by Loki Renard
Bobby turned with a growl, his shirt coming out of his pants as he roared back toward Mark, his fists raised. He couldn’t have known it, but he was doing Mark a massive favor. Combat was the one place he didn’t feel any kind of fear. He was trained to be utterly calm, to slow himself, to watch the oncoming threat.
Bobby was not a fighter. Not by a long way. A fighter would have known not to make another direct approach in exactly the same way. The first shot had been a sucker punch. The second had been a stupid attempt to do the same thing. The third was a huge mistake.
This time Mark deflected the blow, grabbed Bobby’s arm and kicked at his leg, using Bobby’s momentum against him. The younger man went head over heels and slammed down on his back, winded. Mark took the opportunity to enforce his win, crouching down with a knee to Bobby’s chest.
“What are you boys doing?”
Angelo Vitali entered the room, speaking with an indulgent drawl which immediately threw Mark off-balance. He would have expected Angelo to come rushing to Bobby’s aid. But Angelo did nothing except stand there, tall and dominant, his arms folded over his chest, his brow raised.
“He was talking shit,” Bobby said, trying to push Mark off him, and failing. “So I taught him a lesson.”
“What lesson was that, Bobby? How to bottom?”
Mark tried not to smirk.
“I got a hit,” Bobby growled. “Look at his face.”
“You sucker punched me,” Mark shot back.
“Mark, if you’d be so kind as to let my boy up,” Angelo said kindly.
Mark obliged, getting up and sitting on the edge of the bed. Bobby popped up from the floor and tried to straighten his clothing. He reminded Mark of a cat who had just fallen off a window sill and was cleaning himself to cover up for how embarrassed he was.
“Not so fast,” Angelo said. He seemed annoyed at Bobby. Perhaps for hitting Mark, or more likely, for failing in his attempt to physically dominate their prisoner. “On your knees, boy.”
Mark watched in amazement as Bobby did as he was told, sinking to his knees in a single graceful motion. What the hell did Angelo have over Bobby? It had to be something incredibly powerful, because Bobby looked reluctant as hell.
“So this gentleman beat you literally one handed,” Angelo purred. “That’s not acceptable, Bobby. How many times have I told you not to start fights you don’t know you’ve already won?”
Bobby wilted under Angelo’s disappointment. “Sorry,” he mumbled, putting his head down.
When he wasn’t being an ass, Bobby was very attractive. Mark saw the appeal of having him on his knees. He looked good there. If it was up to Mark, he’d probably keep Bobby down most of the time.
“And you’ve attacked our guest, which is very poor hospitality. I think you need to make it up to him.”
Mark didn’t know what Angelo was referring to, but Bobby seemed to have some idea, judging by the way he shook his head.
“Angelo, please…”
“Suck his dick, Bobby.”
What?
Rebellion flashed in Bobby’s eyes, but he didn’t refuse.
“Uhm…” Mark spoke up in a confused sort of rumble.
“What? You don’t want Bobby to make it up to you by making you feel good?”
Mark looked at Bobby. The boy did have a sweet mouth, and yeah, a blow job would probably take the edge off things, but he was sure the bureau had some kind of restriction against getting your dick wet while on assignment.
Was he on assignment anymore? He was being held against his will by two very dangerous men, and refusing a blow job might just annoy Angelo Vitali. Mark didn’t want to be an ungracious guest.
Fuck. His head was spinning. Angelo had him totally confused. Every time he thought he knew what to expect, something unexpected happened. Bobby was already sliding between his legs, his fingers at Mark’s crotch. Mark’s cock twitched to life, blood flowing away from his brain and toward his dick, making the decision so much harder.
Mark looked down doubtfully. “I mean… what if he bites?”
“He won’t bite,” Angelo said confidently. “Bobby knows what happens when he misbehaves. Any harm he causes is visited on him several times over - and in the same region.”
Yikes. That sounded really fucking unpleasant.
