For Destruction, Ice.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," said Byron. He sounded sleep-confused.

"So you're not trying to pull one of your infamously unfunny pranks? Jealous I've got one of your pets?"

"What?" said Byron. "What on earth are you talking about? Will's in Australia..." Comprehension dawned. "Jesse. What have you done with Jesse?"

"Precisely nothing," said Frost, realising he'd made a terrible, terrible mistake. "I put him in a cab and sent him home. He pissed himself. It was disgusting."

"All right."

Frost realised Byron hadn't seen Frost or Jesse at the club, didn't realise either of them had been there. When the man focused on his prey, nothing else registered, it seemed.

"Well, thank you for letting me know that you put Jesse in a cab and sent him home," said Byron. "I'm sure he appreciated the gesture more than I appreciate hearing about it at four in the morning. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to go back to sleep."

Frost heard a sound, a sound he knew well. The sound of lips against lips, and knew Byron was tongue kissing someone. A moment later the call ended.

He stayed there for a moment, the phone in his hand. How fucked was he? The police had no way of pinning Jesse to him unless they found a witness at the club. And Byron wasn't stupid enough to talk, even if he suspected something.

He knew the sensible thing to do would be to let the boy go now, but if he did, there was a good chance Jesse would either be traumatised, or call the police himself.

No. He had to finish what he'd started. The police had no way of knowing this apartment was even occupied, and they had more important things to do than look for a missing boy slut.

He went back to the bed, where Jesse stared longingly at the door, clearly hoping the police would come back.

"I'm going to take the tape off," said Frost. "But if you make a sound for the next twenty minutes that I haven't told you to make, I'll be forced to punish you. And trust me, it'll be creative."

He preferred to leave the punishment to Jesse's imagination. He'd been threatened with violence, with a good, hard anal ramming, and with the vague and disconcerting presence of Frost's cum marinating in the cup on the nightstand. If the boy had any brains, he'd realise Frost was capable of far worse, and do as he was told.

He ripped the tape off Jesse's face, and then tore it free of his ankles, leaving his hands taped behind his back.

He waited a moment to make sure Jesse stayed silent, then gestured for him to turn his body so Frost could unbind his hands.

That done, Jesse pushed himself up against the headboard and watched Frost warily. But he stayed quiet.

Good boy.

"I'll get you some water."

Frost went back to the kitchen and fetched a plastic tumbler of tap water. He brought it back to the bed and handed it to Jesse, who swallowed it down gratefully.

Frost could see he was barely holding onto consciousness. Not knowing what drugs had been in his system, Frost had no way of knowing if the boy was simply terrified, or having some kind of comedown fatigue. Either way, he was just grateful Jesse wasn't throwing himself at the door.

The thrill of coming so close to being caught had left Frost with the stirrings of another erection, and as he ran his gaze over the boy's pale perfection; his slim frame, his feminine features, the tremor in the hand that held the cup—he felt a predatory urge to dominate the younger man rise again.

He waited until Jesse finished the water, then took the cup from him and dropped it back in the kitchen.

Jesse seemed to come back to himself, and Frost saw his eyes slide over to the clothes on the chair, where he must know the key to the door was hidden.

Frost climbed back on the bed and grabbed the boy's wrists.

"It's not worth your life," he said. "Or your finger."

He tugged Jesse away from the headboard and pinned him flat to the bed.

Jesse stared up at him, his mind holding one image; a pair of sharp scissors held tight against his finger, the stinging razor cuts in his skin. In Frost's eyes he saw the blades close, and felt the warm gush of blood that would follow. How had Will ever thought Frost was harmless?

Frost lowered himself on his arms and forced his mouth against Jesse's.

At first Jesse resisted, refusing the intimacy of Frost's kiss. But as the older man forced his tongue between the boy's lips, Jesse relaxed his jaw and let the other man's tongue slide inside.

As Frost explored the inside of Jesse's mouth, Jesse stayed still and compliant under him. Not fighting. But not responding either.

Frost pulled back, searching the boy's face. What was he thinking? What was he feeling? Fear? Resignation? Was he preparing himself to fight again, or just exhausted?

Frost dropped his head to whisper against Jesse's ear. "If I get bored, you won't like it."

He felt the boy shudder, and when he looked back, Jesse's expression had changed to smouldering anger.

