Title: An Arresting Affair
Series: Billet Doux - Part 3
Author: Alyse (alyse@CI5Ops.co.uk)
Archive: CI5 Operational Control (http://www.CI5Ops.co.uk), Britslash
Category: New Professionals - Curtis/Keel.

Rating: NC17.

Spoilers/Warnings: Erm... It gets quite kinky

Summary: Another game.

Feedback: Yes please, to alyse@CI5Ops.co.uk  Constructive criticism
welcome, flames will be used to melt chocolate, and we all know what I'll
do with that :)

Disclaimers: They belong to Brain Clements and David Wickes
Productions. They don't belong to me - if they did we all know what they'd
be doing. I don't make any money from this. I have nothing but my own
warped imagination and therefore I'm not worth suing. :)

Kudos: Many thanks to my excellent beta Lou, for the eagle eyed spotting
of typos, and for telling me that although kinky she didn't think it was
too OTT! I do worry about these things :)

An Arresting Affair

by Alyse

It had started off innocently enough. Just after he and his partner had
staged the fake shooting of Ingrid Sommerson, and Sam was still standing
there, dressed to kill in that movie cop's costume, Chris made a little
throw away comment about whether or not Sam would get to keep it, and
followed up the comment with a discreet leer. Sam had rolled his eyes,
muttering darkly about Chris and his one-track mind, although there had
been a twinkle in his eye, and Chris had thought nothing more about
it. After all, their relationship was fairly new at that point and they
were at the stage where they couldn't keep their hands off each
other. Well, he certainly couldn't keep his hands off his partner.

Okay, at the moment he could keep his hands off his partner. He really
didn't have much of a choice, not when said hands were handcuffed to the
bedpost. Somehow he hadn't really expected Sam to keep the cop's outfit,
but he had to admit that his partner looked as good in it as he had several
months ago. Hell of a birthday present.

He should have realised that Sam would be planning something for his
birthday after the little surprise he'd planned for Sam's but in his
naivety he thought that perhaps Sam would be plotting something for his
thirtieth birthday, which was still twelve months off. In fact, with the
frustrating caseload they'd had recently, he was all prepared not to even
celebrate his birthday, the irritation at once again having to deal with
the incompetence of other agencies conspiring to put him into a foul mood,
one that had him stomping about in a rather passable impression of Scrooge
but with 'Bah humbug! Birthdays,' rather than Christmas.

He was, of course, an idiot. Not even Sam's off the cuff remark about
wearing his biker's leathers had tipped him off. Of course Sam, being the
sneaky ex-MI6 agent that his partner and lover undoubtedly was, had managed
to make the request sound perfectly innocent, merely suggesting that if
Chris wasn't doing anything maybe the pair of them could go for a
ride. Knowing that his partner had finally invested in a brand new Ducati
and was probably desperate to try it out, Chris had cheerfully agreed,
thinking that if nothing else it might blow the cobwebs away and looking
forward to taking some of his frustration out in an almost orgasmic rush of
speed, which is what he thought his partner had intended. Not even an
inkling of suspicion crossing his mind.

He was a complete idiot.

Not that he had much to complain about, really. A few seconds after his
entrance into Sam's flat, using his key as was his usual wont rather than
waiting for Sam to answer, he had been pinned to the wall, his face pressed
into the plaster while a voice in his ear snarled, "Freeze!"

He'd almost lost it, his muscles tensing in preparation to take on his
attacker before the feel of the body pressed closely to his and the
familiarity of the voice the command was delivered in, even in a terrible
fake American accent, sank into his mind.

"Sam," he'd snarled back. "I could have hurt you! What the hell are you
playing at?"

He was abruptly spun around, his shoulder slamming painfully into the wall
as a hand fisted into the front of his jacket while Sam leant in, shoving
his face into Chris' and hissing, "That's Officer Ross to you, pal."

He'd blinked at his lover, a little confused, until it finally registered
in his befuddled brain what Sam was wearing, and he hadn't been able to
help the broad grin that had spread across his face.