Mark closed his eyes as Bobby’s fingers worked at his underwear, freeing his cock. He wasn’t erect in the beginning, but as Bobby put his lips to the head of his dick and sucked the soft shaft into his mouth, he quickly began to respond.
He couldn’t believe this. A criminal was sucking his dick. Bobby’s mouth was perfect and hot, and the slight reluctance he sensed in some of Bobby’s motions only made it better. Fuck. Was this wrong? It didn’t feel wrong. It felt fucking incredible. Bobby Vitali worked his mouth over the length of Mark’s shaft, paying special attention to the sensitive spot under the head of his cock.
Bobby didn’t know how to fight worth a damn, but he knew how to suck a dick.
This was wrong. Definitely wrong. Mark put his hand on Bobby’s head to push him away, but ended up running his fingers through the younger man’s hair as Bobby sucked him deep, sending a smooth sensation of pleasure right through Mark. How could he resist this? As much as his principles said he should do something to put an end to this perverted punishment, nothing in his body wanted this to stop.
“Does that feel good?” Angelo stood over them both, smiling devilishly. “You can use him, Mark, don’t be shy.”
Hell yes, it felt good! It was the first thing that had felt good in a really fucking long time. Mark’s hand had been his only lover of late, and that didn’t compare to a talented mouth moving in tight wet motions over his cock.
He opened his eyes to look down at Bobby, those big brown eyes burning with reluctant fire as he did as he was damn well told.
Mark was starting to understand how it must feel to be Angelo, to be able to command other men against their will. It was hotter than hot. It felt incredible to dominate this nasty little asshole who had been cruel to him.
Inspired by Angelo, and aroused as hell, Mark grabbed hold of Bobby’s head with his good hand, curling his fingers in that perfect length of hair that allowed for a good grip. He’d have bet that was no accident. He started to fuck the little prick’s mouth nice and hard, his cock sluicing all the way to the back of Bobby’s throat. He loved hearing the little gasps and gurgles as Bobby fought, not pulling way entirely, but trying to resist without resisting.
Somewhere in the very back of his mind he was aware that he shouldn’t be doing this. Angelo’s invitation had been a depraved and sick one. That knowledge only made his cock swell all the more. He was going to cum. It hadn’t been long since the BJ started, but under the circumstances, Mark was ready to blow his load almost right away. Sex and danger, illicit, illegal behavior. He suddenly understood the allure of it all in a physical way. It felt incredible.
“Cum on his face,” Angelo prompted. “Mark him.”
Mark pulled out and ran his fist along the length of his cock, pumping himself to orgasm. Later, he would wonder why he had obeyed Angelo without question, but in the moment all that mattered was cumming, shooting his seed all over Bobby’s smug mug.
He let out a grunt of pleasure as his orgasm erupted, jets of seed shooting over Bobby’s mouth and nose. Mark did him the courtesy of avoiding his eyes, not that Bobby really deserved it.
Bobby knelt there and took it all, his expression impossible to read as his darkly sweet features were covered in cum.
“Next time you lay a finger on him without permission, he fucks your ass,” Angelo told Bobby. “So make sure to be an obedient boy.”
It was hard not to feel superior and smug in that moment. Bobby had started out so cocky and so rude, and now he was wearing Mark’s seed. A thick string of it was smeared across his lips. As Mark watched, Bobby extended his tongue and licked it up. The sight damn near made Mark cum all over again.
“Good
boy,” Angelo purred. “Now go clean up.”
Bobby got up and left the room without another word. Mark watched him go, stunned by what had just happened. That was one of the hottest things he’d ever experienced, and it had been utterly spontaneous. His blood was still rushing in his veins, even as the post coital calm of orgasm worked its magic on his nerves.
“Uhm, thank you,” he said to Angelo. “I think.”
“Bobby is impulsive,” Angelo said. “It is his worst trait. I try to make every mistake he makes a teachable moment.”
