Reminder … this story was never built to be one cohesive piece and there are plot holes a plenty … additionally, the writing voice changes throughout because it was written over a couple of years and it was very piecemeal.
If Handcuffs Could Talk 15By Marilyn (Ranger Hunters) and Kevan
Uploaded by Alfonsina.d
Breaking Bi (Morelli)I need my head examined. On second thought, that would probably be a waste of time. My head was empty; my brain fled to Wonderland. It was the only explanation for why I was standing outside Ranger's door at midnight on Friday. As commanded. That last thought irritated me. I wasn't used to taking orders, even from him. The only previous times I'd taken orders from him had been when I sought him out, when he could provide something I needed. This was the first time he'd taken the initiative without me having an itch that needed scratching, the first time he'd given me an order outside that dark bedroom that waited beyond the door, the first time I'd come here voluntarily.
Was it voluntary? Certainly, that dark need to be dominated and used wasn't riding me, hadn't driven me here. It hadn't been my idea to seek him out. And yet, at some level, I'd known I would obey when he told me to be here tonight, at this time. I'd known, even though I tried to deny it. The truth was I was here because I wanted to be here despite my misgivings, especially around his comment that someone else would be here. His comment that the someone would help me over my embarrassment about what I did with him, I chose to ignore.
Would our interaction be different without that dark need driving me?
All I had to do was open the door and step inside. I knew from experience that the door would lock behind me and there would be no way out until he decided to release me. Just open the door and step inside. So simple. Such a leap.
The lock clicked as the door shut and it engaged behind me.
No going back. I was committed.
As usual, the room was dim, heavy drapes drawn to shut out any light from the night sky or streetlights. What wasn't usual was the sofa, two armchairs, and low table in a normally empty area on one side of the room. Also unusual was the man waiting for me. It wasn't Ranger.
When I realized who it was, I would have bolted if I could.
Lester Santos. A nasty piece of work, if half the stories about him were true. One of Ranger's 'lieutenants' if word on the street was to be believed. He was dressed—or barely dressed—in a pair of well-worn jeans. A far cry from Ranger's standard body-hugging, black-leather pants. No shirt. The only other thing on Lester's body was a silver chain necklace and several silver chain bracelets on each wrist. Wavy, dark brown hair fell loose, just brushing his shoulders. Hazel eyes shading toward green studied me calmly. He looked nothing like the scary, street-savvy thug I knew him to be.
"I didn't believe Ric when he told me it was you," Lester said by way of greeting.
I didn't respond. Wasn't sure how to respond.
Lester waved me toward the sofa and sat in an armchair, slouching slightly.
"If it helps at all, I know exactly how you feel right now," he said.
I doubted that. How could he know how I felt? I didn't know how I felt. Emotions, usually not something I dealt with, were roiling through me. Humiliation that Lester probably knew everything I'd done with Ranger. Hell, they'd doubtless discussed me in detail. How the fuck was I supposed to act the next time I saw Lester outside this room? Ranger had never given any indication that anything happened between us, but then Ranger seldom displayed any emotion and certainly nothing of a personal nature. But Lester? I had no idea. Twisting in and around the humiliation was the fear that Lester would expect something from me, that knowing about Ranger and me would entitle him to the same thing. There was also the undeniable frisson of interest that looking at Lester's sculpted body created. The latter worried me; it had been happening more and more lately.
He continued to watch me calmly, seemingly content to let me work my way through the emotional minefield.
"I've been the same place you are," he said finally. "I was fifteen when Ric did it to me." He gestured again to the sofa.
Stunned, I moved across the room and sat down. Ranger had done the same thing to him? When he was fifteen? My shock and disbelief must have been evident because he smiled, a small, tight smile that quirked the corners of his lips but didn't reach his eyes.
"Yeah, fifteen," he confirmed. "Ric decided he wanted my ass, so he introduced me to some things. Abuela Rosa would have killed him if she ever found out what he did."
"Abuela," I managed. "Isn't that grandmother?"
