tyler’s extensive closet while digging for a pair of sparkly boots for his boyfriend.Tyler just grins when he notices Roman’s flustered blushing. “They’re really meant for scenes with Finn,” he tells Roman. “Something about me in lace or skirts got him hot and bothered, back when we first started. I still wear them sometimes when we play. And women’s lingerie is so pretty!”“But… Skirts?”Tyler extends his legs, currently clad in tight jeans. “Gotta show off the results of leg day, babe.” He takes the rhinestone-covered boots from Roman and kisses him. “Love you. Get to work. You’re gonna be late.”With Roman’s busy day, the contents of Tyler’s closet slip his mind. It’s past eleven when Roman comes home from the meeting with the organizers of an antique jewelry exhibition that he’s thinking of inviting Tyler to visit. His mind is going over shifts and security camera placements when he gets into the bedroom, so he doesn’t notice Tyler kneeling on the edge of the bed at first. Only when he’s pulled off his shirt does he realize that Tyler looks a little different than he did in the morning.“Welcome home,” says the blond, winking.“Hnnngh,” says Roman.Tyler is in a tight air attendant outfit, complete with a little hat. His face is shaved and he’s definitely put make-up on. The blond gets off the bed and poses. The skirt is very short. “Do you like this?”“Nnnhmmm,” Roman replies, intelligibly. With a coy smile, Tyler sashays over. He’s in sheer stockings and heels. Roman swallows. Tyler puts a hand on Roman’s chest. His nails are polished, and he flutters his lashes at him. “Thank you for choosing Air Breezy, sir.” He trails his fingers over his boyfriend’s broad chest and coos, “Allow me to show you to your seat. If you require additional services, I’d be more than happy to attend to you.” Tyler leans up and murmurs at Roman’s ear, “I’ll be certain to provide first class service, sir. Satisfaction guaranteed.”It’s too much for Roman, who sweeps his boyfriend up in his arms and marches towards the bed. Tyler laughs in delight, throwing his arms around the taller man’s neck. “I think you like me in this outfit.”“That’s enough talking from you,” Roman says. It turns out that he really likes Tyler in a short skirt. Easy access.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Mustafa stirs as Joe slips out of bed, cop instincts sharp, even as he sleeps. (They would never be enough to keep him alive against a man like Joe, but Joe is still impressed; the only other person who can so easily sense him, even in a dead sleep, is Finn.)

“Wha’ you doin’?” Mustafa slurs, his right arm reaching out, fingers curling inward as he whines a pouty, “‘s so early.”

Chuckling, Joe gives in and grasps Mustafa’s outstretched hand, leans down to press a firm kiss to his wrist, Mustafa’s pulse sleep-slow and even beneath his lips. “You’re usually up before the sun, baby,” he teases. “I’m the one who works nights. How is seven in the morning too early for you?”

A frown spreads, deepening the pout. “I’m up early when I have to

work

, you jerk.” Those gorgeous eyes remain closed, trying to keep the morning away with denial. (Joe finds it

adorable

.) “What’re you even doing?” he asks between a yawn.

Joe smooths a callus-rough fingertip over the soft skin on the back of Mustafa’s hand. “The girls ran the bar last night,” he tells the cop, “so that

we

could have another date night.” Here, Mustafa hums and

stretches

, lean body on display, the light bruises (

claim, claim, mark,

mine

) the softest of contrasts against his skin. “Someone’s gotta go down and check to make sure it’s both still standing and mine in at least the name.” (Paige has gotten his signature

down

in the last few months; if he weren’t so certain of her loyalty to him and her love of the bar, he’d be concerned.) “Finn and Seth are stopping by later, too, before they fuck off to whichever overpriced brunch bar that idiot Irishman wants to show off to the kid.”

It’s difficult for Joe to imagine a more beautiful sight than Mustafa Ali waking up, eyes an unnatural molten gold as the morning sunbeams shine through the gaps in the curtains, lips wide around another yawn, muscles flexing beneath smooth skin.

“

I

think you should stay right here, with me,” Mustafa declares, his tone remarkably reminiscent of Tyler’s (albeit at his

least

bratty).

Joe cocks an eyebrow. “Is that right?”

Humming, Mustafa nods as he settles back against the pillows, sparkling eyes closing, though he does nothing to hide the mischievous smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “If you’d rather spend your morning with someone you

aren’t

sleeping with-” (a jolt of something like guilt stabs into Joe, though he’s made it a point not to touch since he's been with Mustafa, not beyond the punishment he’d delivered to Seth and the Princess the night they’d interrupted his and Mustafa’s first date) “then go right ahead…” Here, his eyes open, shining with humor and the last remaining tendrils of sleep, lips quirking. “

Daddy

.”

Minx,

Joe thinks, chuckling, and moves to meet that sly smile with his own. “Don’t think that this is anything other than me

letting

you win, baby.”

(Finn will mock him for it later, whip imitation complete with sound effects, even as he hand feeds Seth a bowl of grapes, the young man comfortably resting his head on the older man’s thigh, as though he isn’t even further gone for Seth than Joe is for Mustafa.)

Mustafa laughs, soft and light, and Joe’s chest expands, his heart beating fast, the center of his chest burning with the intensity of it. “Of course not, Daddy.”

It’s a beautiful start to his morning.

(In the back of his mind, he dares to hope he can keep this forever.)

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Tyler knows it's cheating, but hanging mistletoe above every doorway in his new house while Roman was out hasn't been the easiest task, not least because the doorways are tall.

Still, the payoff has been worth it.

Right now, Roman has his back pressed to the doorframe to the office, and Tyler is on his knees, Santa hat askew on his blond head. Roman's groaning in the most pornographic way, his hair wet from his shower and hanging partly in his face, and he looks devastatingly handsome.

Tyler hums appreciatively and sucks another inch of his boyfriend's dick into his mouth. He's gonna draw this one out. Four blowjobs in one afternoon probably is terrible for Roman's concentration, and he still has to prep Christmas dinner.

"Babe, please, I need to- ohh. Oh god, oh god oh fuck oh godohgodohgod-" Roman chokes on the last bit, pulling out too late, and comes over Tyler's lips, dirtying his face and dark blond scruff.

Tyler licks himself clean. Yes, mistletoe is a great idea.

Hey, no one said the kisses had to be on the mouth.

***

Finn hardly ever plays the piano, but he's playing it now, soothing Christmas carols singing out of the grand instrument. Seth listens, happy and snug and warm from champagne.

It's like a scene from a movie: Finn as beautiful as always in a black tux, clever fingers dancing over ivory keys; clusters of lit candles around the penthouse; the new sheepskin rug on the floor where Seth is sprawled, bound with red satin ribbon around his wrists and ankles, and a special collar with a bell lovingly put on earlier before dinner.

Once Finn is done with "Oh Holy Night", he joins Seth on the rug and sets down his own glass of champagne on a silver tray. Running his right hand over Seth's lower abdomen, his knuckles brushing over the younger man's cock, the Irishman purrs, "What else does my sweetheart want to hear tonight?"

***

Mustafa doesn't celebrate Christmas, obviously, so Joe doesn't bother either, though he does give the girls the night off. He opens the bar for most of the evening, regardless. Someone's always in need of a drink in peace for a bit, before they go off doing whatever lowlifes do.

"See ya, Joe. Merry Christmas," says Viktor, tugging on his beat-up coat. He's the last to leave, so once he's gone, Joe pulls down the shutters and turns out the lights.

He then goes upstairs after cleaning and locking up. Mustafa has spent the day volunteering at a children's hospital, so Joe supposes he's asleep.

Mustafa is not asleep. He's in bed, naked, legs spread, and an array of new sex toys laid out neatly at the foot of the bed.

"Merry Christmas, Daddy," says Mustafa.

"You don't celebrate it," Joe says, though he admires the view anyway.

