Author's Warning: This story takes a bit of a dark turn from this point forward. It's still within an M rating, but please be advised that more details of Sam's ordeal with Ian will be forthcoming. Thanks for reading!

Ian was between classes, grading papers in the teacher's lounge when the emergency call came through. Becky came to fetch him this time, and he took the call inside the lounge.

"This is Ian Watts."

"Mr. Watts, this is Alberta Reynolds with Grant County Memorial. We have a young man here with no identification. He was found unconscious clutching his phone, and your name and number were the only ones programmed into it."

"Uh, Can you describe him?"

"Sure, about 16 years old, short blond hair, and he has one arm in a cast and one leg in a brace."

Ian thought about the description. It sounded nothing like him, but it had to be Sam. There was no other family in Ian's life. No one else near that description who would have Ian's work number programmed into a phone. He made a decision.

"Yes, that's my … my nephew. Is he okay?"

"He's unconscious. He appears to have been beaten pretty badly, but he should recover. Can you give us his full name, please?"

Ian hesitated for only a moment, glancing around at the crowded lounge. "It's Sean. Sean Watts."

"Are you available to come here, Mr. Watts? I'm assuming Sean is a minor. He'll need an adult to sign off on any treatments we give him."

"Where is Grant County?"

"Silver City, New Mexico."

"New Mexico?" Ian gasped.

"Yes. Are you close?"

"I'm in Albany, NY, but I … I can be there by morning."

"That sounds great, Mr. Watts. Thank you. We'll look for you in the morning, then."

Ian disconnected the call and headed straight for the office.

###

Later, standing in the shower inside his apartment, Ian allowed himself to go down the checklist. Emergency leave granted. Bag packed. Plane ticket purchased. He had a neighbor picking up his mail and newspaper. He'd covered all his bases. He was free to go.

To Sam.

The poor kid must have no one if Ian was the only contact he had left.

And the teacher could understand that. He knew exactly how it felt, in fact. Ian's own family had turned on him. They'd told to leave and never come back. He knew what that kind of loneliness felt like.

Maybe he could be there for Sam in a way no one else ever had. Maybe he could … could ... Ian groaned, and just like that, the old familiar feeling was back. Ian pictured Sam - all of him. He pictured the boy's silky hair and his soft skin. He saw his long, well-muscled legs arriving for class still dressed in his track uniform - sweat dripping from his face and plastering strings of hair to his skin. He saw broad shoulders and a trim waist and … and … Ian's hand moved downward.

Suddenly he pictured Sam stretched out and struggling beneath him - those beautiful brown eyes wide with fear, hands tied to the bedposts. Would he beg, or would he scream? Ian had no idea. But suddenly he knew he had to find out.

Sam had no one - no one to miss him, no one to come after him. He was alone and injured and in a strange town, and Ian was the one on track to rescue him.

It couldn't be more perfect.

Ian finished, his legs going weak, and stumbled from the shower. He fell across the bed, an arm flung over his eyes. He had shopping to do.

He'd gotten rid of all his toys long ago, when his sentence had first come down. It was a provision of his parole. He'd played nicely for a while, then he'd bought a new identity and ditched his P.O. and moved to Albany. He resumed his life as a teacher of adolescent boys and for the longest time, he'd been forced to watch from afar, and it had been … difficult.

It had been especially difficult the day Sam walked into his class. So tall, so smart, so …. desperate for approval. Sam was what the guys at the farm called an easy mark - so deprived of attention and love from his family that he was easily manipulated into situations that might not be in his best interests.

But they'd be in Ian's.

They'd be in Ian's, and he'd damn well take advantage. It had been six long years. Six years since Ian had indulged his darkest desires, but now Sam needed him. He needed Ian, and Ian needed him.

Probably not in the same way, but who cared? Ian would go to Sam. He'd rescue him. He'd set them up in a secluded apartment somewhere, and then the gorgeous boy with the silken tresses would be his to do with as he pleased.

And he'd make that boy scream.

Oh, it would be lovely.