Bought and Paid For

The building shook with the force of Hunter slamming the door when he strode into the house that evening. Davey, taking a few minutes of rare time to mooch around the internet in his office, scurried to the foyer to greet him, wondering anxiously what kind of a mood he would be in. All predictions had been that the business deal he had been negotiating today would go smoothly so he should be celebrating tonight – but there was still no sign of Jade which surely would have been preying on Hunter’s mind, to say the least.

Davey paused to tug down the hem of his tight T-shirt and fluff up his hair. Hunter was back sooner than he had expected and he was still wearing the sweatpants and shirt he had worn for his workout earlier. While it had never been strictly specified that he wear smart clothes around his own house, he had done so for so long that he felt slightly disadvantaged to be out of his suit trousers and shirt. Never mind. Most of it was attitude; the clothes were just a costume.

He smoothed a warm smile onto his face just before Hunter unexpectedly rounded the corner in front of him. He was glaring somewhat and Davey’s heart sank a little, he didn’t want to have to nurse Hunter through the melancholy that followed a broken deal again. He tried to be bright and cheery. “Hey hotstuff! How’s it– ow! Hunt!”

Hunter had grabbed him by the upper arm, spinning him round and marching him firmly in the direction he had just come from. “Hunter, what’s up? Where are we going?” Davey didn’t try to resist, it would have been almost pointless anyway; Hunter was a powerful man when he wanted to be. He hurried along in Hunter’s grip, trying to match pace with him and act as if this was totally normal to any peeping staff that might be around.

“Hunter.” Davey pushed authority into his voice, vocally acting the Master, even if he didn’t feel it. “Where are we going?”

Hunter’s fingers flexed on his arm, squeezing for a second and then he relaxed a little, changing the grip from commanding to guiding as they reached the staircase. “Basement.” He spoke shortly, as if out of breath. “Basement, Dave. Now.” He surged forward down the steps, almost running in his haste. Davey pulled him back to a more appropriate fast walk but his body flushed with excitement. Hunter wanted him. He wanted him so much he could barely speak. They were going to spend the evening in the basement, just the two of them, like it always used to be and Davey was going to get to have Hunter’s body all to himself again.

In the relative privacy of the lower floor Davey didn’t mind being pulled into a jog down the corridor and Hunter wrenched open the door to the padded room – one which for months had only been used for Davey’s martial arts classes. They used to have wrestling matches in here, years ago when their relationship had been new and they were still content to play with each other without the kinky paraphernalia and gadgets that Hunter had begun to collect.

Before he had even secured the door behind him, Hunter was peeling off his jacket and yanking at his tie. Davey thrilled at his desperate fumbling; he still wasn’t quite sure what Hunter had in mind but whatever it was, he wanted it pretty bad. Hunter hopped on one foot as he pulled his shoes off, throwing them heedlessly across the room. “Go get the straps and snaps?” He nodded towards the door to the toy cupboard and Davey smirked with anticipation of the restraint-game that they would be playing soon. He was getting hard already and nothing had happened yet!

As he searched through the various restraints and equipment in the cupboard, Hunter pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and started dialling. “Sarah? Hi, it’s me. What do I have for the rest of the week?” He unbuttoned his shirt with one hand, fussing impatiently with the gold cufflinks.

Davey listened with half an ear as Hunter’s secretary rattled off a list of meetings and appointments. He tugged at some soft cotton strapping that had gotten horribly tangled in the ropes bucket. Why was it always the one he wanted that wasn’t wrapped up properly? Irritated, Davey yanked at it, pulling out foot after foot of the flat cord. He liked this one; it had big eyelets roughly every six inches which saved on tying fiddly knots. He picked up some folded lengths of thin nylon cord too, and a handful of strong mountain-climbing karabiners.

He turned to take his spoils over to Hunter, raising an eyebrow at finding him shirtless and barefooted, but still on the phone. Hunter gestured him to come over and held up a hair-tie whilst speaking earnestly to the secretary. “Okay. Cancel them. Everything. And clear next Monday too. Yes. Yes, all of them. No Sarah, I mean it.” Davey shot a quizzical look at Hunter, mentally reviewing his upcoming appointments and wondering what could have prompted this. He tied his hair back into a messy bun, waiting for Hunter to enlighten him.

Hunter shifted irritably from foot to foot. “Well that’s not my problem, is it?” he snapped, “just deal with it. Tell them I’ve been taken ill, or whatever. I don’t want to be disturbed, okay?” He snapped the phone shut and threw it violently across the room where it hit the padded wall and dropped harmlessly down to the ground. Davey spread his arms, flexing and bouncing on his toes as a kind of warm up for whatever Hunter wanted them to do down here.

With a couple of deep breaths Hunter offered Davey his wrists, glancing meaningfully at the pile of rope on the floor. Methodically, Davey bound them tightly with the cord, using Japanese knots that wouldn’t come open until he wanted them to. Hunter’s breathing quickened as Davey worked, he watched intently, pulling at the ropes to test them when they were done. He grinned brightly at Davey with slightly disturbing anticipation and nodded towards the ceiling. “The hook.”

