Finding Home - 2/7
see part 0 for warnings and author's notes
Part 0 = Here
Part 1 = Here
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“Monitor! I need a monitor over here!”
Patrick heard the call and rushed towards the men’s room on the observation level. The young dom was one he knew, one of Master Payton’s charges, Paul, Saul, something. He was generally pretty level headed in a crisis, but right now the young man looked positively wrecked. “Calm down. Calm down,” he urged as he reached the young dom. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know! We were chatting and it seemed to be going really well. I think he was interested in some takedown play, but the more we talked the… stranger he starting acting. So I thought maybe we could do something else to… take the edge off, you know? And he went nuts. He shoved me and then backed himself into a corner and just… freaked out.”
Patrick nodded, motioning over two of the watching security team. “This section’s closed until I say otherwise.” The two nodded and positioned themselves beside the door. Patrick motioned for the young dom to follow him and he headed in to see if he could figure out what the hell had happened. There were nights he *hated* being head of security.
He didn’t see the man at first. He looked to the dom who pointed out the man curled in on himself in the corner farthest from the door. “What’s his name?”
“I don’t know. We didn’t get that far.”
Patrick just barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the young man. “Stay put and stay quiet,” he ordered. He approached the other man carefully and crouched down before him. “Are you all right, sir?” he asked gently. There was no response. He tried again. “Sir? My name is Patrick, I’m with security. Are you all right?” Again, the man remained silent. He reached out and placed a cautious hand on the man’s shoulder and shook. “Sir?” The large body curled in on itself even tighter and Patrick knew they had a serious problem. He turned back to the young dom. “Tell the two outside I need Dr. Trevor here immediately and for quiet room three to be set up with a standard shock and aftercare set,” he ordered. He didn’t wait to see if he was obeyed, turning his attention back to the still huddled man. “Can you tell me who you’re here with, boy?” he asked quietly, his hand moving from the man’s shoulder to his dark hair. He stroked the hair in slow, soothing motions, watching for signs the man had even heard him. There were none. He sighed. “There’s a doctor coming but it would help him a great deal if he knew what was wrong,” he tried. A shiver passed through the curled form and Patrick moved cautiously closer. “None of that now,” he chided with a smile. “Dr. Trevor is safe and gentle. Wouldn’t be working here if he wasn’t.” He let his hand move lower, rubbing the broad back through the high-quality shirt. “But I’ll need to tell him what to call you, at least. Would you trust me with that much?”
A sharp rap on the door made Patrick look up. Max’s head poked around the door. “Sir? There’s a Master here who believes the man you’re working with may be his charge. May he enter?”
Patrick suppressed another eye-roll. Max still seemed in awe of him even after four months of working together and no matter what Patrick did, the boy remained horribly formal with him. He nodded but placed himself between the man on the floor and the entering Master. He relaxed as he realized who the Master in question was. “Should have known he’d be one o’ yours, David,” he said with a teasing grin. He moved back and wasn’t surprised by the exclamation of alarm or the way David hurried to the young man’s side.
“What the hell happened?” Dave growled at Patrick. “Aaron? Aaron. Come on, talk to me.”
Patrick watched as the man, Aaron, slowly uncurled. Dazed brown eyes looked around the room until coming to rest on David. David smiled, reaching out and cupping the side of the handsome face turned so trustingly towards him. Patrick’s heart ached as he read the confusion, and then horror that flashed through the caramel colored eyes before they closed. When the eyes opened again, the emotions were firmly shut away, the gaze blank and scarily controlled. Patrick wanted to find the bastard responsible for teaching Aaron that reaction and show him how a real dominant looked after a submissive, because he’d obviously had no idea what he was doing. David looked up and smiled ruefully at the look on Patrick’s face and Patrick knew they’d be talking later.
“Back with me now, Aaron?” Dave asked.
“Sorry,” was the shaky but guarded reply.
“Nothing to be sorry for,” Dave responded easily. “But I think they’re going to want to look you over before we head home.” Aaron scowled but nodded. “Good man,” Dave praised. “Now… I’m betting that Patrick over there has a room set up for us already, and I can guarantee it’s more comfortable than this floor. Heck, anything’s better than the floor for these old bones,” he added with a grin as he eased himself out of the crouch he was in. He offered his hand to Aaron who, after a moment’s hesitation, took it and allowed himself to be helped to his feet. Dave turned to Patrick. “Which quiet room, and can we get something sent up, juice at least?”
“Number three, and there should be a standard aftercare kit in there by the time we get there,” Patrick said. “Take your boy that direction and I’ll bring Trevor along as soon as he gets here.” Dave nodded and urged Aaron out the door with him. Patrick watched them go and wondered just what the hell had happened… and if David was any better at sharing than he used to be.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Patrick knocked on the office door and waited for Mistress’ voice before entering. He was seething and he knew it. He stopped and took a few deep breaths before closing the door behind him and turning to face the young dom and his sponsor. Master Payton sat before the Mistress’ desk, clearly unhappy with the young man kneeling at his feet. The young dom didn’t move even as Master Payton rose and faced Patrick. Patrick nodded in acknowledgement before turning his attention to the beautiful woman sitting calmly behind the desk, watching the men with interest.
“How is Mr. Aaron?” Mistress asked evenly. Patrick could tell by the hardness in her ice-blue eyes and the oh-so-calm half-smile on her perfectly painted lips that she was *far* from pleased by the evening’s excitement.
“Trevor cleared him. He’s good except for some residual adrenalin shakes and an extreme case of embarrassment,” Patrick reported. “Though I don’t know he has anything to be embarrassed about. Master David is with him just until the mild sedative Trevor gave him takes hold, then he’ll join us. They’ve asked to be allowed the use of the Quiet Room for the night and I told them it wouldn’t be a problem.” He met the Mistress’ eyes easily even though he’d overstepped his authority just a touch. She could take it from his check for all he cared. He didn’t want that boy facing whatever demons he was fighting alone or where there wasn’t help nearby.
“Very good,” Mistress answered, motioning for Patrick to take a seat. “I have heard Paul’s version of what happened and now I would like to hear your impressions of what you found.”
Patrick nodded and gave his brief impressions of what he’d found when he’d entered the restroom. He was still upset about the state Mr. Aaron had been in when he’d arrived. It had been a very long time since he’d seen a submissive so lost in his own fear, and he said as much to Mistress.
“He never safe worded,” Paul defended from his place at his mentor’s knee. “He never even said no. If he had I’d have stopped instantly.” The obviously upset junior dominant turned pleading eyes on his mentor. “You know I would never push that. Even though he was flagging orange, I never would have pushed.”
“He was flagging orange right, boy,” Patrick growled. “You should’na been approaching him at all.”
Brown eyes locked on his face. “No, sir. He was flagging orange left. I saw it.” He turned to Mistress. “I swear, Ma’am, his wristband was on the left.”
“It should’na have mattered what wrist it was on,” Patrick countered. “Everything about that boy’s body language said no and if ye’d been thinking with yer head instead a yer dick you’d have realized it before he ended up curled in on himself and needing ta be sedated,” he snapped. His accent thickened with his anger and he wasn’t surprised when Mistress shot him a warning look at his tone.
The hesitant knock on the half-open door broke the tension and Mistress called for Master David to enter. David greeted both Mistress and Master Payton as he settled into the seat in front of the large wooden desk. He nodded to Patrick before turning to look at Paul. “When did you see Aaron’s wristband?” he asked, making it clear he’d overheard the angry exchange.
“I…,” Paul hesitated clearly thrown by the question. He thought for a long moment before answering. “I noticed it when he was washing out his mouth. I offered him some gum figuring he was trying to… well. That he was trying to cleanse his tastebuds,” he answered hesitantly. “I couldn’t help but notice the flash of orange and when I realized what wrist it was on, I’ll admit it made him even more attractive. Not that he needed help in that area,” he finished with a rueful grin.
“Did you see it directly, or…”
“I caught a glimpse of it in the mirror before his sleeve covered it again,” Paul answered easily. “And it was on his left wrist. I’d swear to it.”
Master Payton looked up at Master David, eyes widening as he realized what the other Master was proposing. It took Patrick a bit longer to piece it together, but when he did he had to groan. David’s look at the sound told him he was right. This had all been a horrible misunderstanding.
Mistress sighed. “Paul, did you see the wristband directly at any time?”
“No, Mistress. But I know what I saw.”
Master David looked at Mistress. “Aaron asked me to tell you that it was his fault. He admits to not being able to safe word due to his panicked state. Neither of us realized how the evening would affect him, or he would not have been alone. For that, I accept responsibility. Aaron asks that the young man not be held responsible for something that was not, in the end, his fault.”
Mistress smiled, nodding at Master David’s words. “I will take Mr. Aaron’s requests to heart as I consider what actions will be taken on his behalf.” She turned her blue eyes on Paul. “Do you understand what your first mistake was, young man?” she asked gently.
“I was not aware enough of the submissive’s body language?” he answered, clearly uncertain of the answer.
Mistress shook her head. “That was, indeed, *one* of your mistakes,” she agreed. “It was not, however, the first. Mr. Aaron’s wristband was on his right wrist, which is a flag for ‘not interested’ and you did not heed that request.”
“But it was on the left!” Paul protested. “I saw it!”
Master Payton’s hand closed on the young man’s shoulder. “No, Paul. It wasn’t. Not if you saw it in the mirror.”
Master David could tell the young man still didn’t understand. He looked to Mistress and gestured toward the ornate mirror on her wall. He rose and positioned himself so he was facing the mirror. “Paul,” he called gently. “I want you to stand and look at me like you did Aaron, and tell me which hand my House ring is on.”
Paul rose and stood at Master David’s side, glancing at Master David’s reflection. The ornate House ring with its deep blue stone flashed in the light. Paul nodded, and turned to face Master David. “It’s on your right hand,” he answered confidently. Then Master David turned and held out his hands, and Paul’s face clouded in confusion. The ring was on the Master’s left hand. “I don’t understand.”
Master David smiled kindly. “It’s an optics issue. Mirrors show things backwards, but they don’t… flip sides like you’d expect.” He held up his left hand. “Watch the ring, not the reflection.” Paul did, still not understanding. “When you look at my reflection, what hand does the ring appear to be on?” Paul stared at the reflection, eyes narrowing. He looked from Master David, to the reflection, then stopped and turned from the mirror, clearly trying to reconcile what he was seeing.
“If I go by the reflection, and mentally turn you, well, your reflection, away from the mirror… the ring is on the wrong hand,” he said. “I don’t understand.”
“The reflection doesn’t turn like you’re thinking it does,” Master David explained. “What you’re seeing is the *mirror* of the actual figure, which is backwards from what you’d expect. That ‘turn’ is what you’d have if you were on the other side of the mirror.”
They all watched as Paul worked the concept through several times. Then, they all saw him pale and knew he understood what had happened. He quickly went to knee before his Mentor. “Master, I am so sorry. I have been completely in the wrong. My mistake has harmed a man and I submit myself to any punishment you, Mr. Aaron’s sponsor, Mistress and Sir Patrick feel is appropriate.”
Master Payton looked at Mistress and Master David before looking back at his clearly upset charge. “You know the punishment I have given you so far. You are not to approach any submissive without either myself, Sir Patrick or Master Roland with you for the next three months. This is to help reinforce the skills you have and hopefully prevent such misunderstandings in the future.”
Paul nodded.
Master David shook his head. “I believe you’ve learned your lesson already,” he told the young man. “And so does Aaron. So we are satisfied.”