It was such a banal thing to say after such a twisted interlude, as if Bobby were a puppy Angelo had caught chewing on his shoes. Mark took a deep breath and nodded, putting his cock back inside his underwear. He knew the talent for twisted shame Bobby had just been the recipient of could be turned on him at any moment. Angelo had no loyalty to him. They were enemies. This wasn’t for his benefit. This was a manipulation. But goddamn, what a manipulation it was.
9
CHAPTER
“You made me suck a junkie’s dick,” Bobby complained when Angelo emerged from his audience with the agent. He’d washed his face and brushed his teeth, but he could still taste FBI cum in the back of his mouth.
“I didn’t make you do anything. I told you to do it, and you did it, because you’re a good boy. But if you’re going to whine about it, maybe you’re not,” Angelo said evenly.
“He could have anything,” Bobby pointed out. “I could have six different STI’s now.”
“The doctor ran bloods and took swabs. He’s clean.”
Bobby scowled. “Why did he do that? Were you planning on fucking him?”
“You looked good on your knees in front of him,” Angelo said, ignoring Bobby’s question. “He’s older and physically more adept than you are. I think he may be your natural superior.”
“Bullshit.” Bobby snarled. Angelo was pushing every button he had, and Bobby really didn’t understand why. Angelo was difficult to read at the best of times, but right now he made no damn sense at all. They were supposed to be a team against this fucking cop.
“If he wasn’t, you wouldn’t have got on your knees so quickly. And you wouldn’t have gotten so hard you came in your pants.”
Bobby reddened. He’d cum a little, not really an orgasm, more a reluctant ejaculation. Angelo knew him too well. Bobby cared about respect and power and Angelo was constantly perverting that desire, making him powerless and showing him disrespect. It made Bobby angry, but it also made him hot as hell. It was an internal contradiction he still didn’t understand after almost a year with Angelo, but which often drove him to extremes.
“I saw, my boy,” Angelo smiled rakishly, his dark eyes sparkling with malevolent glee. “I should have had you service others before.”
“Are you going to get rid of me and start fucking him instead?”
Bobby asked the question his jealousy demanded he ask, even though he knew the answer. Angelo couldn’t get rid of him, even if he wanted to. Their fates were bound together inextricably. Neither one of them could afford to have the other turn against them. Their relationship was one long mutual hostage situation.
“Oh my sweet boy,” Angelo said, wrapping his arms around Bobby’s waist. “You are forever mine. There is no replacing you. Our agent is certainly not a candidate.”
“Good,” Bobby said. He smiled up into Angelo’s eyes. “I want to be the one who kills him.”
Angelo leaned down, his mouth just a fraction of an inch from Bobby’s lips. “In that case, you better be a very, very good boy.”
10
CHAPTER
Alone in the room which effectively doubled as a cell, Mark paced back and forth, sweating and nervous. He’d been left in here for hours and the thrill of the orgasm had worn off long ago. Unfortunately, so had the last of the drugs. His heart kept pounding at random, irregular palpitations that made everything worse. He knew what was wrong with him. Withdrawals. They were a bitch. He’d known the minute Angelo told him he was taking the pills away that this would happen. Mark had been taking them for months now, several times a day. He was dependent.
Clenching and unclenching his fists, he tried to relax. It was physically impossible. His brain was accustomed to getting its hit and without it, every cell in his being felt as though it was screaming. He had to get out, but there was no way. The door was locked, and the window in the bathroom was barred. The one window that overlooked the forest had a fine mesh of wires outside it. It could open a few inches, but when he reached out to see how strong the wires were, he got hit by a jolt of electricity so powerful it singed the skin where it touched, and sent his heart racing all the more.
The agency had to be coming for him, he told himself as he ran his burned fingers under the cold tap. The pain was actually something of a welcome distraction from the panic. Now he could think a little more clearly. He told himself that he was going to be rescued. It was going to be okay. He just had to hold on.
Nothing he told himself really helped. Angelo hadn’t hurt him yet, but Mark had seen the evil in the eyes of his captors and he knew they would soon enough, when it suited them.
At that moment the door opened and Mark felt a wave of relief and fear run through him at exactly the same time. It was Angelo. No Bobby. Thank god. He dried his hand and came out of the bathroom to face whatever fate the monster had in store for him.