The younger man shrugs. "I figured, if I need an excuse to give presents..." He winks at his boyfriend. "Besides, I'm fairly sure I'm on the nice list this year."

Joe grins and pulls off his shirt. "Well then. Nice boys should be rewarded." He picks up a candy cane striped ball gag. "Let's start with this."

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

It’s the way Finn listens, the way he angles his entire body toward Seth’s, eyes as intense as the morning sky brewing a storm, his mouth set in a half-smile as he takes Seth’s hand, thumb callus rubbing Seth’s across his palm as it sneaks across his love line.

It’s the way he holds Seth in the middle of the night, when the nightmares taunt him, when Hunter’s cruel laugh echoes in his mind and wrecks his soul until Finn’s voice breaks through, low and comforting and safe.

It’s the way Finn never pushes, never demands Seth risk his journey by putting him in situations he isn’t quite ready to take just yet, thanks Seth for trusting him so far as to even consider it, holds him in his arms as Seth tries to forget the man who made him this way.

It’s the way Finn makes him feel

normal

again, ready to retry the things he couldn’t fathom once before, reminding him that he is safe and sane and

perfect

at all times.

It’s the way Finn loves him that gives Seth hope, but it’s the way he’s come to love himself again that gives him the freedom to love Finn in return.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“Do you think I should order a diesel generator for our trip?”

“What?” Roman looks up from his tablet to see Tyler staring intently with a slight frown at his own tablet, one finger poised in the air. “Babe, what are you talking about?”

Tyler glances over. “You know, our trip into the wilderness next weekend. We’ll need power, right? Won’t we need, like, electricity?”

With a sigh and then a quiet laugh, Roman sets aside his work and goes over to kiss his boyfriend. “Babe,” he says, very seriously, “we’re just going to a cabin in the woods. We’ll have electricity, and a modern toilet, and we’re gonna be fine.”

“We won’t have internet service though,” Tyler says, pouting. “I’m going to be so out of touch by the time we get back.”

Still grinning, Roman kisses him on the forehead and flicks the same spot, making him yelp. “It’s just one weekend, babe, you’re just going to have to suck it up and bear with it.”

Tyler rolls his pretty brown eyes. “Fine. If a Kardashian murders someone over the weekend and I didn’t get to hear about it because we’re off ‘roughing it’, you’re gonna pay.”

*

The cabin is small, in Tyler’s opinion, though nothing can possibly be smaller than Roman’s two bedroom apartment, which, thankfully, Roman no longer leases. Tyler visited just once, out of curiosity, and never returned. There's only so much he will endure for his boyfriend, and a bathroom without a tub is not on the list.

At least this cabin has a good-sized kitchen for Roman to work in, a decent queen-sized bed, and the single bathroom looks clean, with subway tiles on the wall and deep gray slate flooring. There is a clawfoot tub, too, even if it’s not big enough for them both to share, as well as a shower.

The weather is going to become colder through the weekend, however; Tyler still has reservations about staying in a tiny cabin in the middle of the woods in Maine in October, but Roman hasn't had time off for all of spring and summer, so they're going to make the best of it. Besides, Roman promised a cozy time.

“Tyler, help with the groceries,” Roman calls out. "I'm gonna grab some wood for the fireplace."

"I know I wanna grab some wood," Tyler mutters to himself as he puts away the supplies. Squash, carrots, cabbage, steaks, bacon, cereal, berries, apples, juice boxes (what the hell?), beer, wine (thank fuck), ... "Where are my snacks?"

He scrunches up the plastic bags - they'll use the bags for their trash - and heads outside to ask Roman about the rest of their food, but stops the second he sees his boyfriend.

His tall, muscled, tattooed, sweaty, practically shirtless boyfriend. With an ax. Chopping wood.

Tyler whimpers.

Roman swings the ax down and the log snaps apart with a satisfying crack. When he straightens, he spies Tyler at the door and lifts up his protective goggles. His red flannel shirt, the one Tyler has teased him mercilessly about for the entire trip, is now unbuttoned, how rude. "Babe, hey. I'm almost done, gonna split another log. Joe said that would last us for the weekend, unless there's unexpected snow."

"Yeah, I'll wait. Here. While you do that," says Tyler. He marvels that he kept his voice steady, considering that he's picturing himself bending over that stump so Roman can work with a different kind of wood. Ax not necessary.

Roman doesn't seem to notice. After placing another log on the stump, he raises his arms (Tyler notices how beautifully the light catches on his bronze skin) and swings down, splitting the wood neatly in half. Then he splits the seasoned wood into quarters, then eighths, as if he's done this all his life.

Tyler says as much when he helps to gather up the firewood.

"I had to do it back as a kid, and Dad said it was character-building to chop firewood for the lovely old folks living next door," Roman says, "except we were in Florida so it wasn't like we needed firewood of any sort. I think Dad just wanted me working out my teenage energy."

"I have to meet your parents soon and thank your father for insisting," Tyler says with an innocent smile. He carries the cut wood inside, careful not to let the fibers or bark catch on his clothes.

Roman chuckles. "You're finally ready to meet my parents? They've only wanted to meet you since, I dunno, the moment they heard we were dating."

It's not really a big deal, but it is a big deal to Tyler. He fights down the initial rejection and instead says, "I'll go meet them, on one condition."

"What's that?"

"Stay dressed like a lumberjack and fuck me right now."

Roman's eyebrows climb, his wide mouth curving with a smug smile. "Knew you'd want some once you see this getup." He removes the goggles and advances on Tyler who's kneeling on the rug in front of the fireplace. "It was fucking cold with the shirt unbuttoned."

"Fuck the cold. You should've gone shirtless completely," Tyler murmurs before Roman's lips close over his.

The tall man still has his gloves on as he pulls off Tyler's long-sleeved shirt, and the texture of those rough work gloves over Tyler's skin is more tantalizing than he thought possible. He whines as Roman assaults his neck with his bearded mouth, while his gloved hands play over his nipples. The flannel shirt is soft in Tyler's grip and he whines again, torn between wanting Roman to remove the shirt and wanting Roman to fuck him with the shirt on.

He jolts when his hand falls on bare floor. "Babe, hang on, we gotta turn up the heat. I don't want pneumonia."

"Do people even get pneumonia these days?" Roman murmurs, still mouthing greedily at Tyler's neck, like a persistent vampire trying to locate the best place to bite. "I'll turn up the heat, don't worry."

"Babe, I'm serious. It's barely forty-five degrees and the sun's going down."

With a grumble, Roman stands up, showing off just how much he's enjoying their making out. Then he smiles smugly and winks at Tyler. "I've already cut the wood, might as well make use of it."

Tyler bites his lower lip, his skin prickling from the chill and also from anticipation, as Roman starts a fire. It takes him a few tries before the wood is crackling happily, but the flames do catch, and soon Roman is back on top of Tyler again. He strips his boyfriend mercilessly, ignoring the blond man's weak protests, and takes off one of his gloves to dig around a pocket of his jeans.

"Babe, you good with a bit of rough?" Roman mutters as he finally locates his condom. "Kinda wanna just fuck you without prep, but only if you're good with that."

Tyler bites his lower lip and nods. The rug is comfortable enough, and having his sexy Samoan beast of a boyfriend in a flannel shirt and jeans looking like the rugged lead of some cheesy romance novel is turning him on in a way he didn't expect. "Keep your clothes on," he begs.

"Can't fuck you if my dick is in my pants."

"Well, yes, I want that, but don't take the jeans off. Just-" Sitting up, Tyler hastens to help Roman undo his belt and fly, reaching inside to grope his boyfriend's erection. He practically coos when Roman starts grinding against his hand. "Come on, babe, make like a lumberjack and work that wood."

Roman pauses and stares at Tyler, an eyebrow raised. "Jokes like that will kill the libido."

"Oh come on," Tyler begs with a mischievous glint in his pretty eyes. "Shiver me timbers now."