Frost remembered those eyes, filled with hate and ringed with black, the first time he'd met the boy at Oscar's. His face all cheekbones and swept angles, his long hair making his features confusingly feminine, but his body endowed with enough masculinity to satisfy every man in the club.

Remembered Jesse kneeling in front of him, his hand shoved into his jeans to palm his own swollen erection, as Frost forced the boy's head onto his cock.

The memory made him swell pleasantly, and he felt the rising urge to fuck the boy again.

But first, he wanted to seduce him. He couldn't enter Jesse's head, if he couldn't confuse his body.

He let go of Jesse's wrists and shifted so that he could pull the younger man back against him, one arm around his throat, the other hand pressed against his chest, as he had at Oscar's. A reminder of the first time Jesse had been helpless in his arms.

Jesse struggled, resisting having his back to his tormentor, but a gentle squeeze of pressure against his abused throat caused him to fall still.

He rested one hand against Frost's arm, as if this would somehow stop Frost from choking him, while his slim fingers pressed against the hand Frost held flat to his chest.

"Are you really going to kill me?" he asked, his voice a rasping whisper that sent a shudder of excitement through Frost, a pulse of fresh blood into his thickening erection.

"No, of course not." He pressed his lips to the boy's ear, then kissed the side of his neck. "Not if you do as you're told. Remember that night at Oscar's? Do you really think Will would have held you for me if he'd thought I'd hurt you?"

He kissed the boy's shoulder, running his lips over the sensitive skin between his ear and shoulder, and felt Jesse move against him, an involuntary squirm of pleasure.

"Why are you doing this?" Jesse's voice was breathy with the first stirrings of desire, and Frost knew he'd read the boy right the first time he'd met him. He might fight, he might struggle, but that would only make his eventual surrender all the sweeter. And he would surrender. Frost knew his type.

He took his hand from Jesse's chest and stroked it over the boy's hair, feeling that squirm again as he pushed his fingers into the boy's now-dry silk, and moved his fingertips lightly against his skull.

"Because I saw you in that alleyway, and I saw how close you were to giving up. Disrespecting everything you have. But now... you can't deny how much you want to live, can you?"

Jesse's head dropped back against Frost's shoulder as he relaxed into the scalp massage. Frost felt some of the tension drop from his body, and the boy's weight against him increased as Jesse relaxed.

"So you're not really going to hurt me?"

"No, no," Frost soothed him, moving his fingers against the boy's scalp, but never moving the arm from around his throat. "Of course not."

"Then please let me go."

Frost rolled his eyes. He chuckled. "I'm not quite done with you yet."

Frost moved the arm that rested against the boy's throat down his body, and brushed his palm over Jesse's nipples, at the same time increasing the pressure of his fingertips against the boy's scalp.

Jesse squirmed harder against him, and Frost saw evidence the boy was well and truly ready for him.

He kissed Jesse's shoulder again, "Now be a good boy and don't ask again."

He moved Jesse's head into the crook of his arm, and moved down the bed to kiss him, his other hand running down over the boy's sensitive skin to palm his cock.

Jesse moaned under Frost's touch, and the older man was once again amazed at how responsive the boy's body was.

How he managed the pain of rough penetration the way he'd been told he did, Frost could only imagine. Perhaps his brain was so easily overloaded, it struggled to tell pain from pleasure when stimulation was intense enough.

He continued to stroke Jesse's hardness as he kissed him, then moved further down the bed to claim his space in the most imtimate way possible.

Jesse let Frost move his legs apart, but there was fear in his eyes.

"You will use lube, won't you?"

Frost smiled.

"And a condom. Please."

Frost wondered how deluded the boy was, that he honestly thought Frost would sheath himself while fucking an arse as close to virgin as this one.

"It's just... I might have..." the boy broke off.

Frost narrowed his eyes. He couldn't tell if the kid was telling the truth or not.

He had no disease himself, chose his victims carefully, and mostly took his pleasure from a hot mouth around his cock. But that wouldn't be enough with this boy. Wouldn't test his limits in any way. No, he needed to penetrate Jesse, to own him. To occupy him, and feel the boy's body tighten with fear and pleasure, to hear his sighs and moans, and empty his thick cum deep inside him.

He crawled up the boy's body, and Jesse pressed himself into the bed, his eyes wide with fear.

"Are you lying to me?" said Frost. His eyes were clear as ice, his voice dark with threat.