"You think this is funny, boy?" his partner had snarled, although a twinkle
in his eyes gave him away.

Chris had decided at that point to play along. "No, sir," he'd shot back,
still grinning furiously in spite of the fierce look on Sam's face.

Sam had virtually hurled him towards the bedroom, and swaggered along after
him while Chris brought himself to a stop, turning to face his partner and
back-pedalling rapidly into the bedroom, mainly, he could admit now, so he
didn't have to take his eyes off his lover. Christ, the man was hot
dressed like that.

Still hot and still dressed like that. He'd made Chris strip off his
jacket but keep on his remaining clothes and then he'd handcuffed him
unceremoniously to the bed. Now his partner stalked around the bed, to
Chris' side, grabbing Chris' hair in one hand and jerking his head back.

"Not so sure of yourself now, are you, kid?" he breathed, his eyes
glittering hypnotically. He slid onto the bed and moved to straddle his
partner, placing one hand firmly on each side of Chris' head and staring
down into Chris' face.

"We need a safe word," he told him, his voice reverting back to its normal
cultured tones rather than the hard edge Chris had been hearing in it since
this game began. Confused by the turn in the conversation, Chris could
only blink at him. Sam's lips curled up in a slight smile. "A safe word,
Chris," he deigned to explain, an expression suspiciously like a smirk
gracing his face. "A word you use if this all gets too much for
you. Something that you wouldn't normally say during sex. So 'god',
'Christ', 'fuck' and 'oh yes, baby' are definitely out."

Chris gave him a mock scowl. "I know what a safe word is," he
muttered. Ignoring Sam's by now obvious smirk, he wracked his brain for a
suitable word. It was difficult to think of something that had nothing to
do with sex when his partner was straddling him like that, in a uniform
with tight black trousers, his weight pressing against Chris' groin, the
holster strapped to his waist and thigh only emphasising the muscles in his
flexed thigh...

"Got it!" he beamed triumphantly, catching sight of the amused look
flitting across his lover's face but not caring. "Malone!"

A horrified expression dawned on Sam's face. "That," he replied
emphatically, "would definitely put me off my stroke."

It was Chris' turn to smirk. "Let's say that that's the one word I would
never think of during sex."

"Well, I suppose if nothing else it reassures me that you don't fantasise
about him while we're doing it."

Chris scowled, but didn't get a chance to make a snappy comeback as Sam
leant down over him again, his expression serious. "If I do anything,
*anything* to make you feel uncomfortable or you don't like what I'm doing,
use it, Chris. I mean it," he added forcefully as Chris opened his mouth
to protest. "Look at it this way. How do you think I'd feel if I realised
too late that I'd done something to hurt you or that you didn't enjoy?"

It was that more than the thought that Sam would do something he wouldn't
enjoy that had Chris nodding meekly. Sam smiled at him again, and once
more lowered his head, this time to place a gentle kiss on his partner's
lips. When he raised his head again, he'd resumed the cold and almost
cruel expression that seemed to characterise 'Officer Ross'. Chris felt a
shiver run through him that had little to do with fear.

"Are you going to give me any trouble, boy?" Sam drawled, his eyes narrowed
as he stared down at his 'prisoner'.

"No, sir."

Sam caught hold of his hair again and jerked his head back. "You speak
when I tell you to," he hissed. "No backchat, you understand?"

His eyes watering, Chris could only try to nod. Seemingly satisfied his
lover let go of his hair, allowing his head to fall back onto the pillow
with a thump. "Good," he said coldly. "I think we understand each other
now, don't we?" Another nod.

Sam sat back on his heels, surveying his lover's body with a cool
gaze. "You know, speeding the way you were on your bike through a built up
area like that, it carries a fixed penalty. One I don't think you can afford."

"This is all for speeding?" Chris asked a little disappointed. He'd
expected something a little more... innovative from his lover. His head
rocked back as Sam's hand connected with his mouth, mainly through surprise
since although the blow was hard enough to sting it wasn't hard enough to
do any serious damage. What was even more surprising was how the light
blow seemed to connect not merely with his lip but also had a direct line
to his groin, which, to his immense surprise, suddenly became very
interested in proceedings.

