Via the mirror in the modest bathroom, Charlie stared at the beard he'd regretfully grown since Du'Met had gone on his little vacation or whatever the fuck it was. Charlie ran a hand through it with a sigh. Charlie felt scruffy, he'd never been one to grow a beard willingly, stubble wasn't an issue but a full-on bear just didn't feel right.

"For fuck's sake, you'd better get back here, Du'Met, I'm turning into a damn wolfman."

From nowhere the squeak of a floorboard reached him and Charlie's head snapped to the doorway to see the murderer himself with his shaving kit held loosely in his left hand. Charlie smiled, beamed really because Du'Met had finally returned. Charlie wouldn't starve to death in that small set of rooms, he'd not drift off into madness and start chatting to dolls he'd made from his own beard hair. Du'Met was back!

In a sudden instant Charlie surged with cheerful happiness and it forced him to essentially rush to Du'Met like an eager puppy dog. He threw his arms around Du'Met's strong frame before he'd even realized he'd moved. That Kate-like voice belittled him but in that moment Charlie was just too happy. Of course Du'Met didn't hug him in return but he did lift the hand free of shaving kit to pet Charlie's cheek. Anybody else would have seen this was Du'Met basically petting the Englishman, and later Charlie would realize the same, but there and then Charlie simply focused on not being alone.

Du'Met's chest was strong and firm, warm and surprisingly welcoming almost as if it Charlie had been designed to rest perfectly against him. The blond had denied his loneliness during his captivity to himself right up until that moment.

The former FBI agent simply stood there with an analytical unexpressed underneath his H. H. Holmes mask. This little act of affection showed just how submissive Charlie was deep down and just how effective his forced isolation had been. Yes, in that very second Du'Met knew Charlie was entirely his and so, to truly solidify his hold over Charlie, he rested his chin atop Charlie's blond head and Charlie basically purred. Du'Met smiled, oh he truly did own the director now.

"Where have you been?"

Poor man sounded so desperate but Charlie couldn't bring himself to care any longer. Charlie hadn't really expected an answer so he just allowed himself to enjoy being petted by his captive. Soon though Du'Met moved them along since he wasn't one for public displays of affection. He ushered Charlie to sit on the bathtub's edge and set about laying out his kit. The shave was perfectly done, talented movements and smooth confidence that had been practised. Each stroke of the straight razor was almost sensual and soothed Charlie's soul of that painful abandonment he'd been forced to suffer. He rather enjoyed getting his face de-bearded but, when scrutinised, it was Du'Met's warm fingers on his skin which sent shivers down his spine. Long gone was the fear that the murderer would slash his throat on a whim instead replaced by the urge to keen for the older man. Not that he was proud of it, but in one of his darker moments of isolation Charlie had lazily pondered fashioning a replica of Du'Met in the form of a pillow.

Once done Du'Met casually packed away his shaving kit as Charlie had seen him do so a few times before. A shuffling sound caught the older man's attention then and when he glanced to his side he found Charlie knelt before him with a puppy-esque expression and a lovely twinkle of need in his blue eyes. Du'Met flashed his captive a half-smile because clearly solitary confinement had gone above and beyond the killer's expectations. Du'Met's sweet phoenix was desperate for it and he'd been kind enough to give his boy what he wanted.

The older man stepped forward to pet the director's cheek with a rather alien gentleness, just enough to lift Charlie's spirits and then he bypassed the younger man in favor of going to the bedroom fully aware that his loyal puppy would trail after.

The part of Charlie which still urged to fight and struggle like he had to begin with, to be brave and save himself since his crew had abandoned him and because police probably presumed him dead, continued to scream in the recesses of his mind. However, the need to not be alone, the need for comfort, care and love had grown too strong, and only Du'Met could provide any of that now. Du'Met had wanted Charlie to view him as his world, as the only one who could be there for him and Charlie had latched on to Du'Met faster than he could have hoped.

Charlie had been so pleased Du'Met was back that he'd weirdly wanted to reward the older man with an intimacy Charlie should have feared, but Du'Met apparently had other ideas and the depraved part of Charlie was keen to find out what.

