Hiding in Plain Sight: 9/21

[xanthefic]

Title: Hiding in Plain Sight: Part Nine
Author: Xanthe
Fandom: SGA/NCIS crossover
Pairings: Gibbs/DiNozzo, John/Rodney, Carson/Caldwell, Teyla/Ronon, Ziva/McGee, and some other pairings that would spoil the story if I revealed them. Gibbs/Ducky friendship.
Rating: NC17 for explicit BDSM sex (m/m slash, femslash and het) and spanking.
Author's Notes
Summary: When a serial killer murders three marines on Atlantis, NCIS are called in to investigate. However, their arrival brings complications for everyone – revealing a lie, a prophecy, a secret and a nemesis.

Part Nine: “Rodney, I don't give a damn," John interrupted, his tiredness making him angry. "I don't give a damn about your work, or NCIS, or any other damn thing right now. All I give a damn about is why my sub lied to me, and why he lied to his boss, and to NCIS, and why he thinks it's okay, even after lying his ass off, to stand here and argue with me over a direct order. Now get in the bathroom and strip."

Okay...there's some intense BDSM action in this section. Just warning you!



Hiding in Plain Sight
By Xanthe
Part Nine

John Sheppard half ran, half walked back to the quarters he shared with his husband. He was anxious to get back to Rodney because he knew what kind of a state his sub would be in by now, but, at the same time, he had some things to work out in his head. Usually his instincts as a top were so sure he'd *know* what to do, but those instincts hadn't been working so well for the past few months and he needed to get back in touch with them.

He slowed down, and thought it through, and then took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He could do this; he had to do this. He had to get beyond what had happened when Rodney had nearly died or he'd be letting Rodney down. Rodney might not like what he had planned – in fact John was sure he wouldn't, to start with at least – but it was necessary. He tapped his radio, made a call to Lorne, and then set off again, walking slowly this time.

Their quarters were in darkness when he stepped inside, and he frowned, puzzled. He was damn sure Rodney wouldn't have gone to bed.

He glanced around the room and saw Rodney sitting at the table, shoulders slumped, staring into space.

"Rodney?" he said, softly.

"I'm sorry, John," Rodney replied, not looking at him. "I've been thinking about it, and I know you won't like it but I can't let you take the punishment for what I did. I'm going to go to Woolsey and insist it's me who gets punished and not you."

"All thirty swats with the paddle?" John asked. "In front of the entire base?"

Rodney looked up, and John could see, in the dim light, that his eyes glittering with fear, but his chin was resolute, pushed out and stubborn.

"Thirty? Is that what he said? Well…okay then. I can take that. I've only taken twelve in the punishment room before but thirty…well…it'll be hard…you might have to use the restraints but I'll take them."

"No you won't," John said, turning on the light and going over to the table.

Rodney blinked. "I won't let you take them for me," he said firmly.

"Not your choice." John shook his head. This was another example of how out of hand he'd allowed this to get. Rodney should be obeying him on this, not arguing about it. For the most part they had an easy give and take in their relationship, but when it concerned their dynamic Rodney knew John was in charge - and this was all about their dynamic.

"John – it was my mistake. You didn't know anything about it!" Rodney protested. "I screwed up, and I'll pay for it. Shit, when I think of poor Jenny Keller…"

"That wasn't your fault," John told him. Rodney shook his head.

"Like you said earlier – if I hadn't lied NCIS would have been here sooner and she wouldn't have died."

"Conjecture," John said, with a terse wave of his hand. "NCIS *were* here and she died anyway. All it means is that she might have died a few weeks ago and not a couple of days ago. Look, Rodney, it happened. We can't undo it. We don't know what would have happened if NCIS had got here earlier but they haven't solved this yet, so it's not as if they've delivered. You feeling guilty about Jenny won't bring her back."

"She was a sweet girl," Rodney murmured. "I liked her."

"I know. So did I. But *we* didn't kill her, Rodney. Someone else did – and they're to blame for this, not us."

Rodney thought about that for a moment, and then nodded, but John knew it wasn't going to be that easy.

