For Destruction, Ice.

Without a word, Frost closed his hand tighter around the boy's throat, until Jesse's pupils were so dilated there was almost nothing of his irises left.

Frost stared into Jesse's eyes as he did it, making sure the boy saw how much pleasure it gave him when Jesse fought him.

Finally, Jesse stopped struggling and lay still and wary, his breathing harsh, understanding now that the pressure would only increase if he kept fighting back.

Frost relaxed his grip and the boy put a hand to his throat, gasping in air.

"Don't threaten me again."

Jesse watched him with black hate. Watched the scissors in Frost's hand, imagined shoving those scissors into the other man's throat.

Frost could see his murder clearly in the boy's eyes, and felt another surge of lust.

"So I take it you're realised you want to live?" he said. He picked up Jesse's hand from the bed and Jesse sat up as he smoothed the boy's fingers apart with his thumb.

He held the scissors open around Jesse's little finger, and Jesse realised what he meant to do and got onto his knees, trying to tug his hand back.

"Don't," he said desperately.

He yanked hard, but Frost laughed and closed the scissors against the boy's skin.

"Please don't!"

His struggles rubbed his skin against the blades of the scissors, scoring a fine cut on either side of his finger.

The sight of blood created real panic in him, and he frantically did his best to drag Frost's hand, and the scissors, away from his finger.

"Enough!" said Frost, irritated. "Or I really will cut it off!

Jesse stopped his struggles, panting hard, tears streaming down his face.

"Do you honestly think I'd cut your finger off?" Frost asked.

Jesse nodded, his mouth open, his chest heaving, his eyes liquid.

"Good."

Frost let go of his hand.

Jesse threw himself across the bed, putting it between himself and his tormentor, one hand unconsciously wrapped around his injured finger, as if to make sure it was still attached.

"I think we'd better lock these away." Frost took the scissors to the kitchen and dropped them into a drawer. As he pushed it shut it locked, held closed with a combination code.

Jesse crawled back into the middle of the bed as Frost came back to him, watching the older man warily, ready to roll off the bed if Frost got too close.

Frost stopped at the foot of the bed and started to unbutton his shirt.

"When you came to Oscar's," he said conversationally, "I thought you were much younger than you are. You do look younger. Not—" he said, "—young enough for my liking, but young enough to still be fun."

He shed his shirt and dropped it on a chair by the bed, then put his hands to his belt.

"So much spirit, and yet you stank of fear. It poured off your skin, and it was—" he paused, remembering the imagined scent, "—truly delicious."

He kicked off his shoes, then dropped his trousers and pants, dragging the belt through the loops before tossing the rest of his clothes on the chair.

He came back to the bed with the belt looped in two in his hand. Jesse cowered away from him, doing his best to keep as much distance between them as possible.

"You're a fucking psychopath," he rasped.

Frost gave him a crooked smile. "Well done." He slapped the folded belt against his palm. "We are the one percent."

He crawled onto the bed and knelt there, the belt held taut in his hands.

"Now, you can keep running, and I'll quite enjoy that. But I should warn you, I do tend to get a bit excited if I'm made to chase. Or you can come here and take your punishment like a good boy."

"Punishment?" Jesse gave him a look of disbelief.

"Yes. You seriously considered stabbing me to death with a pair of scissors. I've taken it personally. Now we have to make that right."

Jesse looked longingly towards the door. He no longer bothered glancing at the bag of clothes, although Frost saw him cast a glance behind him towards the kitchenette.

Jesse had no way of knowing the drawer was locked, but he wasn't stupid. And as his head cleared, Frost could see he was starting to understand that there was no real opportunity for escape, only games. Games he could choose to play, or choose not to play.

Frost had chosen him, out of all the other boys who came through Oscar's, for his defiance. Most he'd met would already have given in by this point, would have obediently submitted to any punishment Frost inflicted. But despite Jesse honestly believing Frost would cut his finger off, the boy still had the nerve to continue testing his patience.

And while Frost enjoyed the sport of it, the boy had to understand there was a consequence to every choice he made that wasn't in accordance with what Frost wanted from him.

"Come here. Or do you want me to tie you down and fetch the scissors again?"

He watched as Jesse stilled. Watched his mind process his options. Submit or be forced to submit. Fight and risk—

Jesse jumped off the bed and hurled himself at the door. He pulled at the lock while Frost knelt on the bed and watched him struggling to turn the latch, pulling at it, pulling—

He turned back to Frost as realisation dawned. The latch didn't work. Because the door was dead bolted.