"Yeah. Ric and I are cousins. My father is the black sheep of the clan. They disowned him when my mother ran off and left me behind, and he chose to go after her instead of raising me. Ric's mother was the adored daughter who could do no wrong—and neither could he growing up. But golden-boy or not, abuela Rosa would have killed him if she knew how he educated me about sex."
Lester leaned forward and filled a glass of water from a pitcher on the table. After a long swallow and a pause, he continued. "That summer, we were both staying at the family compound in Florida. Sailing, diving, fishing. Pretty much always outdoors and totally unsupervised."
"Family compound?" I was trying to reconcile the picture he was painting with the street-savvy, dangerous individual I knew as Ranger.
Lester laughed, a bitter edge to it, and slouched back in the armchair. "You'd never know, would you? Ric and I grew up pretty privileged. That changed in our late teens but, as kids, we didn't want for anything."
"What changed?" I was curious. Manoso had always been an enigma and here was Lester, his cousin, giving me details about their youth.
Lester waved a hand. "Different story. What you need to know about this one is that Ric is two years older than me. He was precocious, always older than his age. He knew and did things he had no business knowing and doing for as long as I can remember. He'd been having sex with girls for a couple of years and I'd started having sex with this girl I liked. We'd talk about it; compare them. What I didn't know was that Ric was also having sex with an older guy who was teaching him plenty. I found out about that later."
He took a couple of swallows of water. His eyes were focused somewhere behind me, and I was pretty sure he wasn't seeing me or the room anymore, just memories of that long-ago summer.
"He started touching me, putting his hand on my shoulder when he didn't have to, reaching over me to get a plate and brushing against me. Shit like that. One day we were arguing about something, and it turned into a wrestling match. When he pinned me, he kissed me. I didn't know what to do. I mean, normal guys aren't supposed to kiss other guys, right? But I liked it, so it confused the hell out of me."
Lester smiled and this time it reached his eyes. "Ric kissed a whole lot better than any girl I'd kissed. When I didn't fight him, he added some tongue and got serious about it. One thing led to another and by the time we left the room, several hours later, I'd sucked his cock and he'd fucked me for the first time." He looked directly at me. "I don't think I slept for about three days. I was ashamed, and embarrassed. I felt dirty. I felt like a freak. I was a guy; I had a cock. I wasn't supposed to like other guys that way. I was supposed to want to fuck girls—and I did—but I couldn't get Ric and what he did to me and how good it felt out of my mind. I was terrified somebody was going to figure out what he'd done to me and that I'd liked it—a lot. The whole time Ric avoided me, letting me stew. I tried to ignore it, thinking that I would forget, that the feeling would go away, only it got stronger. I wanted to know if what he had done to me was all there was to it or if there was more. If he did it again, would it feel as good? Finally, I couldn't stand it any longer. I couldn't stay away, so I let myself into his bedroom one night, stripped, and crawled into his bed. And he showed me there was a hell of a lot more."
Lester leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs. "Sound familiar?" he asked.
Familiar? Gods, yes! Lester did pretty much know how I was feeling. And, listening to his story, imagining a teenage version of Ranger and Lester together, discovering sex, had me aroused. It took me several tries, but I finally got my brain and my mouth in sync. "Yeah, sounds familiar," I said hoarsely.
"So, are you ready?"
The question confused me. "Ready for what?"
His grin was cheeky. "To see what else there is to sex with men other than what Ric's shown you."
Before I could answer, Lester slid to his knees, pushed mine apart, leaned forward and pulled my head down. He kissed me, gentle but not soft. There was strength and passion behind the kiss, waiting to be let loose.
I found myself returning his kiss without consciously deciding to. This was something Ranger never allowed. It was new territory for me—kissing a man. Lester was right; men and women kiss totally different.
When he pulled back, I found that I'd tangled my hands in his hair and had been greedily devouring his mouth.
