So, if you are not accepting of AU, slash, language (strong and visual) unusual pairings, and limited screen time for Steph, this story is most likely not for you.
Thank you from both Kevan and me all of the kind thoughts about Marilyn. She will be greatly missed. She was a terrific lady with one hell of an imagination.
Additionally, thank you for reading and reviewing. All reviews are forwarded to Kevan and she greatly appreciates them.
With all of that said ...
If Handcuffs Could Talk
Chapter 2
by Kevan and Marilyn (Alpha Order is Everything!)
Uploaded by Alfonsina
Time Out Aftermath (Lester)Well, this could get worse.
Maybe.
Possibly.
Realistically, probably not.
Four of the guys I work with surrounded me, all with shit-eating grins. I hadn't even made it to the door of my apartment after Ranger drug me down the stairs, unlocked the cuff on one wrist, shoved me into the hall, and slammed the heavy stairwell door behind me. Naturally, they came to see what the noise was about. Crap. Of course, if it hadn't been that, whoever was in the control room on monitors would probably have called them anyway. No doubt the duty guys were laughing their asses off at my predicament. And recording it. They always did when it was embarrassing. Okay, I would do the same if the positions were reversed, but still it pissed me off.
"Well, Santos, looks like another fine mess you've gotten yourself into," Bobby quipped.
"Did you really think Ranger wouldn't find out about you hiding a video cam in Steph's shower?" Tank asked.
"Gotta hand it to you. You got balls," Breeze said.
Rav shook his head. "Man, he got you good. Like the outfit."
"Nice bruises," Breeze observed. "Not afraid to use that choke chain, is he? And, hey, are those lash marks?"
"Nothing is worth that outfit," Bobby said.
"Oh yes there is," I replied, some of my natural cockiness surfacing. When you're at a disadvantage is when you have to be your absolute cockiest, most outrageous, confident self. Especially in front of testosterone laden, alpha males. Don't let them scent fear or weakness, or they will own you. I know; I am one. "Definitely worth it. She tastes just as sweet as she looks."
Tank narrowed his eyes. "No way, man. There is no way you laid hands on that woman."
"Didn't say I laid hands on her," I smirked. It even had the benefit of being true.
"Even if it's true—and coming from you I doubt it—it's not worth the outfit." Bobby said.
Speaking of my outfit, I was going to need some help getting it off. "Guys, I could use some help here."
All four began backing away.
"Come on, guys, help get this thing off me."
"Oh no, Lester. You're on your own. You got yourself into this. Nobody's going to cross the boss man on this one." Rav sounded adamant. He was also probably right.
Damn it! "What's it going to take guys? I'll pony up, just tell me. Come on, I've covered for you."
"No way, Les," Breeze still sounded amused. "Nothing you can say or do is worth me ending up in that same outfit for crossing the boss."
The other three nodded, still grinning.
Damn. Damn. Damn. Okay, so Ranger can be a vindictive son-of-a-bitch. He had to find out about it first, right? "He's not gonna find out. Man, I swear. I'm not gonna tell him who helped."
All four stopped backing away. They turned and walked away.
"Come on, I'd help you guys," I yelled at their retreating backs, throwing my hands in the air. The dangling handcuff smacked me in the head.
Bobby looked back and mimed being choked. They were all laughing.
"She sucked my nipples and played with my ass!" I yelled louder.
Breeze waggled a finger at me over his shoulder like a parent scolding a misbehaving child.
"I had my tongue down her throat and ate her pussy!" I screamed as they disappeared into the far stairway. The door shut behind them with a solid thunk.
Traitorous bastards. Wait until they need something. At least there was no one else in the hall and I made it to my apartment door with no further incidents. That's when I realized I had another problem. I couldn't get in. All the doors lock electronically whenever they're shut and I sure as hell didn't have my key fob.
Damn Ranger to the lowest circle of hell. Maybe there could be a new circle of hell just for him. Maybe I could arrange a fatal accident for his precious Porsche.
I ran through the possibilities of how to get into my apartment. There weren't many, so it didn't take long. "Alright, open the damn door." I knew whoever was on monitors could hear me—and was undoubtedly still laughing. They could also override the lock. I waited. Nothing. Waited some more. Still nothing. Banged my head on the door. Shit. "Please," I ground out, hating it. Please was for pussies and kids and old ladies.