He dived at the chair where Frost's clothes lay, and grabbed up the man's trousers, shaking them, hunting for keys, fumbling and desperate, as Frost got off the bed and walked calmly towards him, the belt swinging at his side.

The keys weren't in Frost's trousers. They were in his jacket, hidden inside a pocket in the lining. Yes, Jesse might find them if he had time, but for him, time had run out.

Frost lashed out with the belt and the leather strap landed against Jesse's unprotected arse.

He let out a howl of pain and tried to shove his way past Frost, to put the bed back between them, but Frost caught him and threw him bodily at the bed so that he landed on his stomach.

As he tried to crawl away, Frost grabbed the boy's ankle, and holding him there, smacked the leather into his flesh as hard as he could, eliciting another howl of pain.

His strikes rose welts against Jesse's pale skin, as Frost had meant them to. It was a punishment the boy wouldn't forget in a hurry.

Jesse rolled onto his back, trying to kick his foot free, and then realised his mistake.

Frost's eyes lit with cruel joy as he raised his arm back and slammed the belt down again.

Jesse screamed and curled up into a ball of pain around his testicles. The belt had landed against his thighs, only glancing the edge of his balls, but the pain. The fucking pain!

Jesse wasn't sure if his body was trying to throw up or shit out the agony.

"You were warned," said Frost gently. He coiled the belt around one hand and lay down on the bed behind the boy. He stroked Jesse's hair back from his face as he groaned in agony, caressing his cheek.

He lay against the younger man until Jesse quieted from groans of pain to sobs of misery, then moved the boy's hair away from the back of his neck and kissed him there. A soft touch of his lips, and a tender caress of his fingers against the side of the sobbing boy's neck.

Jesse shuddered under this new, confusing attention, and stayed curled around his pain.

Frost nuzzled against Jesse's neck, then put an arm around him, brushing his palms across Jesse's nipples. Not all men enjoyed their nipples being touched, but Frost had learned in his first encounter with Jesse that every part of the boy's body was alive and receptive, his skin as sensitive as his mind, both equally primed to receive pleasure and pain.

Jesse shuddered under his touch, sickened by this show of affection after Frost's abuse. He hated feeling Frost's erection pressed against him, knowing his pain turned the man on. Trying not to let this gentle touch give him any pleasure, and failing.

Frost ran a hand down to cup the boy's balls, and Jesse let out a small scream. More fear than pain, Frost thought, as he held the boy in his hand. He squeezed gently and Jesse let out a shuddering breath.

For a moment Frost wondered if he'd misjudged the boy's capacity to be turned on by fear. He did that sometimes. Took things too far, and ended up with a shrivelled cock in his hand and a boy snivelling and begging to be let go.

But Jesse was not snivelling or begging. Jesse was listening to Frost with his body, every part of him alert and ready to fight if he got the opportunity. And despite himself, the boy's body was responding.

Frost moved his hand away and got up on his knees. He rolled Jesse onto his back, and the younger man looked up at him in renewed terror.

"Are you afraid of being fucked?" Frost asked.

Jesse shook his head. Being fucked he could handle. Being fucked with, the way Frost had done so far, was infinitely more terrifying.

"How many cocks have you had in you?"

Why, Jesse wondered, was everyone so fascinated by his sexual history?

He gave Frost a bitter smile. "Enough," he said hoarsely. "Enough to know I can take a tiny cock like yours without noticing."

Frost gave him a cold smile. He really was going to have to stamp on the personal insults. He didn't have the largest cock—the boy's was bigger in fact—but he was average, and he had the girth to satisfy. Not that satisfying his partners was ever Frost's goal.

"I was just going to fuck you," he said. "But now... I'm thinking you need more of a challenge. If I'm too small for you, I'm sure I can find something that isn't to pleasure you with."

The fear in Jesse's eyes as he took this in flavoured the saliva in Frost's mouth like delicious syrup. He could taste it, sweet and desperate.

He unspooled the belt from his hand.

"Roll onto your stomach and put your hands behind your back."

Jesse just stared at him with wide, black eyes.

"Unless you want me to beat your testicles until you cough up blood?"