Ah… Davey nodded in understanding as he caught on to the game Hunter wanted, though he was still somewhat confused. Firmly, he grabbed a karabiner and hooked it through the bindings he had just tied, lifting Hunter’s arms over his head and dragging him to the centre of the room so that he could clip him to the sturdy centre ring in the ceiling. Hunter exhaled excitedly through his nose, lifting his weight off the ground for a moment and settling himself into a stretched out standing position.

Davey trailed hot fingers down Hunter’s bare chest before stepping back and returning to the cupboard. He smiled to himself on hearing Hunter’s quiet whine of frustration despite being a little worried about this sudden need for this game. They had stopped playing it years ago when it got too violent. The bruises had been attracting some unwanted questions and they had agreed to find other ways to play. Now Hunter wanted another round? Davey felt slightly uncomfortable as he carefully wrapped his knuckles with boxer’s tape but he was too happy to have his old Hunter back to refuse him.

He stepped quickly up behind Hunter and gave him a shove, not too hard, but enough to make him stumble. “You sure you want this?”

Hunter just groaned, wriggling impatiently on the hook. “Just fucking hit me Dave. Jesus. Hit me!” He turned to face him, cheeks flushed with excitement.

Davey rolled his shoulder, loosening up his muscles. Hunter watched him eagerly and yelped in surprise when Davey threw a punch straight into the centre of his chest that made him fall back, his entire weight taken by his tied arms. He gasped in satisfaction. He’d expected more preamble but fuck it felt good. Davey hauled him to his feet and ran his fingers over the bright red mark on Hunter’s chest. Hunter saw the second punch coming but it still hit hard, right on his stomach, just under the ribs. He coughed fiercely but nothing came up. Davey gripped his face in one hand, lifting his head. “Safeword?”

Hunter shook his head. “Just don’t stop.” He adjusted his footing, preparing himself for the next blow.

Davey folded his arms. “Absolutely not. We’re not playing this without a safeword. Not after last time.” He started to walk away, unwrapping the tape on his hands.

“Stop being so fucking cautious and fucking hit me!” Hunter screamed at him, all semblance of self control gone now. He was bright red with rage, hauling at his bindings as if he wanted to launch himself at Davey and force a fight. “For fuck’s sake Dave, I need this. Why won’t you just fucking hit me?” Saliva flew from his mouth and the tendons of his neck stood up in angry cords. “Or don’t you want to anymore? Is that it? Are you too soft for it these days? Do I have to find someone else? Do I?” He spat onto the floor in disgust. Davey spun round and punched him square in the face.

There was a sickening crack of flesh on flesh and Hunter’s head jerked back violently. Blood began to well thickly in his nose and, smiling, he dropped his head forward to let it drip down his face. Davey shook his hand and stepped up close, pulling Hunter’s face up to look him in the eye. “Ohio. Okay? You want me to stop, you scream ‘Ohio’.”

Hunter spat out blood. “Sure. Whatever. But you wouldn’t need it. You’re soft Davey. You’ve had it easy for too long. Now you can’t handle it. I should have got myself a new dom. One that could satisfy me! One that–” He broke off mid-sentence as Davey’s fists rained into him, punching blow after blow into his body. He swung like a punchbag on the hook, the strikes coming too fast to attempt to regain his footing. Davey pounded him until his fists ached and he stepped back, panting a little, and massaging his wrists. Hunter hung limply from the ceiling.

Davey turned and fetched a bottle of water form the cupboard, sipping it while he examined his hands. Behind him, Hunter groaned. “Come on, Dave! Is this all you’ve got?” Hunter spoke thickly, snatching gasps of air. He glared at Davey, swinging weakly from the ropes. “You used to be able to knock me unconscious.” He coughed up a wad of blood-streaked mucus. “Are you too weak for it these days? You’re getting old. You’re not as hot as you were, Dave. Thickening out a little. Soon you’ll be washed out.” He grinned mockingly, standing straighter now that he’d had a moment to rest.

Davey strode forward and shook him. “Shut up.”

Hunter shook his head, sending snot flying out from his nose. “Hit me.”

Davey folded his arms. “No. You’ve had enough.” He dodged a kick from his enraged partner, ignoring the shriek of anger and frustration he let out.

“Fine! So let me go! Let me go and I’ll call Bios and tell them to take you back. They’ll be here within hours, Dave. By tomorrow you can be back there, fucked up on charlie all over again, fucking the boys all over again, standing there with blood on your hands all over again. Is that what you want? You wanna go back and face the rape convictions I bought off? You want to see the blue plaque they’ve got in the room you killed him in? Untie me and you can have it. I’ll call Bios right now.”