"Do you have memory problems?" Sam asked coldly, his eyes having that
ruthless glint in them that sent the scum they dealt with on a daily basis
scurrying for cover. It had never been turned on Chris before, and he
gaped up at Sam completely taken aback, so much so that he couldn't think
of a suitable answer.

Sam raised his hand again, and taking the hint Chris shook his head
emphatically. "Good boy," breathed Sam huskily. "You're learning." He
lowered his hand to run a finger lightly over Chris' stinging lip, the
touch strangely erotic. Emboldened by the gesture, Chris let the tip of
his tongue slide past his lip, gently flicking it against Sam's finger
where it rested on his mouth.

Sam let out a ragged sigh, his pupils dilating with arousal as he sat back
even further, grinding his buttocks against Chris' groin. Chris groaned
and arched up into the touch, still watched by those cool grey-green eyes,
and Sam's expression turned almost considering.

"Well, now," he said, his tone thoughtful. "I think that you and I might
just be able to come to some sort of arrangement. I might be convinced to
let you off those speeding tickets you can't pay. But you'd have to be
very convincing..."

Chris tried to look very enthusiastic. It wasn't difficult - his
excitement was growing by the second. Sam chuckled lightly, the sound
reverberating through his body to set up very interesting vibrations
through Chris' groin. Taking the initiative, Chris sucked the finger still
resting on his lips into his mouth, swirling around it with his tongue.

"Oh," smiled Sam evilly. "I think you're going to be convincing all right."

He abruptly moved off Chris, leaving the American feeling a little bereft
as the weight shifted from his aroused groin. Moving to stand by the head
of the bed again, Sam stared down at him, still coldly, and then reached
into the bedside table drawer, calmly drawing out a knife.

He trusted Sam with his life and so didn't even flinch as Sam drew the
knife lightly down the centre of his chest, all the time watching his
face. Seemingly satisfied with whatever he saw there, he stopped the knife
level with Chris' waistband and left it there, its point digging lightly
into Chris' skin through the fabric of his white t-shirt, the skin beneath
it twitching lightly. Then, with a rapid movement, he grabbed the hem of
Chris' shirt with one hand and sliced cleanly through the fabric with the
knife, ripping it from hem to neck before finally cutting through the
collar and leaving Chris' chest open to his lustful gaze.

Chris resisted the urge to twist awkwardly as Sam's eyes seemed to devour
him, his gaze sliding up and down his body while his partner made a happy
humming sound in his throat. "Very nice," he commented, with another
leer. "I think at least one of us is going to enjoy this."

He began to trace patterns on Chris' bare chest with the tip of the blade,
never pressing hard enough cut into the skin but sending tendrils of
sensation coursing through the American's body, once again centring on his
groin. By the time that Sam had finally finished, Chris' heart was
pounding and his torso felt like one over-sensitised and twitching nerve
ending. Sam leant down and breathed lightly over his skin and another
shudder ran through him, goose pimples breaking out where Sam's breath
caressed him.

Abandoning the knife, Sam went for the more direct approach, once again
straddling his partner. He lowered his head again, and pressed his lips
harshly against his lover's and thrusting his tongue mercilessly in and
out, devouring Chris' mouth until the American felt himself grow
light-headed from lack of breath. Only then did Sam release him, his
silver-green eyes glittering fiercely again as he watched Chris pant.

He attacked Chris' throat next, once again a hand fisted in Chris' hair to
jerk his head back and allow Sam access, his sharp teeth nipping as he
sucked and mouthed the skin, each sharp nip sending a jolt of sensation
through the American only to be followed by a gentle lapping of Sam's
tongue that drew long liquid moans from him. That mouth moved down to his
chest, the bites coming harder now, leaving red marks on his skin, the
sharp, tingling pain from each one combining into one overwhelming feeling
of pleasure, his entire body alive with sensation.

