Surprise! I lied about it being a two-parter. I absolutely could not call this story finished without a Lester/Bobby epilogue. Enjoy!

Epilogue: Tie Me Up in Knots

I felt the final knot tightened into place with a jerk that sent a rush of heat and anticipation through my body, causing my already straining erection to leak a little pre-cum. I was in heaven. Finally.

After setting up our Valentine's Day gift to Steph this morning, and then again a couple hours later when Ranger messed it up, my mind had been consumed by the desire to be tied up and at the mercy of my fiancé. One look at him as we stepped out of the office and I knew his thoughts had veered in a similar direction, so it was by unspoken agreement that we both made a beeline for the stairwell, intending to take an early "lunch" break to get ourselves levelled out so we might be able to concentrate for the rest of the day.

As always happens, though, the universe had other plans. I'd barely descended three steps when my cell phone rang, informing me of a situation I needed to attend to. I hung up with a frustrated growl, barely suppressing the urge to hurl the phone over the railing at the ground five floors below. Instead, I shoved it into my pocket and closed the distance between myself and my love, grabbing him to me by a fist in the front of his shirt. Our lips met in our usual chaotic way, battling for dominance until we figured out who had a greater need at that moment.

It was me, not that I had any doubt about that heading into the kiss. Being tied up was my kink, not his, and the fact that we would now not be able to satisfy the burning need crawling over my skin to be trussed up and used had left me almost furious.

I pulled back several moments later, breaths coming in hard, harsh pants as I stared into Lester's swirling green eyes, full of desire. "Tonight," I bit out, moving his hand from where he'd curled his fingers into my belt to wrap them around my throat instead, squeezing lightly. "You. Me. The ropes."

"Fuck yeah," he breathed in reply, a grin spreading on his face before pressing a much quicker kiss to my lips and stepping back.

I let out a light growl of appreciation when he slapped me on the ass as I passed and heard more than saw the gleam in his eyes as he muttered gleefully to himself, "Gonna get to try out that cross-hitch friction knot I just learned."

I had to adjust the front of my cargos as the images of knots and the phantom sensation of friction flooded through me. This day could not be over soon enough.

Anyone who knew us was all too aware of Lester's history of bedding everything in sight and would make the very valid assumption if they ever found out about the bondage we engaged in in the bedroom, that it was his kink we were indulging. But they'd be wrong. While Lester did enjoy it, it was my desire to be bound tight, ropes cutting into my flesh and offering a delightful, biting pression, that drove us to this place: Me, suspended from the door frame while Lester stepped back to admire his work.

"Look at this," he crowed, gesturing to me the same way one would a piece of art in a gallery. "Intricate as fuck," he added proudly, his eyes roving over me. "I deserve a badge." And just like that, he was distracted from his task, strutting around the room arrogantly. "I am the Lord of Knots! Bow before me."

I had to roll my eyes. I loved Lester, and his love of knots was incredibly convenient for my particular kink, but sometimes he was like a four-year-old with ADHD.

His obsession with knots had come following one of his earliest missions in the Rangers that had gone FUBAR because he'd used the wrong kind of knot to secure the target they'd captured. The guy had gotten free and, in the scuffle to prevent him from escaping them entirely, Ranger had come far too close to losing a limb than any of us was comfortable with. Upon returning to the US, Lester had vowed to master all the knots and their uses.

We'd already been friends for years at that point. In fact, we'd been best friends, practically inseparable from the moment we met in basic training. We'd been fairly transparent about our preferences and what experiences we were open to or interested in trying. I knew that, like me, Lester wasn't drawn to any one gender, and was willing to give just about anything a go, but one thing I had never shared during our many late-night, drunken discussions was my interest in bondage and my burning desire to be tied up. So, when he'd started practicing his knots day and night in full view of everyone, it had taken all my considerable control not to jump him then and there.