"That's for pirates," says Roman, but he hauls his boyfriend's bare ass onto his lap once he has rolled thr condom onto his stiff cock. "Ready?"

Tyler takes a deep breath and exhales, shaky and warm, as Roman breaches him. Another slow breath and he sinks down, thankful that they had sex earlier that day and so he's not too tight for this to hurt.

The flannel under Tyler's hands is soft, and he can feel the roughness of denim (and the cool metal of the zipper) under his ass and thighs; Roman's bare chest glistens, and even the scar across his belly seems gilded.

Roman nuzzles the tender skin under Tyler's jaw. "Ride me, babe, I wanna watch you fall apart."

"You gonna catch me?"

"Yeah. Promise." Roman pulls Tyler in for a punishingly sweet kiss. "You're in safe hands."

Tyler obliges and begins moving. True to his word, Roman keeps his hands - one gloved, one bare - on his hips, and his eyes skate from Tyler's face down to his erection and back up.

It's barely a few minutes when Roman shoves Tyler down, hard, making him gasp, and then pulls out. Ignoring Tyler's protests, he rolls them onto the blond man's back.

"Hang on now," Roman warns, a feral smirk on his lips, his nose wrinkling slightly just before he shifts Tyler's left leg over his shoulder. Then he thrusts into Tyler again, who gasps with delight, his eyes rolling back in his head. Somehow, Roman feels thicker in him. "Yeah, yeah this works. This is better."

His gloved hand grabs Tyler's left knee and his bare hand grips the back of Tyler's neck. He takes a deep breath before he starts pounding into his boyfriend in earnest, sucking Tyler's thumb into his mouth and biting lightly on the knuckle. Tyler's free hand is tangled in the collar of the red flannel shirt, twisting and pulling as he fights for air and leverage. He can't push back much against Roman, almost entirely at his mercy, and he moans, high and sweet, when Roman releases his thumb and begins sucking at the crook of his neck and under his ear, his hot breath heavy and damp.

Blindly, Tyler grips what he can of Roman's shoulders, the flannel shirt making it hard for him to get much purchase. Roman works hard, his hips thrusting quick and hard, chasing Tyler towards the edge, relentless and ravenous.

"Roman, Roman," Tyler cries out breathlessly, before his back arches and his voice cracks. He comes in a sticky mess between them, and whimpers when Roman doesn't stop, doesn't even slow, his fingers clutching weakly at the red shirt and trying to tangle into Roman's dark hair.

With a low, quiet grunt, Roman suddenly tenses, and then his hips jolt and jerk. Tyler is gasping, eyes tearing up from over-sensitivity, and presses his slack lips to Roman's forehead and cheek. His heart is racing wildly. Roman buries his face in Tyler's neck. Now and again his tongue darts out to lap at where he was sucking on Tyler's skin, as if trying to prove to himself that he didn't inflict any hurt.

They stay cuddled for a while. Eventually, Roman slips out of him, and then ties off the condom to toss it at the wastebasket near the coffee table. It lands on the rim.

"That looks so floppy and sad," Tyler comments, and for some reason that sets him off into a giggle fit. "A floppy condom. Floppy dick."

Roman pulls his laughing boyfriend into his arms and kisses the top of his head. "You ridiculous man," he mumbles. "You're the only one who makes me want to be this silly for you every day."

Tyler wipes the tears from his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that I love you, babe," Roman answers. "I mean that I wanna make you laugh every damn day of my life, no matter how silly I have to be."

"Even dressing up as a lumberjack?"

"Yes. And enduring dumb jokes about timber and lumber and whatnot."

"Well, you know how it is. Once you go wood, nothing's as good."

"Tyler..."

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

They don't spend a lot of time together by themselves. Usually, Finn or Mustafa is around; it's a rare occasion for Joe to have Seth all to himself.

The younger man is watching him, his breathing steady with the occasional sniff, a hitched inhalation. Once they're done here, Joe will call Finn to pick up his pretty boy. He hasn't forgotten how he very nearly shot Seth in the head that time, and has no wish to traumatize Seth again.

But having Seth here in his bed is a small, hard-won victory. Seth has been skittish about being alone with Joe ever since the gun incident - the older man doesn't blame him one bit - and it took a lot of courage for Seth to lower his defenses.

A vulnerable Seth Rollins is a beautiful sight: pretty brown eyes large and tearful, soft mouth forced wide around the ball gag, hands bound to his ankles, forced to his knees, entirely at Joe's mercy. The large man can appreciate why Finn is obsessed.

Seth's skin, though not as fair as Finn's, glows lushly pink where he's been spanked, the marks of Joe's hands a vivid pattern over a firm ass. The skin is already raw, almost angry-looking. Joe licks his lips, darkly satisfied at the thought of the bruises that will follow.

The dark flush of Seth's twitching cock nestled in thick black curls is enticing, too, but Joe ignores it, choosing instead to play his work-roughened fingertips over the younger man's nipples, pinching and twisting to pull helpless, hitching moans from Seth's throat.

"I could make you come like this," Joe murmurs, dragging his fingers down Seth's chest, slowing to circle his belly button, before returning to tug his face back by his long hair and baring his long throat. "But that's not enough, is it, sweetheart?"

Seth shook his head, his motions limited by the older man's tight hold. Tears stain his face, into his soft beard, down his neck to pool at his clavicle and trailing down, mingled with beads of sweat.

Joe's upper lip curls in a sneer. "You're just starving for it, aren't you? You're quivering, thinking of how it's gonna feel when Daddy finally takes you, claims you. Remind you exactly whose boy you are." He leans in, his voice an even lower, more menacing growl, "After tonight, you won't be able to breathe without remembering how it feels to have me in you."

Seth's only response is a high-pitched whine, his big doe eyes damp and wide, pupils blown dark with want.

Joe shifts the younger man onto his back, and looms over him. Seth grips his ankles with his hands, his skin breaking out in goosebumps with anticipation.

"If I had my way," Joe purrs, "I'd keep you like this for days. Teach you exactly what it means to be Daddy's boy. Have your legs spread for me all week, full of lube and come. Show me what an absolutely filthy boy you can be for Daddy."

Seth whimpers. Joe grins and thrusts his thick fingers into Seth again, rough and demanding, and watches as the young man struggles to get some leverage, struggles for breath around the ball gag, struggles against the bindings on his wrists and ankles. His erection is a deep pink, wet with pre-ejaculate, twitching like it needs to be touched.

Instead, Joe removes his hand, and then with a slow, sensual slide of his big palm up Seth's sternum until his hand is over Seth's throat, Joe leans in and whispers, harsh and deadly, "Remember who freed you first."

As he pushes his own cock into Seth's heat, he feels rather than hears the younger man's cry trapped behind the gag, and then Joe tightens his grip on Seth's neck. Seth's eyes grow larger, blinking rapidly, his nostrils flaring. The older man doesn't relax his grip. His own breathing grows labored, and he watches almost ravenously as Seth's face turns red before his eyes roll back into his head. His entire body goes taut, clenching down on Joe's cock like a hot vise, before he comes over his belly and, like a cut bowstring, goes entirely slack.

That's right. Joe grins and lets go of Seth's neck. The younger man inhales sharply, his breath raspy. Hoisting Seth's legs over his shoulders, Joe starts fucking the younger man who's only just coming to, and doesn't stop even as Seth strains and struggles against his hold, doesn't stop even as Seth's tears pour from his face, not until he's crested past his climax, his thick cock pulsing in release, an inward rush of sensation and satisfaction.

Then he slides out of Seth and releases the bindings. To Joe's displeasure, Seth pulls the gag off without waiting for Joe's orders, but before the older man can admonish him, Seth practically leaps to straddle Joe and presses his mouth to Joe's, teeth scraping and biting at Joe's lips, tongue pressing forward to try to invade his mouth.