"I lied to you though," Rodney murmured, looking away, unable to meet John's eye. John reached out and touched the side of Rodney's face, making him look up.

"Yes, you did, and we have to deal with that," he said.

"Is it going to be bad?" Rodney asked, a slight hitch in his voice. "I mean…I assume it is, but…"

"Yes, it is," John replied grimly. For both of us, he thought to himself.

"I'll take the thirty swats in the punishment room as well as anything else you want to hand out," Rodney said.

John sighed. This was Rodney all over; he was always ready to admit a mistake and abject in wanting to make amends for it. He wished people could see beyond his irascible demeanour to the kind-hearted, loyal man underneath. He could see it so clearly – and maybe that was another reason why he let Rodney get away with more than he should.

"It's okay – Woolsey said I could take care of it myself. There won't be any thirty swats in the punishment room," John said gently.

"But you…" Rodney looked confused. "Woolsey really said that? But he hates us!"

"No, I don't think he does, not really. But we have given him kind of a hard time since he got here," John pointed out.

"He's not Elizabeth," Rodney said stubbornly.

"No, and that's not his fault. He just arrived at a bad time. You and I had just got back from that other universe, and then Elizabeth was killed and Peter…well, we lost Peter. Then they sent us Woolsey and these murders started to happen - so I'm thinking we didn't give him much of a chance," John said.

"He didn't give us one, either," Rodney pointed out. "He's never had a good word to say about Elizabeth and he's changed half her protocols and made everyone unhappy into the bargain."

"Yeah, well, we all make mistakes; those were his," John sighed. He sat down on the edge of the bed and began unlacing his boots. Rodney came over, knelt down in front of him, and started to help him. John smiled, and placed a hand on Rodney's head, stroking softly. Personal service wasn't really Rodney's thing in their dynamic, but just occasionally his sub surprised him.

Rodney finished removing his boots and John patted the bed beside him. Rodney sat down, his blue eyes wide and a little scared.

"You gonna cane me?" he asked.

John knew how much Rodney hated the cane, and it wasn’t his own favourite implement to wield either. Maybe it would work for precisely that reason but he didn’t want to get ahead of himself. He reached up and massaged his own neck, feeling the tightness. He rolled his shoulders and felt a satisfying crack, and a sense of release.

"I don't know. I'll see what feels right as we go along," he replied. Rodney's eyes widened even further at that.

"As we go along?" he repeated.

"Yeah. We have some work to do," John told him. "In fact, we've had some work to do for some time, but I've been shirking it."

"I don't know what you mean," Rodney said, defensively.

"I think you kind of do," John sighed. He reached out and put a hand on Rodney's shirt, allowing it to hover over the area where Rodney's scar was. He had the exact same scar on his own chest. "Unfinished business," he whispered. Rodney reached out and grabbed hold of John's wrist, and then he pushed his hand away.

"No," he said, his eyes glittering.

"Yes," John said firmly. "Rodney, you might not want to do this but you have absolutely no choice in the matter. Understand that?"

Rodney gazed at him, and John could see the emotions flit through his eyes – Rodney had the most expressive eyes of anyone he'd ever met. He saw the defiance, the fear, the pain, and then, finally, the acceptance.

"Go into the bathroom and strip," John said. "Then come back out here. You won't be wearing any clothes for the next few days. You won't be leaving our quarters for the next few days, either."

"But what about my work?" Rodney asked, aghast. "I was in the middle of a series of delicate experiments. And what about Abby? She doesn't know how our tech works. She'll need…"

"Rodney, I don't give a damn," John interrupted, his tiredness making him angry. "I don't give a damn about your work, or NCIS, or any other damn thing right now. All I give a damn about is why my sub lied to me, and why he lied to his boss, and to NCIS, and why he thinks it's okay, even after lying his ass off, to stand here and argue with me over a direct order. Now get in the bathroom and strip."

Rodney's expression was mute with dismay. He swallowed, hard, and then got up and walked slowly into the bathroom, like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. And that, John thought, was part of the problem.