I managed to keep myself in check for years, watching him fiddle with ropes during his down time and using those images to fuel my dreams at night. Until one day, we were sitting in the SUV on a stake out and he was info-dumping about the new knots he'd learned. One of which would be perfect for immobilising the person it was used on. He was complaining at length that no-one would let him anywhere near them with a rope to try it out.

The words had slipped past my lips before I'd had a chance to stop them. "Tie me up."

He stopped talking, just staring at me. "Really?"

There was no way I could take the words back now, even if I'd wanted to. The very thought of my best friend tying me up so I couldn't move had my cargos growing uncomfortably tight. I forced myself to take a deep breath and remain as calm as possible. "Sure, why not?" I shrugged. "If you think it would be beneficial and you need to test it out, tie me up." If I wasn't mistaken, my voice had dropped in pitch by the end of my sentence, but I was still working as hard as I could to control my reactions.

"Sweet," he enthused, grinning from ear to ear. "When we get back to Haywood, I'll grab my ropes and meet you in the gym."

"No," I said, somehow preventing myself from moaning the word. "Meet me in my apartment. I don't need the guys to see me letting you truss me up like a pig." What I really meant was, I don't need the guys to see my reaction to having him truss me up like a pig.

He eyed me for a second, perhaps having sensed my unspoken amendment. "You okay, Bobby?" he asked.

Glancing at the dash to make sure we weren't broadcasting our conversation to the other patrol vehicles or the control room, I let out a sigh and looked him straight in the eye. "You're probably going to figure it out when we get back anyway, but you should probably know that being tied up is one of my deepest fantasies."

Lester hadn't been put off by my confession in the least. If anything, it had only increased his excitement. That night, he had indeed tied me up and immobilised me with the ropes, and as my arousal grew, so did his boldness. What had started as a rather clinical and detached experiment as he carefully tied the first few knots, had quickly devolved into a night of passion the likes of which I'd never known.

We lay in a heap on my bed at three in the morning, sweating, and sated, neither of us seeming to care all that much that we'd just broken a threshold in our relationship that many men would never dare to even think of approaching.

"I've been dreaming of you doing that for a long time," I confessed between my efforts to suck in some oxygen.

"Me specifically?" he asked, letting his head flop to the side to peer at me.

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Lester, you've been starring in my fantasies for a long time," I told him, unashamed to admit it. "How could you not with the way you're constantly fiddling with your ropes."

He sent me that lopsided grin of his, and rolled onto his side to face me, propping his head up on his hand. "So, if I told you that thinking of you has gotten me off a few times, you wouldn't be disgusted?" he asked, the twinkling of his eyes only just masking the worry behind them.

"Abso-fucking-lutely not," I assured him, mirroring his position.

And the rest, as they say, is history.

With the foundation of our friendship still intact, we'd agreed to embark on a mutually beneficial arrangement to satisfy our needs on a semi-regular basis. An agreement that had quickly become redundant as we stopped dating other people, instead turning to each other. It was the most natural thing in the world, and I often wondered what would have happened if I'd told him about my kink sooner. Had we been wasting time picking up girls at bars when we could have had each other that whole time?

I shook my head to clear the thoughts and revelled in the way the action caused me to swing gently from side to side, the ropes pulling at my flesh. Lester was still raving about his knotting prowess, having now jumped up onto the end of the bed to act out some kind of victory dance.

Jesus fucking Christ, I fell in love with this idiot.

"Will you get back over here?!" I demanded. "This is kink night, not the boy scout brigade."

His head snapped around, wide eyed gaze cutting to me like he'd forgotten I was there, or at least he'd forgotten that I was hanging from the ropes he'd just finished knotting. "Oh, right," he uttered, stepping lightly off the bed and stalking toward me as his expression darkened with desire. When he was standing directly in front of me, he leaned up to lick my collar bone, trailing his hands down the bulges and bumps the ropes created on my torso. His lips followed the same path until he was on his knees in front of me both his hand and his lips wrapped around me. He hummed his appreciation and I saw stars.

This is the life.

The Actual End This Time