Jesse's gaze fell to inches in front of his face, and Frost felt the boy shut down. He rolled onto his stomach and put his hands behind his back, and Frost smiled. It was the first time he'd seen Jesse do as he was told without pushing back. He was learning.

"Stay there."

Frost got off the bed and crouched to reach under it. He pulled out a duffel bag and unzipped it.

Jesse gave him a panicked look over his shoulder as Frost climbed back onto the bed and fastened his wrists together with leather restraints.

"On your back."

Jesse obediently rolled onto his back, and Frost could tell he was doing his best to see if he could free himself from the restraints, even with Frost's eyes trained on him. Well, good luck to him.

Frost went back to his bag and pulled out a large gold-coloured rubber dildo. He placed it on the bed and Jesse's eyes slid to it and stayed fixed there.

Frost could see the boy calculating whether or not he could take something that size. Maybe the length wouldn't bother him, but the width would make most men think twice.

"Right, up on your knees."

Jesse did as Frost said, but his eyes stayed glued to the thick golden dildo.

Frost went back to his bag of tricks and pulled out ankle restraints. The last thing he wanted was for Jesse to do something stupid like bite his cock and make a run for it. But if the boy was suitably restrained, Frost was sure he'd give him little more than attitude. And that he could handle.

He moved behind Jesse, and the boy's nervous eyes followed him as he fastened the kid's ankles together.

He gripped Jesse's hair and forced his head back. The boy's eyes rolled back to look up at him.

"If I feel teeth on my dick for even one fucking heartbeat, I will beat your balls black and then fuck you while you cry. Do you understand?"

Jesse nodded, and Frost let go of his hair.

"Good."

He came back around to face the kid, and stood beside the bed.

"Here."

Jesse knew this part well enough. If it meant staying alive and not having his arse torn up, he could suck the man's cock.

He moved to the edge of the bed and then wondered how he was going to get low enough to suck Frost off with his hands behind his back.

"On your back."

Jesse looked up at Frost with fear in his eyes. He hated having his throat fucked while he was on his back. He'd only tried it once, and it had felt as if he'd been punched in the throat both then and the next day. And his throat already felt rough from Frost's earlier choking.

"I can't. I don't—"

Frost glanced over at the golden dildo. Maybe for someone who'd taken cock a lot, it wouldn't have worried them. But Frost knew Jesse was unlikely to be getting fucked that much right now. Without Will to protect him, Frost knew what faced him. Predators, tops who'd brutally take what they wanted and leave someone this skinny and uncertain wondering what the fuck had happened to them.

That was, if Jesse even trusted another man to fuck him. His impression of the boy, was that as hungry as he'd seemed at Oscar's, Jesse was terrified his own desires were going to get him hurt.

His eyes came back to Jesse's face and his gaze confirmed what he'd suspected. Jesse didn't think he could take the dildo without pain. And it wasn't a pain he wanted.

"On your fucking back," said Frost again, annoyed now. Defiance in the boy's eyes was fine, but defiance in his actions was just irritating.

Reluctantly, Jesse manoeuvred until he was on his back, his head hanging over the edge of the bed. With his arms bound behind his back, all he could do was wait for Frost to use him.

Frost left him to fetch a plastic cup from the kitchen and set it on the nightstand by the bed. Having glass around would have been insanity with someone as unpredictable as Jesse, but a cup was often a useful tool in teaching a boy a lesson in humility.

Frost jacked his semi-erect cock, then moved so that he was standing over Jesse's head. He gripped a fistful of the boy's hair and pulled his hard cock up, resting his balls against the boy's sweet lips.

Jesse knew what to do without being asked. He took Frost's testicles into his mouth, bathing them with saliva one by one, massaging them with his tongue.

To Frost's surprise he did this enthusiastically, and Frost wondered if the boy was doing his best to distract himself from what was coming.

When Frost felt his testicles had been sufficiently worshipped, he positioned his cock against Jesse's saliva-slicked lips, and was rewarded by the boy's tongue sliding around him.

It was a particular delight to see Jesse's lips stretch around him as he slid further in, and his eyes widen as Frost pushed all the way in and stopped there, the boy's nose pressed into his wiry pubic hair.

Jesse started to roll his body, trying to pull away, to force Frost's cock out of his throat. But with bound hands and feet, and Frost's hand gripping a tight fistful of his hair, there was nowhere to go.