"Daddy," Seth gasps, hands now scratching down Joe's hefty torso, reaching down to be rid of the condom, "again, please Daddy, again, one more time, that was amazing-"

Joe pinches Seth's ass. "Brat." He grabs the back of Seth's head by his hair and tugs, hard. Seth whines, biting his reddened lower lip. It's an exact copy of Tyler at his naughtiest. Joe snorts and shakes Seth lightly. "Brat. Impatient boy. You're not getting what you want from Daddy until you've been taught a lesson."

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"Hold still... And that's done." Tyler grins and puts away his eyeliner pencil. "Wow, hello hotness."

Mustafa blinks rapidly, trying to get rid of the scratchy feeling. "It's so uncomfortable. Women do this every day?"

"Lots of men too. The things they do to look beautiful," Tyler says with a dramatic sigh. He slaps Mustafa's hand away before the latter can touch his eyes. "You are not smudging my hard work. Take a look at yourself."

Mustafa cranes his neck around Tyler, who's straddling him, and sees his made up face for the first time. His eyes - he knows his eyes are his best feature, though Joe prefers his mouth - his eyes are more striking than usual, his warm brown irises appearing almost molten bronze. It's strange assessing his own looks though, but he is starting to see why some people love makeup.

"I look so different," he says, full of wonder.

Tyler preens. "That's because I am the literal best. Now show me some gratitude." He puckers up and his eyebrows wiggle teasingly.

Mustafa bites his own lips, and then leans in while he sneakily swipes a lip color from the dressing table. Then, just as they are about to kiss, Mustafa pulls back and smears Tyler's mouth with what turns out to be a bright pink lipstick.

Tyler is scandalized. "My Chanel lipstick!" He tries to snatch it out of Mustafa's hand, but Mustafa only tosses the little lipstick back on the dressing table before capturing both of Tyler's arms behind his back, tugging the blond man close enough to feel his breath. They're both panting, and not from exertion. Tyler shifts so his legs spread a little more, and Mustafa grips Tyler's wrists more securely.

"You know," Mustafa muses aloud, nose trailing up Tyler's bare neck, tongue drawing a thin line to his ear, "I bet that you and me like this would get Daddy a little hot and bothered."

Tyler hums with languorous pleasure. "You're probably right." He grinds his hips down playfully, startling a moan out of Mustafa. "But we should rehearse first before we put on a show for Daddy, don't you think?"

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

"What are you dressing up as for Tyler's Halloween party?" Finn asks. His naked body is littered with pink suck marks and several small bruises, the former courtesy of Mustafa and the latter Joe.

Joe tosses a faded gray bathrobe at him. "Cover up. You're a menace to society."

"Bet you weren't thinking that when you were trying to suck my soul out through my dick." Finn shrugs the bathrobe on but leaves it untied, and leers at a freshly-showered Mustafa coming out of the bathroom. "Can't believe you're all scrubbed down before I got another go at that cute butt."

"No one is going anywhere near my cute butt for a week." Mustafa scrunches up his nose. "I should tell you both to stop using my ass to keep score."

Finn laughs and asks, "Have you thought about what to wear for Tyler's Halloween bash?"

"i was thinking pirate."

"A slutty pirate I hope, with unbuttoned shirt and tight leather pants and eyeliner," Finn says. "Lots of bandannas and stuff to tie people up with."

Mustafa's lips curve coyly. "I might just be." He pulls on a ratty old T-shirt and a pair of board shorts. "What about you and Seth?"

"Seth's thinking he wants to try a full-on Elton John glam pimp look, with feathered boa and bedazzled shades and all that shit. Tyler's helping him with that." Finn sighs and stretches, looking delectably obscene in the unmade bed. "I'm thinking werewolf, or maybe recreate that demon outfit I wore that one time in Tokyo."

"Oh hell no," Joe interjected. "You'll be jumped the second you step into the party and it'll turn into an orgy or something."

Mustafa is intrigued. "Now I wanna see it."

"I could put on a proper suit outside with a devil's tail and horns for the main evening and show you what's underneath after that," Finn suggests, wagging his eyebrows suggestively. Then he grins. "Or I could dress as a ninja. Wouldn't you like that, Joe?"

To Mustafa's surprise and further curiosity, Joe turns slightly pink around the ears. The big man grumbles something under his breath and escapes to the bathroom to take his own shower.

Finn is laughing, so Mustafa plants himself next to the Irishman and cuddles up to ask, "What's with the ninjas?"

"Joe once got himself, uh, kidnapped by ninjas," Finn tells him, looking so sincere and innocent that Mustafa knows whatever he's saying is pure bullshit. Finn leans over to murmur in the younger man's ear. "One of those was me, of course. We tied him up and brought him to my dungeon. My boys and girls at my old club had lots of fun with him. He'll pretend he was coerced into it, but let's just say I offered to let him go after I took the first turn on the ride, but he insisted on being fair to everyone."

"Everyone?" Mustafa licks his lips.

"Everyone."

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

After so many years of playing with Finn and Joe and challenging his own sexual boundaries, Tyler is rediscovering a different kind of joy in little, everyday intimacy with Roman.

Roman hasn’t moved in with Tyler yet; he says he wants them to have their own space. Tuesdays through Thursdays, Tyler doesn’t get to see Roman in person, which means he’s always excited for Friday mornings when Roman comes in the door with treats - organic almond cookies or mango-banana shakes. They have a ritual now: a kiss to the forehead, then the lips, and then a hug. They hold hands when they take Prince Pretty out for his walk; they talk about the week, their work, their friends; anything they think about.

Although Roman has to work on the occasional weekend, he always makes it a point to spend the night at Tyler’s. They don’t always have sex on those nights - if it has been an exhausting event, Roman has no energy to get frisky between the sheets - but they always cuddle together, enjoying a movie or listening to some music. Roman likes to lay his head on Tyler’s lap when he’s tired, and let the blond comb through his hair with his fingers.

They take Seffy to the dog shelter and the dog park on Saturday afternoons, before they have dinner together, to give Galina and Brad some alone time. If Roman’s ex has a date night, then Seffy stays over at Tyler’s in her very own room. The decor has moved away from witches and unicorns to Disney villains. There have been a few Sundays when the brave hero Roman has to rescue innocent and pure Tyler from the traps designed by the Magician Queen of the World, Sefina the Fearsome. It’s wholesome fun, though Tyler always has to fight the giggles whenever he’s described as
‘innocent’ or
‘pure’.

They go to Joe’s bar now and then, or hang out at Mustafa’s gym, or have lunch with Seth and Finn. They visit The Playroom
occasionally if Tyler feels the need to shed the shell he builds around himself to deal with his life. It’s a lot easier for Tyler to let down part of his mask, now that he’s got Roman, who sees Tyler as he is - with his pettiness and vanity and tantrums and perverseness and irrational fears - and still loves him, ferociously and protectively. Even so, there’s a catharsis that Tyler finds only in his sessions with Finn or Joe. Roman sits in the waiting room with some materials he needs to look over, and when the session is almost up, he puts his materials away and goes into the dungeon to take care of his boyfriend. Warm towels, soft kisses, gentle words; Finn cleans Tyler up and Roman holds him close, shielding him from the edges of the world.

After taking lessons, Tyler gets better at cooking and surprises Roman once a month with homemade dinner. On those nights, with a bottle of wine and good food, they laugh more than they talk and they kiss more than they laugh, and Tyler thinks that he has found home.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

A heat wave has hit Los Angeles, so Tyler and Roman lounge around shirtless as often as possible even in the air-conditioned house. Even the bodyguards and staff have been given permission to swap out their suits for polo tees, and a second fridge installed in the staff's pantry to hold beverages.

Even so, Tyler can't help going a little cross-eyed with lust every time Roman settles down at the couch with his laptop or folders. It's not the lack of shirt, not entirely; it's the combination of intricate tattoos, hair bun, and glasses, along with Roman's utter ignorance of his hotness. Tyler takes a few photos and saves them to his own private, encrypted folder.