Sir Patrick scowled but knew that Master David was correct. The boy had meant no harm, it had been a series of miscommunications and his punishment from his own mentor would assist in the reinforcing the skills he’d need to further develop. “I’m satisfied if they are,” he admitted, though with some reluctance.
Mistress nodded then turned to the young man in question. “Along with your own Master’s punishment, I have an additional charge for you. You will spend the next three months in service to House Obsidian. They are assisting in the relocation of a submissive who has escaped an abusive partner. He has distant relatives here, but is reluctant to approach them because of his previous actions due to said partner. He will need a friend here to help him acclimate to his new environment. He spent a great deal of time in your home city of Las Vegas, and I had planned to approach your Master already regarding the situation to see if you would be willing to act as a contact for him. I believe a closer connection might assist both you and he in your… difficulties. You will meet with Lady Bella next Wednesday at 7pm here in this office. She will begin to instruct you on how best to help this young submissive learn the difference between the relationship he is leaving and a healthy BDSM relationship. The rest, I believe will be well within your skills to achieve.” She smiled reassuringly at Paul. “You are a good man, Paul, and will make an excellent Sir someday. I honestly believe that. However, there are still things you need to learn.”
The young man nodded in earnest.
Mistress turned her eyes to the other men in the room. “If that is acceptable to all present.” They all nodded. “Good. Then I bid you good night, gentlemen. Master David, if you or Mr. Aaron have need of anything, do not hesitate to ask. Sir Patrick, please accompany Master David back to his rooms and make sure all is in order. Then your time is your own,” she added with a knowing smile.
Patrick nodded and gladly followed his friend from the room.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The next day started far too early for Patrick’s taste. He and David had talked late into the night, catching up and reminiscing about old times and he’d opted for sleeping on the couch rather than heading back to his apartment upstairs. The crick in his neck reminded him he wasn’t a young man anymore, but it had been worth it. The alarm on his phone woke him for his morning rounds and he silenced it quickly, not wanting to disturb the other occupants of the room. He stretched languidly, shifting the blankets off his body as he struggled to full wakefulness.
“There’s coffee and danish on the table,” a quiet voice said from the shadows. “They’re really quite good if you’d care for some.”
Patrick sat up, stretching to release the knots in his back. He scrubbed a hand over his face briskly, noting absently that it was nearly time to trim his beard again, then turned to look at the man he’d only met briefly last night. “Andi makes some damned fine pastry,” he agreed. “I’m Patrick,” he said by way of introduction.
The other man nodded. “Dave told me we had company. I’m Aaron, but then, you already know that,” he finished with a sigh. “I’m very sorry for the trouble last night.”
Patrick shook his head. “Wasn’t any trouble, really, just a miscommunication. It’s been sorted.” He joined Aaron at the small table and helped himself to a large cup of coffee and one of Andi’s apricot danishes. “I hope you’ll give us another chance before you decide to never set foot in the Leaf again.”
Aaron chuckled ruefully. “I’ve already agreed to that,” he admitted. “Besides, the… miscommunication wasn’t that young man’s fault, it was mine. I should have safe worded, or at least said no.”
Patrick could hear the self-recrimination in Aaron’s voice. “Wasn’t like you expected to have something trigger you like that, though. So it’s no more your fault that it was his,” he countered evenly. “And if he’d been paying attention to your body language and such, he’d have realized something was wrong before it got that out of hand.”
Aaron conceded the point, but offered no further comment. He still felt three different kinds of fool for not realizing what was happening sooner. He was a profiler, for pities sake. He knew the symptoms of PTSD and how easily it could be triggered at high stress times. He’d worked through some of it with the counselor the Bureau had insisted he see after Foyet’s first attack and then again after Haley’s death. He knew the signs and should have warned Dave when he realized how unsettled he was.
“Stop beating yourself up for being human,” Patrick chided. “Things like this happen sometimes. They’ll catch you off guard and cut your knees right out from under you at the worst possible moment. What matters is how you manage to get your feet back under you again.”
Aaron gave a breathless laugh. “What matters is not taking others down with you when you fall.”
Patrick shook his head. “With that outlook, it’s n’wonder ya struggled so. Ya don’ have to struggle to yer feet on yer own, boy. That’s what friends are for. Friends, colleagues, lovers. They’re there te help pick ya back up again. Which is what David is trying te help ya to do. Problem is, yer fight’n not only yer demons, but yer angels as well.”
“Liam Patrick it never fails to amaze me how, after 25 years of living in the US - not to mention living with Ruui’s family - you still sound like you just got off the boat from County Donegal when you get upset.” Dave joined them at the table, snagging a large cup of coffee and a muffin. “I see you two have met and managed not to kill each other immediately. I’d call that a success. You both look like you’ve at least gotten a little sleep. Again, that’s good. But, I also know that someone has morning rounds and someone else is probably anxious to get home so he can tidy up a bit before having to go retrieve a sugar and birthday party hyped six year old.”
Patrick scowled at David. “And you are still as cheerful as ever first thing in the morning,” he countered, smiling when David shrugged unrepentantly. “And ya know very well it’s just Patrick now. I gave up Liam for lent and never picked up the habit again,” he joked. “But you’re right, I do have morning rounds.” He swallowed the last of his coffee and turned to fold the blanket he’d used the night before.
“Don’t worry about that,” Aaron said softly. “I’ll take care of it.”
Patrick met the younger man’s eyes, studying him. He enjoyed the light blush that colored the tanned cheeks. “Thank ya, boy,” he said deliberately, barely keeping the smile in check as the blush deepened and the man dropped his eyes submissively. “I look forward to seeing ya again, Aaron, under better circumstances though.” The boy nodded but didn’t look up. “Now, get that scoundrel to get ya home so ye’r ready for that lit’l one. Birthdays tend to make ‘em ten times more hyper than ye’r expecting, and ye’ll need ye’r wits about ya.” He turned to David. “Take care o’ him, my friend. And don’t be such a stranger, come for dinner. Sunni would love te see ya.”
Dave nodded. “Call me next week,” he offered giving Patrick the number.
“It really was a pleasure meeting you, Aaron,” Patrick said once more to the silent man still sitting at the table. And with that, he was gone.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
When a friend is in trouble, don’t annoy him by asking
if there is anything you can do.
Think up something appropriate and do it. - Edgar Watson Howe
“Agent Rossi? There’s a Mr. Zakaria here to see you.”
Dave smiled. “Send him up. I’m expecting him.” He hung up the phone and checked his watch, wondering when the time had gotten away from him. Oh yes, paperwork. It took forever, he looked at the remaining stack of reports in his inbox, they never seemed to end. He signed off on the report he’d just finished and headed to Aaron’s office with it. He tapped on the doorframe and stuck his head in. “Aaron. You are going with me to lunch.”
Aaron didn’t even bother looking up. “I’m working through lunch,” he protested. “I’m behind after taking yesterday off for Jack’s soccer game and if I want to get home on time tonight I’ll need to stay.”
Dave settled into the chair in front of Aaron’s desk. “The paperwork will still be there, Aaron. Besides, if you don’t eat, how can you chastise Spencer for not doing so?”
Aaron shot Dave a dark look. “Dirty pool, Dave. Spencer needs to eat because he’s too thin and doesn’t take care of himself. Missing a few meals isn’t going to adversely effect…”
“Don’t make me call in the big guns,” he threatened with a grin, hand already going to his pocket for his cell.
“You wouldn’t.”
“I’ve got her on speed-dial just for situations like this,” Dave confirmed. “And I’m not afraid to call her. She’d probably even get Jack involved.”
Aaron couldn’t help but laugh at the comically threatening look on Dave’s face. “Fine. Don’t call Jessica, I’ll join you for lunch. But you’re buying since you bullied me into it.”
Dave smiled. “Deal.” He watched as Aaron pushed aside the file he’d been working on and grabbed his jacket. “Good man.” He waited until Aaron had followed him out of the office and closed the door before springing the next surprise on him. “Oh. We’re going to be joined by an old friend of mine, Mr. Zakaria. He was married to one of my favorite editors. Ran into him a couple of weeks ago and we’ve been trying to arrange lunch...”
“Dave.”
Dave held up his hands in mock surrender. “Just lunch. That’s all this is. I swear. I think you’ll enjoy yourself. If nothing else, you can find out how much of an arrogant ass I was about the editing of my first book,” he added with a grin.
Aaron shook his head. Dave meant well, he honestly did. But after his breakdown at the Leaf, it had become painfully clear to Aaron that even thinking about pursuing the type of relationship he’d had with Gideon was a bad idea. He’d made the mistake of telling that to Dave, and the older man had spent the ensuing weeks trying to convince him otherwise. Luckily, Aaron had responsibilities; Jack, the team, paperwork. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself - though thoughts of a solid, masculine chest and a heavy Irish brogue had been invading his dreams a bit more than he was comfortable with recently. He shook his head at the thought. Patrick had probably already forgotten about him except as an incident to put down in *his* paperwork. Thankfully, Dave had confined his arguments to the theoretical and, unlike Jessica, had not attempted to ‘match-make’ him with anyone, yet.
Voices from the bull-pen caught his attention. Prentiss, JJ, Spencer… and another masculine voice that was familiar but he couldn’t place why. He looked towards the sound of conversation and laughter, caught by the powerfully built man chatting with the team. His back was towards the stairs, but Aaron could tell a great deal just from that. The man was fit, broad shoulders tapered to a trim waist, both accentuated by the expensively tailored suit coat. Confident, upper-middle class if not a bit higher, aging but doing so with dignity. He was a redhead, the copper curls clipped neat and short, a silver-white blaze on the right side being the only real indication of age. His stance spoke of someone comfortable and self-assured, his body loose and relaxed even among the bustle and noise of the office - and the presence of so many armed federal agents.
“No way. That cannot be your actual last name,” Prentiss said with a smile.
“It is. Made legal eighteen years ago and the family still claims me,” the stranger answered, laughter tingeing his voice. “I can call my sister-in-law and have her confirm it if ya like. Sunni loves doing that the first time people meet me.”
The accent settled over him like a warm blanket. Now he knew why the man, and the voice, seemed so familiar. He turned to Dave. “Mr. Zakaria?”
At his name the man turned and looked up at them, his handsome, bearded face breaking into an easy grin. “Liam Patrick Zakaria,” he confirmed. “But please, call me Patrick. And you must be Agent Hotchner. David has told me a great deal about you.”
Aaron shot a dark look at Dave, who deftly ignored it in favor of greeting Patrick. “I see you’re confounding the natives again.”
“Well, if someone would have warned me I’d be facing the third degree I’d have bought my body-guards with me. In fact, Sunni and Avani are even in town this week working on some fancy dinner thing for Wahid’s company,” he added with a fond smile. “I’m having dinner with them tomorrow night. You’re more that welcome to come along, David.”
Dave shook his head. “Sorry. I have plans tomorrow.”
“You’re just worried that Sunni’s goin’ te try and set you up with one o’ her friends again,” Patrick teased.
“Because that’s worked so well the other four times she’s done it,” Dave shot back with an indulgent shake of his head. “You’d think she’d learn that our tastes aren’t anything alike.”
“Well,” Patrick said with a wink at Prentiss and JJ. “She did get a bit closer with that dancer…”
“NO. We are *not* talking about Fereydoun here.”
Prentiss and JJ looked at each other and grinned. “There is *so* a story there,” Prentiss said with a gleeful look towards Dave.
“Oh, aye, there’s a dandy story,” Patrick said with a sparkle in his green eyes. “And I’ll be happy to share it with you lovelies if you’d be so kind as to join us for lunch.” He turned to Spencer. “And that includes you as well, Mr. Lovely,” he said with a mischievous smile. Spencer blushed nearly as red as his tie.