Du'Met made a big display of slowly removing Charlie's clothes and Charlie let him while little purrs escaped him. When the blond stood naked before him he finally realized that, while masked, Du'Met wasn't in his hunting outfit – same style of clothes but no apron and a somewhat bluer color palette than normal.

What followed was emotion piled upon emotion for Charlie all wrapped up in dominant touches. He was pinned beneath the elder man who'd forced Charlie's legs apart so he could kneel between them. His mask stayed firmly in place of course but that didn't stop Du'Met bending to kiss Charlie's pale lips before his attention turned lower to the blond's hip which was nibbled on with more roughness than Charlie had been prepared for. He'd clearly seen it coming but the actual physical contact took him by surprise.

The sound of his captive's yelp caused Du'Met to grin further; the Devil's grin against smooth flesh. Those usually gloved fingertips brushed up sensitive skin from hip to stomach, over Charlie's heart to clavicle and then finally to the blond's lips. The kiss was bruising, the kiss of a man who knew what he wanted. Nobody could deny Du'Met could be highly violent, that was a foregone conclusion, but he didn't have to force or hurt Charlie to have this intimacy and frankly he didn't want to. He was a serial killer with standards not a lowlife rapist, even of Charlie's consent was somewhat dubious.

Suddenly Charlie gasped into the bruising kiss and Du'Met took the opportunity to slip his tongue into the younger man's mouth and taste him. He was sweet like the chocolate he'd eaten earlier that day as well as something Du'Met could only describe as Charlie Lonnit.

The blond felt his cock twitch with needy want against the killer's clothed leg. Only when the desperate urge for air became too strong to resist did Du'Met release the naked director and sit back on his haunches to just take in the sight of a submissive Charlie. So beautiful, so perfect, so flawless in the older man's eyes.

Charlie gulped at the sight of the bulge in Du'Met's pants. It was evident what he wanted and rapid breathing revealed that Charlie wanted more. With all that animosity for the masked man was gone, for the time being the negative voice in Charlie's brain had been banished too. He wanted attention, pleasure and love and he'd damn well get it; wanted Du'Met to touch him everywhere.

Du'Met pressed another kiss of demand to Charlie's lips before he trailed back down his phoenix's chest. A bite here, a bite there to patches of porcelain flesh until he took a nipple between his teeth to tease with a harshness that had Charlie hiss.

"That hurts." Said Charlie as his hands flew up automatically, but Du'Met caught them and pinned him by the wrists with a strong grasp.

Charlie was at Du'Met's mercy and they both knew it. The killer's attentions hurt but, as time went on, that pain did something to Charlie, it caused a tingle in Charlie's groin and heart. Heat flushed through ever inch of him and soon those bites and tight grip on his wrists had Charlie let his head fall back against the pillows as his body arched into the older man's touch. His hands itched to grasp at something, sheets, Du'Met's hair, the pillows, his sanity, it didn't matter he just urged to grab something. Charlie couldn't though, not with the taller, much more muscular man atop him keeping him pinned.

It happened then, Du'Met hummed and that tingling feeling inside Charlie grew twofold. A sound from Granthem Du'Met had become something Charlie thought of as a personal win, like the murderer had gone out of his way to praise him.

Du'Met sat back on his haunches again this time to see the red flush which had coated Charlie's skin. His captive honestly was beautiful. Most probably would have felt awkward and wanted to cover themselves when under the intense gaze of a violent serial killer, but Charlie had drifted far passed that now.

"… Please, Mister Du'Met Sir." The blond breathed.

A split second passed where cogs were almost visible turning in the older man's mind and then, just like that, he moved from one moment to the next and rid Charlie of his glasses which were set on the night stand before he shuffled down the bed and kissed Charlie's inner thigh. Having been freed from the hash grasp Charlie gave in to his want and snared his fingers in the sheets – tight and desperate to the point his fingernails threatened to bend as Du'Met's semi-painful bites travelled over his inner thighs. Then, with a glance to ensure he had Charlie's full attention, Du'Met took Charlie into his mouth and he arched off the bed so far Du'Met had to hold his hips down.

"Jesus fucking Christ!"

