by Lynn Hagen
Undressing, Ian regulated the water and then grabbed the small towel meant for stepping on, lying it on the floor. Once he had his washcloth, he stepped into the stall. The water felt so damn good as soon as it hit his body. His injuries had almost healed, and Ian was grateful he could sit down without being in pain.
He hated pain.
Ian was glad as hell he had remembered to add that into his contract. There was no way he could withstand any kind of beating from Mason. Dealing with beatings from the vampires had been hell. Ian knew if Mason had laid his heavy hand on Ian, he would have suffered ten times worse.
But Mason wasn’t into hitting and Ian was thankful for that.
Lathering up the cloth, Ian pushed that thought to the back of his mind. He was safe now. Mason was taking good care of him. Too bad they weren’t in their own place. Ian would have a better grasp of what he should do. It would be a more stable environment than all this moving around—half the time he wasn’t sure what he should do since everything changed from one day to the next. Maybe Mason could assign him some small job to keep himself busy. Ian didn’t like wondering what his task was in this Rebellion group.
He washed down every inch of his body and then scrubbed his hair clean. It needed to be cut. The strands were touching his shoulders.
Toweling off, Ian finished in the bathroom and then walked into the other room and almost froze.
He did as Mason instructed and got onto the bed, lying down. But his eyes kept wandering over to the pile of items on the dresser. Mason didn’t say a word. He just stood there and unraveled the mess. Ian could see highly polished chains and a load of black leather. He was curious as hell, but kept his lips sealed tight.
Mason turned, and Ian saw his mate carrying a small portion of the large pile in his hands as he strode over to the bed.
“On your knees.”
Ian pushed to his knees, gazing up at Mason’s blue eyes as a minute amount of apprehension began to fill him. Mason set the small pile on the bed. “Did I do something wrong?” It was eating away at him that Mason was so sullen. Ian wasn’t sure how mates acted with one another, but he had been kept quiet most of the time he had been at the club. Silence bothered him.
“If you’ve done something wrong, Ian, I’ll let you know. I’ve just had a lot on my mind. There were some things I saw in that small town that disturbed me.”
Ian nodded, feeling a bit better knowing he wasn’t the cause of Mason’s quietness.
Mason ran his hand over Ian’s hair in a gentle manner, his blue eyes softening as he gazed into Ian’s eyes. “I’m collaring you, Ian. The leather is padded, and won’t hurt, but it will be locked into place and only I will have the key.”
Ian swallowed hard as he watched Mason lift the black leather. It was thick but well padded from what he could see. The chains dangled in the air, and two small cuffs swung loose on each end. Ian could see the cuffs had locks on them as well.
Once Mason put everything into place, there was no way Ian would be able to remove them.
And he didn’t want to. This was the most solid commitment he had ever gotten from anyone. Mason was placing ownership on him for all to see. His heart was beating erratically. His pulse was thumping hard. Ian could feel himself trembling as the collar came around his neck. He closed his eyes briefly, savoring the moment as Mason’s fingers brushed over Ian’s neck and shoulders.
He watched as Mason grabbed a small padlock and then his mate’s hand disappeared behind Ian’s back. There was a small snick, and Ian could no longer stop himself from shaking with nerves.
Mason either didn’t notice or didn’t comment.
“Hold your hands in front of you.”
Ian did as Mason commanded and watched as Mason placed the cuffs on his wrists one at a time, locking them into place with a small padlock on each cuff.
He was bound, owned, and drowning in complete euphoria. Mason gave the chains a tug. “Does it feel comfortable?”
Ian pulled his arms as far apart as he could. The chains gave a small noise—which was music to his ears—and then he nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good, because I’m not finished.”
Ian frowned as Mason walked back over to the dresser, picked another piece of black leather up, and then came back to him. “Spread your legs apart.”
Ian did as he was told.
Mason began to wind the leather around his waist, down around each butt cheek, and then up through the apex of his legs, on either side of his balls, locking the piece of leather into place.