“You don’t look well,” Angelo noted.
“Yeah,” Mark replied, trying not to clench his jaw muscles too tight.
“It’s the pills, isn’t it.”
“Does it matter?”
Angelo fixed him with a look and in an instant, Mark knew what it must feel like to be Bobby. There was something about Angelo, a pure force of personality which channeled something almost superhuman. He was more than a man. Or at least, Mark felt that he was in that chemically frantic moment.
“I need to speak with you,” Angelo said smoothly. “And I need you in a frame of mind to listen. Are you ready to listen to me, Mark?”
“Sure,” Mark said, trying to compose himself. It was a challenge when he was standing in tighty whitey underwear in front of one of the most dangerous men in the state.
“You’re a federal agent. There’s no point denying it. I already have my confirmation based on the limited information you’ve given me. Your name is Mark Locke. You have a mother in a rest home, and a sister who lives on the East Coast with her three children and a dog named Rowdy. You like craft beer, and you think unicycles are amusing…” he trailed off at Mark’s stunned expression. “Facebook, darling. Your life is an open book.”
“But my profile is private…”
“Nothing is private online,” Angelo laughed. “And everything is for sale. Now I feel I know you a little better, I think we’re in a position to begin negotiations. Sit down.”
Mark sat on the edge of the bed, nervous. Angelo didn’t sit. He stayed standing, sucking up all the oxygen in the room.
“You’ve put me in quite a difficult situation, Mark. I’ve unwittingly brought you into my sanctum. If I let you go now, you will surely return with men to take me down, just as Caesar did to the pirates who kidnapped him. Are you familiar with that story?”
Mark shook his head. “I didn’t do much history.”
“Well,” Angelo said. “I do nothing but history, my boy. Julius Caesar… you do know who he is?”
Mark nodded.
“Good. Well, he was once captured by pirates and held for ransom. He did them the courtesy of telling them that he would come and crucify them when he was successfully ransomed. Do you know what they did, Mark?”
Mark shook his head. This was the weirdest, but admittedly, least boring history lesson he’d ever had.
“They laughed. His ransom was paid, and he went free. And do you know what happened next?”
“Nossir.”
“He got a ship, hunted those pirates down and crucified each and every one of them.”
“You’re my little JC,” Angelo purred. “You haven’t done me the honor of telling me what you’ll do if I let you go, but you don’t have to, because I learn my lessons from the greats.”
“Well, uhm, I wouldn’t crucify you,” Mark pointed out. “You’d just go to prison.”
“I’d rather be crucified,” Angelo growled. “I have no intention of going anywhere near such a facility. So, Mark, it is up to you to convince me that you will not be a threat if I let you go.”
Mark stared at him. “You’d let me go?”
“If I can be sure you won’t present a danger to me or my operation. That is a high bar to set though, isn’t it, Agent Locke. After all, it is your job to betray me. So let me show you something I think will have some effect.”
He took out his cellphone and swiped to a video before holding it out for Mark to see. Mark’s heart pounded and sank at the same time as he saw a 1080p version of him leaning back, his eyes closed, Bobby Vitali’s mouth wrapped around his dick. The angle of the video came from the upper left corner of the room, and when he looked up that way, he saw that what he’d thought was a smoke detector or a motion sensor must actually be a camera.
“You recorded it.”
“Of course,” Angelo said. “I do not care to waste opportunities.”
“I could just tell them that I was coerced.”
“You could, but there are no restraints, no weapons, and the part where you shoot your load on his face removes any suggestion of unwillingness,” Angelo smiled. “You let your dick get the better of you, Agent Locke. More than that, you let your desire to dominate override your better senses.”
Mark was starting to feel faint and very dizzy. He collapsed back on the bed, stomach churning. Fuck. This was the worst. He wouldn’t just be thrown out of the FBI if they saw this. He’d probably be charged with interfering in an investigation, and that video would be played a hundred times in court.