Oh it had been so long. So very, very fucking long! Actually, if asked later, Charlie wouldn't have been able to remember the last time he'd been sucked off by guy or girl. Du'Met was a little out of practice himself but one didn't complain to the serial killer that had one's cock in their mouth; that and Charlie's head had rolled back in his head while wanton moans escaped his throat. His hips continued to try to buck but Du'Met's strong hands kept them in place as he gave Charlie's cockhead a teasing lick just to watch his phoenix squirm in delight.

Another sound escaped Du'Met, a sort of grunt mixed with a hum which Charlie took to mean 'you like that?' and by God did he like it. The Englishman was practically a writhing mess and Du'Met soaked every single second of it up. A large hand trailed up the director's smooth stomach and over his flank simply because he wanted to touch what belonged to him. He'd always been a tactile person since touch had never lied to him. Smooth things were delicate and elegant, and Charlie was mostly smooth to the touch.

Du'Met could feel Charlie dangling on the very edge of orgasm, atop a cliff overlooking the blissful dark waters below and the edge was slippery. Even before he'd decided to take Charlie with him instead of murdering him he'd fantasized about watching the younger man come undone. To be the one who pushed him into that euphoric ocean stroked his ego and strain inside his tailored pants.

"Sir, I'm gonna-"

What remained of Charlie's words never got a chance to slip free because Du'Met doubled his efforts and hardly a moment later the blond came with a strangled moan. Du'Met wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and gazed at his panting phoenix. Charlie had become a perfectly debauched mess.

While Charlie lay there panting Du'Met pulled himself up the younger man's chest and locked their lips together, a dominating act which forced Charlie to taste himself on his kidnapper's lips. Charlie's surprisingly toned chest rose and fell, his skin flushed and tinted red.

For the most part fellatio was as far as things had gone between abductor and abductee, but Du'Met was fresh off of a hunt and longed to hear more of Charlie's wonderful noises. The older man carefully got Charlie to release his fingers from the sheets and pressed a little kiss to the palm of one hand, a loving gesture, just enough softness to praise his pet.

Du'Met was still fully dressed but that wouldn't change, Du'Met was the dominant here and wouldn't be stripped of his fine threads.

Slightly hesitantly Charlie reached for the bulge in Du'Met's dark pants and the killer just let him, let the puppy explore. When Charlie took him in hand the older man groaned; yet again Charlie viewed it as praise.

In a sudden moment of pure bravery Charlie leaned forward and started to kiss at Du'Met's neck. Lust had overtaken any logical part of his mind and wouldn't allow it to return for hours yet. He'd been alone so very long and now Du'Met touched him, kissed him,wanted him and Charlie could focus on nothing else.

Almost as soon as the neck kisses had started Du'Met's strong hands had grabbed Charlie's hips so he could thrust against his thigh.

"Fuck me." Charlie breathed with lust and desperation on his tongue. "Sir, please fuck me."

Du'Met's large member twitched against the younger man's thigh, he could get used to Charlie calling him sir. Still, Charlie had asked so politely and had been behaved all the time Du'Met had been gone, so who was he to refuse his phoenix?

Without warning Charlie was thrown back down onto the bed and flipped over by his ankles only to be forced onto all fours. Charlie shivered a moment, the sudden movement had made him cold, but then Du'Met's large hands were back on him and Charlie practically clawed at the pillows. Slowly, as if to torment Charlie, Du'Met teased the flesh of Charlie's backside until he finally slipped a finger into the younger man.

"Fuck!" Charlie gasped.

Du'Met wouldn't give it to the director that easily, had to tease him a little first – though Charlie would have likely assumed it was so Du'Met didn't hurt him. Du'Met slipped another finger into Charlie and curled them ever so slightly, just enough to brush against that sensitive spot deep within the younger man.

"Please, Mister Du'Met! Please!"

When Charlie started to push back on his fingers Du'Met removed them and left Charlie to mourn the loss. Both men knew Charlie hadn't been completely prepped, Du'Met had only gone so far as to ensure nothing would rip; of course Du'Met wanted Charlie to be sore and hurting for days afterwards.

Charlie wasn't forced to mourn long though because soon enough Du'Met had shoved Charlie so his face was in the pillows and his ass firmly in the air, then with spit as the only lube, without single word and only after the tormenting sound of his belt and fly being undone, the serial killer thrust deep into his captive and Charlie howled wantonly into the cream-colored pillows.