The lock clicked as it disengaged.
"Assholes," I snarled as I pushed the door open and flipped the bird toward the camera. At least my humiliation would be out of public since there was no monitoring inside personal apartments. Not that it mattered at this point. Doubtless video was already winging its electronic way to the other RangeMan offices. I left the door open, just in case I had to go out and needed to get back in. I didn't plan to but the way my luck was running lately, it paid to be prepared.
Pacing back-and-forth, I ran through my mental Rolodex of ideas for getting the damn belt off. I couldn't cut the leather. I'd tried that last time. There were wires running through the leather. I didn't know what they were made of, but I knew you couldn't cut them with a file or a saw blade. Wire cutters didn't work, and the belt was too tight to try bolt cutters without seriously injuring myself.
And the locks. I snarled. The damn locks. They were tiny, which made them much more difficult to pick. And there was some sort of link between them where you had to open the lock in back or the one in front wouldn't open, no matter what you did to it. Ranger, the sadistic bastard, had laughed when he informed me of that little fact. Which explained why the last time this happened I'd spent hours squatting over and in front of mirrors, trying to reach behind my back and pick that lock while my eyes and brain struggled to sync up with the reversed movements of my hands as they appeared in the mirror. I'd spent a day-and-a-half trying in vain, afraid to eat since I couldn't shit with the butt plug, before Ranger showed up and released me.
"Prick!" I snarled, continuing to pace. "Asshole!" I owed him big. I was going to need a new carpet at this rate. And he was definitely going to need a new Porsche.
"This your new look?"
I spun around. Malware, aka Mal, RangeMan's resident computer and electronics genius, leaned against the wall, looking amused. All this amusement at my expense was getting old. I glared at him. It felt good. Maybe Steph was onto something with the glaring at people that pissed her off in lieu of the blank face.
"Why so pissed? You've still got the video from—"
Horrified, I lunged across the room and slapped my hand over Mal's mouth. My momentum carried us both until his back hit the bar sectioning off the kitchen. "Shut up!" I hissed urgently. "He thinks it was only a live feed. He doesn't know about the other. And if he finds out, I'll make sure he knows who got the equipment for me."
Mal went completely still, likely contemplating what would happen to him if Ranger ever found out that he'd given me the tiny video camera I'd installed in Steph's shower, much less if Ranger found out I'd recorded—and still had—several videos of her in the shower, including one very enjoyable one featuring her shower massager from when Ranger had been out of town.
I gave Mal time to grasp the gravity of the situation, then released him and stepped back. That crisis averted, I was back to trying to deal with how to get rid of the damn belt. I threw myself down sideways in a large armchair. Ouch! that butt plug hurt. Shit. Shit. Shit. I was out of ideas. The guys were too scared of Ranger to help. Not without reason. If they did and he found out, they'd be in just as much trouble. Well, not as much trouble, but they would be in trouble. Trouble as in he would ship them to a deserted island instead of Siberia where he would likely ship me, but still…trouble.
"I can help."
My brain stopped running on its private gerbil wheel and I stared at Mal.
"With your…uh…with that…" he gestured toward my groin.
"How and why are you offering?" I was suspicious. Could be Ranger had put him up to it. No, not even Ranger was that Machiavellian, besides he hadn't had time. He was still playing with Stephanie. Prick.
Mal grinned and shook his head. "Paranoid much, Les?"
"Well…you know…"
Mal's grin turned into a predatory smile that had me feeling nervous.
"How is I know the secret to unlocking it."
My mouth fell open. Someone besides Ranger had the key to unlock the damn thing?
Mal walked into the kitchen and helped himself to a beer. "I heard the story about last time from some of the guys and about all the ways you tried to get it off, so I did some research."
Yeah, like I didn't know that story had made the rounds. Just like this one would, probably already was. I was wary because there had to be a catch somewhere, but if I could get the damn thing off I'd deal with anything that happened after that. I excel at weaseling out of deals without quite reneging on them. "Guaranteed?"
"Yep, but I don't work gratis."
Ah, so there is a catch. Of course. "What? You want me to have your baby? Can't help you there."
He actually shuddered and drank half the beer in one go. "Gods no, even if you could."