Sam reached his nipples, which were already tingling in anticipation of his
touch. Chris let out a long ragged groan, bucking up into his lover's body
as Sam's mouth latched onto one, his tongue laving it to an erect nub, and
then he yelped and swore as his lover's sharp teeth sank lightly into his
flesh and Sam tugged on his teat.

It hurt a little, sending sharp shards of pain through him but despite that
he didn't want it to stop. He wanted it to go on and on, the pain somehow
coalescing into a tight ball of pleasure centred in the pit of his
stomach. Sam seemed to know just when to stop, just when to release him
before the pain overwhelmed the pleasure and he soothed the abused flesh
with his tongue before moving on to his next target, Chris writhing and
panting beneath him.

His other nipple was subjected to the same treatment, Chris moaning
incoherently as he thrashed about on the bed, desperately trying to release
his hands from their restraints so that he could touch his lover,
desperately trying to arch his body to maintain and prolong the contact
between his skin and his lover's mouth as Sam moved down his torso,
skimming hot, hard, open mouthed kisses along it as he did so. It was torture.

It was divine.

He didn't know where Sam had learned this, learned about the thin divide
between pleasure and pain and he didn't care, not when he was using those
skills on him. It created a need in him, one he didn't know that he had,
although he'd suspected, hadn't he?

His mind drifted back for a moment to the first time they'd acted out a
fantasy, one of his. Making love in front of the mirror in this very room.
For a brief second, watching as Sam's clothed body loomed over his naked
and crouching one, he'd wanted Sam to dominate him, wanted to hand control
over to the Englishman completely the way he was doing now.

By now Sam had reached the waistband of his leather trousers, nipping and
sucking at the skin of his abdomen, once more leaving red marks in his
wake. His silver-green eyes met Chris' briefly, hard and uncompromising
and even though Chris knew it was an act put on for his benefit for a
second he almost believed the coldness in that gaze and it sent another
thrill through him. Sam's hands fumbled roughly with the fastenings of his
trousers, yanking them open to free Chris' burgeoning erection to his
approving gaze. "Oh yes," sighed his lover gustily, his eyes devouring the
sight in front of him; Chris' erection framed by the black leather of his
open jeans. He reached out and traced the vein throbbing on the underside
of Chris' cock with the tip of one finger, ignoring his lover's
whimper. "Very nice," he added, smiling evilly. "Perhaps we'll both have
some fun."

Before Chris could react to the comment, which was just as well given Sam's
admonishment to be silent, his partner seized his hips with both hands and
flipped him over, Chris landing on his front with a muffled 'oomph' as the
breath was driven out of his body. His wrists were twisted awkwardly in
the handcuffs, rubbing against his wrists and his legs were spread-eagled
across the bed, making him feel very vulnerable. Excitingly vulnerable.

He sensed rather than saw or felt Sam leaning over him, the first physical
intimation he had of the man's presence being Sam's hot and sweet breath
caressing his neck. "Such a nice ass, too," the Englishman breathed in his
ear, the fake American accent still sitting a little awkwardly over his
normal tones. He felt Sam's hand caress his buttocks through his jeans,
and wriggled a little to encourage the man's explorations, only to be
rewarded by a stinging open-handed slap that had him yelping in surprise.

"You move when I tell you to and not before. Understood?"

Once again there was steel and ice in his lover's voice and he nodded
eagerly, a little uncertain about how far Sam would go if he didn't
capitulate, how far he would let Sam go before safe-wording. Judging by
his body's reaction to events so far, he suspected that it would be quite far.

Accepting his submission, Sam was moving his hands lower down Chris' legs,
his gentle touch now a strange and erotic contrast to his earlier
forcefulness. Chris' boots were grasped and yanked off, to be discarded
along with his socks, and then Sam's hands were moving back up his calves
and thighs, harder this time, the thumbs digging into his flesh and almost
forcing another moan out of the American. He struggled not to wriggle, not
to make a sound, unsure whether that was because he didn't want to be
punished or because he didn't want to disappoint his lover.

Sam's strong fingers grasped the waistband of his trousers, yanking them
brutally down over his hips. He wasn't wearing underwear and now, warring
with the arousal he still felt, was a vague sense of embarrassment at lying
there on the bed with his ass sticking up in the air.

