"Stop."

Long fingers hesitate only slightly at the single word cutting silence. Bemused eyes, wide in the dim room, flittingly heed the warning. They dance over a determined face and grow heated. Chris' hand continues, resting heavily at the rim of warn, faded denim.

"It's not going to hurt," he assures with a small smirk, slipping the copper button from its holding position.

"Do you think that's what I'm worried about? At this point, I fear for your life… don't fucking touch me."

Chris chuckles darkly at the levelness in Jay's voice; he is enjoying the fire he's been getting while crouched over the restrained body he has spent months being hungry for. It's making him hotter. His fingers had trailed the zipper downward and were pushing into the flap of Jay's underwear when he'd been warned a second time.

"Now," he says coyly, refusing to back away from his exposure of Jay's skin. "Why would you go and do a silly thing like that? I'm a big boy."

"He's going to kill you."

Chris looks up then, having previously been fixated on his task at hand. He cocks his head lightly, taking in the defiance of Jay's jaw, and the perfect collection in those hazel eyes. "So confident, Jason," he whispers with a smile and reaches behind Jay's back to fiddle with the restraints he'd so carefully applied to the situation. "I would think that a man in your position would be a bit more ... nervous? Tense? Help me out, here."

Jay rolls his eyes. "You're so dense. I don't know why I give a shit about what"s going to happen to you after you do this. You fuckin" deserve it already, and you haven't even gotten my pants off."

"Sounds like impatience to me," Chris responds quickly, and moves to pull at the jeans from Jay's ankles. He watches Jay's face carefully and sees the small line of fear creasing the previously worriless forehead. He smiles, allowing himself to feel a small, personal triumph; it's there. Jay is too fucking proud to show it, but it's there.

Chris stares at the body sitting on the floor, shirtless, propped against the wall and glaring hotly at him. The pants were a bit of a struggle, as shown by the boxers that grip crookedly to Jay's thighs, pulled down messily with Chris' efforts. They half-cover and half-expose; a circumstance which Chris finds unbearably sexy.

"I hate you," Jay seethes, somehow conveying boundless rage and stifling control in those short words.

"That is exactly why I want you."

"You're a fucking psycho."

"Oh, so hostile!" Chris whispers, kneeling between Jay's legs and leaning forward so that their noses almost touch. He almost laughs when Jay pulls away. "I bet your kink is way more fucked up than mine. Maybe I should ask your lover boy."

"Fuck you!"

"There's that rage; oh, baby. Give it to me."

Jay's stomach turns at the mockery in Chris' voice and he realizes what a joke this whole thing is becoming. He tries harder to keep his emotions in check. He wants to vomit as Chris places a palm on the floor at either side of his waist and leans in for a kiss. He presses his lips together and feels the tenderness that Chris is trying to sway him with. He rolls his eyes away and sighs through his nose.

Chris pulls back and smirks at the bored look on Jay's face. He does that so well, Chris muses, betting himself that he can wipe that look away in less than ten seconds. He pulls away from Jay's face and allows the bound man to feel a measure of cockiness. He can see the arrogant upturning of Jay's lips, and it makes him laugh aloud.

"Jay, Jay, Jay," he clucks, shaking his head. "Why do you insist on thinking that you have any dignity in this situation? You are tied up, and…" at this, Chris' hands dart for the boxers and tear them away. "- entirely open to me."

Jay sucks in a breath, wanting to cover himself but refusing to allow Chris to believe that he's scared him. Instead, he damns his earlier compliance to join Chris in his room for an after-show drink. He wonders in a self-loathing sort of way how he could have missed this sickness in Chris before these moments.

"He is going to fucking rip your guts out and eat them for breakfast."

"He," Chris punctuates bitterly. "Is across the country, lying at home with his bum neck, eating cookies and flipping TV channels."

Jay is defeated into silence and hating every second of it. There is a moment of clarity where they stare one another down, and he knows that this is no longer something that can be prolonged. A sense of dread pools in his stomach as imminence becomes apparent. He wants to fight, he wants to struggle, but he knows he would lose. Nothing can beat the demand that Chris has inside; it's a truth that he understands far too well. He sits helpless, wanting to fear but just swallowing the air instead.

