For Destruction, Ice.

But here Jesse was, the one who'd spat Frost's cum at his shoe, impaling himself, with an expression of fierce concentration on his beautiful face.

Frost's breathing grew harsh as Jesse forced himself harder against the tip of the dildo, penetrating himself with the tapered head.

He let his fingers brush against his cock, which lay swollen against his thigh, slowly filling out as Jesse forced the head of the dildo further into himself.

Jesse stopped and dropped his head, breathing into the pain. He could do this. He could do it. His hair hung down over his face as he steeled himself and let his weight force the dildo in another centimetre. Once it was in far enough, he knew the pain would turn to pleasure. But he wasn't there yet. Not yet.

He shifted, and let out an agonised moan, then remembered; Frost would want to see.

He looked up and met Frost's gaze, and found the man had started to slowly stroke his cock. Just the lightest touch of his fingers along its length, stroking it like the velvet head of a puppy.

Jesse felt despair well up inside him. There was no way he could fuck himself on this thing. It was just too big, and he was too unpracticed. But if he kept trying, maybe that would be enough.

He tried desperately to relax and dropped himself another centimetre onto the thick purple stem, letting out another cry of pain.

Frost groaned and wrapped his hand firmly around his cock, stroking himself hard. His eyes were hungry and intense as he watched Jesse twisting under his self-inflicted impalement.

Jesse sobbed and tried to find the strength to keep going. He'd read once that the human body was amazingly flexible, and could adapt to almost anything, given enough time. And so he stayed there, tears trickling down his face, while he waited for the pain to lessen.

But instead of fading, he found himself clenching around the dildo, trying to push it out.

Frost's breathing was a whistle through his nose, his eyes wide and waiting.

His face distorted with pain, Jesse forced himself another centimetre down the dildo and let out an agonised cry.

"Oh God, oh god, fuck."

Frost gripped himself firmly now, wanking himself with a grimace of determination. He got to his feet, still wanking himself, and walked over to the bed where Jesse writhed in agony on top of the toy shoved up into his arse, and gripped the boy's hair.

Jesse didn't protest, and Frost placed his cock against Jesse's lips, still brutally fisting his own cock.

With a primal growl, Frost came in Jesse's mouth, his cum pumping against the boy's tongue, splashing against the roof of his mouth.

Jesse swallowed as best he could, as Frost seemed to unload an unending torrent of thick liquid into his mouth.

Finally, Frost's cock stopped pulsing. Jesse tongued the end of it as Frost pulled it from his mouth, feeling a strand of cum catch on his lower lip.

Still trembling in pain, he wiped it away and looked up at Frost, finding a look so possessive, so darkly insane on the man's face, that he took a gasping breath in.

Frost gripped him by his shoulders and forced him down on his back on the bed.

Jesse knew better than to ask for mercy. Asking for mercy would only earn him more pain. And so he waited while Frost pushed his legs wide and knelt between them.

Frost gripped the dildo, and watched the boy wrap his hands in the bedspread as he waited for Frost to push it inside him. But now was the time to show kindness. The boy had earned it, after all. And lying there, passive and unresisting, preparing himself to be brutally fucked, Frost knew he'd won.

He kept the toy where it was, and began to slowly stroke the boy's cock hard.

Without his weight against the intrusion, and with Frost waking his pleasure, Jesse soon found the sensation of being stretched so wide was something that his body seemed to enjoy.

Frost quickened his stroke and placed pressure against the toy, just enough to give Jesse a jolt of fear, and the younger man came, his body bucking upwards, a harsh scream of pleasure in his throat.

Frost kept up the pressure until the boy's cum quieted to a dribble, then eased the toy out. Jesse gave a shaky sigh of relief as Frost set it on the nightstand. He looked at Frost with heavy-lidded eyes.

"Can I eat now?"

Frost nodded.

He got off the bed, and Jesse followed him on wobbly legs to the kitchenette, where Frost handed him the pizza box.

Jesse opened it. There was one slice left.

He tried to swallow his disappointment, and tore into the single slice hungrily.