Part of Tyler wants to jump Roman's bones every time he sees his boyfriend looking all serious and focused, but he also knows that Roman is planning the security for three major events and is a little frazzled. Roman is so absorbed in his work that they've not had sex for two weeks, which is driving Tyler a little insane. It will be another weekend before Tyler gets to have his boyfriend to himself. He makes do with ogling Roman and jerking off in the shower.

*

"If you're feeling pent up," Roman tells him when Tyler complains about the lack of sex one morning, "why not go to Joe or Finn?"

"They're not you," Tyler points out with a pout.

Roman does seem quite apologetic about it and gives his boyfriend a blowjob before he leaves for the venue for some team meeting.

(Tyler does go to Finn, who thinks it's hilarious to make Tyler even hornier by fingering him and not letting him come, no matter how Tyler begs him. Joe is nicer, and fucks him hard and rough against a wall, but it doesn't erase the need to have sex with Roman.)

*

The morning after Roman's third event, Tyler is awakened by Roman's large hand fondling his chest. The groping stirs an urge, warm and needy between his legs. "Mm?"

"Morning babe," Roman murmurs. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too," says Tyler with a sleepy smile, and moans as Roman's hand slides downward to stroke his half-hard cock to fullness. It's a good thing we both sleep naked, Tyler thinks. Pliant and relaxed, he lets Roman roll him onto his back.

Roman straddles Tyler and kisses him, his long dark hair smelling deliciously of coconut. Tyler tangles his fingers into his boyfriend's tresses and tugs lightly, sighing with pleasure when Roman gently pins his wrists to the bed.

"Hold them there," Roman says. He doesn't threaten to punish, but Tyler doesn't need that to obey.

As Tyler holds his wrists over his head, he watches Roman tie his hair up behind his head in a bun and then reach for his glasses on his own pillow.

A grin spreads over Tyler's face. "Babe, really?"

"I'd have to be blind not to notice your drooling whenever you saw me like this," says Roman. He shifts and grabs a condom and their bottle of lube from the nightstand. "And I... I have a mighty need." He bends to kiss Tyler again, deep and filthy, and whispers, "I need your cock in my ass."

"Fuck yes." Tyler breathes out and shudders as Roman unrolls the condom on him, then when his boyfriend slicks him up with more lube. His eyelids flutter shut as Roman takes hold of him and slowly sinks onto his erection with a guttural moan. "Oh fuck, yes."

Roman is silent as always, his big hands - one slick with lube, the other still dry, sliding up Tyler's chest. Then he smiles and says, "Alright, babe. You can move your hands now. Can I start?"

Tyler grips Roman's thick waist with his left hand and his right closes around Roman's thick cock. "Let's fucking go."

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Roman couldn’t be at the party earlier, the one Angel Garza threw and Tyler had to attend for work purposes, but now he wishes he had gone. But Seffy is here tonight and he’d wanted some father-daughter time. He’s had lots of fun making dinosaur cookies with her.

When Tyler came home smelling of cigarettes and booze and other people’s fragrances, he looked a pale shadow of himself, though he smiled and kissed Roman like he always does.

As Roman waits in bed, scrolling through Twitter to check pictures that have Tyler tagged in them, he wonders why his boyfriend puts himself through the grind like that. Tyler doesn’t need to work; he’s got investment properties around the world that he rents out. He supposes it’s because Breezey is Tyler’s brainchild, each design inspired by his sketches that his team turns into apparel, and he is determined to make it succeed.

Roman is so lost in his musings that he doesn’t realize how long it is taking Tyler to wash up. The blond hardly ever takes more than half an hour when Roman is waiting in bed for him. The Samoan sets his phone aside and goes to the en-suite bathroom.

“Babe?” He knocks on the door. “You okay in there?”

It’s silent, at first, and then he hears water running - the sink, not the shower - and then a clatter and crash. Alarmed, Roman tries to open the door, only to find that it’s locked. Tyler never locks Roman out of any room, ever.

“Ty, I’m coming in,” he warns, and shoves roughly through the door. The lock splinters.

Tyler stares at him, wide-eyed and breathing hard. In his right is the hand towel, damp, and the toothbrushes and toothpaste are on the tiled floor, along with a handful of bottles, all skincare products. In his left is a black card.

But Roman only notices the fine white powder on the counter and scattered on the slate gray tile.

“Roman,” Tyler begins, his voice shaky. “It’s not.. It’s not what you think.”

“Isn’t it? Because this looks like… Tyler. This looks like you’re doing coke.” The Samoan’s jaw tenses. “Babe. Were you doing coke in here?”

Tyler opens his mouth, as if he’s about to defend himself further, when he drops the card in his hand and his pretty eyes well up with tears. “I fucked up. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please don’t be mad at me.”

“Where did you get that?” Roman asks. He is mad. The blond is shaking and terrified, like he thinks Roman will hurt him for relapsing. Roman is angry because Seffy is here and there’s cocaine in their bathroom. “Did you buy it? Or has it been here, in this house, all this while?”

“I… I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t- I don’t know. I didn’t mean to.” Tyler glances at the powder on the counter and back at Roman, his frightened face crumpling. “I fucked up, didn’t I? Please, don’t be mad at me, I won’t do it again, I really haven’t done this in ages and ages and I don’t know what I was thinking-”

Roman has to bite the inside of his cheek in case he starts shouting. He takes Tyler by his wrist and pulls him out of the bathroom and sits him on the edge of the bed.

“Tell me the truth,” Roman says through gritted teeth. “Was the coke in here? Did you keep it in the house?”

“No, I-I didn’t keep it here, I didn’t dare,” Tyler admits weakly. Then he bites his plush lower lip. “I wouldn’t have… I’ve not done a line in here until tonight.”

Roman doesn’t want to know, but he has to ask. “And outside of home? Have you been doing coke outside?” On seeing the guilt cross Tyler’s distraught face, he clenches his jaw and adds, “Since when?”

”…Three weeks since I… Since I relapsed.“ Tyler covers his mouth, his eyes shut tightly. “I didn’t want to- I just needed something, to feel better, a-and I knew I could get it, easy, just a text. I had some on me tonight, but I didn’t- I didn’t do it at Garza’s. I just, I felt so stressed when I got back, and I had some in my pocket and I didn’t think-” He sobs and his voice cracks. “I fucked up. I fucked up. I’m sorry.”

Three fucking weeks. Roman is now furious at himself for not paying attention. He’s also angry with his boyfriend, because this isn’t a small matter, and Seffy is in the house and there is cocaine here as well.

“I’m not happy about this, Ty. I’m not…. I am not going to let this be. I can’t. So you’re going to rehab.”

“But, Ro-”

“There is coke in our bathroom and my daughter is here in this house,” Roman snaps. He takes a deep breath. “Have you any idea how terrifying this is for a father? If she’d found your stash and- I am not kidding. I’m not. You are going to rehab, end of discussion. I’m gonna clean up the bathroom now, and you’re taking a shower after that, and we’ll pack up for your stay at the center. I’ll call them in the morning.”

Tyler’s lip wobbles. His voice is very small as he asks, “Are you going to break up with me?”

It hurts, that Tyler is so scared, and Roman hates that he has to do this. With another deep breath, Roman goes to his knees in front of Tyler. “Babe, I’m not breaking up with you. But you need help from someone who’s actually qualified. I’ll attend the counseling with you, I’m supporting you in doing whatever that you need to get through this. I don’t want you caught by someone else, someone who could harm you with it, okay?”

Tyler nods meekly. Roman wipes the tears away with the edge of his palm, his heart aching for Tyler.

“I’ll tell Maverick,” the blond murmurs. “I’ll go to rehab tomorrow.”

*

In the morning, with the rehab center notified, Roman drives Tyler out of their gated estate. To his frustration, they get paparazzi on their tail; Roman wants them gone.

"Has the press release gone out already?” Roman asks, glancing at the mirror.

