Black fled through the night. There was no other word for it. Whether he fled from Dickerson, the body in the bay, or his own self didn’t matter – he just wanted to get far away. Distance was never going to be the answer though, and he stopped after only a few miles to pay a visit to a liquor store. He came out with a bottle wrapped in a large, brown paper bag, and sped off again. In a seemingly deserted area, he stopped again, and sat fearlessly on the curb to drink. Tonight he didn’t even feel up to a bar, and anyone who accosted him deserved everything they got, he thought with a bitter, twisted grimace.

The very thought of going back to the Clubhouse was enough to turn his stomach… he just wanted to obliterate everything – and as he drank, letting the alcohol do its work, his mind gave up its walls, and he cared little if anyone could see into him. They deserved all they got too.

Some time and most of the bottle later, he heard footsteps approaching him on the sidewalk. Go away, he thought furiously, but incredibly the footsteps just came closer. Black willed them to pass by him. They didn’t.

“Looking for some company, sweetheart?” Through the drink-fogged state of his mind, Black recognised who the words must belong to. The voice didn’t sound right, and he frowned without looking over his shoulder, but the words… He rolled his eyes, and immediately vowed not to do that again when a wave of drunken sickness came over him, making him reel crazily where he sat.

“Starr,” he said in what he hoped was a forbidding tone, although he suspected that he had just managed to slur the beginning of the empath’s name. “Why do you always> follow me?” He needed the drink, but he knew what Starr would need to be around him right now, and he fumbled in the inside pocket of his jacket for the bliss tabs that were there. The empath had taken to shadowing him on these assignments. Black suspected – rightly – that sometimes it was only this foolish habit of Starr’s that ensured he woke up in bed in the morning, instead of passed out in a gutter somewhere. He laughed humourlessly when he thought that Starr was saving him from unleaderly-like behaviour.

“Starr?” the voice echoed behind him, and without turning around, Black thrust the bliss tabs towards the empath’s voice. His somehow strange> voice, a curiously clear part of his mind insisted. “Hey! Thanks, man!” the voice said, and Black shook his head impatiently. Whatever, he thought uncharitably, just don’t speak.

Eventually, it occurred to him that Starr wasn’t trying to convince him to move, and that the empath hadn’t exactly greeted him yet. He almost groaned aloud as he tried to figure out what Starr might be up to… again.

“Stop acting,” he accused, hoping he had hit the nail on the head. There was something strange going on, and Black didn’t want to play games. “I can’t deal with you doing this to me now.”

“Acting?” The strange voice echoed his words once more. “I’m not,” the other man said. “But I can if you want,” he hastened to add, his voice turning flirtatious. It was such a Starr-like thing to say… Black resisted the temptation to roll his eyes, remembering how it had felt the last time and not wishing to repeat the sensation.

When he made no reply, his companion carried on speaking, a little too enthusiastically for Black’s taste. Couldn’t the empath see he just wanted to be alone? Couldn’t he sense it? With a burst of cruelty, he began to regret giving Starr the bliss. If he hadn’t done that, the psypath would be far away from him by now – and they would both be glad of it.

“So who’s this Starr? Someone you want? I can be him if you need me to be… if the money is right.” What kind of game was this? There was no way he was playing it. Doggedly, Black concentrated on remembering the man he had killed, even though he had bought the drink to try and forget it; somehow there was a resistance to Starr trying to make him forget. It felt wrong. “What’s he like?”

“Annoying,” Black said – feeling annoyed as he said it. “Exasperating. He doesn’t follow orders,” he finished pointedly, but it seemed Starr was determined to outmanoeuvre him in this. Not very difficult when he was so drunk, and Black wondered what the empath could possibly be getting out of such an easy challenge.

“Well, don’t worry… I do,” said the voice suggestively, and Black shook his head. It felt like such a slow and awkward movement that he immediately took another long swig of the whiskey.

He felt Starr pulling him to his feet, and he allowed it, but then realised that the empath would only try and take him back to JC2. He wanted to protest, but his mind was too groggy, and instead he found himself leaning against a strong shoulder, taking very little of his own weight as he contemplated the empath’s long, blond hair. He stared at the ends of it, and reached up to flick it in his fingers… there was something wrong here – but it wouldn’t come to him.