He went to the door of their quarters and opened it. Two marines were standing outside. They gave him apologetic smiles and he sighed – it wasn't their fault and he didn't blame Woolsey for posting a guard on the door to make sure he and Rodney stayed confined to quarters for the duration of their sentence.

Outside the door were also the supplies he'd asked Lorne to provide. He pulled them into the room, placed the small single mattress beside his side of the bed and put the box on the table. Then he went and retrieved a box of his own from the closet. He opened both boxes, and took out what he needed.

The bathroom door opened, and Rodney tiptoed out. He was naked except for his collar and although he'd learned to walk with pride in his own skin after being with John for a couple of years, on this occasion he looked uncomfortable. John couldn't remember the last time he'd ordered him to strip and be naked around him. They had been so preoccupied of late – first Elizabeth, then Peter, and then the murders. In the early days he'd told Rodney he wanted him naked around him when they were alone together but it had been a long time since he'd enforced that. More fool him.

Rodney saw the mattress on the floor and he looked up at John, and shook his head.

"Please, not that," he said. "Don't tell me I can't sleep in your bed."

"You'll have to earn that right back," John told him. "The way you have to earn back the trust you lost when you lied to me. You don't sleep in my bed again until I'm satisfied you've done that."

Rodney looked small, and lost, and kind of angry too. John knew about Rodney's anger – knew they had to reach into it and get it out before it poisoned them both. Maybe it already had, a little.

"Are you rejecting me?" Rodney asked. John laughed out loud.

"No, Rodney. I'd never do that. I'm just reminding you who the top is because I think you've forgotten that. Now, you're sleeping on the floor beside me until I say you can come back to bed. And do you know why?" Rodney shook his head. "Because I'm in charge, Rodney, and you're my submissive. Now come here."

Rodney came, looking poised between total defiance and abject submission. It was the kind of complex emotional tightrope that only Rodney could walk, John thought wryly to himself.

When he got close, John reached out and pulled him closer, running his hands over Rodney's body. He stroked the naked flesh gently, loving how it felt under his fingertips. Rodney's arms went around his body, instinctively, and John smiled, and kissed his sub's hair. Then he released him, and touched the scab on Rodney's forehead.

"I'm angry this happened, Rodney," he said, feeling the red heat rise inside him all over again. "I'm angry someone touched you without my permission. I'm angry someone cuffed you."

"I know." Rodney nodded, his eyes searching John's face anxiously.

"I'm angry you placed yourself in a position where they *could* because of the lie you told," John said, more sternly. Rodney nodded.

"Yes, I know.”

"Hands out," John ordered.

Rodney held out his arms, and John picked up a set of padded black cuffs from the table. He fastened them onto Rodney's wrists and made them secure. Then he took a second set of cuffs, knelt down, and fastened them around Rodney's ankles. Finally, he took a long length of chain. Rodney bit back a startled little sound and John shook his head.

"It's going to be tough, Rodney. Accept it," he ordered. Rodney nodded, his face strained.

John led him over to the mattress and ordered him to lie down. Then he fastened Rodney's hands together behind him; in front would have been kinder, but he needed to make this hard, or Rodney wouldn't give it up for him. He fastened Rodney's ankles together as well, and then linked a chain between the two. Finally, he took another chain and looped it through the first, then fastened the ends of it into the slave rings on the bedposts and secured them there, one at the head and one at the foot of the bed. Rodney was now tied fast – his hands and feet were tied together, and he was tied to the bed at both ends. He couldn't move more than a couple of inches either way. John tested the bonds to be satisfied, and then nodded.

"You have to ask me for everything from now on," he said in a low tone. "You ask me if you want to use the bathroom, or you need anything to eat or drink. Understood?"

"Yes, John," Rodney replied, but John could see the expression in his eyes. Rodney *hated* being restrained and it wasn't usually part of their dynamic at all – not for very long periods anyway. Being tied for a light flogging was one thing – this was something else, and would require Rodney to submit himself completely to John's will.