There was a sharp crack as Davey’s bare fist met Hunter’s face. He went limp and hung heavily by his arms but Davey didn’t notice. The red mist he thought he had banished years ago had descended and he was lost in a sea of rage again, the only coherent thought in his mind was to pour as much of his pain and anger into Hunter as he possibly could. He tore and Hunter’s face with his nails, slamming punches into his jaw, his nose, his eyes. He wanted to obliterate him. Hunter went limp.

With dizzying déjà vu, Davey snapped back into himself, recognising with horror that he had fallen right back into being the untamed creature he had been when Hunter had first seen him at Bios. Those days were blurry, distorted by the drugs people had given him to keep him friendly to them, or the sex they offered him so that he wouldn’t hurt them. He’d often hurt them anyway. It had never been enough: the cocaine had never been pure enough; they had never been tight enough.

Bios had often threatened to throw him out, but his rippling muscles under tattooed skin had invited viewing after viewing from potential clients. They would never choose him though; his seething rage at being reduced to this too much for the queers of the super-rich to handle. He was so angry. Angry at the rich bastards who peered at him, jerked off over him in their private viewing rooms and then refused him. Angry at the faceless Bios staff, herding him from room to room as if he wasn’t anyone, as if he wasn’t even a person. Angry at the twists of fate that had put him here; whoring himself out, selling his entire life in the hopes of finding a new one. Lord knew his old life wasn’t worth living any more.

He’d been wound up, rattling slightly with withdrawal and blue balls after a week of solitary confinement for starting another fight. They’d put him in a room with two others, both muscled and powerful, presumably people who could handle themselves when it came down to fists. One had surreptitiously snuffed a bump of powder off the back of his hand. Davey had asked him for the contraband his body so desperately needed, man to man. When he refused, Davey just took it from him, punching him until he stopped fighting back and he could go through his pockets to get what he wanted. The other one had thrown up in the corner.

Within an hour Davey had been gloriously high again, balls-deep in the beautiful young muscle-man whose head made hauntingly hollow sounds as Davey fucked him into the bunk. He’d used the boy’s shirt to stop him crying out so loudly. He didn’t remember where the blood came from, only that there was a lot of it and that not much of it was his. He had thrust harder but the drugs were taking the edge off his erection and his climax was rapidly retreating into the distance. In frustration, Davey had thrown the boy into the wall. He hadn’t meant for the kid’s neck to break. It was an accident.

And when the uniformed Bios guards came running to the room to break it up, Davey had been cuffed and dragged away hissing and spitting like an animal. He had looked up to the viewing window and locked eyes with the pale blue stare of the young Hunter Burgan, eyes wide with awe and lust for the sheer power of this crazed half-man. He had made the purchase before the day was out. Bios probably should have tried to dissuade him, but by that point they just wanted Davey off their hands. The deal was done.

Six months later, Davey had found himself in Hunter’s house, with the blond man demanding to be fucked violently in his office before Davey had even unpacked his suitcase. He was brash and abrasive and Davey’s temper had flared; his mean streak delighting in pounding this rich asshole into a bloody pulp. Their games at first had been rough and dangerous and more than once Hunter had been injured or knocked unconscious. It had just made him more voracious.

Davey thrived on Hunter’s neediness, and it soon spread beyond sex into elaborate mindgames and power plays. Davey micro-managed every second of Hunter’s days, from the clothes he wore to the food he ate and the inappropriate words he had to innocently use in important meetings. And Hunter had been only too willing to relinquish control. He was a young man thrust too rapidly into a position of immense wealth and power and he just didn’t know how to cope with it all. Davey was happy to spend his money for him, buying him sharp Italian suits, the latest sports cars, acres and acres of property.

As they got to know each other as a couple, Davey became more attuned to what Hunter wanted, and could deliver it unerringly, whether it was advice on where to sink an investment, or a new way to achieve orgasm. His irrational anger melted away, to be replaced by a possessive love for this man who had undoubtedly saved his life just by letting him be himself. With a permitted outlet for his anger, and a willing puppet to manipulate, Davey found himself less consumed by the need to control everything; just as Hunter began to find his feet in his new life and need less guidance. For years, they had worked as a perfect unit. But Hunter wasn’t satisfied. He was never satisfied. He always wanted more. Another suit, another car, another house, another whore. And now it had all fallen apart.

Davey could hear the wheeze as Hunter dragged sobbing breaths bubbling with blood into lungs bruised by at least one cracked rib. He pulled the quick-release pin and Hunter fell to the floor, groaning quietly, through the blood that poured from his nose and the split in his lip. Davey crawled over to him and untied him, massaging circulation back into his cold fingers. He held Hunter tightly, his saviour, his lover, his whole reason for existence; and kissed him gently.

Hunter winced in pain, grimacing as he sucked in air. “Ohio.” He spat out blood. “Ohio, Dave. Don’t leave me. Please.” Tears rolled slowly down his face.

Davey rocked him in his arms, clinging to him. “I won’t. I’m here. I’m yours. Always yours. Always.”