Chris' hand wraps itself around Jay's cock and a chill runs through Jay's body. He watches Chris' eyes widen in amusement, observing the hairs that stand up on Jay's arms. He hates the fact that the body can send messages that he doesn't necessarily feel. More stupidity to credit to Chris; he doesn't realize that he's fooling himself into thinking that this is real.

Chris leans closer, pressing their chests together, chin hovering over Jay's shoulder. He feels the warmth building in Jay's body, feels the tenseness and the anticipation and the breath that Jay is holding in. He feels glory as Jay's body jerks lightly, as the organ in his able hands begins to harden. He savors the long breath he hears as it is consciously directed away from him.

Jay is succumbing to the fear inside. His mind is begging for Adam. He can think of no one else that he needs right now to save him from this. He squeezes his eyes closed, his silence a struggle, his inner body aching, his entire being almost in quivers with trying to keep all of these feelings inside. The pressure is intense. The heat rushing to his lower body is bringing it to a pinnacle.

Chris is quickening his movement, egging himself on with his own pride; look what he is doing to the unwilling. Look at the response. Jay can't hide what his body betrays. He pulls back to force eye contact with the unwilling. His hands move more deliberately. He takes inventory of Jay's lip-biting. "I think you're enjoying this more than you let on," he says with a condemning smile.

Jay's face takes on a dirty look, full of superiority and pride, and other things that Chris couldn't begin to name. "You will NEVER know what it feels like for me to love you."

This statement comes as a sort of surprise to Chris, who hesitates, both angry and dumbfounded. He opens his mouth, but is cut off.

Jay's cell phone is ringing.

The sound is a Godsend to the helpless victim. He looks at the clock on the far wall; it's well past two in the morning, and Adam is probably wondering why in the hell he hasn't called yet.

Jay smirks, a small measure of security returning. "It's him."

Chris wavers, glancing at the phone on the floor beside them.

"Answer it," Jay encourages, taunting. "You're so fucking proud of this. Answer it then, and tell him what you're doing. You're not scared of him? Prove it. Answer the phone."

Chris considers this, staring at the pure victory in Jay's eyes. So proud of himself, Chris thinks. So goddamn egotistical and pompous and…?"

Chris smiles.

Jay is alarmed by the look that takes over Chris' face. He becomes more afraid as that look grows stronger. Chris picks up the phone, and Jay's heart begins to hammer as he realizes what's happening. He panics inside, as Chris lifts the phone to Jay's ear and presses the answer button.

Jay opens his mouth but no sound comes out. His eyes dart to Chris, who is displaying the mother of all winning smiles. He realizes he is being beat at this very moment, and his heart stops. Chris is challenging him, knowing fully well that the hardest thing Jay would ever have to do would be to admit that he was raped. Jay's eyes widen in terror as he realizes that Chris had known this from the beginning; he has known that he was going to win.

"Jay?"

The distant sound of Adam's voice stuns him back to the present. His throat constricts so that he can barely breathe. His eyes can't pull themselves away from Chris'.

"A-Adam," he stutters, and then quickly clears his throat. "Hey! What's up, man?"

"I've been wondering the same thing about you! Where've you been? I thought you were gonna call me tonight."

Chris' eyes are riveted to the man that is crashing and burning before him. Jay knows that he can well hear Adam's voice on the other end, and he wants to crumble away. The humility of his defeat is unmasking.

"Yeah, hey, I'm sorry about that. I, uh; I got caught up with Lance and some of the other guys. We hit a place to eat and hung around there for a while."

"That's cool. How'd it go tonight? You looked good. How's everybody?"

Jay squeezes his eyes closed and a tear slides down his cheek. "Listen, Adam, I can't really talk right now," he says, trying to keep his voice from trembling. "It's been a long day, you know; can I call you from the plane tomorrow morning?"

It kills to hear the understanding in Adam's voice. He doesn't suspect a fucking thing, Jay despairs. "Sure, no problem," Adam agrees without protest. "Talk to you then. Get some good sleep."

"Yeah," Jay replies, voice burning with suppressed emotion. "You too."

"Love you."

Jay bites his lip, head drooping. "I love you too."

The line goes dead.

Chris grins, turning off the phone and placing it aside. "Now," he whispers, crawling up into Jay's lap and trailing delicate fingers down his shoulder. "Where were we?"

Jay allows the tears to flow freely now, entire body shaking with his defeat. He lays his head back and presses his cheek against the wall, turning his entire body off to anymore feeling or emotion. The night begins.