"Oh fuck. Oh fuck!"

Had Granthem Du'Met been a kind man he'd have given Charlie a moment to adjust to his, rather impressive, size but as everybody who'd ever stepped foot in one of his castles knew, Du'Met was not a kind man and he could embody some Lothario traits when he so chose. His pace was fast and his thrusts deep. Charlie wasn't the only one for who sex had turned into a distant memory.

"Sir, more." Said Charlie, his voice muffled by the pillows.

Charlie had started to view pain in a more positive way since Du'Met had entered his life. Pain wasn't an evil thing, no, it went hand in hand with pleasure and Charlie had started to see pain's worth. It had been said sociopaths were good between the sheets, that their natural instinct for control coupled with their impulsiveness equalled being able to give their partner the good, hard fuck the desired, and by God did Du'Met give Charlie the good, hard fuck he desired. However, if Du'Met was perfectly honest with himself he dangled somewhere closer to psychopath than sociopath.

Du'Met pulled almost all the way out only to slam back into the younger man and force another heavenly cry out of him. His hands gripped Charlie's hips so firmly that there would surely be rounded bruises there in the morning. Oh to bruise Charlie with marks of ownership, marks of ownership that Charlie would eagerly wear with pride – Du'Met had to stop himself finding his climax at that thought alone.

"Harder." Charlie begged then hissed out in sudden pain when Du'Met gave the wanton man exactly what he'd asked for.

Part of Du'Met wanted to see Charlie come undone on his cock, wanted to see those blue eyes roll back in his head and him shudder as his orgasm washed over him, but Charlie hadn't quite become the perfect submissive companion he'd vowed to turn him into just yet and so didn't deserve that sort of reward. Shame, he really would have liked to see that euphoric face. His thrusts grew erratic as his own orgasm neared, then, with a hand full of Charlie's blond locks to force his back to arch, Du'Met felt his balls pull tight against his body, his knees trembled and spilled inside Charlie. The younger man tumbled over the edge a moment later.

Charlie collapsed like the sweaty, debauched wreck he was. Mews and gorgeous moans slipped from his lips while Du'Met admired the lascivious masterpiece he'd created. Charlie didn't move for a long time, just lay there desperately filling his lungs with air, but Du'Met paused only long enough to steady his legs and tuck himself away. Then he went to the bathroom and returned with a cloth to tidy his phoenix up. The sight of Charlie so grateful was utterly adorable, he'd truly been well behaved while Du'Met had been off kidnapping the McAndrews' and then murdering his latest group of five. Charlie had pleased his captor. Good boy.

The blond reached for him then as if they were long-time lovers rather than prisoner and jailer. Oh sweet Charlie Lonnit had gone far beyond Du'Met's expectations. Du'Met didn't take the blond's hand nor did he settle on the bed with him, instead Du'Met left the bedroom only to return with a fancy brown garment box in his hands. The murderer stood by the bed and waited quietly until Charlie had the strength and mental awareness to push himself into a seated position. How Du'Met could go from orgasmic bliss to business-as-usual mode so quickly was beyond the director.

"Is that a gift? For me?" Charlie asked curiously and Du'Met nodded which had Charlie perk up.

Du'Met set the garment box down so Charlie could flip the lid open. There underneath several sheets of sage-colored tissue paper was a suit, but not just any suit, this one was in the style of Du'Met's preferred era. Jacket, tie, pants, waistcoat and shirt all carefully laid out in the box like a treasure; there was even a pair of briefs folded small in the corner. The suit itself was a blue herringbone so dark it was almost black with a matching tie, the shirt white and crisp and the waistcoat had a silken gray back. Clearly no expense had been spared in its construction and the sight of it made Charlie's heart flutter. In that moment Charlie realized he was more than a hostage or prisoner, he was actually wanted and it had been so very long since someone had genuinely wanted him in their life.

"Thank you."