“Rein it in, lover boy or I’ll tell Sunni you’re back on the market and having trouble finding the right type of guy,” Dave all but growled as he moved to Spencer’s side, standing a bit closer than normal.
Patrick raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. He turned to Aaron who had watched the exchange with interest. “So, Agent Hotchner, shall we make it a team outing then?”
Aaron chuckled as five pairs of eyes all but pleaded with him to say yes. “I think I can clear that with the boss,” he said with a resigned smile.
“Good man,” Patrick praised, eyes locked on Aaron’s causing a shiver to run through the Special Agent. Patrick held the gaze easily, letting Aaron know the group invitation was to put *him* at ease, and Aaron was glad of it. He nodded his thanks to the older man which earned him a soft smile before Patrick turned back to the girls. He offered his arm to Prentiss who took it with a giggling smile.
“A scholar and a gentleman,” she said as they exited the room towards the elevators. “Be still my heart.”
“I do try,” he answered as he pressed the elevator button.
“So,” Prentiss asked conspiratorially. “Fereydoun?”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Pretty much all the honest truth-telling there is in the world
is done by children. - Oliver Wendell Holmes
“Daddy! Did you ‘member your toofbrush?”
“Yes,” Aaron answered with a smile. “I remembered my *tooth*brush,” he corrected his son gently.
Jessica leaned in the doorway and watched with a grin as her nephew ‘helped’ his father pack. “Jack,” she called, smiling at Aaron, “I think your dad knows how to pack.”
The boy turned big brown eyes on her and she had to struggle not to laugh at the serious expression on his youthful face. “But this is his first play-date and he might forget somefing. Like his jammies or his favorite blanket.” He turned the same expression onto his father. “Do you have a favorite blanket, daddy?”
“No. I don’t think I do.”
“You could use mine if you want,” Jack said earnestly, eyes bright.
Aaron did chuckle at that, reaching out to ruffle the boy’s light brown hair. “Thanks, buddy. But I think I’ll be fine.” Jack didn’t look convinced, but contented himself with watching carefully as his father packed his overnight bag. Aaron honestly wasn’t sure what he thought about telling Jack his overnight with Sir Patrick at the Leaf was a ‘play-date’ - but Jess had reassured him it was the easiest way to explain it. He wouldn’t lie to Jack and tell him it was work related, but his six year old didn’t need to know he was going to an exclusive BDSM club to see if he and the dominant he’d been in negotiation with for a month actually clicked well enough to try for something more. Angel had actually suggested the idea and Jessica, once Aaron had worked up the nerve to broach the subject with her, had agreed. She’d even volunteered to watch Jack for the weekend so Aaron didn’t have to worry.
“Hey, Champ,” Jessica said, seeing the minute change in Aaron as his overactive brain once again kicked into overdrive. “Why don’t you go see if you can find your dad a small friend to keep him company while he’s gone?”
Jack turned from where he was studying his father’s bag to roll his eyes at his aunt. “Aunt Jess, he doesn’t need anyfing, he’s going on a *play*-date,” he said seriously, as if that explained everything.
“Well, maybe you could go look anyway?” she tried.
Jack studied her for a long moment, looking so like his father that Jessica had to smile. “You want to talk to daddy,” he said with a sigh. He crawled off the bed and walked to the door. “If you want grown-up talk with daddy, it’s okay. Uncle Sean told me all ‘bout grown-up talk and that it makes grown-ups silly sometimes.” He gave his aunt a big smile. “I’ll go play with my cars, Aunt Jess, so you can talk to daddy ‘bout me.” He skipped out of the room and both adults stood in stunned silence until they heard his door close.
“I’m going to kill Sean,” Aaron said evenly.
Jessica shook her head. “I’ll see him first, so I’ll do it for you.” She met Aaron’s eyes and smiled. “I do *not* envy you his teen years.” Aaron’s eyes widened in panic and Jessica moved to sit beside him on the bed. She took his hand in hers. “You’ll do fine, Aaron. You’re *doing* fine,” she reassured. “And, while we’re on that subject there’s nothing wrong with taking some time for you.” She took a deep, steadying breath. “In fact, I think it would do you good to spend a weekend with your… friend.” She couldn’t meet his eyes as she continued. “In the last month I’ve seen the guy my sister talked about all the time; the one who smiled and laughed and did his best to be there for his family.” She laughed at her own stubborn foolishness. “Haley always said you were something special even if I couldn’t see it. I blamed you, and your… and Gideon, for how things fell apart.”
“I wasn’t sleeping with him,” Aaron said quietly, remembering the last argument they’d had just after Haley had left when Jessica had come to retrieve some of Haley’s things. Jessica’s accusations about his ‘affair’ with Gideon had hurt even more with Gideon’s abandonment still such an open wound. “What we did was never about sex.”
“That’s what Haley said,” she admitted. “And she really let me have it when I told her what I’d said to you.” She finally looked up at Aaron, surprised to find his eyes moist with unshed tears. “She said that he gave you what she couldn’t. An escape from the darkness of a job she could never really understand.” She squeezed Aaron’s hand. “I still don’t get it, but I can see the difference in you since you’ve found this new person. You’re happier and more… at peace.” She sighed and offered him a small smile. “Haley would approve,” she told him, unsurprised when a tear made its way down his cheek. She reached out and wiped it away. “And I do too. Happy is a good look for you.”
Aaron was too choked up to speak and settled for wrapping his arms around her and hugging her tightly. He’d been worried what Jess would think about his burgeoning relationship with a man. He’d been up-front with her, as he’d been with Haley about Jason. Sometimes, the job just became too much and he needed a way to let it all go, to give up control to someone else. Jason had understood what it meant to be just a day too late to save someone, what it was like to send your team - your friends - into danger. He also understood how keeping it locked down as tightly as Aaron did, even for the best of reasons, was a sure way to lose your mind. He’d given Aaron a release, a catharsis that purged the darkness and let him come home to Haley free of the ‘profiler’ that saw duplicity and danger everywhere. When Jason had left, it had been twice as hard to turn off that part of himself. He’d had to be strong for the team, strong for Reid who’d looked up to Jason even more than he himself had. He’d had to lock the submissive and fragile side of himself firmly away so he could be the in-control leader his team had needed. In the process he’d driven away his lights in the darkness, his wife and son. To hear that Haley had understood, at least a little, helped more than Jessica would probably ever know. “Thank you,” he finally managed to whisper as her arms hugged him tightly.
She broke the hug and wiped the tears from her own face. “Okay. Weepy, girly moment over. Promise,” she said with a grin. “I still don’t entirely understand it, but if it helps you and makes you happy, I’m not going to complain. Just… be careful, okay?” She could feel the blush rising in her cheeks as she remembered the stilted and hesitant conversation two nights ago when Aaron attempted to explain what was going on. “And remember, you’re to call tomorrow at 10:30am to let me know everything’s still okay. You can let me know then if you’re going to be staying longer.” She gave him a knowing smile. “I vote that unless he’s a complete dud, stay longer.”
Aaron could feel his own cheeks heating at the look she shot him. “That’s it. You and Jack are *grounded* from spending time with my brother. He’s a horrible influence,” he said with a chuckle.
“Nah. Sean had nothing to do with this. It’s *all* me. Haley was the good sister,” she said easily, the familiar response falling from her tongue.
Aaron’s hand was warm where it settled on her shoulder. “I’d say you were both pretty good.”
Jessica bumped shoulders with her… friend, and grinned. “Get busy packing or you’re going to be late.”
Aaron nodded and did just that.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Intimacy is based on shared vulnerability...
nothing deepens intimacy like the experiences that we share
when we feel flayed, with our skins off, scared and vulnerable,
and our partner is there with us, willing to share in the scary stuff.
-- Dossie Easton & Catherine A. Liszt
Soft, black cord wrapped around his bare thigh, Sir’s fingers resting against his skin to keep the cords from binding too tightly. With each wrap, he could feel himself relaxing, centering. Three wraps of the doubled cotton rope formed a secure ‘cuff’ on his right thigh, which Sir then knotted in place, tugging it sharply to test its strength. Sir’s hand traveled down the back of his thigh, a finger teasing at the sensitive skin behind his knee before moving on. His lower leg was lifted just enough to allow more rope to be wrapped around his calf. He balanced precariously on his knee for a moment as the second rope cuff was knotted into place and two leg bindings were brought together, leaving his leg in an enforced kneeling position. He shifted, testing his range of movement as Sir laced the bindings together. Sir’s hand impacted with his ass cheeks in warning.
“Stay still, boy,” Sir growled, tugging on the rope in warning.
He complied, closing his eyes as he felt the short length between the two secured. The long, trailing tails Sir had left were pulled to the side and secured to the quick-release clamp that hooked into the eye-bolt on the side of the mat.
Warm hands settled on his shoulders, steadying him. Sir leaned close, His cotton t-shirt warm and soft against his bare skin. “You’re doing so well, boy,” Sir praised.
Another layer of stress and fear fell away with the quiet words. He sighed and smiled as the process was repeated on his left leg, the limb carefully bound and secured. Sir’s hands urged him into a more stable kneel, his shins flat against the soft surface of the bondage mat. The trailing ends were adjusted a bit more, pulling his legs wider, leaving him open and displayed for Sir’s pleasure.
“Do you have any idea how tempting you are, boy?” Sir asked, His large hands touching, caressing, claiming with each heated pass. “Could leave you just like this, sit here and enjoy the way you open so easily for me.”
He shivered at the words. He wanted, *needed* more than just to be admired. He needed the promised touch, the promised bite of pain and the welcome release it gave. He whimpered but refused to beg. He was stronger than that. He wouldn’t give in that easily, not yet. He needed to show that he could take what Sir was offering, that he was strong enough to hold out until Sir gave him permission.
“You’re thinking again,” Sir chided, muscled body pressing against his back.
The scrape of beard against his neck was new, but welcome. He tilted his head to allow Sir better access to his neck, to his body. Strong arms wrapped around his torso, fingers seeking out his nipples and pinching them sharply. He gasped and leaned into Sir’s supporting hold.
“I’ll give you what you need, boy. Ya need te trust me wi’ that. Can ya do that for me?”
He nodded, not trusting his voice.
“Good boy.” Sir’s lips pressed against his cheek in a gentle kiss. He went through their agreed upon safewords once more. “Red is stop, yellow is slow down, blue is warning for an emotional issue that we’ll need to stop and address before going on. Do ya understand, boy?”
He nodded again, feeling his body relaxing further.
“Lean forward and hold yer arms out in front of ya.”
He struggled to comply, but his bound legs hampered his movements. Sir’s strong arms closed around him and eased him forward until his chest rested flat on a raised, padded support. He turned his head, getting comfortable even as his bound legs and tense back protested the stretch. Sir’s hands were there before the muscles could cramp, massaging and relaxing him. Another layer of control slowly drifted away, and he sighed in contentment.
More rope wrapped around him, encasing first one wrist and then the other. Again the trailing ends were secured to the edge of the bondage mat, pinning him in place. He was far more comfortable than he expected to be.
“Good boy,” Sir breathed into his ear. “Such a beautiful canvas.” His hands ran in slow, gentle circles over the bare expanse of back, tracing muscles and tension knots and bone. “Ready for the next step, boy?”
He nodded.
“No. Need to hear ya say it, boy. Need to know ye’re still with me.”
