Miles had known that he was in deep from the moment that they had found Connor in Mexico. The kid reminded Miles of a young Bass, the Bass that he had been naïve enough to think that there was any shot of things working out with.
Bass had been too dependent, too possessive, but Connor was just the opposite. He was detached.
Connor was not only everything that Miles had fallen for in Bass all those years ago, but also everything that he had wished that Bass had been and God help him, but he was falling hard.
Miles hadn't meant for this to happen. He'd never meant to let it get anywhere near this far. It had all started out so innocent- well, innocent might be a bit of an overstatement -before everything had escalated, but he blamed the kid for that.
Miles had just been innocently minding his own business and, okay maybe, looking in the general direction of baby Monroe's ass. And, okay, maybe he'd been imagining bending Connor over the back of the wagon, but it's not like he had actually done anything about it.
Connor had felt the older man's eyes on him and he, on the other hand, had decided to do something about it. Unfortunately for Miles, that something meant torturing Miles every chance that he got.
At first Connor had just been amused by how much he could drive Miles insane with just the slightest lingering stare or just the hint of flirtation in his words. Then, he'd decided to push things and had suddenly started publicly changing his shirt several times a day and dropping things so that he would have to bend over and pick them up much more often.
That had backfired in the end, since all that he had managed to do was effectively make Miles sexually frustrated to the point where the slightest movement would set him off.
Finally, when they stopped to set up camp one night, Miles just stormed off into the surrounding woods while dragging Connor along by the arm.
As they walked out of sight of the others, Connor yanked his arm out of the other man's grasp.
"You could have asked me to come with you," he pointed out and then the slightest of smirks twitched at his lips at his word choice.
"Don't do that," Miles growled out.
"Don't do what?" Connor questioned innocently, his smirk in full effect now.
"I know what you're doing and I'm telling you to stop," Miles hissed out in a threatening tone.
"What am I doing, Miles?" Connor asked in the most angelic tone he could muster up.
He wanted Miles to admit it. He couldn't think of anything that would be more entertaining than making Miles Matheson admit that he had a crush on Connor and could barely keep it in his pants around him.
Miles turned his head away, avoiding making eye contact with Connor as he tried to figure out whether to push the subject or just give up and walk away.
Walking away probably would have been the better call, but Miles was stubborn and he hated to give up. There was no way that he was going to let Connor get away with the satisfaction of making him evade the conversation, so instead he made a big mistake by pushing Connor up against a tree to try and threaten him.
"I swear to God, Connor if you don't stop-"
"You'll do what?" Connor asked as he pushed his body away from the tree, effectively pressing himself up against Miles.
Looking back on it, Connor definitely should have seen that kiss coming. He had pretty much asked for it. In fact he was convinced that a part of him had known he'd been attracted Miles and so his subconscious had been driving him forward to push Miles to his breaking point.
Still, Connor had been planning on pulling away from Miles right away to gloat. That plan had fallen apart right around the time that Miles' tongue had made its way into his mouth and all thoughts had cut out.
By the time that Connor's brain had even started working again, both of their shirts were laying on the ground and Miles had a hand down Connor's pants.
"Someone's eager," Connor commented with a smirk against Miles' lips.
"That's your fault," Miles accused as he took a step back. "Pants off."
"What's the magic word?" Connor taunted with a sadistic grin.
"Take your fucking pants off or I swear to God I will break your neck."
"Close enough for me," the younger man said as he moved to unbuckle his pants.
Connor hadn't stopped his attempts at torturing Miles after that; he just began to take breaks from it. He made sure not to use that form of manipulation too frequently. He needed to make sure that Miles was still convinced that he was in charge of things, despite the fact that Connor controlled him like his own personal sexual puppet.
That suited Miles just fine though. He didn't care if he was being used the way that he had used Bass. Maybe he should have been mad that he was being taught his own lesson, but he was just fine getting a taste of his own medicine… Just as long as it meant that Connor would be in his bed for one more night.
A/N: Please read and review! ...I'm not sure how I feel about this. My sister laughing hysterically at it (not in a good way) is making me feel pretty iffy about it, but here it is anyways.