Almost automatically Charlie stretched up to kiss the bit of Du'Met's cheek not covered by H. H. Holmes mask, then he started to dress with calculated care. Du'Met remained fixed to the spot and just watched his phoenix enjoy his present. He'd paid handsomely for Charlie's new wardrobe, which was far more than a single outfit, and so he'd damn well watch Charlie don it. Long ago the killer had rooted about in the duffle bag of Charlie's clothes and, while the clothes weren't tattered and his fashion sense reasonable, Du'Met had concluded they dampened Charlie's natural allure. The many choices Du'Met had commissioned for him though, oh they'd leave him far beyond good-looking. Du'Met left for a split second only to return with a pair of brown leather shoes that he neatly sat at Charlie's feet.

When the blond had finished pushing the knot of his tie into his collar and had laced the shoes up he turned with a smile to face the older man.

"What do you think?"

Out of habit, Du'Met went to grab a notepad from his back pocket but there wasn't one nor was there any tape recorder, so, after a second of quick thinking, Du'Met pointed to the letters on the garment box's lid in turn. The logo was for Du'Met's favored tailors: Gentleman Hashimoto-Vyrden. Slowly he spelt out 'very handsome' which had Charlie's grin widen.

When he'd left to kidnap the McAndrews' Charlie had been sullen and pretending he wasn't holding out for rescue. Now though the isolation had done it's duty and Charlie vied for Du'Met's attention and approval. Would the wonders of Stockholm Syndrome ever cease? All that said, even Du'Met was surprised by how quickly Charlie had shifted to the desired way of thinking. But, since the blond was so happy and Du'Met had put effort into these rewarding gifts, he pulled the Wempe watch box from the corner of the garment box and handed it to Charlie. He'd not been wearing a watch when he'd arrived at the other castle, probably just relied on his cell phone to tell him the time, and not having a watch had aided Du'Met in isolating Charlie, but now he felt the watch would complete the look for his phoenix.

Charlie sucked in a breath when he opened the box because he couldn't quite comprehend how he'd earned such lovely things. He was shocked at just how stunning the timepiece was and the blue alligator-leather strap was something of a statement against his dark suit. Slowly he flipped it over when Du'Met indicated for him to do so and found the serial killer had engraved 'My Phoenix' on the back. Du'Met had only done it to further solidify Charlie's attachment to him but the blond didn't need to know that or that him wearing it would increase Du'Met's feeling of possession.

"This is beautiful, thank you." Said Charlie as he buckled the strap on his wrist. "I was in such a hurry to get the team ready for pick up that I forgot to put one on when…" Charlie trailed off lamely but the older man knew something along the lines of 'when you kidnapped me' had just gone unsaid.

~X~

That night Du'Met allowed Charlie to leave the bedroom for the first time in over a week. He had calmly led him down to the restaurant for dinner – a room he'd stabbed a woman to death in earlier that day. They'd eaten a simple meal of Chicken Alfredo, or at least Charlie had, Du'Met had spent most of the time just watching his pet. Du'Met didn't think himself a particularly good cook, he certainly didn't survive off microwave ramen but he'd emulated H. H. Holmes rather than Hannibal Lecter. That said, Charlie truly enjoyed his meal and having company for dinner for a change.

The older man thought Charlie beautiful in his new clothes and knew he'd get to see this beauty ever day as soon as he hung all the other suits up in Charlie's closet. The whole evening had left the killer in an exceedingly good mood. The McAndrews; had basically dealt with themselves and the five video vacation winners he'd lured in were all dead. Sure, a man's body still floated in a watery tank but he could deal with that in the morning. That evening wasn't for body clean up or tinkering with his animatronics or even research on his next group of doomed guests, no, it was for him to shower his well-behaved phoenix with the attention he so craved, thirsted for.

It was while munching his last bite of pasta that Charlie's blue eyes spotted Du'Met just gazing at him from behind his mask and it caused him to pause mid-chew. Worry quickly pooled in those blue eyes of his.

"Is- Is everything okay, Mister Du'Met?" He swallowed. "Sir?"

Oh that word sounded so good in Charlie's English accent. The sir seemed to have been born from Charlie's fear rather than an unfeigned desire to be polite, Du'Met didn't mind though, not after he'd the title laced with Charlie's lusty need.