“Yes, Sir,” he managed, mind already drifting and relaxing into the moment. Sir’s warmth moved away, but in his relaxed state, it wasn’t a problem. He knew Sir would take care of him. Sir had promised.
The soft tails of a flogger caressed his back once more. Before the ropes, there had been the thud of a flogger against his back, warming the skin and loosening the muscles. Now, that wonderful sensation was back, only somehow more intense. Sir started slowly, careful, light strikes against his shoulders and ass, rhythmic and even and calming. He felt himself drift further. With each strike, another stressor fell, another mask broke and dropped away, slowly stripping him bare for his Sir. The blows came faster, harder, the rhythm changing just enough to keep him guessing. Unable to anticipate when the next blow would fall, unable to move to try and influence where it would land, he could only… accept.
The last of the tension melted from his body, leaving him totally relaxed and open for Sir’s attention.
“That’s it, boy.” Sir’s voice was whiskey rough and provided a soothing counterpoint to the thud of the flogger. “Give yourself over to me. Let me take care of you.”
Another heavy thud and the warm falls stilled against his back, the weight a comforting reminder he wasn’t alone.
“Ready for more, boy?”
“Yes, Sir,” he breathed.
A thin, cool line rested against his flogger-warmed skin for just a moment. The Lexan cane; thin, flexible, sting rather than thud. Not one of his favorites, but not something he couldn’t handle.
“Six strikes, boy. Only six, and I’ll count them for ya,” Sir said evenly, His accent thick and seductive. “Ye’re to think why ye’re here. Why ye’ve given yerself te me. And ye’re to let it go. Each strike is one more reason fallin’ away, one more touch o’ healing and forgiveness.”
All the while Sir talked, the cool of the cane tip traced over his back and ass and thighs. He understood the words, but wasn’t sure he could do it, wasn’t sure he was close enough to let go that far. His breathing came quicker as fear of failing his Sir crashed into his chest. What if he couldn’t do what Sir wanted? What if it wasn’t enough? Would Sir leave as well? He had to… A sharp slap to his ass brought him back to the now, to Sir.
“Ye’re fine, boy, ye’ll *be* fine no matter what happens.” Sir rubbed His hand over the heated handprint. “Just feel.”
The first blow of the cane was sharp and sudden and unexpected. It hit his flogger-sensitized ass, landing across both cheeks and making him jerk in his bonds.
“One,” Sir’s voice sounding in the following silence.
The next strike was just above the first, fast and hard and followed immediately by the third. “Two and Three. Half-way there, boy.”
He struggled as the blows made themselves known, sharp lines of fire that made him press his hips forward in a vain attempt to escape the sting. Sir waited, allowing him to struggle in his bonds as the heat rose. Sir’s palm wiped over the marks, sending a new spike of sensation screaming down the nerve endings. He whimpered at the building sensations, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
“Three more.”
Sir’s hand rested on the small of his back, stilling him further. The whistle of the cane made him tense and the impact with the sensitive skin where his ass-cheeks met his thighs made him moan.
“Four. Two more, boy. Breathe.”
He tried to do as he was told but the heat and sting of the four cane strikes had him pulling at the bonds, struggling against the pain and his own need. The next blow was to his ass again, angling across the first three strikes, doubling the sting. He couldn’t stop the pained exclamation.
“Five. One more. Stay with me, boy. Ye’re doin’ so well.”
The last blow felt three times harder than the others and it drove the breath from his lungs and left him writhing against the ropes as he tried to breathe through and process the pain. He could do this. He could.
“Let go,” Sir whispered in his ear. “Ye’re safe. Let me catch ya.”
His head shook in denial. He was close, *so* close, but the final mask stayed firmly in place. “Need…” He wasn’t sure what he needed, he just knew he needed something… more. Sir pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, fingers smoothing back his sweat-damp hair.
“I’ll give ya what ya need, boy,” Sir promised. He moved to the end of the bondage mat, one hand always in contact with his boy’s damp skin. Sir tugged on the ropes attached to the eyebolts, shortening each in turn until the willing body was fully open to Him.
His cock was already hard, weeping pre-come, but it wasn’t enough. He needed something more to tumble him over the edge and he trusted Sir to give that to him. Cool, hard, smooth plastic ran over his skin. He relaxed, his legs unconsciously spreading just a bit wider, wanting what Sir was offering. The tip of the device teased over his balls, sliding against the shaft of his cock, a barely there touch that he tried to press into only to growl in frustration when Sir pulled even that little contact away.
“Soon, boy,” Sir soothed.
The smooth device repeated its path over his skin and he arched his hips back as much as he could, silently begging for more. Sir stilled the device, leaving it resting against the delicate skin of his balls. A quiet buzz filled the silence and his body arched as Sir pressed the vibrator more firmly against his skin. He panted and struggled, the relentless sensation running over the path the device had traced just moments before, only this time, the nerves quivered under the sensual assault. The vibe ran over his cock, teasing until he felt he was about to fly apart. He whimpered. “Please.”
The vibrator was removed and he shivered, uncertain what to expect next. He tried to calm his breathing, listening, waiting, wondering what Sir has planned. The hum of the device never stilled and he struggled in the restraints, trying to see what was happening just out of his line of sight. Sir’s hand returned, resting in the middle of his back, rubbing slow circles on the sweat damp skin.
“Relax, boy. I’ll not leave ya unsatisfied.” Sir’s voice was husky, His accent heavy and exotic… and unbelievably soothing.
He did as Sir said, relaxing in his bonds and trusting Sir to take care of him. The vibrator returned, its firm tip now slick with lube. It teased at the sensitive skin behind his balls, sliding up and back until it was pressed against his anus. He tilted his hips upward, offering himself to his Sir’s touch. Sir’s chuckle was positively wicked as the vibrator was drawn back until only the barest touch teased at the nerve rich skin. “Please,” he begged, the last barriers cracked, broken by need. “Please, Sir.”
He was rewarded with a firmer touch, the hard vibe pressing against the slicked skin. He shifted back as much as he could and this time, the vibe wasn’t withdrawn and its narrow tip breached his body. He stilled, shaking with need and uncertainty and want. “Sir,” he gasped, needing direction as his world swirled around him in nearly overwhelming sensation.
“Let go, boy,” came the gentle response. “Ye’re safe here.”
He cried out as the last resistance faded and his body opened to Sir’s touch. He relaxed completely and the vibe slowly sank into his welcoming body. He shook as his body seemed to burn up from the inside out, the vibrations hitting his prostate again and again until he screamed out his release. Even as his body spilled come over the sweat slick bondage mat, Sir continued to thrust the vibrator in and out of his body in slow, deliberate movements. He shook at the sensory overload, his hands clutching at empty air, his toes curling as his body writhed in its bonds. “Yellow. Please, Sir. Yellow,” he gasped out. “no more. No more.”
The vibrations stopped but his shaking continued. Sir eased the vibrator from his body, taking a moment to caress sweat-slick skin. He whimpered, leaning into the touch as best he could while still bound. Sir’s body was solid against his as the quick release knots were tugged loose and his hands came free. He pulled them in close to his chest, wrapping them around himself as he tried to keep from breaking apart. A low, continuous keening reached his ears and it took him a moment to realize it was coming from him. He shook harder. His legs were freed and he curled in tighter, trapping the release knots that held his legs bent and curled.
“Boy? I need to release yer legs now.”
He shook his head frantically, whimpering. Strong arms wrapped around him, drawing him off the support frame and into Sir’s embrace. He relaxed, burying his face into the curve of Sir’s neck even as Sir eased them both down onto the soft safety of the bondage mat. He was shifted around onto his side, taking the weight off his still bound legs and settling him more firmly against Sir’s solid chest. Sir’s hands were gentle as they carded through his hair and smoothed down his back in long, slow strokes.
“I’ve got ya, boy. Let it go.” Sir’s lips pressed against his hair. “I’ve got ya. Let it go.”
Only then did the tears come, slowly at first, building to body shaking sobs. Jason, Haley, Elle, Jack… all the ones he’d failed slid past his mind’s eye. “I’m sorry,” he breathed against Sir’s cotton clad shoulder. “I’m so sorry.” Victims’ faces, innocent lives taken in horrible, unbelievably vicious ways. Law enforcement personnel who looked to them, to *him* to find the monsters before they struck again, looking for someone to blame when the profile doesn’t find them an unsub fast enough to keep another victim from dying. Family who blamed him for the horror visited on the sweetest woman he’d ever known. An innocent child looking to him and asking why mommy wasn’t coming home. Each face, each failure, poured out in the cleansing tears.
Sir’s arms held him tight as the storm of emotion wracked him with grief and pain and anger. Sir said nothing, simply holding tight and offering silent comfort and understanding. His solid body rocked them, his hands stroked over tense muscles and worked to release knots of pain and self-recrimination. He never left, never judged, simply held on and didn’t let go. Finally the emotional storm was spent. He collapsed against Sir’s broad chest, minute tremors traveling through his limbs as he sought out the steady beat of Sir’s heart.
“I need te unbind yer legs, boy,” Sir whispered against his hair. “Don’t want te move, but I’ll not have ya hurt by staying bound too long.”
He reluctantly agreed, relaxing his grip around Sir just enough for Sir to sit up and see to his bindings. Large, solid hands carefully undid the rope cuffs, massaging the muscles and straightening the shaky limbs. The tender care threatened to bring the tears again, but Sir’s rumbling voice praising and soothing him kept the edge of hysteria out of his reactions. He floated, body slightly disconnected from his mind as the endorphins flooded his overloaded system. He vaguely felt a soft blanket laid over him and Sir’s warmth settle beside him. He was pulled against Sir’s chest and it took him a long moment to realize that the cotton shirt was gone and it was Sir’s warm skin under his cheek. He nuzzled the older man’s chest, smiling as copper and silver hair tickled at his face. He breathed deep, taking in Sir’s scent and relaxed further. He was safe here. He was protected and cared for and… safe.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
Lips pressed against his forehead. “Ye’re welcome, Aaron. Sleep now. I’ve got ya.”
“Safe call…”
“Aye. Ten-thirty tomorrow mornin’ we’ll call yer girl. Now, just relax,” Patrick soothed. “The room is ours for the weekend, and we’ll have enough time for talkin’ later.” He settled Aaron more firmly against him. “Just rest now.”
Aaron nodded, his arms reaching out and wrapping around Patrick’s solid chest. He burrowed into the warm embrace, letting Sir Patrick’s rhythmic heartbeat chase away the last of the lingering fears. He pressed a sleepy kiss to the skin beneath him. “Definitely not a dud,” he slurred as sleep finally tugged him under.
Patrick chuckled, uncertain how to take the murmured comment, but pleased by the content and relaxed tone. He tightened his hold on the younger man, loving the feel of his long body pressed so close against his. “Rest, my Aaron. I’m here. You’re safe.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Monday came far too soon for Aaron’s liking, but he entered the office with a much lighter heart and a definite spring in his step. His time with Sir Patrick had been a stunning success and he’d come home late Sunday afternoon to a home cooked meal and an excited six year old who wanted to know if he’d “enjoyed his first play-date”. Aaron could honestly answer that he had… and that he planned to do it again sometime. The evening had been spent playing Jack’s favorite board game and watching ‘just one more episode’ of Bugs Bunny before Jack fell asleep and had to be carried to bed. He smiled at the memory as he waited for the elevator to arrive.
“Well,” an amused and familiar voice said from behind him. “Somebody had a good weekend.”
He turned and studied Derek Morgan’s smiling face. He nodded, offering the younger agent a small but genuine half-smile. “Yes. Yes someone did.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
~ ~ ~ ~
on to part three Here
Part 0 = Here
Part 1 = Here
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“Monitor! I need a monitor over here!”