He heard his t-shirt rip again, and realised that Sam was repeating the
same manoeuvre as he'd used on the front, exposing his back to Sam's
ministrations while only the shreds of his garment remained around his
arms, caught there because he was chained to the bed. Sam repeated the
hard, sucking kisses on the skin of his back, using his teeth and hard,
demanding tongue to trace paths of sensation down his spine until Chris
couldn't help but wriggle, sensitised almost beyond bearing, his cock now a
firebrand cleaving to his belly, leaking clear fluid against his
stomach. Abruptly, the sensation ceased, Sam moving away to once again
stand by the side of the bed, watching him coolly as he began to slowly
strip off his clothing.

Once again Chris could only marvel at his lover's chameleon like ability to
switch personas. This wasn't his gentle lover stripping slowly and
leisurely in front of a mirror for him or the succubus putting on an erotic
and languorous show, this was about sheer, raw, animalistic power, every
move reinforcing Sam's dominance in this situation, his absolute control
over Chris.

Chris thought he might come from that sight alone, if he had dared.

When he was sure that he had Chris' full attention Sam began a low pitched
running commentary as he undressed, the fake accent gone now to be replaced
with a husky and sexy dominant growl.

"You want to be fucked, don't you? You want me to take you, screaming, on
this bed. Want to feel me all the way in you, claiming you, making you
mine, pounding into you until you can't see straight. You want me to own
you, don't you?"

Chris met his gaze, panting heavily, the power behind the words setting off
fluttering sparks in his belly, adding to the burning ache in his
groin. He couldn't focus, couldn't think of anything but the need he felt
and unable to put it into words.

"Don't you?" growled Sam again, his silver eyes glittering dangerously.

"Yesss..." he hissed back, the words releasing a tension in him. He wanted
it. He wanted all of it, wanted Sam to take him roughly, wanted to forget
all the frustrations, all of the doubts about their role in the world,
wanted to subsume it all in pure physical release. Wanted to be Sam's.

"Good boy," Sam praised him, the words falling from his lips like
honey. "I will, I'll do all of that, but not just yet. I don't think
you're quite ready for me yet."

He moved his hands to his belt, and Chris tensed in anticipation, expecting
that Sam would finally remove his remaining garments and he'd see what he
desperately wanted to - Sam naked. Even now, he let his avid and hungry
gaze skate over his partner's bare torso, framed by his open blue shirt,
and raised his eyes to meet Sam's evil smile.

He was disappointed. Sam merely took the nightstick he carried as part of
his outfit, and hefted it thoughtfully, his eyes meeting Chris'.

Oh shit, he knew what was coming, knew it from the evil intent in those
eyes and the way that Sam was handling the phallic shaped object. He could
safe word, should safe word.

He didn't want to. Instead, trickles of excitement were coursing through
him and his cock twitched in anticipation, the arousal warring with the
potential for humiliation and winning.

Sam was watching him closely, a hint of concern in those grey-green eyes,
waiting to see if Chris was comfortable with this. He took in a ragged
breath, eying the item in Sam's hand nervously. It was a lightweight
model, and much... well, considerably thinner than his partner was. It was
also much thinner than the faux phallus he had used on Sam. He
swallowed. It was only the humiliation factor that caused his hesitation
and if he was honest with himself that was also a turn on just as the
thought of being dominated by Sam was.

Sam obviously needed more reassurance than the simple fact that Chris
wasn't using their agreed safe word, and Chris swallowed again, his heart
pounding in his chest as he slid his thighs apart almost imperceptibly. A
slight nod from Sam and then his lover immersed himself back into his role.

He held his index and forefinger out, close to Chris' mouth, and the
American looked at him, confused. "Wet them," his lover demanded
icily. "It's all you're going to get."

Oh Christ, he didn't think it was possible to be even more aroused than he
already was without losing it completely, and yet his cock twitched again,
throbbing demandingly. He sucked Sam's fingers lovingly into his mouth,
laving them thoroughly with his tongue, swirling that muscle around the
hard pads on his lover's fingertips and watching Sam's pupils dilate with
arousal, his eyes taking on a green sheen.