"No. I mean, I don't know. I haven't been tested in ages."

Not an admission of anything, but Frost was almost certain the boy would be clean. It was a risk he was prepared to take to get what he wanted.

"No condom," he said, and saw an edge of anger creep back into Jesse's eyes. "But I will use lube, since we don't want you screaming when you're already close to losing your voice."

The anger in Jesse's eyes made them glitter like obsidian under his dark lashes.

Frost moved away from him and fetched lube from his bag, then climbed back onto the bed, to find Jesse with his knees up to his chest, his back pressed against the headboard.

"Not until you put a fucking condom on," he said, and there was no fear in his eyes now, just defiance.

Frost considered him for a moment, then retrieved a condom from his bag. Why not. Let the boy think he'd won a victory. It'd help him relax, and Frost fancied a languid fuck, didn't want to have to bodily fight the boy in order to get it at four in the morning.

He dropped the condom on the nightstand, and lay on his side beside Jesse. If he was wearing a condom, he wanted more foreplay before the main event.

"Come here."

Jesse hesitated, and Frost's annoyance rose again. But before he could force the boy to his will, Jesse moved down the bed and lay face to face with him.

Frost put a hand behind his head and kissed him, forcing the boy's mouth open with his hungry tongue.

After a moment, Jesse put one arm around him, while his other hand wrapped around Frost's cock, coaxing it harder.

His slim fingers palmed Frost's testicles, his touch soft and delicious. Frost couldn't suppress a groan of pleasure as Jesse ran his fingers up and over his stiff shaft, teasing at his head, finding the first jewel of precum and sliding it over his circumcised mushroom head.

His touch was so delicate, so intimate, that Frost wondered where he'd learned it. Perhaps fucking women.

While Frost had a wife, as his position demanded, all he'd ever demanded from her was her mouth on his cock. Otherwise, women didn't interest him. But he'd rarely met a man who touched him like this.

Jesse hadn't learned this from Will, he knew that much. Even Byron was more aggressive, and on the one occasion they'd drunkenly fucked, Frost had thought Byron the most skilled lover he'd ever met.

Frost kept his hand behind Jesse's head, while his other hand rested against the boy's left bicep, ready to restrain him if he tried to get away. He could almost feel the blue dragon hot against his palm, the tattoo like the boy himself. A cartoon of something fierce; too bright and delicate to be dangerous.

Frost pulled away from the kiss and enjoyed the boy's skilled touch a moment longer, letting out a groan of pleasure as Jesse teased him ever harder.

He gripped the boy's hair, and now it was Jesse's turn to moan as Frost kissed him again, his kiss hungry, seeking out the boy's tongue to caress with his own.

Jesse pulled back from the kiss.

"I want to suck you. Will you let me suck you?"

His hand still in the boy's hair, Frost searched Jesse's eyes for signs of deception, and saw nothing but honest lust.

He nodded slowly.

He sat up and moved to the side of the bed, and Jesse climbed off the bed and sank gracefully to his knees in front of him, placing his hands on Frost's thighs.

But before he could take the older man into his mouth, Frost gripped the boy's narrow jaw and tipped Jesse's face up to meet his gaze.

"I never forgot you," Frost said softly. "I've dreamed of this day."

Confusion entered the boy's eyes, and Frost could see he'd touched something raw inside him. A need to be desired, to be wanted—not just as an anonymous fuck, but as himself. Something Frost suspected Jesse hadn't felt in a very long time.

"I've wanted this for so long. Wanted to see fear in those pretty eyes of yours. To punish you for defying me. And now I have you."

The confusion in Jesse's eyes became a shadow of fear, and Frost caressed the boy's jaw with his thumb.

Frost tilted his head to one side, breathing in the boy's fragrance, the faint scent of his hair and the soap Frost had used to clean his body, and the imagined scent of him; that rare-jungle-flower hothouse scent, earthy and fragrant.

God he wanted to possess this boy, to dominate him. To own him. A boy like this, who he could threaten to the point of breaking, who then came back soft and strong and sure of himself—how many of those could there be?

"I want to suck you now," said Jesse, his lips moist, and Frost saw that the boy's cock was still hard, despite his threats . Unbelievable.

"Please, can I?"

So this was why Will had guarded the boy with his life. Frost had thought Jesse was the fool for driving Will away, but now, he could see that Will had been exceptionally stupid of his own accord.