“No, I told him to hold it until tonight. But there was a fight at Garza’s just before I left, so I guess they want some gossip.” Tyler is unshaven, his bright golden hair not gleaming like usual, and a pair of dark shades hide his puffy eyes. “Let’s go to the rehab center.”

When they get to the parking lot, Tyler fishes out his phone and goes to Instagram. “I’m going to start Instagram live,” he tells Roman. “Let everyone know what’s happening. I don’t want the tabloids making up stories of their own.”

Roman sends a message to Maverick telling him Tyler’s plan, but before the manager can reply, Tyler’s already on Instagram live.

“Hey, Breezy here. I’m in Roman’s car and I have an announcement to make.” Tyler exhales slowly, taking off his shades, and then reaches for Roman’s hand. “No, we’re not getting married.” He glances at Roman and smiles at him, a little shaky. “I, um, I’m going into rehab. I’ve had a relapse and I-I’ve been an ass, scaring my boyfriend, and-and I’ve disappointed him. I’ve got to get better.” He bites his upper lip and sniffs. “I’m sorry everyone. I promise I will get better. I won’t be able to use my phone while I’m undergoing treatment, but I thank everyone in advance for your support.”

Before Tyler can end the recording, Roman leans over and kisses him on the cheek tenderly. To the camera, the taller man says, “He’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna be okay. I’m taking over his social media for now. Those of you who are gonna be trolls and say shit to him, I will block and report you. Those of you who wanna show support, just send pictures of your pets and tag him, I promise I will save them and share them with him when he’s allowed his phone again.”

Tyler chuckles, a little damply. He wiggles his fingers at the camera. “See you guys in a bit. Breezy, out.”

Roman takes the phone and hugs his boyfriend, kissing him on the temple. “It’s okay, babe. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Tyler kisses back and puts his shades back on. “Alright. Here we go.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Finn stretches out on his side of the bed. "What's the worst way you've killed someone?"

"I know you're not wearing a wire, given you're buck naked, but I'm not sure this room isn't bugged." Joe yawns and rolls onto his side. His mass on the mattress causes Finn to slide closer to him.

"Alright. What is the worst way to be killed, in your opinion?"

"Why don't you start? I need to think."

Finn opens one eye lazily. "Drink a fugu liver shake. The last taste in your mouth is fish liver, and you're paralyzed but conscious all the way until you die."

"Tetra-something poisoning?"

"Tetrodotoxin. Every muscle stops working, eventually. Even the lungs. Then the heart."

Joe touches Finn's lower lip. Finn nibbles on Joe's thumb, eyes closed.

"I think fire is the worst," says Joe. "Especially if you're unable to get out of a locked space. You know how you're gonna go and how much pain it's gonna be, and unless you choke on smoke and faint before that..." He slides his big hand over Finn's cheek and down to his neck, pressing just a little. A reminder.

Finn smiles. "Break a pelvis. Shallow cuts all over your arms and legs. Thrown into shark infested waters at night."

"Pigs. Hungry pigs." Joe shudders. "Famished pigs."

"I hear they eat anything."

"All I can say is, I'm glad I only encounter them in the form of ham, chops and bacon."

Finn rolls onto his back again. "An old yakuza advisor told me about what his father did in the war."

"It's gonna be gross, isn't it."

"It was more torture than murder," says Finn, conversationally, as if they're talking about checking out a place for lunch. "Forcing water into their prisoner's mouth with a hose and then stamping on their engorged stomachs. Some make it out. Some don't."

Joe shifts closer to Finn and drapes his big arm over the younger man. "My dad's partner once asked if I'd ever be bothered by my conscience."

Killing people for money. Taking lives for payment.

Finn smiles to himself. "Are you?"

"People do worse things to one another for less reason," Joe murmurs, his breath warm on Finn's bare shoulder. "I don't enjoy it. Not often anyway."

"I do." The Irishman can hear the low thrum of desire in his gut. Desire to fuck, perhaps, or for something more... violent.

"That's because you're a sick bastard." Joe says this without censure. "And that is why they call you the Demon Prince."

"If it came down to me versus you," Finn begins, then pauses. He's not sure he wants to continue the question.

Joe chuckles. "You like me too much to truly hurt me. So, at this current stage, I'll win. But if you really, really want to fuck me over, I'll suffer before I die. You'll see to that." The big man nuzzles Finn's shoulder, oddly affectionate. "You and I both know who we are."

"Sick bastards."

"Sick bastards."

Finn's smile grows in the darkened room. He thinks about the men whose mouths were sewn shut, and boxes buried in deep holes, and hungry, hungry rats.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

As per tradition, Samoa Joe's is closed to couples on Valentine's Day. Anyone showing up with a date is not allowed in. Becky glowers by the door as the bouncer for the night, outright snarling threats when a giggling Lana and Miro come to the door. Thankfully they are not so dumb as to try Becky's patience.

Paige is handling the bar with the regulars all bemoaning the lack of romance in their lives. She pours a double for Viktor, whose life partner has fucked off across to Vermont, of all places; Viktor says he doesn't want to travel there, "because that means I'm wrong, innit, and I ain't wrong to want to settle here in LA. Like what the fuck is in Vermont?"

"Less crime I guess," someone down the bar says. It's Dakota, trailing a morose finger down her pint.

"We're criminals, for fuck's sake. Here we have contacts and all that shit."

Dakota rests her chin in her hand. "Maybe he wants to go legit." She scowls at the beer before downing it in one long swallow. "Hey. You into girls, Viktor?"

"Sometimes."

"That's good enough for me." Dakota hops off the bar stool and strides down the length of the bar, hooking her slim fingers into Viktor's belt loops. "Let's find a cheap motel and fuck until midnight."

"Settle your tab before you go," Paige drawls. Dakota tosses her a fifty and tells her to keep the change.

It's a testament to how glum the customers are that no one comments on Dakota and Viktor. Everyone knows Dakota fell out with her girlfriend Raquel two days ago over a job gone south.

Joe emerges from the kitchen, wiping his hands. His army green tee shirt is dark with sweat around the neck and down his back. "Everything good?"

Paige arches an eyebrow. "Define good."

"Jesus effing Christ. It feels worse than a funeral in here." Joe pulls a bottle of his favorite beer from the fridge and pops the top. "I'd send them all home, but unhappy drunks spend so much money."

"Fuck you, Joe."

"Get bent, Trent." Joe toasts the guy across from him. Then he announces that the kitchen is closed.

Paige sighs and kneads her temples. "You and Stafa better use the third floor. The TV isn't loud enough to drown out your fucking, and I fear you getting laid may lead to a riot."

Mustafa chooses that moment to show his pretty face, coming in the back door and beaming at Joe. "Heya."

"Hey, baby." He kisses his lover to a chorus of boos and swearing from the patrons. Joe flips the bird at the entire bar. "Paige thinks I'm gonna fuck you so loud that it'll cause a riot."

Blushing, Mustafa mutters something about a car waiting and that Joe should grab his overnight bag.

Becky wanders over from the door. "Take is ours tonight?"

"You fucking wish," Joe says. "Additional hundred on top of tips, each."

"We're gonna rob you blind," Paige informs him primly. "This bar is gonna be renamed The Two Bitches."

Mustafa grins and tugs on Joe's arm. "Come on."

*

Tyler Breeze tousles his hair and adds a touch of gloss to his lips.

Behind him, on the bed, is Roman, already boneless and beyond satisfied. Red and purple marks litter his skin, and a used condom has missed the bin on the side of the bed. They're going to need more lube.

"How are you still ready for more?" Roman asks sleepily.

"I've not had sex since Christmas, babe," Tyler informs him with a coy smile.

Roman groans. "It's because I had all those events, isn't it? I'm sorry, babe."

"Nope. I planned it." Tyler lines his eyes with kohl. "And now that I have wrung you out, I'm going to meet the rest at Finn's. He says he blocked out tonight for a good session. Daddy and Stafa and Seth are all gonna be there."