The fingers were abruptly removed and his ass cheeks spread roughly. He
expected Sam's fingers to breach his opening immediately and was already
attempting to relax tight muscles in anticipation and so was completely
overwhelmed when instead he felt something agile and wet caress his opening.

He couldn't hold back a low, keening cry at the spike of arousal that
coursed through him, turning his insides to molten liquid, only Sam's hand
wrapping firmly around the base of his cock preventing him from careening
over the edge. He rocked there, attempting desperately to get the friction
he needed but Sam wouldn't let him, holding him in a vice like grip, his
tongue still wetting, caressing him, shudders coursing through Chris' body
as he alternately tried to press back into Sam's tongue or forward into his
hand and failing.

He was begging mindlessly, words spilling desperately from his mouth as he
pleaded with Sam to just please, please fuck him now. The tongue was
removed and harsh fingers pressed against Chris' lips again. He suckled on
them greedily, still rocking mindlessly. Blunt fingers were then pressed
against his opening, both at once, sliding into him powerfully, forcing a
pained grunt past his lips as his body adjusted to the intrusion, the
ecstatic burning sensation turning rapidly to unbearable pleasure as the
stabbing fingers brushed against his prostate.

All too soon they were removed and something much larger and harder pressed
intimately against him. It was cold and slick, and Chris guessed that in
spite of his threats Sam had indeed used some lubricant to ease the baton's
passage into his body, not wanting to hurt him more than necessary.

A few short strokes was all it took to get him teetering on the edge again,
the eroticism and sheer kinkiness of the act sending his arousal spiralling
out of control, not even Sam's hand still clenched around the base of his
cock enough to stop the rising tide this time. Just when he thought that
this was it, just when he thought that he'd be allowed to come, that Sam
couldn't prevent him from coming he was so close, both the hand and the
baton were removed and he was left high and dry right on the edge of the

He growled low in his throat, a warning to Sam that Sam ignored. Instead,
his partner moved into his line of sight again, his expression still
cold. He very calmly removed his belt in full view of Chris and said
slowly, "I told you not to say anything. If you can't even follow a few
simple instructions, I'm going to have to punish you."


Oh shit. Now this he wasn't quite sure about. He eyed the belt in Sam's
hand nervously as his partner watched him closely, looking for some sign
that he was unwilling. It was probably pride that had him refusing to use
the safe word, although it was clear from his lover's eyes that Sam
wouldn't hold it against him if he did. Instead, he locked his jaw
belligerently and braced himself for the blow that he knew was coming, his
eyes never leaving his partner's.

The crack of the belt against his bare buttock was louder than he'd
expected, and he flinched in spite of his resolve. It didn't hurt
immediately; instead a sensation of heat spread over his skin, not entirely
unpleasant, in fact adding to rather than subtracting from the heat in his
groin. And then the soreness blossomed, stinging ribbons of pain that
removed some of the urgency from his arousal but couldn't douse it
entirely. The pain ebbed away, replaced by a dull throbbing which was
echoed in his cock, and that was when the second blow came, once again
sending sharp shards of combined pleasure and pain through him.

Sam didn't drag it out, seemingly content with only three or four blows,
just enough to send the blood rushing to his nether regions but no more,
and watching his reaction closely all of the time for any hint that it was
too much or too uncomfortable. When he finished he took the stiff belt and
caressed Chris' erection with it, reinforcing his lover's interest in the
entire game. At any second Chris expected a blow there that would either
enhance his pleasure or remove his interest entirely, and he shook with a
combination of fear and arousal, the mixture heady.

The tap, when it came, was light and sent shivers running though him. He
felt himself relax slightly, his sigh of relief turning to a low pitched
liquid moan as Sam's hot, wet mouth pressed against his burning ass, his
tongue smoothing a swathe over agonisingly sensitive skin, the sensations
once again shooting straight to Chris' groin, the erection that had wilted
slightly from the pain coming back full force, even more demanding than
previously if that were possible.