Patrick heard the call and rushed towards the men’s room on the observation level. The young dom was one he knew, one of Master Payton’s charges, Paul, Saul, something. He was generally pretty level headed in a crisis, but right now the young man looked positively wrecked. “Calm down. Calm down,” he urged as he reached the young dom. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know! We were chatting and it seemed to be going really well. I think he was interested in some takedown play, but the more we talked the… stranger he starting acting. So I thought maybe we could do something else to… take the edge off, you know? And he went nuts. He shoved me and then backed himself into a corner and just… freaked out.”
Patrick nodded, motioning over two of the watching security team. “This section’s closed until I say otherwise.” The two nodded and positioned themselves beside the door. Patrick motioned for the young dom to follow him and he headed in to see if he could figure out what the hell had happened. There were nights he *hated* being head of security.
He didn’t see the man at first. He looked to the dom who pointed out the man curled in on himself in the corner farthest from the door. “What’s his name?”
“I don’t know. We didn’t get that far.”
Patrick just barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the young man. “Stay put and stay quiet,” he ordered. He approached the other man carefully and crouched down before him. “Are you all right, sir?” he asked gently. There was no response. He tried again. “Sir? My name is Patrick, I’m with security. Are you all right?” Again, the man remained silent. He reached out and placed a cautious hand on the man’s shoulder and shook. “Sir?” The large body curled in on itself even tighter and Patrick knew they had a serious problem. He turned back to the young dom. “Tell the two outside I need Dr. Trevor here immediately and for quiet room three to be set up with a standard shock and aftercare set,” he ordered. He didn’t wait to see if he was obeyed, turning his attention back to the still huddled man. “Can you tell me who you’re here with, boy?” he asked quietly, his hand moving from the man’s shoulder to his dark hair. He stroked the hair in slow, soothing motions, watching for signs the man had even heard him. There were none. He sighed. “There’s a doctor coming but it would help him a great deal if he knew what was wrong,” he tried. A shiver passed through the curled form and Patrick moved cautiously closer. “None of that now,” he chided with a smile. “Dr. Trevor is safe and gentle. Wouldn’t be working here if he wasn’t.” He let his hand move lower, rubbing the broad back through the high-quality shirt. “But I’ll need to tell him what to call you, at least. Would you trust me with that much?”
A sharp rap on the door made Patrick look up. Max’s head poked around the door. “Sir? There’s a Master here who believes the man you’re working with may be his charge. May he enter?”
Patrick suppressed another eye-roll. Max still seemed in awe of him even after four months of working together and no matter what Patrick did, the boy remained horribly formal with him. He nodded but placed himself between the man on the floor and the entering Master. He relaxed as he realized who the Master in question was. “Should have known he’d be one o’ yours, David,” he said with a teasing grin. He moved back and wasn’t surprised by the exclamation of alarm or the way David hurried to the young man’s side.
“What the hell happened?” Dave growled at Patrick. “Aaron? Aaron. Come on, talk to me.”
Patrick watched as the man, Aaron, slowly uncurled. Dazed brown eyes looked around the room until coming to rest on David. David smiled, reaching out and cupping the side of the handsome face turned so trustingly towards him. Patrick’s heart ached as he read the confusion, and then horror that flashed through the caramel colored eyes before they closed. When the eyes opened again, the emotions were firmly shut away, the gaze blank and scarily controlled. Patrick wanted to find the bastard responsible for teaching Aaron that reaction and show him how a real dominant looked after a submissive, because he’d obviously had no idea what he was doing. David looked up and smiled ruefully at the look on Patrick’s face and Patrick knew they’d be talking later.
“Back with me now, Aaron?” Dave asked.
“Sorry,” was the shaky but guarded reply.
“Nothing to be sorry for,” Dave responded easily. “But I think they’re going to want to look you over before we head home.” Aaron scowled but nodded. “Good man,” Dave praised. “Now… I’m betting that Patrick over there has a room set up for us already, and I can guarantee it’s more comfortable than this floor. Heck, anything’s better than the floor for these old bones,” he added with a grin as he eased himself out of the crouch he was in. He offered his hand to Aaron who, after a moment’s hesitation, took it and allowed himself to be helped to his feet. Dave turned to Patrick. “Which quiet room, and can we get something sent up, juice at least?”
“Number three, and there should be a standard aftercare kit in there by the time we get there,” Patrick said. “Take your boy that direction and I’ll bring Trevor along as soon as he gets here.” Dave nodded and urged Aaron out the door with him. Patrick watched them go and wondered just what the hell had happened… and if David was any better at sharing than he used to be.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Patrick knocked on the office door and waited for Mistress’ voice before entering. He was seething and he knew it. He stopped and took a few deep breaths before closing the door behind him and turning to face the young dom and his sponsor. Master Payton sat before the Mistress’ desk, clearly unhappy with the young man kneeling at his feet. The young dom didn’t move even as Master Payton rose and faced Patrick. Patrick nodded in acknowledgement before turning his attention to the beautiful woman sitting calmly behind the desk, watching the men with interest.
“How is Mr. Aaron?” Mistress asked evenly. Patrick could tell by the hardness in her ice-blue eyes and the oh-so-calm half-smile on her perfectly painted lips that she was *far* from pleased by the evening’s excitement.
“Trevor cleared him. He’s good except for some residual adrenalin shakes and an extreme case of embarrassment,” Patrick reported. “Though I don’t know he has anything to be embarrassed about. Master David is with him just until the mild sedative Trevor gave him takes hold, then he’ll join us. They’ve asked to be allowed the use of the Quiet Room for the night and I told them it wouldn’t be a problem.” He met the Mistress’ eyes easily even though he’d overstepped his authority just a touch. She could take it from his check for all he cared. He didn’t want that boy facing whatever demons he was fighting alone or where there wasn’t help nearby.
“Very good,” Mistress answered, motioning for Patrick to take a seat. “I have heard Paul’s version of what happened and now I would like to hear your impressions of what you found.”
Patrick nodded and gave his brief impressions of what he’d found when he’d entered the restroom. He was still upset about the state Mr. Aaron had been in when he’d arrived. It had been a very long time since he’d seen a submissive so lost in his own fear, and he said as much to Mistress.
“He never safe worded,” Paul defended from his place at his mentor’s knee. “He never even said no. If he had I’d have stopped instantly.” The obviously upset junior dominant turned pleading eyes on his mentor. “You know I would never push that. Even though he was flagging orange, I never would have pushed.”
“He was flagging orange right, boy,” Patrick growled. “You should’na been approaching him at all.”
Brown eyes locked on his face. “No, sir. He was flagging orange left. I saw it.” He turned to Mistress. “I swear, Ma’am, his wristband was on the left.”
“It should’na have mattered what wrist it was on,” Patrick countered. “Everything about that boy’s body language said no and if ye’d been thinking with yer head instead a yer dick you’d have realized it before he ended up curled in on himself and needing ta be sedated,” he snapped. His accent thickened with his anger and he wasn’t surprised when Mistress shot him a warning look at his tone.
The hesitant knock on the half-open door broke the tension and Mistress called for Master David to enter. David greeted both Mistress and Master Payton as he settled into the seat in front of the large wooden desk. He nodded to Patrick before turning to look at Paul. “When did you see Aaron’s wristband?” he asked, making it clear he’d overheard the angry exchange.
“I…,” Paul hesitated clearly thrown by the question. He thought for a long moment before answering. “I noticed it when he was washing out his mouth. I offered him some gum figuring he was trying to… well. That he was trying to cleanse his tastebuds,” he answered hesitantly. “I couldn’t help but notice the flash of orange and when I realized what wrist it was on, I’ll admit it made him even more attractive. Not that he needed help in that area,” he finished with a rueful grin.
“Did you see it directly, or…”
“I caught a glimpse of it in the mirror before his sleeve covered it again,” Paul answered easily. “And it was on his left wrist. I’d swear to it.”
Master Payton looked up at Master David, eyes widening as he realized what the other Master was proposing. It took Patrick a bit longer to piece it together, but when he did he had to groan. David’s look at the sound told him he was right. This had all been a horrible misunderstanding.
Mistress sighed. “Paul, did you see the wristband directly at any time?”
“No, Mistress. But I know what I saw.”
Master David looked at Mistress. “Aaron asked me to tell you that it was his fault. He admits to not being able to safe word due to his panicked state. Neither of us realized how the evening would affect him, or he would not have been alone. For that, I accept responsibility. Aaron asks that the young man not be held responsible for something that was not, in the end, his fault.”
Mistress smiled, nodding at Master David’s words. “I will take Mr. Aaron’s requests to heart as I consider what actions will be taken on his behalf.” She turned her blue eyes on Paul. “Do you understand what your first mistake was, young man?” she asked gently.
“I was not aware enough of the submissive’s body language?” he answered, clearly uncertain of the answer.
Mistress shook her head. “That was, indeed, *one* of your mistakes,” she agreed. “It was not, however, the first. Mr. Aaron’s wristband was on his right wrist, which is a flag for ‘not interested’ and you did not heed that request.”
“But it was on the left!” Paul protested. “I saw it!”
Master Payton’s hand closed on the young man’s shoulder. “No, Paul. It wasn’t. Not if you saw it in the mirror.”
Master David could tell the young man still didn’t understand. He looked to Mistress and gestured toward the ornate mirror on her wall. He rose and positioned himself so he was facing the mirror. “Paul,” he called gently. “I want you to stand and look at me like you did Aaron, and tell me which hand my House ring is on.”
Paul rose and stood at Master David’s side, glancing at Master David’s reflection. The ornate House ring with its deep blue stone flashed in the light. Paul nodded, and turned to face Master David. “It’s on your right hand,” he answered confidently. Then Master David turned and held out his hands, and Paul’s face clouded in confusion. The ring was on the Master’s left hand. “I don’t understand.”
Master David smiled kindly. “It’s an optics issue. Mirrors show things backwards, but they don’t… flip sides like you’d expect.” He held up his left hand. “Watch the ring, not the reflection.” Paul did, still not understanding. “When you look at my reflection, what hand does the ring appear to be on?” Paul stared at the reflection, eyes narrowing. He looked from Master David, to the reflection, then stopped and turned from the mirror, clearly trying to reconcile what he was seeing.
“If I go by the reflection, and mentally turn you, well, your reflection, away from the mirror… the ring is on the wrong hand,” he said. “I don’t understand.”
“The reflection doesn’t turn like you’re thinking it does,” Master David explained. “What you’re seeing is the *mirror* of the actual figure, which is backwards from what you’d expect. That ‘turn’ is what you’d have if you were on the other side of the mirror.”
They all watched as Paul worked the concept through several times. Then, they all saw him pale and knew he understood what had happened. He quickly went to knee before his Mentor. “Master, I am so sorry. I have been completely in the wrong. My mistake has harmed a man and I submit myself to any punishment you, Mr. Aaron’s sponsor, Mistress and Sir Patrick feel is appropriate.”
Master Payton looked at Mistress and Master David before looking back at his clearly upset charge. “You know the punishment I have given you so far. You are not to approach any submissive without either myself, Sir Patrick or Master Roland with you for the next three months. This is to help reinforce the skills you have and hopefully prevent such misunderstandings in the future.”
Paul nodded.
Master David shook his head. “I believe you’ve learned your lesson already,” he told the young man. “And so does Aaron. So we are satisfied.”