He nodded to set his pet's mind at rest then prompted Charlie to finish his wine as he leant back in his chair. He'd never had dinners eaten in a peaceful silence when he'd been a child, not with a mother like Lucinda Munday. She'd always yelled at him for eating too loudly or squeaking his fork against the plate, or any other number of ridiculous, trivial things. Charlie though, with Charlie things were quiet and content, no raised voices or demands for conversation. However, the longer Du'Met watched Charlie the more he was forced to remember that Charlie wasn't like him, he needed some sound to fill the room, he wanted to talk, especially after the week Du'Met had left him all alone upstairs.

Eventually the blond decided to refill their wine glasses – 'Sweet boy' muttered Du'Met's mind – but before he'd managed to fully grasp the bottle, Du'Met had pushed away from the table slightly and patted his lap invitingly. Charlie had hesitated a moment, worried his lip with his teeth even, but soon he went to settle in the older man's lap. He almost looked like a little child perched in his daddy's lap like a good boy but Charlie tried not to think about that.

The silence continued to linger on until Charlie just couldn't take it any longer, he had to say something, the urge had almost become painful.

"Thank you for dinner." Was what his mind chose to utter and Du'Met hummed slightly in acknowledgement before pressing a wine-scented kiss to Charlie's temple. "And for the watch. It's because I was good, right? The watch is my reward."

Yes, Du'Met had promised a reward for good behavior when he'd left, though he'd originally intended for it to be the suit, not the suit and such an expensive watch.

Du'Met felt how awkward Charlie felt sitting in his lap but had no intention of letting him go and as if to prove that he tightened his arm around Charlie's waist. The Brit was touch-starved but Du'Met would soon have him programmed to yearn for only his touch, only his attention and love. He honestly did enjoy the power he had over his pet. So well trained.

"Could I – no, it doesn't matter." Charlie practically deflated which had the former FBI agent quirk an eyebrow behind his mask. When Charlie didn't continue Du'Met just stared at him expectantly until he broke. "… Could I go outside? Please, Mister Du'Met?"

The younger man's tone was practically adorable to him, not as good as when he begged but still rather appealing. For a few seconds Du'Met thought the request over. They were on an island so Charlie wouldn't have found any method of escape but there were some spare parts strewn around that may have made a decent weapon in a pinch. Du'Met reminded himself he was supposed to be indulging his phoenix though and going outside after so long locked in the bedroom certainly would classify as indulging.

Speaking of the bedroom, something had to be done, it had been designed originally as somewhere for Du'Met to lay his head between hunts rather than to imprison Charlie. As things were Du'Met would have to block off another bedroom if he wanted one for himself but none of those had their own bathroom. That was a problem for another day's Du'Met.

While Du'Met had his internal conversation Charlie's hope stumbled into an early grave, he'd really not expected permission to begin with. His eyes were downcast when Du'Met nodded though so he didn't see the first time, only when Du'Met had tilted his chin up with two fingers.

"Wait, really?!"

The killer nodded for a third time and made to stand up which forced Charlie to do the same. Easily he handed Charlie his wine glass before grabbing his own and the bottle, then, like he wasn't giving Charlie an opportunity to charge off, they made their way out the restaurant through to the lobby door. Charlie had expected it to be locked but Du'Met just pushed it open with his elbow and nodded for Charlie to go first. For the briefest of moments he hesitated in case it was yet another trap, but when he stepped over the threshold into the fresh night air nothing deadly happened. Charlie quickly filled his lungs with the cool breeze and scent of wet grass, obviously it had rained in the recent past. His blue eyes slipped shut and his head fell back; outside, Charlie was outside! Eventually though he felt eyes on him and, sure enough, when he glanced at Du'Met the man had that expectancy in his dark orbs again. He offered Charlie his arm rather gentlemanly and though Charlie's first instinct had been to point out he wasn't a lady from a Jane Austin novel, he ended up just looping his arm with Du'Met's.