This time he remembered Sam's admonishment and held his tongue, sounds of
pleasure squeezed out of him but no words, just whimpers and moans. He
wriggled frantically, trying to get some friction on his aching cock but
once again his efforts were thwarted by his lover, Sam's hands on his hips
effectively stopping him from rubbing against the bed clothes, only the tip
of his erection managing to make some erratic contact.

It wasn't enough.

Just at the point where he was going to be reduced, once more, to begging
and damn the consequences, Sam released him and once again moved to the
head of the bed, into his line of sight, freeing his own erection from the
constraints of his tight, black trousers.

Chris eyed it eagerly, knowing now what was coming and this time not
needing to be told what to do. As he wrapped keen lips around the corona
of Sam's cock, it suddenly dawned on him that for once Sam was not wearing
a condom.

They'd discussed this, Chris arguing that since they were both clear of any
infection, their regular CI5 medicals assuring them of that fact, and since
they were in a monogamous and faithful relationship they could dispense
with the protection if they so chose. Sam had chosen not, not because he
doubted Chris' fidelity but simply because he was cautious by nature and
also because it was, to quote him, less messy.

Chris, however, liked mess. One only had to visit his flat to realise that.

But this, this decision of Sam's to go along with his request now only
added a layer of intimacy to something that could have just been hot and
rough sex. Not that hot and rough sex was a bad thing in Chris'
opinion. Just... Christ, he was lucky in his lover; a man who could easily
play this type of sex game and yet still demonstrate with one simple act
how much he loved him.

He wet Sam's erection thoroughly, seeing the approving gleam in his lover's
eyes mingled in with arousal and desire. And then he released him and
settled back wordlessly onto the bed, a plea in his own eyes.

This time Sam didn't make him wait, moving straight to kneel on the bed
behind his lover, his hand moving possessively down the American's spine,
ghosting lightly over the still tender skin of Chris' rear, setting off
another shivering reaction. And then he grasped Chris' hips firmly in his
hands and pressed the hot and blunt head of his erection against his
lover's anus.

There was some resistance, Sam not having prepared Chris as carefully for
their joining as was his usual wont, and the burning entry only added to
the fire consuming Chris, the pain transforming almost immediately into
rapturous pleasure, making the American twist and curse as he tried and
failed to increase the friction, the leather jeans still entangled about
his legs conspiring against him. Sam's hands skirted possessively over his
body, down his back, over his stomach but avoiding his aching erection,
moving upwards to twist his nipples roughly, the pain once again finding a
pleasurable echo in his throbbing and tormented cock.

Finally, as Sam plunged deeply into him, he let go of Chris' hips and Chris
fell onto the bed, his burning cock pressing into the mattress, trapped
between his body and the bed. He let out a howl of triumph, grinding his
neglected erection into the bed, his orgasm so close he could almost taste it.

"Oh no you don't!" A harsh and guttural growl in his ear and then strong
hands were flipping him onto his back again, ignoring his whimper of
protest. Sam had slipped out of his body as he twisted him, and now moved
to strip Chris of his trousers completely, pushing his now free limbs up
towards his chest. "You don't come until I tell you you can. Understand?"

There was an almost feral expression on his lover's face and Chris
responded to it wildly, nodding his head frantically, his expression
pleading with Sam, willing to agree to anything as long as Sam fucked him
hard, let him come.

Sam stripped himself of his own trousers and then almost leapt back onto
the bed, his face now almost as wild as Chris knew his own to be. Chris
let out another howl of triumph as he felt his lover surge back into him
again; striking hard against his prostate and making him see stars. The
fabric of the bedclothes rubbed coarsely against the over sensitised skin
of his rear, adding to the sensations he was drowning in. His hands
scrabbled frantically against the headboard, trying to brace himself
against his lover's onslaught, desperation colouring the words that now
spilled from his mouth, Sam's instruction to remain silent completely
forgotten, unheeded in the passion of the moment.