“Is that a ‘yes’?” The voice asked hopefully, and Black just nodded, no longer caring what he was agreeing to. He couldn’t even raise his head to look into the empath’s eyes, and yet he knew he wasn’t nearly drunk enough. Perhaps they were going to a bar, he thought groggily… hopefully. “Good. Come with me. I have a place.” Now that sounded good. The way Starr put it, he didn’t sound like he was talking about the Clubhouse. A part of his mind immediately wondered how Starr came to have a place outside JC2, but he quashed it. He dug into his pocket for his PRU, intending to turn it off, but a hand on his wrist stopped him. “Stop. You can show me your money when we get there.” Money? He could have sworn the empath didn’t have fantasies he needed to play out about that. But he shrugged and forgot about everything, only concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other.

It didn’t take them long to get there in the end, and Black collapsed thankfully at last on the side of a small bed. His glance flickered around the room, trying to take it in. There was an accumulation of debris on the floor, and yet when he raised his eyes, he could see an orderly dressing table and a collection of daring, sparkly clothes in a wardrobe. Dirty, glamorous in a sleazy way, and yet somehow fascinating for all that. It was like Starr, he reflected with a secret little smile.

“Okay, what do you have?” The voice broke into his thoughts expectantly. Beginning to feel intrigued by this game against his will, Black began to empty his pockets. First the PRU, which he turned off, absently noticing there was a flashing light that meant he had a message. What did that matter? There wasn’t much else in his pockets. All he usually needed on these assignments was his own cold blood. Thinking that, Black swallowed the breath he had been taking, and leaned forward a little, his hair falling over his eyes.

The moment passed, and he continued, taking a wad of notes from his pocket. He looked at it blankly. Money had long ago ceased to mean anything to him, and he always took far more than he required when he went to pick someone up. There was enough to drink himself to death several times over. Rather carelessly, he let it go, watching as it fanned out over the floor in a graceful arc.

“Well!” the voice said, making him look up blearily. He tried to focus, but then gave up, looking down again as he wondered what else he carried. Oh, yeah.

“I think you can have anything you want, sweetheart. But you really shouldn’t flash it around like that. There are some that would just rob you and –” He stopped short when Black pulled out his gun and looked at it in disgust. His fingers curled around it even now as though it were an extension of him. His training was a habit he couldn’t break.

“Fuck!”

Black almost laughed – Starr really was a good actor. “Or maybe not,” the other man corrected himself nervously, and Black could almost imagine the empath licking his lips. But looking at the gun made him reach out again for the bottle, and he drained the last of its contents.

“Come here,” he ordered, and soon found himself staring at the other man’s uncovered midriff. He let go of the bottle and reached up to rest his hands on Starr’s waist as he lay his forehead against the warm skin.

“Anything you want, sweetheart,” the voice said softly. “What do you need?”

“A drink,” Black answered automatically, feeling a sense of loss when the warm body moved away from him. But soon it was back, and Black grabbed greedily at the fresh bottle. He saw Starr shrug delicately and put the unneeded glasses he held on the floor where they would no doubt be forgotten.

The other man fell to his knees in front of Black and pulled him close for a kiss. Starr tasted the same as always, but there was something wrong here… Black demanded more – and got it – kissing Starr deeply until he knew he wasn’t going to forget what he was doing. It was all too real, and he growled in frustration, the drink making him act in a way he wouldn’t normally. He levelled the gun at the empath’s chest. “Don’t play with me, Starr,” he growled.

“Hey!” the other man said in alarm, his hands falling to the barrel of the gun as it rested against his chest. “I can do kinky but you’re gonna have to put the gun down, sweetheart.” So saying, the other man moved forward slowly, until he was holding Black’s hands rather than the gun. Starr’s hands felt warm and personal. Gently, he began prise Black’s fingers loose. “Not that I don’t trust you,” he said in relief, “but you are rather drunk. And if you ask me, this ‘Starr’ doesn’t exactly relax you.” Black laughed at that, but then he let the gun go at last as the laughter turned into a kind of choked sob, feeling racked with guilt again, for which there was only one cure. Take my gun, but not the bottle, Black thought as he drank, and suddenly felt sick and tired of everything.