Roman struggles to sit up. "I'm not having you for Valentine's Day?"

Tyler stares at him. "Babe," he says at last, " you've had me on my back just now, and against the wall earlier. And I sucked you off this morning in the shower, and just now before I let you fuck me between my legs. I think you ought to learn to share."

Roman pouts.

"That's not gonna work on me," Tyler says, laughing gently, and kisses his boyfriend. "I promise I'll be back once the session is done, and you can wake me how you want tomorrow morning."

*

"He wants Carrera marble and gold everywhere, which, okay, fine, he can afford it, but it's so tacky, and I was just pointing out to him that marble countertops will need extra care because marble is porous, but now he's bitching about needing to pay for sealing!" Seth continues his rant while stripping off his jacket and shirt, hanging the garments neatly. "And his latest wife is all into that stupid cloud sofa for the reception area, but that dumb sofa needs fluffing up every damn time you stand up, and which guest is gonna do that? It's impractical is what it is."

Finn just listens with a tiny smile. He likes when Seth unloads his frustrations freely, remembering when his lover and sub used to hide everything he felt and thought for fear of being punished. It has taken them both so long for Seth to feel truly like an equal in this relationship.

When Seth is down to his boxer briefs, he pauses in his complaints, and then exhales with a grin. "That was really a lot of work shit, huh."

"Yeah. It's okay, sweetheart. We'll work all that out of you tonight." Finn curls his index finger and the younger man goes over happily. "Alright, get your hair out of the way."

Seth holds his breath as Finn secures his collar around his neck, and then exhales when Finn kisses the tag on it. Everything related to his job fades from the forefront of his mind.

"How are you feeling tonight, darling?" Finn asks quietly. "We ready to play? Our guests are waiting for us."

"Yes, Sir." Seth licks his lips. "What are we doing tonight?"

Finn stands, humming, his arm sliding around Seth's waist as he steers them out of the bedroom. "We'll see. Joe brought his ropes and I have the new whips. Lots of potential, really."

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

They don't go on dates often with each other, so there is still a zingy undercurrent of anticipation and nerves when Finn comes over to the gym to pick Mustafa up.

"We're really doing the dinner thing?" Mustafa asks, grinning. He's just come out of the shower and blowing dry his hair.

Finn's in dark jeans and black boots, his black shirt left untucked. His blue eyes don't leave Mustafa's face and his red lips are curved in a small smile.

"You didn't allow me to court you when we first met, so I thought I'd show you what you missed out."

"You weren't trying to court me, you were gonna seduce me away from Joe and dump me," Mustafa points out with amused exasperation.

Finn's eyebrows twitch up in admission, but all he does is hand Mustafa his light gray shirt.

They go to Kings, which Mustafa is surprised to discover is a halal establishment.

"And we have a separate kosher kitchen too," the maître d' says, a pleasant smile plastered to his face.

Finn grins and puts his hand on Mustafa's thigh, kneading lightly. "Money is money. What would you like to have, darling?"

Mustafa almost bursts out laughing. Darling. Finn is laying the charm on thick on purpose. Mustafa settles on teriyaki rabbit - he's never had it before - and yuzu tea. Finn orders seared cod and a white wine.

They have a private room to themselves, so Mustafa enjoys the kisses that Finn is peppering on his neck and the very naughty hand wandering up and down his inseam. If he had met Finn before Joe, he may have been impressed by this show of wealth and swayed by the display of affection. Not enough to date him, but definitely enough to hop into bed with him.

His own hands he keeps on Finn's thigh, fingers clenching when the older man finds a particularly sensitive spot on his neck.

"Don't leave a mark," he warns in a strangled whisper when Finn seems to intuit once more that Mustafa really likes that spot nibbled on.

There's a knock on the door. Finn barely lifts his head when the server comes in with their appetizers - some kind of stuffed mushrooms - and only straightens up when Mustafa pushes lightly on his shoulders.

"You brought me here for the food," he says. He knows his face is flushed and his jeans are rather tight. "Not for you to eat me."

Finn grins unrepentantly. "I like having dessert first."

Mustafa rolls his eyes, though he doesn't hide his smile. "You can eat me out for as long as you want later," he says.

"As long as I want?"

There's a challenging glint in those stunningly blue eyes, and Mustafa feels his heart skip. It's a reckless thing to promise this man and he knows it, he's been on the receiving end (ha!) of Finn's inventive, loving cruelty before, more than once. Usually with Joe's assistance, too.

Mustafa tries a stuffed mushroom. It's savory with a bit of nutty crunch. Then he leans against Finn and tilts his head, batting his long lashes playfully, knowing exactly the effect he's achieving. "As long as you want."

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

They meet in Bern, which is boring, so they spend the day in Finn's suite. Room service is good, the bathtub is better, and since Finn has not seen Joe for a year and six months, the sex is excellent.

When they're both filthy and sated, Finn lights a cigarette and draws in a deep inhale. "Well. That was nice."

"You've picked up some new skills, kid," Joe says. He's pleasantly buzzed on wine and sex, so he lets Finn smoke in peace; he'll make the younger man wash out his mouth later. "I wasn't expecting to see you though. What's got you out here in Europe?"

"Call me kid again and you won't get a morning blow," Finn drawls. He blows out a smoke ring. "I heard something disturbing last week from a patron. Bugged me enough that Tama told me to come find you, get you outta my system."

"Oh?" Joe lifted his hand to slap it on Finn's bare thigh and starts kneading. "What's got your panties in a twist now?"

"You know a guy named Styles? Goes by the handle Clash in the Business."

Joe feels a smile tugging on the corners of his lips. "Of course I know him. I worked with him for a few months, early on."

"Only work?" Finn sounds deceptively casual.

"Are you jealous?" Joe doesn't bother hiding his delight. "We worked together and fucked a couple times."

Finn sits upright and stubs his cigarette out in the ashtray next to the bed. Twisting around, he glares at Joe. "Seriously? That guy? What in Satan's left arsehole did you see in him?"

Joe shrugs. "He was pretty."

"Ugh." The disgust is palpable in Finn's face. Then, in a more nonchalant tone, he asks, "Have you seen him recently?"

"Nah. We had a falling out." Joe slides his hand further up Finn's thigh.

"He's working for some really foul people," Finn says, "and for some godforsaken reason, Omega and the brothers like him. He has soccer mom hair, for fuck's sake."

"His hair smells nice, though."

"I'll fucking gut you."

Joe laughs. "Are you jealous that I slept with someone prettier than you?"

Suddenly straddling Joe, tangled up in the sheets, Finn slaps a hand on Joe's chest and snarls, "He isn't nearly half as pretty as me."

Joe flicks the tip of Finn's nose. "Sure, sure."

Finn sits back on Joe's thighs and pouts. He looks ridiculous, with his sex-tousled hair and reddened lips, but Joe can't help feeling fond of the younger man.
The Irishman narrows his eyes and asks, "You think you'll ever sleep with him again?" After a pause, he adds, "I don't want you to do that. If you sleep with him, you either hide that from me forever, or never ever touch me."

"You really dislike him, huh."

"Yes, I do." The vehemence in Finn's tone makes Joe laugh outright.

"Nah, we've grown apart. He takes jobs that I'd never consider." Joe sighs and shuts his eyes. "Someday we'll end up on opposite sides, probably. I don't blame him for taking the jobs he does, though; man grew up poor and hungry, he'll do whatever he has to to never be poor and hungry again."

Finn huffs, but doesn't say anything. Everyone in the Business grew up damaged in some way. Every last bastard of them has done something that will haunt a good person to the end of their days. Instead, he gets off Joe and the bed. In another minute, Joe hears water running.

"I want a fancy dinner," Finn calls out from the bathroom, "so come take a shower."

Joe's smile deepens as he levers himself out of bed.