"There's a lot more to it," he smiled. "Let's start with this." He untied and pulled off my boots, stripped off my shirt, and unzipped my jeans, stopping frequently to kiss me again. I couldn't keep my hands off him, hungrily touching any part of his body I could reach, the way I'd wanted to touch and explore Ranger's body while he showered. When Lester removed my jeans, I stopped thinking. And when his mouth closed over my cock, hot and wet and demanding, I screamed.
"So, are you convinced?" Lester asked as he trailed kisses up my abdomen until he reached my chest and nipped and licked a nipple.
I hissed, body still flushed and sensitive in the aftermath of a massive orgasm. "About what?"
"That sex with men is just as good as sex with women—and just as okay."
I didn't know how to answer his question. Too many thoughts were spinning in my brain. Ranger and his dark dominance. The power and humiliation. The pleasure and pain. The need I had for that on occasion. Lester, with his low-key approach and easy manner. The way he made his body accessible to me in a way Ranger never had and most likely never would. His magic lips and tongue. The pleasure—just as intense but different. Both men. I'd now had sex with two very different men. And I wanted more. What did that make me?
"Hmm, maybe not there yet," Lester mused, running his hands over my body. "How about this?" he produced a set of handcuffs from somewhere and held them up, dangling from one finger.
Remembering how Ranger cuffed me and used my body, I shivered. I'd been afraid Lester would presume he could do the same. I wasn't sure I wanted that. Wasn't sure I wanted to be another man's plaything.
"Lester, I—"
"Les," he corrected. "When we're together, like this, I'm Les and you're Joe. Out there, I'm Lester or Santos, and you're still Morelli. I'm a smart-ass, street-savvy thug, and you're still an uptight cop determined to prove every RangeMan employee is up to something illegal."
His grin was infectious. As unapproachable and unreadable as Ranger was, his cousin was proving, in private, to be just the opposite.
"Will I ever prove it?"
The grin became a laugh. "Has to be something to prove. Don't see you manufacturing evidence."
"Not my style."
"So," he stroked the handcuffs up and down my arm. "Are these your style?"
I shook my head. "Lester… Les… I don't know. I don't want to just be… that, tonight… I don't know."
"Not you, jackass." He kissed me, softening the sting of his words. "Me." He fastened one cuff around his left wrist and kissed me again. "Remember, I know Ranger's game. It's a fun ride sometimes, but it's not always what I want and it's certainly not all there is to explore."
He stood and stripped easily out of his worn jeans. "I'm all yours if you want me. Tie me up. Tie me down. Explore my body. Fuck me if that turns you on. Let me explore your body. Whatever you want to do. Broaden your horizons. Sail into undiscovered territory. Come play with me."
Listening to him, admiring his naked, partially aroused body, seeing how at ease he was with his sexuality, something in me clicked. I wanted him. Wanted what he offered so freely. I wanted to do exactly what he suggested—tie him up, explore his body, and fuck him. I wanted to play and broaden my horizons, wanted to sail into undiscovered territory.
My expression must have given away my decision because his cheeky grin was back. He spread his arms and held up the unattached cuff. "Come and play," he invited.
After Action Report (Lester)"What now?"
I laughed. Morelli had proven to be a very pleasant surprise. We were both sweaty, still breathing hard, and smeared with our mingled semen. When Ranger ordered me to push him over the edge and admit his bisexuality, I hadn't expected to enjoy the task. Far from it. I'd anticipated nothing more than inept fumbling and some pain from an untutored partner, but Morelli proved me wrong. He'd turned out to be an intuitive lover, not given to unnecessary pain, eager and quick to learn. He paid attention when I told him how to move and what to do to increase both our pleasure.
He had a decent-sized cock and, once the switch flipped in him and he forgot about being embarrassed, he wasn't body-shy. And he had good stamina. All-in-all, it had been an enjoyable romp and I could see why women sometimes referred to him as the 'Italian Stallion'. Maybe there had been more reason for Stephanie to keep yo-yoing back to him than anyone realized. I would in no way object to a repeat performance. In fact, I was going to make sure there were more.
I raised my hands as far as the handcuffs that bound me to the headboard allowed. "Let's start with getting rid of these."
"Key?"