Next he attached a smaller chain to the front of Ian’s collar and then affixed the other end to a small metal loop close to his pelvis bone.
“This is to be worn daily.” Mason took one of Ian’s wrists in hand and then attached the cuff to a loop Ian hadn’t noticed on his hip. Mason did the other wrist as well. “But binding your hands to your sides is for other things.” His mate winked at him.
Ian was officially bound by leather and chains. He could see the deep approval in Mason’s eyes. He knelt there on the bed, his cock growing stiff, a reaction he wasn’t used to when a dominant male was in front of him.
“I see you like it as well.”
“I do, Sir.”
Mason was watching Ian closely, his blue eyes glittering, savage, hot. He leaned forward and licked at Ian’s lips. “I’m going to show you many hours of pleasure, Ian,” Mason whispered against Ian’s lips. A rumble of pleasure echoed through Ian’s chest, making him shiver. Mason leaned back and then walked to the dresser.
Ian’s heart beat hard and fast, bursting through his veins, a pleasure in and of itself. His cock grew thicker, standing out in contrast to all the black leather and chains.
Mason grabbed two large cuffs from the dresser. Ian hadn’t a clue what they were for. His mate came back to the bed and helped Ian lie down until his back was pressed into the mattress.
He lay there as Mason slid one cuff over his thigh and then strapped it into place, and then the other. “These are just for playing.”
Mason lifted one leg, attaching the thigh cuff to Ian’s wrist. He did the same with the other.
The soft padding felt like heaven on Ian—all of it. Ian’s lashes lowered as Mason’s eyes became heavy with sexuality, his lips turning up into a wicked grin.
He stood back, gazing down at Ian.
Ian felt exposed, his most intimate parts on display as his legs spread out on either side of him and high in the air. Mason stepped forward and then the tips of his fingers glided over Ian’s erection.
Ian heard the chains clinking as he shivered.
“Tell me, Ian. What part of sex bothers you?”
Images Ian would rather forget swamped his mind, making him fight not to curl into himself. He couldn’t. He was studiously bound, not only by Mason’s presence, but by the leather, chains, and locks as well.
But the images were free to torture him as he thought about Calico and then Newman. The sadistic way they had taken him, forced him, and humiliated him, he would rather die than reveal.
“All,” he whispered out in a tortured breath. “I hate every last aspect of the act.”
“But you like when I suck your cock,” Mason reminded him.
Ian fought not to be taken under by the memories still crashing through his mind like violent waves. He tried to remember the pleasure Mason had given him just last night, but the memories were too many, too bloody, too shameful in their power and wouldn’t let go.
Ian could feel the tears falling as he struggled to breathe. His chest became so tight he felt like he couldn’t pull in enough air. The craving slammed into his gut like a sledgehammer, shattering his newfound feelings for the restraints resting gently against his skin.
Mason unlocked Ian’s thighs and pulled him up from the bed as Ian struggled to get free. He yanked at the chains, crying out, wanting to hurt something for the way he had been hurt, wanting to return the agonizing pain with deadly accuracy.
“Focus on me, Ian.” Mason’s deep, baritone voice echoed through Ian’s mind, shattering some of the images trying to pull him under. But not all of them had fled. More were coming his way as Ian cried out.
His teeth were grinding together so tightly that his entire jaw was throbbing in pain, but the craving still had its deadly talons embedded in Ian’s flesh.
“Ian, open your eyes!”
Ian’s lips parted, his breathing labored as he slowly opened his eyes. It hurt so badly to look at Mason as his own body betrayed him. “Please, Mason. I need. Please.” Ian strained his voice on the last word, feeling as if he were truly dying.
“Yes,” Mason agreed. “You do need, and I’m going to give you the distraction you need to fight this. We are going to work through this, Ian.” Ian almost broke under the lash of Mason’s confident voice, but it wasn’t enough.