"The sooner you stop fighting it and submit, the sooner I'll let you go, but everything has to be earned, Rodney," John told him. Rodney nodded, stiffly, and John had a feeling this might take some time.

He went back to his box and got out a black leather blindfold. He returned to the mattress with it and Rodney tried to slither away from him, only managing a couple of inches before the chain restrained him.

"Please, John, not that. You know I hate being blindfolded," Rodney whimpered. John did know that. He knew that Rodney was so prone to over-thinking any given situation that he hated anything that took away his visual clues as to what might be going on. That was precisely another reason for doing it; he didn't want Rodney to think about anything for the next few days. He wanted to take him to a place beyond thought, and give him back the gift of his own submission. He had no doubt it wouldn't be easy, but it *was* necessary.

"Ssh," he said, stroking Rodney's hair gently. "I'm going to blindfold you, Rodney, but you trust me don't you?"

He felt as if he'd been punched in the gut by the tiny seed of doubt he saw flicker in Rodney's eyes. Ah, so that was what this was about.

"Rodney – you have to learn to trust me again," he said. "I'm going to make you learn to do that. You have no choice but to accept the blindfold. You're my collared sub, and I'm your husband and your top. I *will* make you take this. Now close your eyes."

Rodney gazed at him for a moment, struggling with it, and then did as he was told and closed his eyes, a little sigh leaving his lips as he did so. John was grateful for that much at least. He was chipping away at Rodney's resistance, piece by piece, but he had a feeling it would take awhile. Damn it, why hadn't he seen this coming on? Why had it taken him so long? A few short months ago Rodney would have submitted to all this without question, trusting John without even thinking about it. It hurt that that wasn't the case any more.

John fastened the blindfold around Rodney's face and then kissed him gently on the lips, reassuring him. Rodney was now naked, blindfolded and trussed on the mattress. He could barely move, and he couldn't see anything.

"You'll rely on me for everything from now on," John told him. "You have so much as an itch, you let me know. You're forbidden to touch yourself or do anything for yourself."

"Yes, John," Rodney whispered, and John could see how tense and unhappy he was. Usually he wouldn't push Rodney this far outside his comfort zone but this time he had no choice.

He got a blanket and put it over Rodney's body, patting him gently when he was done.

"I'm going to be right here, on the bed," he said. "You're safe – but you have to trust me on that. If you call me, I'll be here."

Rodney shuddered, and John knew why. Rodney had called for him before, when he'd been lying on the floor in a strange universe, blood pouring from his chest. John hadn't been able to get there then and they were both paying the price for that now.

John removed his own clothes and got into the bed. He turned off the light and lay there, staring at the ceiling. This was as much a punishment for him as for Rodney. The lifebond between them pulsed when they were touching, flesh against flesh, and they both felt more comfortable when they were in close physical contact. Having Rodney lying on the floor beside the bed was its own special kind of torture, when he longed to be holding him and making love to him. Barely a night passed when John didn't slide his hard cock between Rodney's ass cheeks, and thrust into his sub's willing body. Sometimes they were too tired to complete the act, and just fell asleep, John softening inside Rodney's body. Sometimes they had quick sex, just to get in touch with each other again, and sometimes John took his time, and spent hours exploring his sub's body until they both collapsed in a haze of pleasure.

This was how it had to be though, until they had worked through what had gone wrong between them.

"John," Rodney whispered from the floor beside him. "Is it going to be okay?"

John rolled over and stroked Rodney's hair. "Yes," he said firmly, because his sub needed reassurance. "But it's not going to be easy." He lay there, his hand resting on Rodney's hair, wondering if either of them was going to get any sleep tonight.

It took a long time but John finally got to sleep. He wasn't sure if Rodney managed any though. When he woke, the sun was up outside and he could see by Rodney's body language that his sub was awake. He didn't look comfortable but then that had been the point. His arms had to be aching, tied behind him like that, although John had done his best to ensure he was supported by his pillow and could breathe easily. Still, such tight bondage was always going to be uncomfortable.

John shifted in the bed and Rodney raised his head, unable to see because of the blindfold.