They don't make it out to dinner.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

On nights like this, when it's just the two of them, and they've released their pent-up aggression adequately, they invariably end up spooning. They talk about their lovers, the cost of living, the Business, places they've just visited or are planning to visit. Sometimes they chat about the past. Jobs they did that they would do differently now. Jobs they wish they'd taken or rejected. People they had to leave behind.

But they don't ever talk about the time Joe killed Finn. A knife, and a gun, and an end to the Demon Prince of Tokyo, whose network of contacts spanned the country and extended from the highest reaches of government to the lowest dregs of the underworld.

Joe traces the scar tissue on Finn's right shoulder with a thick finger, and then kisses it, softly, almost apologetically. Of all the people he's killed, he has loved none of them except for this one infuriating Irishman.

Finn always allows Joe his tenderness and leans into his warmth, allows himself the vulnerability and the pretence of innocence. Not everyone can love the man who killed them, but Finn has known the depth of his feelings from the moment Joe shot him.

Love between them is the unspoken understanding that they are too alike in their darker impulses to be together without harming the other. Love between them is bruised and battered skin, is sharp teeth, is hard punches. Love between them is an imagined life in Vegas, where they spend too much and drive too fast, and it's anyone's bet who kills whom.

They have never been meant for happily ever afters. But th

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Halloween is one of the hottest nights in Bullet Club, as club owner Finn usually puts on a show for his clientele. Sometimes he picks one of the patrons and sometimes he uses one of his own subs.

Tonight the club is buzzing, even though it's barely past midnight and, technically, isn't Halloween any more. Finn's promised that he has something special for tonight, so his patrons have shown up, dressed in lace and latex and leather and chains, the costumes more of an excuse to show skin than to role play. There are a few interesting ones, though. A local TV celebrity has shown up as the Mona Lisa, replete with frame, except her outfit only covers to the waist. She's in a thong and lacy stockings with gorgeous "fuck me" red stilettos, and her sub kneels in front of her to hold up the frame. Another, a popular Korean singer, has come as a werewolf, replete with fluffy ears, paws and tail, the tail being a butt plug with an electronic mechanism that allows it to wag slowly. He can't sit, so he sprawls across Tama's lap, while the others ply him with drinks and snacks.

Finally the lights go off and a spotlight shines on the stage. Dry ice clouds the view and the lights dim and pulse with a heavy bass beat. Out of the dry ice a figure emerges, his face to chest painted in red, black and gold; his eyes are wholly black and his tongue stretches out and curls; his hands are gloved in leather with claws at the tips, and his legs are painted up to the knees.

The crowd screams and cheers as Finn crawls forward, slow and fast and slow again, his headdress of strips of snakeskin, leather and faux chains shifting with every turn of his head. Now and again Finn pauses and stands, almost feral, sniffing; he comes up to a table of vampires and bares his own teeth; he darts over to the werewolf and licks up his bare back, biting at the curve of his shoulder, making the werewolf howl.

Other than the body paint, the demon Finn wears a diaphanous scarlet scarf around his waist and nothing else. In the dim light and thick fog, the view is extra tantalizing.

He makes his way around the crowd, allowing them to touch him and leaving his marks on them, but he never lingers for long. The spotlight follows him as he moves. Suddenly, a second one lights up the same spot on the stage, and a rack arises, with an angel bound to it.

Tyler Breeze in a shimmery silver toga that ends mid thigh writhes and strains against the wrist and ankle cuffs that hold him to the rack, his halo glowing behind his head to highlight the golden sheen of his blond hair and the red collar around his neck. White feathery wings are spread out behind him as well, pinned cruelly with long black stakes to the top corners of the rack.

The crowd grows even wilder. Some are already humping and grinding against their partners, eager to watch what will unfold.

The Demon stalks through the crowd, climbing onto tables and across patrons, accepting their adoration, soaking in their desire, and then returns to the stage. The anticipation grows.

From behind the rack Finn withdraws a whip and cracks it. Audible moans from the crowd can't hide Tyler's whimper. Finn draws close, running the handle of the whip up the inside of Tyler's bare thigh but he doesn't lift the toga. His tongue traces up the angel's neck and licks into Tyler's ear, his free hand holding the blond head still, and then he tears the halo off and throws it offstage.

Then he rips a handful of feathers - Tyler screams - and throws them to the crowd, just before he steps back and lands the first blow of the whip. Tyler cries out, arm muscles taut and lovely as he pulls against the restraints. Finn throws his head back, the long strands of his headdress dancing with his motions, and he howls like a creature possessed. Answering whoops echo and reverberate from different corners of the club, some from the clients and others from Finn's team of professionals.

Four of them, two men and two women, creep out from the crowd and the fog, clad in strips of leather or organza and not much else. Painted red and black, with collars of gold and chains around their wrists, they caress and lick the blond angel bound and helpless, sucking and nibbling on bared skin, while Finn stalks around the stage, cracking his whip urging his demons on, or lashing the angel's thighs and back when they are exposed to him. Tyler's cries change from torment to ecstasy as the demons tear the wings and toga apart, leaving the bare modicum to hide his groin, and their bodies paint streaks of red and black where they've rubbed against him. One goes to his knees behind Tyler, face burrowing under what's left of the toga, and his cock juts up tall and proud as his hips thrust rhythmically, as if mimicking what he's doing with his tongue in Tyler's ass. The blond angel can't escape, his hips and legs held firm by two other demons, and his moans are swallowed by kisses from one of the women. Finn prowls around them, sometimes close enough to whisper in their ears, sometimes far away to watch the entire scene, but it's always clear that they are under his control.

At another crack of the whip, the four demons scatter into the crowd, crawling under tables or onto eager laps. Tyler's arousal is evident despite the remnants of the shimmering fabric hanging from his waist; he parts his lips and licks his plush lower lip when Finn comes closer.

Then Finn smiles cruelly and draws away, his clawed fingers scratching up Tyler's bare thighs and over his pert nipples, marking him up with thin red welts. He circles around the bound angel and slides his hands up under the ripped toga. Tyler whines helplessly and his hips jerk, as Finn's tongue runs up his neck and over his left ear.

The light grows dimmer, just a little, and the fog thickens enough to hide their feet. Finn adjusts Tyler's hips, making him bend a little, and then he moves in a way that pulls a choked moan from the angel. The front row hears Tyler gasp, just as Finn bites on the juncture of neck and shoulder, one arm wrapped around Tyler's waist and the other still under the toga, wrapped about the younger man's cock.

Then Finn's hips begin to rock, pushing against Tyler, a demon and an angel locked in a slow, hypnotic undulation, the damaged wings shedding feathers as they move. It feels like the entire club is holding its breath, until finally Finn's right hand slides up over Tyler's torso and closes over the red collar on his throat. Their rhythm intensifies, and feathers fall about them; the club's patrons are breathing hard as well, some with their eyes half-lidded, some already straddling their partners; the air is thick with desire and lust.

The lights cut out just before Tyler screams in ecstasy. Slowly, the lights come back on, muted at first, and it's a lovely sight, Tyler hanging limp from the rack, chest heaving, hair tousled, and his skin marked up with paint and scratches. Finn licks his gloved fingers clean. His eyes, demonically black, scan the crowd, and he bares his teeth in a grin. Then he releases Tyler's wrists from the rack with a simple twist and pull. The blond young man falls backwards into Finn's arms and he whimpers again. Another quick motion releases his ankles. The lights dim and it goes dark completely.

When the house lights come up, the patrons are all intimately tangled with their own partners, be it their personal play partners or the professionals from the club. The four demons have gathered their court, each of them dominating the patrons effortlessly. Tyler and Finn are nowhere to be seen, but no one is looking for them now.

Later, Tama and Kenny will find their boss in his office, watching over his sleeping princess draped over his lap, covered with a soft blanket, and a long feather held between finger and thumb trailing lightly over Tyler's bare shoulder.

If the tenderness is uncharacteristic, neither Tama nor Kenny talk about it