“That’s better,” the voice said, and Black realised he had his eyes closed. “Now… tell me.” The voice was relaxing, gentle, undemanding, as experienced fingers began to work on his clothes, undressing him so efficiently that Black already began to imagine falling asleep in Starr’s arms. “You don’t want to take him – that’s more than obvious. So does he take you?” Immediately an image came to Black’s mind of Starr moving on top of him, inside him, possessing him, and he groaned.

“Yes,” he admitted in a whisper, unwilling to open his eyes and find that this was all an illusion. He had managed to keep hold of the bottle, and now he sat up to drink from it before reality could intrude and take this fantasy away from him – he was beginning to think much too clearly. The other man rummaged in a drawer by the side of the bed.

“Perhaps he blindfolds you, hmm?” And as he spoke, Black felt a touch of soft material against his eyes.

“Yes!” he enthused, wanting Starr so much it was like an ache. He grabbed at the other man and kissed him. But this time it was different. This time Starr wouldn’t allow him to dictate the pace and was hungrier than Black was. It felt so good to give in, it always felt this way with him, and Black moaned into the empath’s mouth. “Oh, fuck!” He was so turned on he didn’t even mind when the bottle was taken from him at last, he just lay back, blind and breathless, waiting.

“What else?” the voice rasped hungrily, so that Black moaned again impatiently. “Does he tie you up? Force you? What?” The images the words conjured were so arousing that Black forgot to breathe, his cock so hard now that he moved restlessly on the bed. He felt the warmth of the other man’s body pressing against his as he lie down by the side of Black. He couldn’t remember the empath getting undressed too – but it didn’t matter. He whimpered as he felt long, deft fingers caressing his face and neck.

“He calls me –” Black swallowed, realising he wanted this particular part more than anything else. It was a truth between them, he thought for the first time, astounded at how clearly he saw it. Every time Starr called him the pet name, it meant he saw beneath – it was important somehow.

“What does he call you?” The fingers were replaced with lips. “Slut?” He groaned and arched up as the other man sucked sensuously at his neck. “Pet?” He felt his hands held down to the bed, as the head lowered to tease one of his nipples with hot breath and a flickering tongue. “Slave…?” He cried out when the teasing touch became a bite, because it hurt, and yet it made him so hot. Every one of the whispered words drove him further and further down a path of lust. How was it Starr drew this from him? No one else had ever had such an effect. But Black couldn’t deny it – he was helpless against it, and the thought only turned him on more.

“Ohh…” he moaned inarticulately, almost ready to say yes, when he felt an slick, lubricated finger already circling around his entrance, just teasing him. Pet, he thought incoherently, as he wriggled to try and make the finger enter him. Slave, he imagined, moaning again. “No.” It was the most difficult refusal Black had ever given. “He…” He stopped speaking to groan when he felt the finger pushing into him at last, and angled his hips to encourage the empath to go further.

“Tell me, sweetheart. It’s all right,” the voice said encouragingly, rubbing sensuously against the walls of Black’s passage so that he writhed on the bed. “Tell me and I’ll make it real for you. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“Yes…” He turned his head to place sloppy, drunken kisses on the arm that still held his hands imprisoned, and a husky laugh from above him made him try harder, until he felt the hands leaving him, only to tie his wrists together above his head with a length of material. Black tested the bonds, rejoicing when they were tight enough to hurt – a real restraint.

“What does he call you?” the voice asked again, the lubricated fingers of one hand once more dropping between his legs to tease him. Again, one finger entered him, and he gasped, wanting more… wanting the empath inside him more than anything. His eyes rolled up in his head when the searching finger located his prostate, and he cried out, feeling himself constrict so that he gripped the finger inside him tightly.

“Darkness! He calls me Darkness!” He whined and arched his back as the empath’s other hand began to pull slowly at his hardness.

“Oh, yes,” he purred possessively. “I can see that now. Because you are… darkness,” he mused deeply, and Black loved the sound of his voice. He whimpered when Starr didn’t stop, pulling restlessly at the binds on his hands until he knew despite his drunken state that the material was cutting into the flesh of his wrists.

“It’s all right. Shh…” Starr soothed, and Black half-moaned, and half-sobbed as he felt the empath’s lips on his, kissing him hard, forcing him to submit even to that. “I’ll make you enjoy it, Darkness,” he whispered reassuringly. There was more than one of the empath’s fingers inside him now, sliding easily in and out – preparing him, he suddenly thought.