Together they made their way along a path, one not so overgrown as those of the other castle, toward what turned out to be a gazebo. Truth be told Du'Met preferred the one he'd had in the maze at his first murder castle, but the way this one overlooked the cliff and the sea was good too he supposed. Pretty but of little value to his games. As soon as they'd reached it Charlie had slipped from Du'Met's side and up to peer over the edge at the waters below; something about that drop was freeing rather than scary to the blond. Du'Met let his phoenix have his happy moment as he approached, he could always move silently when he wanted to and quickly managed to press Charlie into the rail so his chest was flush to Charlie's back. If he'd wanted Charlie to flinch or not Du'Met wasn't entirely sure. Pressed between a railing keeping him from tumbling to certain death and a serial killer, but Charlie didn't tense or panic at all. Proud, maybe he was proud of the blond for that.

"Thank you for this, I've missed fresh air."

Du'Met just hummed since he knew it would vibrate through his chest and into Charlie's back. The two stood there a time and sipped their wine until Du'Met poured the last of the bottle into each glass, and then they stood there some more. Charlie had his fresh air but Du'Met still had him caged in. Eventually the wine was drunk and a tipsy Charlie had settled against the older man's firm chest. It had been so long since Du'Met had felt so at ease around another human being that he'd rested his chin atop Charlie's head almost before he knew it.

"You're not leaving again, are you?" He asked breaking the silence. "You're back now. You won't leave me again?"

Du'Met grinned darkly. Charlie prioritized company over fleeing now, there wouldn't be any more escape attempts. He wanted to be with Du'Met. Oh Charlie had been such an easy puppy to train. The smoking withdrawal had aided his conditioning wonderfully but since Du'Met often indulged in a cigarette he suspected Charlie would fall into old habits sooner or later. From now on Du'Met would be everything to Charlie Lonnit, his master, his lover, his constant, while Charlie would be Du'Met's ferryman and perfect submissive phoenix.

Du'Met set his empty wine glass down on the railing next to Charlie's then reached his hands up to remove his mask which he proffered to Charlie. His face thanked him for giving it chance to breathe. Charlie was smart enough not to attempt looking up, just took the mask.

"Why-?"

The blond never got to finish asking that question because Du'Met started to kiss and nibble at his neck; that act was probably an answer in itself. Du'Met's mouth felt good just as it had when they'd had sex, the way his hands slipped down to rest at Charlie's hips was rather nice too. Each touch only worked to make Charlie crave his attention more and soon he'd started to push back against the older man's crotch unknowingly. The documentary crew had been disappointing in terms of how many he'd managed to kill, but having Charlie was more than enough to counter his disappointment. The kisses and nips continued even when a wine glass fell from the railing into the grass. He cared not for one wine glass, he had others. Du'Met took Charlie's earlobe into his mouth and delighted in the purr which escaped his boy. He only took his lips from Charlie's skin to admire his suit again: While he tended to stick to darker color palettes of browns, grays and muted greens, Du'Met had selected blues and blacks for Charlie with the occasional flare of color. Blue was certainly Charlie's color since it brought out those lovely eyes and somehow made his hair blonder. The murder ran large hands up over the fabrics then, without word nor warning, he kicked Charlie's feet wide apart and positioned him so he could tug Charlie's pants down enough to expose him. Charlie tried to question but the words became deep moans when Du'Met took him in hand and started to jerk him off in full-view of the moonlit night.

Charlie's grip on Du'Met's Holmes mask tightened as his pleasure grew and his hair was tugged on. He was still a little sensitive from earlier so this wouldn't last long and both men knew it. Soon Charlie's free hand snaked up to cup Du'Met's neck.

"Sir, please." He pleaded; pleaded for what exactly he didn't know.

Then he came with a shudder and clung to the taller man like a safety net who basically had to hold him up. Du'Met's mental pondering had been correct, Charlie did look gorgeous climaxing in moonlight. For a time they just stood there; Charlie got his breath back and Du'Met revelled in that possessive feeling he so enjoyed, but that moment had to end, and when it did Charlie spoke.

"Can – can we go inside now?"

While he would have liked to stay outside for longer, Du'Met knew Charlie had started to grow cold and his legs still shook a little; that and it would likely rain again that night. So, after tugging up Charlie's dress pants and returning his mask to its rightful place, he lifted the blond up and carried him back into the hotel. Charlie being carried in Du'Met's arms reminded them both of when they'd fled the first castle and Charlie had woken up in those strong arms.

At first Du'Met hadn't known if Charlie remaining with him had been a viable option, but those worries had long since faded away.