"Look in there," I nodded toward a bedside table where Ranger was prone to keep helpful things like lubricant, nipple clamps, butt plugs, and handcuff keys. "If you can't find one, pick the lock."
Morelli looked at me as if he couldn't believe I'd suggested such a thing as picking a lock.
"Come on! I could pick a set of cuffs by the time I was five years old."
He opened the top drawer, shaking his head. "You definitely did not have an average childhood education."
"Already told you that," I retorted. I wasn't about to explain any further about just how unaverage it had been. Not everything has a statute of limitations.
After rummaging around a few minutes, and some muttered curses at what he found, Morelli triumphantly held up a key.
When the cuffs dropped off my wrists, I rolled over, flipping us so that Morelli was beneath me, and kissed him—a long, deep kiss that he would remember for a while, that left us both breathing hard again. "There are a lot of things I want to do to you," I told him, "but time's almost up so we better get a move on. To answer your original question, 'what now' is a shower."
Chuckling at his stunned expression, I was already in the bathroom adjusting the water temperature before he joined me.
"Do you have any idea how many times he's sent me home, dirty and sweaty and covered in cum? How many times I've knelt on this damn floor, cold and every muscle in my body aching, and watched him take a long, leisurely, warm shower?" Morelli demanded.
"Less times than he's done it to me, I guarantee. It's one of his favorite torments. One more little display of dominance." I hesitated, then decided to share a bit of information and see what happened. "Incidentally, he gets off on you watching him shower. If you just stare at the floor and ignore him, it takes away a lot of his fun and he'll cut it short. Try to meditate, or you can count the floor tiles. There are 618 of the little one-inch ones in the border, by the way."
Morelli stared at me, then narrowed his eyes. "That prick."
"Yep, he can be." I shrugged. "But that's part of why you seek him out, right?"
"Yeah," Morelli sighed, agreeing. "How did you figure out that he gets off having someone watch him shower? I never thought he was paying any attention to me."
"I grew up with him, remember? I was there when he figured out a lot of the shit he does. Pisses him off that I know all that stuff and it doesn't work on me. And don't ever make the mistake of thinking Ric isn't aware of everything that's going on. He is."
"Won't he know you told me?"
"Maybe. Probably," I said and stepped into that magnificent shower.
xoxoxxox
"You know, it's going to be worse now, knowing how great this shower is," Morelli said mournfully as we were drying off.
"Admitting you're going to be back?"
He sighed. "Yeah. I could deny it, but we both know it would be a lie."
"Good you realize it. Cat's out of the bag for you now; there's no shoving it back in. That dark itch isn't something that everybody gets, but it won't go away. It'll crop up and when it does, you'll end up back here. Ric can be a bastard, but he's a wizard at scratching it. As long as it's part of what you crave, he owns your ass when that craving hits. And you know now there are other sides to having sex with men."
I thought I might have pushed too far with that statement about Ric owning his ass, but after a minute he took a deep breath, licked his lips, and replied.
"As hard as it is for me to admit, you're right. When that itch hits, he owns my ass. Me denying it—to myself or to you—is stupid."
"It'll make things better for both of you—you admitting it and not fighting it," I said. He looked puzzled but before he could say anything, I put a finger to his lips. "Can't explain everything to you in a few hours. Some of this you're going to have to work out on your own." I looked around the pristine bathroom. "Such as," I shook my head wildly, sending water droplets from my wet hair flying everywhere. "How much it will irritate him when he sees water spots all over his precious mirror and shower panels, and finds a pile of wet, dirty towels in the middle of the floor." I dropped mine and followed the scent of hot food to the seating area.
xoxoxoxox
The Breakfast Fairy had visited. Since discovering how Steph had tagged Ranger the Hangover Fairy, I'd been using the same approach to needle him. So far, he'd been several 'fairies', two of which had earned me time on the mats, but his reaction had been worth every bruise.