"What then?"
"Blow job," he answered cheerfully.
Whoa! Not what I expected. Okay, Mal makes no secret of being bisexual and I know that he has the morals of an alley cat and the ethics of a dirty politician. And I've never made a secret of being bisexual. I was still surprised. I studied him. Mal had the whole sun-streaked-blonde surfer dude look going on, and he did it well. I also knew he had no trouble getting women—or men—in his bed so this was out of character. There had to be something else going on. I didn't trust him. Still, I wouldn't be averse to rolling around with him for a couple of sweaty hours, trading cocks. "Deal, but not until this damn thing really is off."
He nodded, set the now empty beer bottle on the bar behind him, and crooked a finger in a 'come here' gesture.
I stood up and started to walk over to him. "How'd you get a key?"
"No key."
I froze. No key? Then how was he going to get the damn thing off? You had to have the key. I was back to suspecting this was all bullshit.
"No key," he repeated. "Doesn't need one. It's an electronic lock, just like your front door. Tiny chip in both locks and the key. Get the right frequency and voila."
I swore with great sincerity. Leave it to Ranger to come up with something that complicated. With the locks in plain view, who would ever think they wouldn't open with a key or lockpicks?
Mal reached in his pocket and produced what looked like a small key fob. He held it up. "Key to freedom. Took some doing, but I managed to get the frequency for the one Ranger bought."
He pressed the fob and, that simply, I heard the tiny locks snick open. I lost no time getting myself out of the hellish thing and heaved a sigh of relief. "Not that I'm not grateful and not that you're not going to get your blow job, but aren't you afraid of what Ranger's going to do to you if he finds out you helped me?"
He had a wicked smile I could get to like. "I have a sort of motto. No danger; no rush. I like it on the edge."
"Well, while you're in a helpful mood, you have a key for these handy?" I held up my arm, the handcuffs still dangling from my wrist.
"Leave them. I like the look. That and the choke chain. I have another sort of motto. No pain; no pleasure."
I was liking Mal more and more. We definitely had some things in common and I could definitely get on board with both of his 'sort of' mottos. I stepped past him and shut the front door, making sure all three deadbolts I'd installed were thrown. I'd had enough surprises for one day. "In that case, aren't you overdressed?"
Mal's eyes were heavy-lidded and half-closed. His breathing was getting ragged and the hand tangled in my hair gripped tighter. He was sprawled in the corner of the couch, legs splayed, less aware of anything but what I was doing to him by the second. Almost time, I thought as I deep-throated his cock. It was going to be a shame to end this before we finished. I was enjoying the taste of him and how responsive he was, but I needed to establish some ground rules before things went too far. Besides, we could always pick up where we left off later.
If he still wanted to play.
I cut another glance up at his face. His eyes were closed, his hips pushing harder against me. I shifted my weight, moved my left arm with the handcuffs still dangling upward until my hand rested on his abdomen. The next time I lifted my mouth from his cock to breathe, I seized the open cuff and snapped it on his wrist, locking us together.
He reacted without even opening his eyes, locking his legs around me and twisting, throwing us to the floor with his weight. It surprised me. I hadn't expected such quick, effective retaliation. What ensued was a very enjoyable cross between wrestling and grab-ass until I got him pinned facedown with me laying on top. My cock decided to show its approval of the ass it was resting against.
"Crap, Santos! What was that? You still owe me a blowjob."
I leaned down and bit his shoulder hard, holding it until he moaned, tilted his head to acknowledge my dominance, and relaxed under me. Yeah, he liked it rough with some pain. Perfect.
"That," I answered as I licked the spot I'd bitten, "was me establishing some rules about who's in charge."
He laughed weakly. "Well, shit. All you had to do was ask. Didn't have to ruin a blowjob."
"You're sub?" It didn't fit with his prior behavior but the whole dominant/submissive thing isn't always black and white.
"Not with women. With men, it varies."
"With me?"
He moved under me. "Think you could let me up and I'll answer that? Your carpet does not smell that great this close up."
After a momentary consideration—still not sure I trusted him—I stood up, dragging him with me by the handcuffs that leashed us together. I had put the cuff on his left wrist. Since the cuff I wore was on my left wrist, facing each other was awkward. When I had him on his knees with my cock buried in his ass…
"Haven't decided," he said.