"Yes," he said softly. "You may suck me." He pushed his hands into the boy's hair, pushing it back from his face as Jesse bent his head and started to pleasure him.

As Jesse used his lips and skilful mouth on him, the older man wondered how much of this was natural inclination, and how much of it Will had fostered. He'd known other boys, who after spending a night with Will, had turned into ravening cocksluts—and aggressive tops, who after Will stuck his cock in their arses, forever only wanted to be ploughed, no doubt with the memory of Will's solid length moving inside them an enduring fantasy.

He had a way of bringing out the sexuality in a man, a man any age, any persuasion. Frost suspected Will had turned more than one straight man gay, had confused plenty more.

But this thing, this thing knelt between Frost's legs, with his black silky hair and his soft mouth, with his inner rage and his body one raw emotional and physical nerve—this thing couldn't have been made entirely by Will. As hungry as men became after fucking him, Will didn't bother to teach them how to give pleasure. Only how to want it.

Frost suspected Will wasn't even aware of the effect fucking him had on men. To Will, the world must seem to be filled with an endless parade of willing, horny partners, all craving sex like lust-filled dogs. Frost had never got a sense that Will manipulated any of them deliberately, and so he'd not created Jesse intentionally.

But still. This hunger. This was the hunger Will instilled in men. His signature left against Jesse's soul.

For Jesse, he'd reached a meridian. He didn't want to be hurt. He didn't want to be cut, or hit, or have that giant golden dildo lying on the bed shoved inside him. If Frost just wanted to fuck him, well, wasn't that what he'd wanted tonight?

And Frost was right. He did want to live. Not only live, but fuck. He wanted to fuck and be fucked, to feel alive. To be seen again.

And so he concentrated on his art, keeping Frost's hard length slick with his spit, teasing every sensitive part of him with his tongue until the man was twitching and throbbing in his mouth.

"Enough," said Frost, pulling Jesse's mouth off him. "Get on the bed."

Jesse sat on the side of the bed and passed him the condom, and Frost rolled it down his length.

Once he was lubed, Frost put a hand against the boy's chest, and Jesse lay back.

Frost pushed Jesse's legs wide and back towards his shoulders, then took his slick fingers and circled the boy's tight entrance, marvelling that he'd ever been fucked with a hole this tight.

Jesse sighed, his back arching as Frost teased him, pressing into him deep and slow with one finger. It'd been so long, and he was so tired of fighting, that it was a relief to finally have Frost preparing to fuck him.

Having relaxed the boy, Frost smiled darkly and positioned himself against Jesse's entrance. He knew the younger man would expect to be given time to adjust, but Frost had no intention of making this too easy.

Bracing Jesse's legs back, he pushed himself into the boy in a smooth, unrelenting slide.

Jesse's eyes opened wide, his face contorted with pain. He cried out, his hands gripping the bedspread as Frost pulled out in a long slide, then pushed all of himself back in, starting a merciless action that forced the boy to surrender, or suffer more pain that he could bear.

Jesse relaxed himself as much as he could, squeezing his eyes shut, while he concentrated on the cock moving inside him, willing himself to want it, to open up around it.

It wasn't as if he hadn't been fucked roughly before. And in this position, Frost was running nicely across his prostate more often than Jesse thought he realised.

If Jesse just thought of Will, Will's hands taking charge of him, Will's cock owning his arse, it was actually... really fucking amazing to be fucked this way, intense as it was.

As Jesse relaxed around Frost's intrusion, the older man felt mounting frustration at how easily the boy took him. It seemed no matter how deep he plunged himself, Jesse just threw back his head and sighed.

He slid out and growled, "Turn over and get on your hands and knees."

Jesse did as he was told, holding that image of Will in his mind, as Frost slid back into him.

Frost found his bearings, making sure he was positioned correctly, then started to thrust hard into the boy, slamming Jesse back on his cock with hands gripping his hips, forcing himself as deep into the younger man as he could.

And Jesse just hung his head and moaned, seeming to be in his own private heaven.

No matter how deep Frost drove himself, how hard he slammed into the boy, he simply took it without complaint.

Frost could feel that he'd escaped, and wanted him back.

He pulled out of Jesse, and the kid stayed where he was, his eyes closed, his head hanging down. Waiting passively for Frost to finish pleasuring him.

Frost stalked around the bed and scooped up the golden dildo, then moved back behind Jesse.