Sir Patrick scowled but knew that Master David was correct. The boy had meant no harm, it had been a series of miscommunications and his punishment from his own mentor would assist in the reinforcing the skills he’d need to further develop. “I’m satisfied if they are,” he admitted, though with some reluctance.
Mistress nodded then turned to the young man in question. “Along with your own Master’s punishment, I have an additional charge for you. You will spend the next three months in service to House Obsidian. They are assisting in the relocation of a submissive who has escaped an abusive partner. He has distant relatives here, but is reluctant to approach them because of his previous actions due to said partner. He will need a friend here to help him acclimate to his new environment. He spent a great deal of time in your home city of Las Vegas, and I had planned to approach your Master already regarding the situation to see if you would be willing to act as a contact for him. I believe a closer connection might assist both you and he in your… difficulties. You will meet with Lady Bella next Wednesday at 7pm here in this office. She will begin to instruct you on how best to help this young submissive learn the difference between the relationship he is leaving and a healthy BDSM relationship. The rest, I believe will be well within your skills to achieve.” She smiled reassuringly at Paul. “You are a good man, Paul, and will make an excellent Sir someday. I honestly believe that. However, there are still things you need to learn.”
The young man nodded in earnest.
Mistress turned her eyes to the other men in the room. “If that is acceptable to all present.” They all nodded. “Good. Then I bid you good night, gentlemen. Master David, if you or Mr. Aaron have need of anything, do not hesitate to ask. Sir Patrick, please accompany Master David back to his rooms and make sure all is in order. Then your time is your own,” she added with a knowing smile.
Patrick nodded and gladly followed his friend from the room.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The next day started far too early for Patrick’s taste. He and David had talked late into the night, catching up and reminiscing about old times and he’d opted for sleeping on the couch rather than heading back to his apartment upstairs. The crick in his neck reminded him he wasn’t a young man anymore, but it had been worth it. The alarm on his phone woke him for his morning rounds and he silenced it quickly, not wanting to disturb the other occupants of the room. He stretched languidly, shifting the blankets off his body as he struggled to full wakefulness.
“There’s coffee and danish on the table,” a quiet voice said from the shadows. “They’re really quite good if you’d care for some.”
Patrick sat up, stretching to release the knots in his back. He scrubbed a hand over his face briskly, noting absently that it was nearly time to trim his beard again, then turned to look at the man he’d only met briefly last night. “Andi makes some damned fine pastry,” he agreed. “I’m Patrick,” he said by way of introduction.
The other man nodded. “Dave told me we had company. I’m Aaron, but then, you already know that,” he finished with a sigh. “I’m very sorry for the trouble last night.”
Patrick shook his head. “Wasn’t any trouble, really, just a miscommunication. It’s been sorted.” He joined Aaron at the small table and helped himself to a large cup of coffee and one of Andi’s apricot danishes. “I hope you’ll give us another chance before you decide to never set foot in the Leaf again.”
Aaron chuckled ruefully. “I’ve already agreed to that,” he admitted. “Besides, the… miscommunication wasn’t that young man’s fault, it was mine. I should have safe worded, or at least said no.”
Patrick could hear the self-recrimination in Aaron’s voice. “Wasn’t like you expected to have something trigger you like that, though. So it’s no more your fault that it was his,” he countered evenly. “And if he’d been paying attention to your body language and such, he’d have realized something was wrong before it got that out of hand.”
Aaron conceded the point, but offered no further comment. He still felt three different kinds of fool for not realizing what was happening sooner. He was a profiler, for pities sake. He knew the symptoms of PTSD and how easily it could be triggered at high stress times. He’d worked through some of it with the counselor the Bureau had insisted he see after Foyet’s first attack and then again after Haley’s death. He knew the signs and should have warned Dave when he realized how unsettled he was.
“Stop beating yourself up for being human,” Patrick chided. “Things like this happen sometimes. They’ll catch you off guard and cut your knees right out from under you at the worst possible moment. What matters is how you manage to get your feet back under you again.”
Aaron gave a breathless laugh. “What matters is not taking others down with you when you fall.”
Patrick shook his head. “With that outlook, it’s n’wonder ya struggled so. Ya don’ have to struggle to yer feet on yer own, boy. That’s what friends are for. Friends, colleagues, lovers. They’re there te help pick ya back up again. Which is what David is trying te help ya to do. Problem is, yer fight’n not only yer demons, but yer angels as well.”
“Liam Patrick it never fails to amaze me how, after 25 years of living in the US - not to mention living with Ruui’s family - you still sound like you just got off the boat from County Donegal when you get upset.” Dave joined them at the table, snagging a large cup of coffee and a muffin. “I see you two have met and managed not to kill each other immediately. I’d call that a success. You both look like you’ve at least gotten a little sleep. Again, that’s good. But, I also know that someone has morning rounds and someone else is probably anxious to get home so he can tidy up a bit before having to go retrieve a sugar and birthday party hyped six year old.”
Patrick scowled at David. “And you are still as cheerful as ever first thing in the morning,” he countered, smiling when David shrugged unrepentantly. “And ya know very well it’s just Patrick now. I gave up Liam for lent and never picked up the habit again,” he joked. “But you’re right, I do have morning rounds.” He swallowed the last of his coffee and turned to fold the blanket he’d used the night before.
“Don’t worry about that,” Aaron said softly. “I’ll take care of it.”
Patrick met the younger man’s eyes, studying him. He enjoyed the light blush that colored the tanned cheeks. “Thank ya, boy,” he said deliberately, barely keeping the smile in check as the blush deepened and the man dropped his eyes submissively. “I look forward to seeing ya again, Aaron, under better circumstances though.” The boy nodded but didn’t look up. “Now, get that scoundrel to get ya home so ye’r ready for that lit’l one. Birthdays tend to make ‘em ten times more hyper than ye’r expecting, and ye’ll need ye’r wits about ya.” He turned to David. “Take care o’ him, my friend. And don’t be such a stranger, come for dinner. Sunni would love te see ya.”
Dave nodded. “Call me next week,” he offered giving Patrick the number.
“It really was a pleasure meeting you, Aaron,” Patrick said once more to the silent man still sitting at the table. And with that, he was gone.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
When a friend is in trouble, don’t annoy him by asking
if there is anything you can do.
Think up something appropriate and do it. - Edgar Watson Howe
“Agent Rossi? There’s a Mr. Zakaria here to see you.”
Dave smiled. “Send him up. I’m expecting him.” He hung up the phone and checked his watch, wondering when the time had gotten away from him. Oh yes, paperwork. It took forever, he looked at the remaining stack of reports in his inbox, they never seemed to end. He signed off on the report he’d just finished and headed to Aaron’s office with it. He tapped on the doorframe and stuck his head in. “Aaron. You are going with me to lunch.”
Aaron didn’t even bother looking up. “I’m working through lunch,” he protested. “I’m behind after taking yesterday off for Jack’s soccer game and if I want to get home on time tonight I’ll need to stay.”
Dave settled into the chair in front of Aaron’s desk. “The paperwork will still be there, Aaron. Besides, if you don’t eat, how can you chastise Spencer for not doing so?”
Aaron shot Dave a dark look. “Dirty pool, Dave. Spencer needs to eat because he’s too thin and doesn’t take care of himself. Missing a few meals isn’t going to adversely effect…”
“Don’t make me call in the big guns,” he threatened with a grin, hand already going to his pocket for his cell.
“You wouldn’t.”
“I’ve got her on speed-dial just for situations like this,” Dave confirmed. “And I’m not afraid to call her. She’d probably even get Jack involved.”
Aaron couldn’t help but laugh at the comically threatening look on Dave’s face. “Fine. Don’t call Jessica, I’ll join you for lunch. But you’re buying since you bullied me into it.”
Dave smiled. “Deal.” He watched as Aaron pushed aside the file he’d been working on and grabbed his jacket. “Good man.” He waited until Aaron had followed him out of the office and closed the door before springing the next surprise on him. “Oh. We’re going to be joined by an old friend of mine, Mr. Zakaria. He was married to one of my favorite editors. Ran into him a couple of weeks ago and we’ve been trying to arrange lunch...”
“Dave.”
Dave held up his hands in mock surrender. “Just lunch. That’s all this is. I swear. I think you’ll enjoy yourself. If nothing else, you can find out how much of an arrogant ass I was about the editing of my first book,” he added with a grin.
Aaron shook his head. Dave meant well, he honestly did. But after his breakdown at the Leaf, it had become painfully clear to Aaron that even thinking about pursuing the type of relationship he’d had with Gideon was a bad idea. He’d made the mistake of telling that to Dave, and the older man had spent the ensuing weeks trying to convince him otherwise. Luckily, Aaron had responsibilities; Jack, the team, paperwork. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself - though thoughts of a solid, masculine chest and a heavy Irish brogue had been invading his dreams a bit more than he was comfortable with recently. He shook his head at the thought. Patrick had probably already forgotten about him except as an incident to put down in *his* paperwork. Thankfully, Dave had confined his arguments to the theoretical and, unlike Jessica, had not attempted to ‘match-make’ him with anyone, yet.
Voices from the bull-pen caught his attention. Prentiss, JJ, Spencer… and another masculine voice that was familiar but he couldn’t place why. He looked towards the sound of conversation and laughter, caught by the powerfully built man chatting with the team. His back was towards the stairs, but Aaron could tell a great deal just from that. The man was fit, broad shoulders tapered to a trim waist, both accentuated by the expensively tailored suit coat. Confident, upper-middle class if not a bit higher, aging but doing so with dignity. He was a redhead, the copper curls clipped neat and short, a silver-white blaze on the right side being the only real indication of age. His stance spoke of someone comfortable and self-assured, his body loose and relaxed even among the bustle and noise of the office - and the presence of so many armed federal agents.
“No way. That cannot be your actual last name,” Prentiss said with a smile.
“It is. Made legal eighteen years ago and the family still claims me,” the stranger answered, laughter tingeing his voice. “I can call my sister-in-law and have her confirm it if ya like. Sunni loves doing that the first time people meet me.”
The accent settled over him like a warm blanket. Now he knew why the man, and the voice, seemed so familiar. He turned to Dave. “Mr. Zakaria?”
At his name the man turned and looked up at them, his handsome, bearded face breaking into an easy grin. “Liam Patrick Zakaria,” he confirmed. “But please, call me Patrick. And you must be Agent Hotchner. David has told me a great deal about you.”
Aaron shot a dark look at Dave, who deftly ignored it in favor of greeting Patrick. “I see you’re confounding the natives again.”
“Well, if someone would have warned me I’d be facing the third degree I’d have bought my body-guards with me. In fact, Sunni and Avani are even in town this week working on some fancy dinner thing for Wahid’s company,” he added with a fond smile. “I’m having dinner with them tomorrow night. You’re more that welcome to come along, David.”
Dave shook his head. “Sorry. I have plans tomorrow.”
“You’re just worried that Sunni’s goin’ te try and set you up with one o’ her friends again,” Patrick teased.
“Because that’s worked so well the other four times she’s done it,” Dave shot back with an indulgent shake of his head. “You’d think she’d learn that our tastes aren’t anything alike.”
“Well,” Patrick said with a wink at Prentiss and JJ. “She did get a bit closer with that dancer…”
“NO. We are *not* talking about Fereydoun here.”
Prentiss and JJ looked at each other and grinned. “There is *so* a story there,” Prentiss said with a gleeful look towards Dave.
“Oh, aye, there’s a dandy story,” Patrick said with a sparkle in his green eyes. “And I’ll be happy to share it with you lovelies if you’d be so kind as to join us for lunch.” He turned to Spencer. “And that includes you as well, Mr. Lovely,” he said with a mischievous smile. Spencer blushed nearly as red as his tie.