“Starr!” he gasped in need, moving against the fingers encouragingly, trying to make them take him deeper. The rest of the world didn’t matter now; not Dickerson, not what he did for the Captain, not JC2. Nothing mattered except this private world of theirs, where he was and did exactly what he hated, and yet found himself loving it all the same. The fingers suddenly withdrew, and he cried out in loss and reproachful regret, only to gasp when he felt the empath’s cock pushing slightly against him. Oh, so hot! Now he felt the long, lean body above him, the empath’s weight pressing him down to the softness beneath him, and he spread his legs so that Starr could lay between them.

“Just relax, Darkness, relax and let me in.” Black moaned, raising his knees, already relaxed enough, but Starr didn’t stop speaking, as if he knew what his words were doing. “Let me take what I want from you. Let me make it better for both of us. I know you want it.” He felt the head of the empath’s cock sliding over his entrance again and again, until he thought he would go insane from the teasing. “It’s all right,” his lover soothed. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“You… won’t tell…” Black repeated softly, swallowing, all the fight leaving him suddenly as he gave in completely to what was going to happen. It was all he wanted.

“No, not this once,” the voice breathed confidentially, the heat of the words fanning over his exposed neck. “This once I’ll give you exactly what you need. Make you mine for just a little while. Our little secret, Darkness. I promise.”

“Oh, please!” he groaned when he felt the empath’s cock push against him, sliding inside just a little, not quite deep enough to breach the ring of muscle. He bucked upwards, but Starr was expecting it, and he didn’t manage to get anymore than he already had.

“That’s right,” Starr husked out, his own breathing ragged now. “Beg me for it, Darkness. I know you want to, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Black breathed.

“Then do it!” Starr insisted, rocking slightly against him, but not moving any further forward. “Beg me to fuck you,” he commanded, and Black whimpered, but he couldn’t help himself. He needed the empath inside him so much it actually hurt.

“Starr… I…” he began, still hesitant, licking his lips as he contemplated what difference it would make to the team. But with Starr’s next words he knew he was lost.

“Or if you like you can beg me not to,” the empath suggested breathily, “and we’ll see if you can stop me from just taking what I want. Because you’re pretty helpless now, aren’t you, Darkness?” He waited for the briefest moment while Black twisted his hands in their binding again. “If I was to just stick this in you,” he said suddenly, jerking slightly forward so that Black let loose a long, desperate cry. “Letting your body pleasure me… could you stop me?” Black was beyond words, and he begged with his body instead, straining to show the empath how much he wanted it, how much he welcomed it.

“But maybe I’ll just tease you,” the empath said then, and Black moaned in denial, feeling actual tears in his eyes. “Maybe I want to hear you ask me. Maybe I <I>need</I> to hear you beg me…” Black concentrated, and finally came up with something that he thought might work.

“Please!” he cried out, but it didn’t bring the reward he craved.

“Please, what?” Starr asked, deliberately merciless, teasing him with little forwards and back motions as his hand began to slowly stroke Black’s engorged cock again.

Black roared in frustration, but he was bound and helpless now, and his anger availed him nothing. It was beyond torture… How could Starr do this? How could he do it to himself? Black thought, his mind clouded with alcohol and lust.

“Say it, Darkness,” he demanded. “Make it easy on yourself.”

“Please, Starr,” he gasped. “Fuck me!”

“Again.” Black whimpered, feeling Starr’s thumb drag across the head of his erection slowly.

“Fuck me! I’m begging you! Caylx, please!”