Insulated carafe. That would be coffee. Refilled water pitcher. Two trays with covered plates, a bowl of fresh fruit, cups of Greek yogurt, and a dish of granola. Removing the cover from a plate revealed chicken and waffles with gravy. Jackpot! Ignoring the silverware provided, I snatched a waffle in one hand and wolfed it down in four bites while grabbing a piece of chicken in the other hand.
Taking a seat across from me, Morelli laughed. "Bob the dog has better table manners and he eats furniture."
"Bob the dog," I pointed out reasonably, between bites of chicken and a second waffle, "did not get his ass fucked all night. You wore me out. I need the calories."
Morelli looked briefly embarrassed, but I noticed he hadn't bothered to put on any clothes and he didn't waste any time digging into his portion. And I noticed he also skipped the cutlery.
xoxoxoxox
"I don't think I can move," Morelli groaned when we were down to the last scraps of food and the last cups of coffee. "Where did this come from?"
"Breakfast Fairy," I said.
"What?" he looked at me, clearly thinking he had misheard.
"Breakfast Fairy," I repeated cheerfully. "You know. Magical creature that pops up and grants your wish, bringing what you need."
He seemed to debate the merits of pursuing that line of conversation, then changed the subject. "Have you done this before?"
I raised an eyebrow.
"This," he gestured at himself and the room in general and me. "Helped somebody— shown them— I mean— fuck!" This time he was definitely embarrassed.
I considered bullshitting or teasing him, but he'd earned better than that and he wasn't stupid. "Yes," I answered simply.
He nodded and looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time. "Since it's past dawn and someone came in and delivered food, I assume the door is unlocked?"
"Yeah, lesson's over. You're free to go whenever you want, but first," I gestured with one hand, "phone."
He retrieved it from a back pocket of his jeans, unlocked the screen, and handed it to me.
I opened his phone app, created a new contact—Les—added my cell number and tossed it back.
"In case you get an urge to explore some more, I'll volunteer to play guide. I enjoyed tonight—which I did not expect," I told him.
He dressed quickly and walked to the door. Before he opened it, he turned back. "I can't believe it's less than twelve hours since I walked in here. I'm not the same person anymore—and I'm okay with that. In fact, I like it." He paused and took a deep breath. "Thanks."
I knew what that cost him. It turned every admission he'd made to me and to himself during the dark night hours real and set them in stone. There truly was no going back for him. Not only was the cat out of the bag; he'd shredded the bag. I nodded. He didn't need to hear anything else just then.
The door closed behind him.
xoxoxoxox
I lounged in the armchair, legs extended, and waited for Ranger. I figured it would take him maybe ten minutes to show up after Morelli left.
It took him five.
He walked in and raised an eyebrow.
"It's done," I told him.
"Both?" he demanded.
"Both," I confirmed. "He not only admitted he likes cock, he embraced it. I'll follow-up in a few days, show up at his place and reinforce things, but I don't think it's really necessary. He didn't fight it much at all, and he proved to be a very apt, very eager pupil. He also realizes you own his ass and when that dark urge hits, he'll be right back here, in cuffs or on his knees or whatever way you want him, begging for what he needs." I hesitated. "It's not my business but I think this—him being a cop—could be a big problem that could blow up in all our faces."
"It's not your job to think, Les. Leave that to me. Your job is to make sure he stays hooked."
Well, I tried. Besides, Ric was right. It was his job to think. He'd always been more devious and better at plotting than me. Machiavelli might have stood a chance against Ric. Maybe. I stood up and stretched, found my jeans and pulled them on. "Right. Now, if you don't mind, my ass is dragging. I need to crash."
Ric touched my arm as I passed him. "Gracias, primo. This one was important."
I know I should have let it go, but I had to get in one smart-ass comment that would irritate him. "I hope so. Hate to think my ass got this sore doing your job for you for nothing." I left before he could notice the mess we'd made of his bed and bathroom, jogged downstairs to my apartment, grabbed a shirt, shoes, and the overnight bag I kept ready, and headed for the beach. I needed about eighteen hours of sleep.
In a bed.
Alone.
With no interruptions.
And no handcuffs.
xxxxx
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