A sound in the corridor. They both froze.

A voice they both knew. A knock at the door.

"Frost? Open the door this instant."

Byron.

Jesse stayed where he was, frozen. His eyes flickered to Frost's face, but he didn't try for the door.

With a noise of annoyance, Frost strode past him and unlocked the door.

Byron swept past him in a cloud of cologne and charisma, and Frost locked the door behind him.

"What do you want?" asked Frost.

Byron's gaze moved to Jesse, standing naked with a piece of pizza forgotten in his hand.

"So, you are here," he said. "I had wondered."

Jesse glanced at Frost. Frost who was standing behind Byron, and who'd taken something from his pocket that Byron couldn't see. A knife. Folded shut. For now.

"I'm fine," said Jesse, pleading with his eyes for Byron to leave. To leave and tell someone he was in trouble.

Byron strode over to him and put a hand on Jesse's shoulder. He tilted his head and searched Jesse's face.

"What's happened to your voice?"

Behind Byron, Frost unfolded the blade. Jesse's pulse quickened, thudding in his chest, in his ears.

"I'm getting sick," said Jesse. His body was strung taut with tension as Frost moved closer to Byron.

Byron stroked his thumb against Jesse's neck. "Be honest with me now. Do you want to be here?"

Jesse glanced at Frost, whose hand was hidden by Byron's body. Would he really do it? Stab Byron in the back, just to keep him there?

"Yes," he rasped, swallowing hard. "I'm fine."

For long heartbeats that sounded like hoofbeats on dirt in Jesse's ears, Byron considered him.

"Because I will take you out of here if you want me to."

In that moment, Jesse had never loved someone more, and never been more afraid for them.

Frost's shoulder twitched and Jesse flinched, expecting Byron to scream. But it was just a warning. A warning to make Byron go away.

"I'm fine," said Jesse, loading his voice with irritation. "Fuck, you only want me now he's got me."

He dropped the pizza and moved around the breakfast bar into the kitchenette, and to his relief Byron followed him, moving away from the blade in Frost's hand.

Jesse ran some tap water into a cup and took a sip.

Byron pushed his hands into his pockets. "I never said I didn't want you, dear boy. But the world moves on, and so must you."

Jesse laughed and took another sip of water. Frost's knife was still out, still in his hand, but hidden by the angle of his body should Byron turn around.

"So move on, Byron."

Byron drew himself up and gave Jesse a curt nod. "As you were."

He spun on his heel and placed a hand against Frost's chest. "Do see he gets home eventually, won't you?"

He strode to the door and Jesse looked after his retreating back as the door closed behind him.

Frost folded the knife and slipped it back into his pocket. "Eat."

Jesse hastily picked up the piece of pizza again and wolfed it down before Frost changed his mind.

* * * * *

Will was in the cab when his phone vibrated. He held it to his ear.

"I have seen the dark-eyed brattling, and he's in Frost's care," said Byron. "Alive, and well, and eating pizza."

Will felt a wash of anger. "You're sure he's fine?"

"Absolutely one hundred percent alive," said Bryon. "'Fine', however, is a subjective thing. But if I were you, I would leave them be."

Will glanced out the window of the cab. It wasn't far now.

"He left that message for me for a reason."

Byron let out a sigh. "You are a constant headache, William. But if you must do this, I'll meet you outside the apartment. Do not go in without me."

Ten minutes later, Will's cab pulled up outside the apartment complex.

"Wait here," he told the driver.

He left his bag in the boot and met Byron on the steps.

"Ah, William, so nice to see you." Byron pulled him into a hug. "Pleasant flight?"

"Let's just do this," said Will.

His last cigarette had been over a day ago and his hands were shaking. He just wanted to see Jesse.

They took the lift to the fourth floor, and Byron led Will down the hallway to the apartment at the end.

Byron held a finger to his lips, telling Will to stay silent as he knocked on the door.

"Frost?"

"What?" Came through the door. "Go away, Byron."

"I left something in your apartment, dear boy, do open up, there's a good chap."

Frost opened the door. And Will barged through it.