“Rein it in, lover boy or I’ll tell Sunni you’re back on the market and having trouble finding the right type of guy,” Dave all but growled as he moved to Spencer’s side, standing a bit closer than normal.
Patrick raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. He turned to Aaron who had watched the exchange with interest. “So, Agent Hotchner, shall we make it a team outing then?”
Aaron chuckled as five pairs of eyes all but pleaded with him to say yes. “I think I can clear that with the boss,” he said with a resigned smile.
“Good man,” Patrick praised, eyes locked on Aaron’s causing a shiver to run through the Special Agent. Patrick held the gaze easily, letting Aaron know the group invitation was to put *him* at ease, and Aaron was glad of it. He nodded his thanks to the older man which earned him a soft smile before Patrick turned back to the girls. He offered his arm to Prentiss who took it with a giggling smile.
“A scholar and a gentleman,” she said as they exited the room towards the elevators. “Be still my heart.”
“I do try,” he answered as he pressed the elevator button.
“So,” Prentiss asked conspiratorially. “Fereydoun?”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Pretty much all the honest truth-telling there is in the world
is done by children. - Oliver Wendell Holmes
“Daddy! Did you ‘member your toofbrush?”
“Yes,” Aaron answered with a smile. “I remembered my *tooth*brush,” he corrected his son gently.
Jessica leaned in the doorway and watched with a grin as her nephew ‘helped’ his father pack. “Jack,” she called, smiling at Aaron, “I think your dad knows how to pack.”
The boy turned big brown eyes on her and she had to struggle not to laugh at the serious expression on his youthful face. “But this is his first play-date and he might forget somefing. Like his jammies or his favorite blanket.” He turned the same expression onto his father. “Do you have a favorite blanket, daddy?”
“No. I don’t think I do.”
“You could use mine if you want,” Jack said earnestly, eyes bright.
Aaron did chuckle at that, reaching out to ruffle the boy’s light brown hair. “Thanks, buddy. But I think I’ll be fine.” Jack didn’t look convinced, but contented himself with watching carefully as his father packed his overnight bag. Aaron honestly wasn’t sure what he thought about telling Jack his overnight with Sir Patrick at the Leaf was a ‘play-date’ - but Jess had reassured him it was the easiest way to explain it. He wouldn’t lie to Jack and tell him it was work related, but his six year old didn’t need to know he was going to an exclusive BDSM club to see if he and the dominant he’d been in negotiation with for a month actually clicked well enough to try for something more. Angel had actually suggested the idea and Jessica, once Aaron had worked up the nerve to broach the subject with her, had agreed. She’d even volunteered to watch Jack for the weekend so Aaron didn’t have to worry.
“Hey, Champ,” Jessica said, seeing the minute change in Aaron as his overactive brain once again kicked into overdrive. “Why don’t you go see if you can find your dad a small friend to keep him company while he’s gone?”
Jack turned from where he was studying his father’s bag to roll his eyes at his aunt. “Aunt Jess, he doesn’t need anyfing, he’s going on a *play*-date,” he said seriously, as if that explained everything.
“Well, maybe you could go look anyway?” she tried.
Jack studied her for a long moment, looking so like his father that Jessica had to smile. “You want to talk to daddy,” he said with a sigh. He crawled off the bed and walked to the door. “If you want grown-up talk with daddy, it’s okay. Uncle Sean told me all ‘bout grown-up talk and that it makes grown-ups silly sometimes.” He gave his aunt a big smile. “I’ll go play with my cars, Aunt Jess, so you can talk to daddy ‘bout me.” He skipped out of the room and both adults stood in stunned silence until they heard his door close.
“I’m going to kill Sean,” Aaron said evenly.
Jessica shook her head. “I’ll see him first, so I’ll do it for you.” She met Aaron’s eyes and smiled. “I do *not* envy you his teen years.” Aaron’s eyes widened in panic and Jessica moved to sit beside him on the bed. She took his hand in hers. “You’ll do fine, Aaron. You’re *doing* fine,” she reassured. “And, while we’re on that subject there’s nothing wrong with taking some time for you.” She took a deep, steadying breath. “In fact, I think it would do you good to spend a weekend with your… friend.” She couldn’t meet his eyes as she continued. “In the last month I’ve seen the guy my sister talked about all the time; the one who smiled and laughed and did his best to be there for his family.” She laughed at her own stubborn foolishness. “Haley always said you were something special even if I couldn’t see it. I blamed you, and your… and Gideon, for how things fell apart.”
“I wasn’t sleeping with him,” Aaron said quietly, remembering the last argument they’d had just after Haley had left when Jessica had come to retrieve some of Haley’s things. Jessica’s accusations about his ‘affair’ with Gideon had hurt even more with Gideon’s abandonment still such an open wound. “What we did was never about sex.”
“That’s what Haley said,” she admitted. “And she really let me have it when I told her what I’d said to you.” She finally looked up at Aaron, surprised to find his eyes moist with unshed tears. “She said that he gave you what she couldn’t. An escape from the darkness of a job she could never really understand.” She squeezed Aaron’s hand. “I still don’t get it, but I can see the difference in you since you’ve found this new person. You’re happier and more… at peace.” She sighed and offered him a small smile. “Haley would approve,” she told him, unsurprised when a tear made its way down his cheek. She reached out and wiped it away. “And I do too. Happy is a good look for you.”
Aaron was too choked up to speak and settled for wrapping his arms around her and hugging her tightly. He’d been worried what Jess would think about his burgeoning relationship with a man. He’d been up-front with her, as he’d been with Haley about Jason. Sometimes, the job just became too much and he needed a way to let it all go, to give up control to someone else. Jason had understood what it meant to be just a day too late to save someone, what it was like to send your team - your friends - into danger. He also understood how keeping it locked down as tightly as Aaron did, even for the best of reasons, was a sure way to lose your mind. He’d given Aaron a release, a catharsis that purged the darkness and let him come home to Haley free of the ‘profiler’ that saw duplicity and danger everywhere. When Jason had left, it had been twice as hard to turn off that part of himself. He’d had to be strong for the team, strong for Reid who’d looked up to Jason even more than he himself had. He’d had to lock the submissive and fragile side of himself firmly away so he could be the in-control leader his team had needed. In the process he’d driven away his lights in the darkness, his wife and son. To hear that Haley had understood, at least a little, helped more than Jessica would probably ever know. “Thank you,” he finally managed to whisper as her arms hugged him tightly.
She broke the hug and wiped the tears from her own face. “Okay. Weepy, girly moment over. Promise,” she said with a grin. “I still don’t entirely understand it, but if it helps you and makes you happy, I’m not going to complain. Just… be careful, okay?” She could feel the blush rising in her cheeks as she remembered the stilted and hesitant conversation two nights ago when Aaron attempted to explain what was going on. “And remember, you’re to call tomorrow at 10:30am to let me know everything’s still okay. You can let me know then if you’re going to be staying longer.” She gave him a knowing smile. “I vote that unless he’s a complete dud, stay longer.”
Aaron could feel his own cheeks heating at the look she shot him. “That’s it. You and Jack are *grounded* from spending time with my brother. He’s a horrible influence,” he said with a chuckle.
“Nah. Sean had nothing to do with this. It’s *all* me. Haley was the good sister,” she said easily, the familiar response falling from her tongue.
Aaron’s hand was warm where it settled on her shoulder. “I’d say you were both pretty good.”
Jessica bumped shoulders with her… friend, and grinned. “Get busy packing or you’re going to be late.”
Aaron nodded and did just that.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Intimacy is based on shared vulnerability...
nothing deepens intimacy like the experiences that we share
when we feel flayed, with our skins off, scared and vulnerable,
and our partner is there with us, willing to share in the scary stuff.
-- Dossie Easton & Catherine A. Liszt
Soft, black cord wrapped around his bare thigh, Sir’s fingers resting against his skin to keep the cords from binding too tightly. With each wrap, he could feel himself relaxing, centering. Three wraps of the doubled cotton rope formed a secure ‘cuff’ on his right thigh, which Sir then knotted in place, tugging it sharply to test its strength. Sir’s hand traveled down the back of his thigh, a finger teasing at the sensitive skin behind his knee before moving on. His lower leg was lifted just enough to allow more rope to be wrapped around his calf. He balanced precariously on his knee for a moment as the second rope cuff was knotted into place and two leg bindings were brought together, leaving his leg in an enforced kneeling position. He shifted, testing his range of movement as Sir laced the bindings together. Sir’s hand impacted with his ass cheeks in warning.
“Stay still, boy,” Sir growled, tugging on the rope in warning.
He complied, closing his eyes as he felt the short length between the two secured. The long, trailing tails Sir had left were pulled to the side and secured to the quick-release clamp that hooked into the eye-bolt on the side of the mat.
Warm hands settled on his shoulders, steadying him. Sir leaned close, His cotton t-shirt warm and soft against his bare skin. “You’re doing so well, boy,” Sir praised.
Another layer of stress and fear fell away with the quiet words. He sighed and smiled as the process was repeated on his left leg, the limb carefully bound and secured. Sir’s hands urged him into a more stable kneel, his shins flat against the soft surface of the bondage mat. The trailing ends were adjusted a bit more, pulling his legs wider, leaving him open and displayed for Sir’s pleasure.
“Do you have any idea how tempting you are, boy?” Sir asked, His large hands touching, caressing, claiming with each heated pass. “Could leave you just like this, sit here and enjoy the way you open so easily for me.”
He shivered at the words. He wanted, *needed* more than just to be admired. He needed the promised touch, the promised bite of pain and the welcome release it gave. He whimpered but refused to beg. He was stronger than that. He wouldn’t give in that easily, not yet. He needed to show that he could take what Sir was offering, that he was strong enough to hold out until Sir gave him permission.
“You’re thinking again,” Sir chided, muscled body pressing against his back.
The scrape of beard against his neck was new, but welcome. He tilted his head to allow Sir better access to his neck, to his body. Strong arms wrapped around his torso, fingers seeking out his nipples and pinching them sharply. He gasped and leaned into Sir’s supporting hold.
“I’ll give you what you need, boy. Ya need te trust me wi’ that. Can ya do that for me?”
He nodded, not trusting his voice.
“Good boy.” Sir’s lips pressed against his cheek in a gentle kiss. He went through their agreed upon safewords once more. “Red is stop, yellow is slow down, blue is warning for an emotional issue that we’ll need to stop and address before going on. Do ya understand, boy?”
He nodded again, feeling his body relaxing further.
“Lean forward and hold yer arms out in front of ya.”
He struggled to comply, but his bound legs hampered his movements. Sir’s strong arms closed around him and eased him forward until his chest rested flat on a raised, padded support. He turned his head, getting comfortable even as his bound legs and tense back protested the stretch. Sir’s hands were there before the muscles could cramp, massaging and relaxing him. Another layer of control slowly drifted away, and he sighed in contentment.
More rope wrapped around him, encasing first one wrist and then the other. Again the trailing ends were secured to the edge of the bondage mat, pinning him in place. He was far more comfortable than he expected to be.
“Good boy,” Sir breathed into his ear. “Such a beautiful canvas.” His hands ran in slow, gentle circles over the bare expanse of back, tracing muscles and tension knots and bone. “Ready for the next step, boy?”
He nodded.
“No. Need to hear ya say it, boy. Need to know ye’re still with me.”