Ian didn’t want to work through anything. He wanted to be bitten and didn’t care. He just did not care. All he wanted was his fix, his high, and it didn’t matter that he now knew the bite was slowly killing him. His body still hungered for something that was so deadly for him that Ian knew, one more bite, just might be the last one.
Ian swayed as Mason brought him to his knees. He felt the gates of hell opening once more, pulling him in, the dark abyss calling to him.
“Pleasure,” Mason said close to his ear, “will combat pain.” The cold blunt edge of something rubbery pushed into his ass, filling him and making him squirm.
Ian didn’t understand what Mason was talking about or what he was doing until his body began to vibrate, really vibrate this time, not from the pain, but from something Mason was doing to him. Pleasure he didn’t know he had the capacity to experience washed through him as he felt the last vestige of claws slowly slip from his skin, from his mind.
“And this is on the low setting.” Mason’s rough, sexually laced voice growled into his ear. Ian’s body arched and his thoughts scattered as the vibrations grew harder, more intense. He was shaking as Mason held tightly in his hand the chain that led from Ian’s collar to his pelvic bone, stopping him from falling backward.
“What do you need, Ian?”
Ian’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as his entire lower half pulsated in pleasure. The vibration slowed by a notch, and Ian was terrified Mason would stop.
“What do you need, Ian?”
“More, Sir,” Ian cried out. “I need more.”
Ian’s arms slammed outward, but they couldn’t go anywhere when they were locked at his sides. All he could do was fall forward into Mason as whatever Mason had put in his ass shuddered harder, making Ian fuck thin air.
Mason gave a low chuckle. “More?”
Ian wasn’t sure he could handle any more. Mason was feeding a hunger that had been dormant for so long, until last night, that Ian was willing to beg, borrow, and steal to prolong the sensations. The man had woken something up inside Ian.
Last night had been fantastic, but right now, with what Mason was doing to his body, Ian would—the thing vibrated even harder now, making it almost impossible for Ian to breathe. “Yellow!”
The sensations lessened, but didn’t go away. Ian didn’t want them to recede, but Mason was doing too much too soon. His body wasn’t used to such pleasures and Ian feared he would drown in them if Mason pushed him too far.
“We can continue this pleasurable torture all night, Ian,” Mason said as he leaned back, putting some space between them. “Or we can finish this.”
Ian was panting, his mouth dry as hell as he glanced up at Mason.
“Don’t worry.” Mason’s eyes blazed with a sensuality that bordered on madness. “I won’t let you go. You won’t fall without me there to catch you.”
Ian licked his dry lips. “Finish it, Sir.”
One side of Mason’s mouth turned up into a sinful smile as he lifted his hand. There was some sort of small remote in his palm. Ian watched as Mason’s finger touched the lever and then slid it all the way up. The overwhelming sensations were drowning him, killing him with pleasure, building, increasing. He felt his cock swell, pulse, and the pleasure didn’t abate.
Ian struggled against his restraints, his mind screaming art, but he refused to allow the word past his lips. If he could endure what the vampires had done to him, then Ian sure as hell could endure the raw, ravenousness feeling splintering him apart.
Mason stepped closer, pulling the chain harder as his eyes locked with Ian’s. “Stop fighting it, Ian.” It was a command, pure and simple.
Ian panted, his body covered in a film of sweat as Mason reached behind Ian with the hand holding the remote and wiggled the toy around in his ass. The plastic device touched Ian’s prostate and the fight was over.
Ian shouted as his entire body ripped apart with his orgasm. His body was twitching and jerking, but Mason held on to him. He hadn’t let Ian go as the sensations became nearly unbearable.
As he lay helpless, exhausted, and so fucking satiated that it was mind boggling, the device slowly stopped vibrating. Mason reached behind Ian and wiggled the device, making Ian jerk against the man’s chest.
“This seems to be a favorite so far. I’ll keep that in mind.”
A warm, strong hand smoothed down his back, cutting through Ian’s sweat, and then skimmed across the leather surrounding Ian’s waist.