He threw himself bodily at Frost, punching him in the face so that Frost was knocked back on his arse. Frost pulled the knife from his pocket, but Will put his boot on the man's arm and took the knife from him. He slipped it into his pocket.

"Stay there."

Byron gave Frost a look of amused surprise that said, who'd have thought? while Will turned his attention to Jesse.

For a long moment they stared at each other, Jesse disbelieving, Will feeling as if he'd swallowed a fist and it was lodged in his throat.

Jesse seemed frozen in place, so Will covered the distance between them and hugged him fiercely.

That touch, that heat against his body brought it all back. Every moment they'd spent together, every moment they'd spent apart this last year. An ache expanded inside Will's chest at how surreal it felt to have his arms around Jesse again, even though his friend was thin and trembling with cold.

He rested his forehead against Jesse's. "Where are your clothes?"

"They're fucked." Jesse's voice was a husky rasp, and a shudder ran through Will as he thought of what Jesse must have been through.

Will turned back to Frost. "Strip."

Frost got to his feet, and his eyes were dark with rage. He faced off against Will, and Byron put a hand against his chest.

"Old chap, your nose looks broken. I suggest you do as the boy says for now, and chat about it with him later."

And Will knew there'd be a later. These men had paid to fuck him, and that payment included footage of his time at Oscar's. It was their security. If Frost chose to use it, Will was ruined.

But that was the future. This was now.

"Strip," he said again.

Frost pulled off his jacket and trousers and handed them to Will. Jesse pulled them on, cinching in the waist of Frost's trousers so that they'd stay up. He pulled Frost's suit jacket over the top, and Byron made a noise of approval.

"You could earn some extra cash dressing like that, my boy," he murmured, and Will threw him a filthy look.

"Let's go," he said to Jesse, but Jesse shook his head.

"Give me the knife."

Will glanced at him. "You don't want to do anything stupid."

Jesse shook his head. "Not stupid, no."

Will handed him the knife and Jesse unfolded it.

"Stay very fucking still," he said to Frost.

Keeping his gaze fixed to the older man's, he ran the knife under the buttons of Frost's shirt, cutting them open one by one until his shirt fell open.

"Very still."

Jesse dropped his gaze and ran the tip of the blade in a slow, horizontal line across Frost's stomach, drawing a beaded line of blood. Not too deep. Just enough to leave a mark.

Frost's face tightened, but he said nothing. Did nothing. His eyes were bright with rage.

Jesse scored another line that ran in a curve from the horizontal line, leaving a 'J' scored in vivid red against Frost's skin.

"Just so you remember, I'm not fucking afraid of you."

He reached up and unbuckled the collar from around his neck, and then fastened it around Frost's.

That done, he put the knife in Frost's hand and turned his back, leaving Frost to stare after him.

Will followed him, and after a moment, Byron shrugged.

"I do believe you've created a monster."

* * * * *

Back at Nate's flat, Will pulled his bag out of the boot and thanked the driver.

"How long are you here for?" Jesse asked, as they took the lift up.

"I booked for two weeks," said Will. "That was all the leave I had."

As soon as they got to the apartment, Jesse collapsed onto the bed and started unbuckling his trousers. Frost's trousers. He wanted the man's clothing off him. And then he wanted a long shower.

Will watched him for a moment, then found Jesse's robe on the back of the door and handed it to him.

Jesse took it and pulled it around himself.

"Two weeks?" he said.

Will nodded.

"How did you know where I was?"

Will sat beside him on the bed. "You sent me a message asking for help."

Jesse looked confused. He'd deliberately activated voice command, but—

"You kept your fucking number," he said in a hoarse whisper. "You kept your fucking number and you didn't tell me. All that shit I sent you. You got it all."

Will looked down at his hands. There was no way out of this one.

"Aren't you glad?" he said. He glanced up at Jesse. "I want you to move on, but I still love you, mate."

Jesse swallowed hard.

Will put an arm around him. "You've got me for two weeks. Let's make the most of it."

Jesse closed his eyes and drank in Will's smell.

A smell that would always be the smell of home.