Sam's instruction not to come until he was given permission hadn't been,
but even if it had he wouldn't be able to come with his hands chained like
this, unable to touch himself or coax his own climax from his treacherous
body. Instead all he could do was watch Sam through lidded eyes and
panting through parted lips; watching and enjoying the sweat gleaming on
his partner's chest and the feral expression still on his face as he
pounded into Chris. "Mine," Sam growled again, much as he had the first
time they'd played one of these games, and all Chris could do was nod
frantically as he hung on to the edge, a familiar tension building in his
balls, desperately waiting for release.

"Chris," his lover commanded, his silver-green eyes boring deep into
him. "Come."

He did, screaming out loud as the pleasure coursed through him, setting all
of his nerve endings on fire, sparks dancing behind his closed eyelids as
he convulsed around the hot, steel length buried deep within him, his
twitching and spurting cock splattering his belly with his fluid.

Through a dim haze he felt Sam tense against him and heard his partner give
a low roar as the cock buried deep in his body pulsed and juddered, bathing
his insides with Sam's essence, a wonderful hot surge of ecstasy that sent
another wave of pleasure shuddering through him until he thought he would
pass out.

Sam collapsed over him, panting harshly in his ear as he pressed a shaky
kiss against his face and then rolled off him, sinking down onto the bed
next to him, his breathing hoarse. Cracking open suddenly heavy eyelids,
still working his way through that post-orgasmic haze, Chris gazed at him,
enjoying on some very basic level the sight of his lover, sweaty and
tousled, smelling of heat and sex and still dressed only in that blue cop's
shirt, even if he wasn't up to doing more than looking. Sam glanced at him
and met his eyes, smiling softly.

"Okay?" he asked gently.

Was it okay? Did I hurt you? Did you enjoy it? Do you still love me?


Yes to all of the above.

Sam smiled again, his beautiful eyes warm, such an amazing contrast to the
part he'd been playing for Chris' benefit. "Good," he said. "Happy
birthday, love."

Chris closed his eyes with a happy sigh and took stock. Parts of him still
hurt, his nipples tingling, the skin on his ass still hot and a welcome
soreness where Sam had possessed him, but overriding that was an immense
sense of well-being. He was sticky and sweaty and a little uncomfortable,
Sam's semen now wetting the insides of his thighs but even that only added
to the aura of contentment surrounding him, making him think, in some very
primitive way that he couldn't even have put into words, that they were now
somehow joined as one. It was a wonderful and rather humbling thought.

He turned his head again and opened his eyes to look at his lover.

"Sam..." he began.

"Yes, I'm yours too, love," murmured Sam by way of an answer, his own eyes
closed and his hand thrown over his face.

Chris chuckled. "Glad to know it," he said lightly. "But I was about to
ask if you had the keys to these things." He rattled the handcuffs still
chaining him to the bed.

Sam gave him a startled look and began to pat his shirt pockets
dramatically. "Sam..." growled Chris warningly. Sam gave him a beaming
grin, producing the key with a flourish and unlocking him, rubbing the red
marks that now wound around Chris' wrists gently to soothe them
away. "Thank you."

Sam gave him another smile, turning on his side to face him, his head
propped up on his hand. His eyes were soft and warm, and Chris found
himself returning his lover's smile with a sweet one of his own, complete
with dimples.

"You look hot in that outfit," he said, reaching out with a heavy finger to
touch Sam's blue shirt. "But you look hotter out of it."

Sam laughed. "Thought you might appreciate it. That's why I kept it." At
Chris' quizzical look, he added, "I told the costume people at the film lot
we needed to take it with us as evidence and I... er... 'forgot' to give it

Chris chuckled as Sam's look turned thoughtful, still floating on that
cloud of combined physical and emotional bliss. Sam's thoughtful look
stayed in place, and Chris finally demanded, "What?" his expression

"You know when we were under cover at Bluckner racing?" Sam asked.


Sam grinned. "I don't suppose you kept those racing greens, did
you?" Chris raised one eyebrow. "Well, after all, Chris, you did promise
me some poking around in the dark..."


The End

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