Ian couldn’t move. It was Mason who was keeping him from falling over in a boneless slump. He opened his eyes when he felt Mason laying him down. He didn’t unlock Ian’s wrists, but he did gently remove the device from Ian’s ass.
Ian lay there, his mind too tired to even think as he felt Mason washing his stomach and then between his legs. Ian felt his heart struggling to keep up. Only this time it wasn’t from being beaten by a vampire. It was from being given so much pleasure by a jaguar that Ian was beginning to feel like signing the contract may have been the wisest move in his life.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Mason stroked Ian’s back as his mate slept. His fingers lingered over the leather around the man’s waist as he thought about the withdrawal Ian had gone through.
It still wasn’t as bad as Bryson had predicted—which Mason was thankful as hell—but any kind of adverse effect he had from the fang bites didn’t set well with him. It only reminded Mason how far a road they still had to travel in order to keep the man clean.
Ian wasn’t that far into his recovery.
He thought about when he first took Ian from Selene. Mason had thought himself in over his head. He thought he didn’t have time for this sort of complication in his life.
As Ian lay there next to him in the darkness of the motel room, Mason was glad he had been wrong. Not only was he trying to help heal Ian, but the small man had no idea how much he was starting to affect Mason.
He had grown up without the love and affection most changelings experienced. His household had been cold and sterile, no life, no love—just an aloof father who worked all the time. They had a pack, but his father had forbid Mason to interact with them.
He hadn’t known why. Mason was young when his father had given the command. But now he could see it was his father’s way of trying to get Mason to deny who he was, what he was. He had been slowly grooming Mason to be just as cold and sterile as his father was.
But Ian brought Mason so much warmth, so much…it was hard to even think of a word that came close to what Mason was feeling. He ran his hands through Ian’s long hair, playing with the strands. It was soft and wavy, feeling like spun silk as it slid through his fingers.
Mason glanced down when he felt something brush against his hip. Ian’s fingers were twitching in his sleep. He studied the cuffs, the way Ian’s hands were bound to his sides. After the battle Ian had just gone through, Mason felt it best to keep him bound.
He couldn’t hurt himself if he couldn’t move.
He’d release the locks that kept Ian’s hands at his sides in the morning, but for now he lay there appreciating the beauty of seeing hi
s submissive in Mason’s trappings.
This was better than any scene Mason had ever played in. It was more intense, more personal, and Ian was his mate. That made the stakes a hell of a lot higher.
Ian was a mess right now, and Mason planned on helping his mate get to the point where his self-worth and self-hate weren’t eating at him.
Mason knew the man was feeling this way. It was still in his cobalt-blue eyes. Ian was still beating himself up about what he had done for the past four years.
The man had so much potential, so much worth, but he had to see it in himself before he would start believing it, start living that way.
A light knock sounded on the door. Mason rolled from the bed, careful not to wake Ian as he opened the door. Rick stood there, his eyes going to Ian’s naked form and then to Mason.
“I was told about some big plans going down in Albuquerque.”
Mason nodded. “But we didn’t hear what those big plans were for.”
Rick glanced over at Ian again. “Do you want to talk outside?”
Mason could scent Rick’s unease. “Does his nakedness bother you?”
Rick shook his head. “No, I’m changeling. But I’m not sure you want to disturb him.”
“I don’t want to leave him by himself either.”
Rick nodded. “I’ve asked the others what they want to do. So I’m asking you. Do you want to press on to the detention center?”
Mason leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. “What did the others say?”
“Nope, I want your unbiased opinion.”
Mason weighed the options in his mind. “I can’t leave changelings to suffer. I think we should still try to free as many as we can.”
A grin formed on Rick’s face. “That’s what everyone else said.” His smile faltered. “But you know the risks.”
“I do. But what if it was Ian or Dorian in there? People out there are going nuts because their loved ones have been taken. I can’t just sit back when I know there is something I can do about it.”
Mason would kill every single person in the place if it were Ian who was taken. He knew the changelings were being tortured, and his mate had been through enough already.