“Yes, Sir,” he managed, mind already drifting and relaxing into the moment. Sir’s warmth moved away, but in his relaxed state, it wasn’t a problem. He knew Sir would take care of him. Sir had promised.
The soft tails of a flogger caressed his back once more. Before the ropes, there had been the thud of a flogger against his back, warming the skin and loosening the muscles. Now, that wonderful sensation was back, only somehow more intense. Sir started slowly, careful, light strikes against his shoulders and ass, rhythmic and even and calming. He felt himself drift further. With each strike, another stressor fell, another mask broke and dropped away, slowly stripping him bare for his Sir. The blows came faster, harder, the rhythm changing just enough to keep him guessing. Unable to anticipate when the next blow would fall, unable to move to try and influence where it would land, he could only… accept.
The last of the tension melted from his body, leaving him totally relaxed and open for Sir’s attention.
“That’s it, boy.” Sir’s voice was whiskey rough and provided a soothing counterpoint to the thud of the flogger. “Give yourself over to me. Let me take care of you.”
Another heavy thud and the warm falls stilled against his back, the weight a comforting reminder he wasn’t alone.
“Ready for more, boy?”
“Yes, Sir,” he breathed.
A thin, cool line rested against his flogger-warmed skin for just a moment. The Lexan cane; thin, flexible, sting rather than thud. Not one of his favorites, but not something he couldn’t handle.
“Six strikes, boy. Only six, and I’ll count them for ya,” Sir said evenly, His accent thick and seductive. “Ye’re to think why ye’re here. Why ye’ve given yerself te me. And ye’re to let it go. Each strike is one more reason fallin’ away, one more touch o’ healing and forgiveness.”
All the while Sir talked, the cool of the cane tip traced over his back and ass and thighs. He understood the words, but wasn’t sure he could do it, wasn’t sure he was close enough to let go that far. His breathing came quicker as fear of failing his Sir crashed into his chest. What if he couldn’t do what Sir wanted? What if it wasn’t enough? Would Sir leave as well? He had to… A sharp slap to his ass brought him back to the now, to Sir.
“Ye’re fine, boy, ye’ll *be* fine no matter what happens.” Sir rubbed His hand over the heated handprint. “Just feel.”
The first blow of the cane was sharp and sudden and unexpected. It hit his flogger-sensitized ass, landing across both cheeks and making him jerk in his bonds.
“One,” Sir’s voice sounding in the following silence.
The next strike was just above the first, fast and hard and followed immediately by the third. “Two and Three. Half-way there, boy.”
He struggled as the blows made themselves known, sharp lines of fire that made him press his hips forward in a vain attempt to escape the sting. Sir waited, allowing him to struggle in his bonds as the heat rose. Sir’s palm wiped over the marks, sending a new spike of sensation screaming down the nerve endings. He whimpered at the building sensations, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
“Three more.”
Sir’s hand rested on the small of his back, stilling him further. The whistle of the cane made him tense and the impact with the sensitive skin where his ass-cheeks met his thighs made him moan.
“Four. Two more, boy. Breathe.”
He tried to do as he was told but the heat and sting of the four cane strikes had him pulling at the bonds, struggling against the pain and his own need. The next blow was to his ass again, angling across the first three strikes, doubling the sting. He couldn’t stop the pained exclamation.
“Five. One more. Stay with me, boy. Ye’re doin’ so well.”
The last blow felt three times harder than the others and it drove the breath from his lungs and left him writhing against the ropes as he tried to breathe through and process the pain. He could do this. He could.
“Let go,” Sir whispered in his ear. “Ye’re safe. Let me catch ya.”
His head shook in denial. He was close, *so* close, but the final mask stayed firmly in place. “Need…” He wasn’t sure what he needed, he just knew he needed something… more. Sir pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, fingers smoothing back his sweat-damp hair.
“I’ll give ya what ya need, boy,” Sir promised. He moved to the end of the bondage mat, one hand always in contact with his boy’s damp skin. Sir tugged on the ropes attached to the eyebolts, shortening each in turn until the willing body was fully open to Him.
His cock was already hard, weeping pre-come, but it wasn’t enough. He needed something more to tumble him over the edge and he trusted Sir to give that to him. Cool, hard, smooth plastic ran over his skin. He relaxed, his legs unconsciously spreading just a bit wider, wanting what Sir was offering. The tip of the device teased over his balls, sliding against the shaft of his cock, a barely there touch that he tried to press into only to growl in frustration when Sir pulled even that little contact away.
“Soon, boy,” Sir soothed.
The smooth device repeated its path over his skin and he arched his hips back as much as he could, silently begging for more. Sir stilled the device, leaving it resting against the delicate skin of his balls. A quiet buzz filled the silence and his body arched as Sir pressed the vibrator more firmly against his skin. He panted and struggled, the relentless sensation running over the path the device had traced just moments before, only this time, the nerves quivered under the sensual assault. The vibe ran over his cock, teasing until he felt he was about to fly apart. He whimpered. “Please.”
The vibrator was removed and he shivered, uncertain what to expect next. He tried to calm his breathing, listening, waiting, wondering what Sir has planned. The hum of the device never stilled and he struggled in the restraints, trying to see what was happening just out of his line of sight. Sir’s hand returned, resting in the middle of his back, rubbing slow circles on the sweat damp skin.
“Relax, boy. I’ll not leave ya unsatisfied.” Sir’s voice was husky, His accent heavy and exotic… and unbelievably soothing.
He did as Sir said, relaxing in his bonds and trusting Sir to take care of him. The vibrator returned, its firm tip now slick with lube. It teased at the sensitive skin behind his balls, sliding up and back until it was pressed against his anus. He tilted his hips upward, offering himself to his Sir’s touch. Sir’s chuckle was positively wicked as the vibrator was drawn back until only the barest touch teased at the nerve rich skin. “Please,” he begged, the last barriers cracked, broken by need. “Please, Sir.”
He was rewarded with a firmer touch, the hard vibe pressing against the slicked skin. He shifted back as much as he could and this time, the vibe wasn’t withdrawn and its narrow tip breached his body. He stilled, shaking with need and uncertainty and want. “Sir,” he gasped, needing direction as his world swirled around him in nearly overwhelming sensation.
“Let go, boy,” came the gentle response. “Ye’re safe here.”
He cried out as the last resistance faded and his body opened to Sir’s touch. He relaxed completely and the vibe slowly sank into his welcoming body. He shook as his body seemed to burn up from the inside out, the vibrations hitting his prostate again and again until he screamed out his release. Even as his body spilled come over the sweat slick bondage mat, Sir continued to thrust the vibrator in and out of his body in slow, deliberate movements. He shook at the sensory overload, his hands clutching at empty air, his toes curling as his body writhed in its bonds. “Yellow. Please, Sir. Yellow,” he gasped out. “no more. No more.”
The vibrations stopped but his shaking continued. Sir eased the vibrator from his body, taking a moment to caress sweat-slick skin. He whimpered, leaning into the touch as best he could while still bound. Sir’s body was solid against his as the quick release knots were tugged loose and his hands came free. He pulled them in close to his chest, wrapping them around himself as he tried to keep from breaking apart. A low, continuous keening reached his ears and it took him a moment to realize it was coming from him. He shook harder. His legs were freed and he curled in tighter, trapping the release knots that held his legs bent and curled.
“Boy? I need to release yer legs now.”
He shook his head frantically, whimpering. Strong arms wrapped around him, drawing him off the support frame and into Sir’s embrace. He relaxed, burying his face into the curve of Sir’s neck even as Sir eased them both down onto the soft safety of the bondage mat. He was shifted around onto his side, taking the weight off his still bound legs and settling him more firmly against Sir’s solid chest. Sir’s hands were gentle as they carded through his hair and smoothed down his back in long, slow strokes.
“I’ve got ya, boy. Let it go.” Sir’s lips pressed against his hair. “I’ve got ya. Let it go.”
Only then did the tears come, slowly at first, building to body shaking sobs. Jason, Haley, Elle, Jack… all the ones he’d failed slid past his mind’s eye. “I’m sorry,” he breathed against Sir’s cotton clad shoulder. “I’m so sorry.” Victims’ faces, innocent lives taken in horrible, unbelievably vicious ways. Law enforcement personnel who looked to them, to *him* to find the monsters before they struck again, looking for someone to blame when the profile doesn’t find them an unsub fast enough to keep another victim from dying. Family who blamed him for the horror visited on the sweetest woman he’d ever known. An innocent child looking to him and asking why mommy wasn’t coming home. Each face, each failure, poured out in the cleansing tears.
Sir’s arms held him tight as the storm of emotion wracked him with grief and pain and anger. Sir said nothing, simply holding tight and offering silent comfort and understanding. His solid body rocked them, his hands stroked over tense muscles and worked to release knots of pain and self-recrimination. He never left, never judged, simply held on and didn’t let go. Finally the emotional storm was spent. He collapsed against Sir’s broad chest, minute tremors traveling through his limbs as he sought out the steady beat of Sir’s heart.
“I need te unbind yer legs, boy,” Sir whispered against his hair. “Don’t want te move, but I’ll not have ya hurt by staying bound too long.”
He reluctantly agreed, relaxing his grip around Sir just enough for Sir to sit up and see to his bindings. Large, solid hands carefully undid the rope cuffs, massaging the muscles and straightening the shaky limbs. The tender care threatened to bring the tears again, but Sir’s rumbling voice praising and soothing him kept the edge of hysteria out of his reactions. He floated, body slightly disconnected from his mind as the endorphins flooded his overloaded system. He vaguely felt a soft blanket laid over him and Sir’s warmth settle beside him. He was pulled against Sir’s chest and it took him a long moment to realize that the cotton shirt was gone and it was Sir’s warm skin under his cheek. He nuzzled the older man’s chest, smiling as copper and silver hair tickled at his face. He breathed deep, taking in Sir’s scent and relaxed further. He was safe here. He was protected and cared for and… safe.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
Lips pressed against his forehead. “Ye’re welcome, Aaron. Sleep now. I’ve got ya.”
“Safe call…”
“Aye. Ten-thirty tomorrow mornin’ we’ll call yer girl. Now, just relax,” Patrick soothed. “The room is ours for the weekend, and we’ll have enough time for talkin’ later.” He settled Aaron more firmly against him. “Just rest now.”
Aaron nodded, his arms reaching out and wrapping around Patrick’s solid chest. He burrowed into the warm embrace, letting Sir Patrick’s rhythmic heartbeat chase away the last of the lingering fears. He pressed a sleepy kiss to the skin beneath him. “Definitely not a dud,” he slurred as sleep finally tugged him under.
Patrick chuckled, uncertain how to take the murmured comment, but pleased by the content and relaxed tone. He tightened his hold on the younger man, loving the feel of his long body pressed so close against his. “Rest, my Aaron. I’m here. You’re safe.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Monday came far too soon for Aaron’s liking, but he entered the office with a much lighter heart and a definite spring in his step. His time with Sir Patrick had been a stunning success and he’d come home late Sunday afternoon to a home cooked meal and an excited six year old who wanted to know if he’d “enjoyed his first play-date”. Aaron could honestly answer that he had… and that he planned to do it again sometime. The evening had been spent playing Jack’s favorite board game and watching ‘just one more episode’ of Bugs Bunny before Jack fell asleep and had to be carried to bed. He smiled at the memory as he waited for the elevator to arrive.
“Well,” an amused and familiar voice said from behind him. “Somebody had a good weekend.”
He turned and studied Derek Morgan’s smiling face. He nodded, offering the younger agent a small but genuine half-smile. “Yes. Yes someone did.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
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on to part three Here