“Good boy, Darkness,” Starr said, praising him, and Black wasn’t surprised to hear relief there. “Do you know how much your begging turns me on?” Black was saved from answering that question when he felt what he had wanted for so long, what he had waited for… and he did enjoy it…

~~~~~

“Morning Darkness,” said Starr cheerfully. Black whipped his head round as the empath walked into the Clubhouse’s kitchen as though he owned the place, whistling a cheery little tune. All Black wanted was coffee. He ignored Starr, and deliberately turned away from the idea of food to concentrate on his cup again.

“Another rough night, sweetheart?” Starr asked eventually, when he had filled the air with the sickly scent of burnt toast, deliberately goading him. He had been out for Dickerson last night… and more. Starr had been out too, with Jake, Bee and Haney – there was a message on his PRU this morning. Black really didn’t know how he had managed to wake up in his own bed, and he didn’t care.

“Leave it,” he warned gruffly. But then something pulled at his memory. He forgot to breathe when he had a fevered impression of what he had done last night. A prostitute? And they had… Oh. No. Black swallowed and then cleared his throat as if he tasted something horrible.

“Oh, why the bad manners?” Starr teased. “Is it because I called you sweetheart? Maybe you really do prefer Darkness.” Darkness! He calls me Darkness! “Is that it, hmm? Do you like my name for you… Darkness?” Black licked lips that were suddenly numb and lifeless. He felt the colour drain from his face, and he looked at Starr, smiling at him innocently. Only he wasn’t ever innocent.

“Tell me it wasn’t you!” Black demanded suddenly, almost shouting, thankful that they were the last to wake up, and the others had already been and gone.

“Whatever are you talking about?” Starr replied, sounding bored as he ate his toast and flicked through a copy of the newspaper one of the others had left on the table.

“Stop acting!” he burst out badtemperedly, throwing his coffee cup into the sink so harshly it broke. Black found he didn’t care about that either. “I can’t deal with you doing this to me now.” He was filled with a sickening sense of deja vu, but then Black suddenly found himself pushed back against the refrigerator, one of the empath’s thighs forcing him to spread his legs a little.

“Acting?” he asked with a very intimate little smile. “I am, of course.” Starr leaned in close and ran his tongue over Black’s right earlobe making him moan against his will. His hands came up to the empath’s head – but he didn’t push Starr away. “But I can stop if you want,” he finished wickedly.

From a distance, Black realised he didn’t want this out in the open between them – he wasn’t ready – not yet. “No!” he gasped as Starr moved down his neck and bit him lightly. “That’s all right.” Black swallowed, belatedly realising he was holding Starr to him as if afraid the other man would try and back away. “Don’t stop.” Starr’s little laugh against his neck was what his best and worst dreams were made of, and he whimpered, rubbing himself against the empath’s leg shamelessly.

“Good boy, Darkness. Let’s keep it quiet, hmm?” Starr whispered. “No need for either of us to think about it ever again…” he said in a wickedly dirty way that suggested he least was going to masturbate over it later. Black moaned as Starr’s talented tongue found the secret places on his neck and teased them. “Our little secret. Isn’t that right?”

At last, the empath backed away from him so that he could think again, and he breathed suddenly, freely, feeling a mixture of relief and disappointment. “Yes. That’s right,” he somehow managed. He looked up as he spoke, and he couldn’t miss the brief spark of hurt in those wonderful green eyes. He shook his head a little. “I’m sorry,” he said then. To his surprise, Starr only grinned at him, so that he wondered if he had imagined the other man’s pain.

“I know,” Starr said, and Black knew he hadn’t imagined it, but he also knew that Starr would wait. Even that thought turned him on. It turned him on in his soul, so that he couldn’t help smiling like a lovesick teenager. He might have said he felt it in his heart, if he thought he had one, but his conscience insisted it wasn’t possible. He shook his head, shaking the smile away at the same time, and then remembered that he had woken up without any money to put back in the safe. He frowned at the empath.

“What?” Starr said innocently, and followed the motion of Black’s hand as it moved over his trouser pocket. “Oh, no!” he said with an amused laugh, stepping away, shaking his head. “You enjoyed yourself, didn’t you?”

Black glared at Starr in consternation. He couldn’t respond in the negative. Even the little he could remember… he bit his lip before he could moan. “Yes,” he growled at last, glowering, and wasn’t surprised when the empath grinned.

“We all have our little kinks, Darkness. Considering yours – can you really be surprised at mine?” Black sighed heavily. He was being tricked, and he knew it, but he couldn’t really say anything. Slowly, feeling like a traitor to himself, he shook his head. Starr winked at him. “Although, having said that – mine are a lot more profitable.” He turned away, and Black felt a genuine smile pulling at his mouth.

“Starr.” The empath turned around again, and Black decided to let the smile stay.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Stop following me around all the time,” he ordered, and when Starr smiled back at him, his eyes laughing as he silently conceded the point, Black somehow knew the empath wouldn’t be following that order either.

THE END