"Thank god for that," he breathed. "I have to use the bathroom."

"Then you should have woken me," John chided. "This isn't an endurance test, Rodney. This is about you learning to trust me again."

"I do," Rodney muttered sullenly. John got up, whisked his blanket off him, and landed a firm slap on his naked ass. Rodney jerked in surprise, unable to see the slap coming his way.

"Don't give me attitude, Rodney," John snapped. He undid the chain fastening Rodney to the bed and unfastened the ankle cuffs so Rodney could walk but didn't undo his wrist cuffs. He helped Rodney to stand and Rodney stretched his back, moaning as he did so.

"I ache all over," he said accusingly. "I have a bad back – you know I have a bad back, but you tied me like that and left me there all night."

"Yeah – I know you've got a bad back and that's why I got you the mattress. Count yourself lucky – you could have been sleeping on the hard floor," John said tersely. "Now, if you're good then you can sleep with your hands tied in front of you tonight. If you're not, then you can sleep tied over the spanking bench and I'll get up every hour on the hour and give you five hard swats with the paddle."

Rodney paled. "You wouldn't," he said, but he didn't sound too sure.

"Want to try me?" John asked, dangerously. He could see Rodney adjusting mentally to where they were going with this. Usually they had so much fun together that their dynamic just bubbled along happily underneath. John rarely exerted himself as Rodney's top more than he felt necessary, preferring a lighter touch. That, clearly, had been a mistake.

"No," Rodney muttered. "You're in charge."

"Glad to hear you think so," John retorted.

He escorted Rodney into the bathroom and over to the toilet. Rodney's hands were still tied behind his back and he knew what was coming next. John stood behind him and held his cock, pointing it at the toilet.

"I hate this," Rodney told him, his body convulsing mutinously.

"Yeah, I know," John replied, pressing a kiss against Rodney's neck. This wasn't about bludgeoning Rodney into submission – it was about leading him there, both of them feeling their way until he got Rodney into a place where he trusted him again. The first few steps were always the hardest.

Rodney eventually relaxed enough to be able to pee. Afterwards John put him in the shower and then got in with him and started soaping Rodney down. Rodney's cock responded to this as it always did when John touched him, and reared up hopefully.

"Do you really think there's any chance you'll be coming any time soon?" John said, biting back a chuckle.

"No, I don't," Rodney sighed. "But try telling my cock that. It's ever-hopeful."

"Well it has no reason to be," John said firmly. "You're forbidden to come until I give you express permission. If you disobey me then I promise you that night-time spanking regime I outlined earlier will become a reality, and if you think things are bad right now they could get so much worse."

Rodney made a little sound in the back of his throat and John stroked him reassuringly.

"Turn," he said, and he pulled Rodney around so that his back was facing him. John ran soapy fingers over Rodney's back, massaging away any knots caused by his uncomfortable sleeping position, and Rodney sighed, and opened up, his body slowly relaxing. "Here's how it'll be," John said. "I'm going to use you whenever I want, and you are going to open up and let me. This is just about you pleasing me. There won't be anything in it for you. Understood?"

Rodney quivered under his touch, and John knew that on some level this was turning him on – which was good, because Rodney being turned on but unable to come was a level of control he needed to exert over his sub right now.

"You won't know when," John added. "The blindfold will stay on – you'll just open your mouth or your legs whenever I want you. Understood?"

"Yes." Rodney nodded.

"The cuffs will stay on as well," John warned. "I want you to please me with those talented lips of yours and with your hole – you don't get to touch or to see – you just get to serve."

"Okay," Rodney sighed, and John knew how much that was going to chafe – Rodney loved using his hands and adored being able to run them over John's naked body. He was an extremely sensuous man, and this was depriving him of so many of his pleasures.

John unfastened Rodney's cuffs from behind his back but only to immediately refasten them in front of him. Then he reached for the shower brush and swung the flat of it hard against Rodney's exposed buttocks. Rodney gave a yowl of surprise but John just surveyed the red mark he'd made dispassionately. He loved marking Rodney's body, and it had been awhile since he'd done so – another sign of his own lack of attention to detail of late.