Frost sighed in pleasure as Jesse gagged against him, choking, panicking, making desperate sounds around the cock in his mouth.

He slid out and Jesse immediately started coughing, his lips wet and sticky with saliva. He brought his bound feet up flat against the bed, and fought to get free of Frost's grip on his hair, but Frost had no intention of letting him go.

He gripped Jesse's hair tighter and then put a hand over his mouth and nose, holding it there while he silently counted to ten. Unable to breathe, Jesse's eyes grew wider and wider, his chest heaving as he tried desperately to suck air through Frost's closed fingers.

When he let go, the kid took in a gasping breath, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.

"Are you going to lie still and take it, or are you going to continue to annoy me?"

Jesse said nothing, but Frost could see sobs building in the boy's chest as he brought his cock back to the kid's lips.

"Open wide."

Jesse closed his eyes and opened his mouth, and Frost once again slid all the way in.

This time, Jesse panicked immediately, bucking wildly, his hair tearing against Frost's hand.

Frost pulled out, gave the boy a few seconds to regroup, then slid back in again.

By the fifth time Frost penetrated his throat, Jesse's struggles were growing weaker. By the tenth, he simply accepted Frost's cock, choking as the tip gagged his throat, then heaving in a breath when Frost slid out.

Frost fucked his throat slowly that way for a good full minute, then seeing Jesse no longer struggling, tired of torturing him.

He rested his cock on the boy's tongue. "Make me cum."

Tears trickling down into his hair, Jesse started to suck. It wasn't masterful, and Frost knew he was capable of more, but it didn't matter. Seeing the boy's distress was almost enough.

He started to thrust into Jesse's mouth, not too far, just enough to scare him, to make his body tense with each thrust, wondering if Frost would plant his cock all the way in and choke him again.

Each time his cock ran over the boy's tongue, Frost felt Jesse's fear, and the pressure in his groin eased up a notch until he was close to boiling over.

He leaned over and said quietly, "Remember. Don't swallow."

Jesse closed his eyes in despair, and Frost thrust between his lips, taking one last wicked trip into the boy's throat to let him know he was owned, and then let out a groan as he exploded into the kid's mouth.

Jesse kept his lips locked around Frost's head, letting his tormentor fill his mouth with his cum, squirt after squirt, until Jesse wasn't sure he could hold anymore.

Finally Frost pulled out, and Jesse sealed his lips closed as he'd been instructed.

Frost let go of the boy's hair and helped Jesse back to his knees. He held the cup in front of him, and Jesse obediently spat his hot mouthful of cum into it.

He looked down at the thick liquid as he spat out the last of it, a strand of cum and drool left hanging from the corner of his mouth. There was so much of it. More than he'd realised came out of a dick. Or maybe Frost had some way of producing more cum than anyone else he'd ever met.

Frost moved the cup away from the boy's face and sat it back on the nightstand, while Jesse tried unsuccessfully to wipe the drool from his face with his shoulder.

Frost came back to him and caught the edge of the sticky strand. He stretched it long against the end of his finger until it broke, then pushed his finger into Jesse's mouth, forcing him to suck it clean.

Once Frost withdrew his finger, Jesse sat back on his heels, emotionally and physically exhausted.

He eyed the cup. He wasn't sure exactly what Frost intended to do with it, but he knew it wouldn't be pleasant. Hot cum from a lover, swallowed in the heat of passion, especially just before he came himself, was something he dreamed about. Something he craved. But the thought of cold cum congealing in a cup made him feel sick.

Frost went into the bathroom to relieve himself, and Jesse collapsed onto his back and closed his eyes.

In the bathroom, Frost considered how he should best manage the boy. Because he knew Jesse craved cock, craved cum, and could take a prick the size of Will's and enjoy it, he knew he had to be inventive if he wanted to break the boy properly.

Fear was partially effective at driving his obedience, but Jesse was too resilient to break with threats alone. Somehow he needed to show the boy that obedience was in his best interests. Preferably without physically hurting him. Well. Too much.

Perhaps, Frost decided, it was time to work on him emotionally.

Frost fetched the boy's phone from his jacket pocket and took it back to the bed.

"What's your lock code?"

"Fuck you," said Jesse, his eyes still closed, and Frost raised an eyebrow.

Really? The boy had that much defiance still left in him? Frost had seen him cry not more than ten minutes ago. There was no way he was this durable.