What? His answer threw me, distracted me just long enough for him to have me pinned up against the wall with his cock rubbing against my ass. He bit my shoulder exactly as I'd bitten his. I couldn't stop the moan; it felt too good. But I refused to give him more than that. I refused to relax and submit. Back when I'd first started exploring sex with men, I had enjoyed being sub to another guy but in the last few years only with someone who could truly match or dominate me—and those partners were few. And I had no intention of changing that with Mal. I wanted him beneath me, lost in the pleasure I gave him.
I slid my right hand between us and grabbed his cock. Mal hissed and thrust into my hand. I used his momentary distraction, just as he'd used mine, and reversed our positions so that I had him pinned against the wall only we were facing each other, left arms over our heads, bodies pressed together from chest to groin, my thigh between his legs.
"I've decided for you," I told him. "I'm going to fuck you until neither one of us can walk." Without waiting for a reply, I began kissing him, plundering his mouth, learning the taste of him, the feel of his lips. I was starving, and Mal was a feast to be devoured.
He responded with equal fervor. His tongue jousting with mine, his groin rubbing against mine, his free hand tangling in my hair.
The kiss was a battle to determine dominance—a battle I won. Barely. When he started following my lead, allowing me to direct our actions rather than trying to do it himself, I knew he had ceded control. At least for this encounter. I eased back, moving from his mouth to kiss his jaw, and down his neck. Mal leaned his head back and turned it to the side, exposing his throat, confirming his capitulation. I took advantage, licking and kissing, breathing in his scent, rubbing my face against him, marking him as mine. When I reached the point where his neck met his shoulder, I did more serious marking, leaving a series of bite marks across his shoulders and onto his biceps, each of which drew a shudder and a moan from him.
I moved lower, biting and licking and suckling one nipple while my hand played with the other, squeezing and pinching. Mal was making continuous, inarticulate noises of pleasure by the time I finished with his second nipple. He was breathing hard, eyes closed.
I pulled back enough to admire the view. And a fine view it was. My bite marks, my marks of conquest, were strewn across his shoulders and chest, and I ran a hand over them, liking them. Mal opened his eyes. They were cloudy, unfocused. His body was relaxed. He looked like someone ready to be fucked but there was one thing missing. With one hand, I managed to get the choke chain over my head and onto Mal. He stayed relaxed, not objecting. When the heavy links settled against his skin, he licked his lips.
Damn! My cock wanted to be inside him but there was still something I wanted to do. By this time, I was sure Mal was into pain—my bites had not been gentle love nips, they had been serious—and I had the impression that his limits were pretty far out there. I wondered how far out there they were. Were they as far as mine?
With my left hand, the one still cuffed to Mal, I threaded my finger through the large circle at one end of the choke chain. And started pulling. I didn't jerk it where Mal would have no chance to react until it was done and could well be seriously injured. That pain wasn't what this was about, wasn't at all what I wanted to give him. The pain I wanted to administer was the kind that was hypnotic, sweet, and addictive. The kind you craved. So, it was a slow, steady tightening. I looked into his eyes and he met my gaze. His eyes were green and the tighter I pulled the chain, the more intensely green they grew. When the chain tightened enough to begin putting pressure on his throat, his eyes were emerald. He licked his lips again and threaded a finger through the end loop to join mine. Together we tightened the chain. Slowly. Link by link.
I knew when it started cutting off his air. His body tensed before he controlled the reaction and relaxed again. Mal made no move to stop me. I tightened the chain further, watching to see when I needed to back off, when he reached his limit. Nostrils flaring, Mal sank to his knees, eyes rolling up, hand falling limply from the chain. I waited for a count of three then flipped my wrist, loosening the metal links. Still conscious, but it had to be close. He leaned against me, face in my groin. I could feel and hear him taking deep, gasping breaths that gradually slowed to normal. Coming back to awareness after such an intense experience.
I hadn't taken it too far; hadn't choked him out. But I knew he would have let me and that told me all I needed to know. Mal said he liked the edge. What he hadn't said was that he liked the way out there, shivery, scary, razor edge that was far beyond where most people would go. He liked walking that line that hovered not only between pain and pleasure, but between life and death.
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Thanks as always for reading. Happy weekend to all!