He swung the brush again, landing another fine swat. Rodney gave a gasp and fell forward, his bound hands clutching for the side of the shower. John waited until he'd got himself into position, and then swung again. He got into a rhythm, liking the splotchy red colour he was bringing to the surface of Rodney's ass. Rodney took the spanking well, not moving or complaining beyond the odd muffled "ow". They both knew this wasn't for pleasure – but it wasn't too severe yet, either. John knew he had to work his way up to that one. Rodney often got angry during the course of a proper punishment spanking, and John knew that anger was buried so deep that it would take some time to bubble to the surface. It was time they had. His job was to skilfully work it out, giving Rodney the right guidance to express it and get it out of his system. This was a good start.

He finished spanking Rodney and then reached for the lube they kept in the shower. He spread Rodney's glowing buttocks, lubed him quickly, and then slid his hard cock into his sub's warm ass. It felt good, the way it always felt so damn good with Rodney. No matter the difficulty of this current situation, being inside Rodney was never anything other than a pleasure – and he knew that Rodney felt the same way about having him inside him. Apart from anything else this was necessary – Rodney needed to feel connected, and he also needed to get back in touch with that sense of John as his top, as someone strong who could take what he wanted from his sub at will. Rodney had been taking too much responsibility for too long – he needed to give it back to John.

John kept firm hands on Rodney's hips as he thrust into him, using him hard and fast. He knew Rodney's cock was hard and leaking but he also knew Rodney wouldn't come without his permission, either, and he wasn't going to get that permission until John was satisfied he'd managed to bring his sub right down, and that Rodney had submitted to him utterly and completely, without reservation.

John came with a sigh of satisfaction, shooting deep inside Rodney. He stood there for a moment, leaning over his sub, panting, and then decided to move things up a notch.

"Pull your butt cheeks together and stay there," he ordered, and he pulled out of Rodney and left the shower to return to the other room and retrieve a nice, solid butt plug. He went back to the shower and stepped inside, to find Rodney exactly where he had left him, his taut buttocks showing he had obeyed John's order.

"Okay." John tapped his butt. "Relax." Rodney did as ordered, and John lubed up the buttplug and then slid it firmly into Rodney's hole. "That'll keep my come inside you until I'm ready to shoot into you again," he said, and Rodney's entire body quivered at that. John smiled to himself. Oh yes, this might take awhile, but he knew his husband, and he knew the best way to reach him. "You're my sub, Rodney," he whispered, pressing on the buttplug with his fingers to make sure Rodney was feeling it. "You'll submit to me. I'll take what I want from you, and mark you with my scent, with my come, with my strap, with my hand, with my teeth – any way I like. And you'll take it and submit, won't you?"

Rodney moaned softly. "Yes, John," he whispered. "I will."

John smiled, and drew back. He could feel his body start to loosen as he got himself into his top-space. The strain of the past few months began to drain away and he felt his doubts going with them.

He knew who he was, and he knew who Rodney was – and it felt good to remind themselves of a few basic truths that they'd lost touch with of late. No wonder Rodney had stopped trusting in him as a top when he'd stopped trusting in himself. This was as much about him regaining trust as Rodney, and now that he was listening to his instincts, and being the firm, uncompromising top Rodney occasionally needed, he hoped they could resolve their issues and be strong again.

~*~
Rodney hated this. He hated being tied, his ankles connected by a short chain so he could only take small steps, his arms tied behind his back, his eyes blindfolded. He hated having to trust John to lead him around, unable to see where he was going, or even put out a hand to catch himself if he felt he was falling. True, John was beside him, and when he had stumbled, walking from the bathroom to the living room, John's hand had immediately clasped his elbow, keeping him safe, but he hated it all the same.

Much as he loved his top, he didn't like feeling this dependent. Being naked didn't help. He felt as if all his everyday defences had been stripped away: his clothes, his sight, his sense of touch, his ability to walk where he wanted or to lie beside his husband at night. Even his work had been taken from him.

He was aware of the buttplug pressed deep inside his body as he walked. It was uncomfortable, but he didn't mind it. He liked the idea of it keeping John's come inside his body, and of keeping him open in case John wanted to use him again. The touch of John's hands on his body and the feel of his cock inside him would never be unwelcome.

He was led over to the table and John told him to kneel. He went down, slowly, John's hands on his body to keep him steady. Then he felt the chain being tied to the table and he sighed.

"I'm not exactly going to run anywhere," he muttered. "Aren't the blindfold and cuffs enough? You don't need to tie me to every inanimate object in the room!"

He didn't see or hear it, but he certainly felt it as John's hand connected with the side of his exposed ass.

"I don't recall asking you for guidance on where and how I should tie my submissive," John told him. "All I'm asking for is your submission and I'm not seeing much of that at the moment."

Rodney thought about making a smart reply but then decided against it. He hung his head, a dozen mutinous thoughts rolling around in it. He felt angry – furious even - and he wasn't sure why. This was John's right; he could do this to him every day if he wanted, and for as long as Rodney wore his collar he had no choice but to submit. Why was it making him so angry? Why couldn't he just give it up to John, as his top was asking?

He leaned his head against the table leg, fighting himself. Maybe if he thought about work that would be better. He went through some equations in his head, calming himself with the math. It usually worked but John wasn't having any of it. Rodney had no idea how he knew but suddenly there was a hand on his head, and John spoke straight into his ear.

"No. You don't go there, Rodney," he said. "You don't go off someplace in your head. You stay here, with me."

Rodney shook with silent, unfulfilled rage. He felt wave after wave of frustration roll through his body, chafing at the restrictions, at the discomfort, at the exposure…and John kept a hand on his body all the time, stroking him as he struggled, silently, with his situation. Finally, the wave broke, and he leaned, exhausted, against John's solid thigh.

"That's good. Now, let's have something to eat," John said. He moved away, and Rodney could hear him preparing some food. Then he returned to the table with it, and Rodney heard him sit down. "I'm going to eat first – then I'll feed you," John told him, and Rodney gave a big sigh and rested his chin on John's lap. John gave a little snort but his hand came to rest on Rodney's head and he resumed stroking him as he ate.

Rodney smelled toast, fruit and coffee and all kinds of things he loved, and his mouth started to water. He wondered whether John would feed him something disgusting, something he hated, and then got gripped by a moment of panic as he wondered whether John would feed him at all. Maybe he'd change his mind and keep Rodney hungry. Rodney sat up straight at that thought, and John laughed.

"Man, you are so predictable," he said. "Rodney, it's okay. You should trust me. I told you I'll feed you and I will."

Rodney nodded, uncertainly. A second later he felt a fork press against his lips and he opened his mouth to taste the deliciousness of chocolate-filled croissant; his favourite food in the whole world. It melted in his mouth, and he devoured it with a happy sigh.

"Thank you," he whispered. "And I'm sorry I didn't trust you."

"Yeah, well, it kind of hurts, Rodney," John told him. He fed Rodney the entire croissant and then pressed the coffee cup to his lips. Rodney swallowed it down – it was warm, strong and sugary, just the way he liked it.

John finished feeding him and then left him kneeling at the table while he took care of the dishes. Then he unfastened him and took him over to the couch. He fastened him again and sat down, and Rodney heard the whir of a disk being put into a laptop on the coffee table, and then the sound of a movie starting.

His knees were hurting from all the kneeling and he shifted uncomfortably, feeling a sense of resentment growing in his stomach. They were confined to quarters, and yet John was the one who got to sit with his feet up, watching a movie, while Rodney knelt by his side like a puppy. He knew this was part of his punishment for his lie but all the same he felt that anger start to rise again.

"Do your knees hurt, Rodney?" John asked.

"Yes. Like you care," Rodney retorted.

"I do though," John said, in a reasonable tone of voice. His hand came down on Rodney's tense shoulders and he stroked gently. "If you'd asked me to be allowed up onto the couch I'd have let you. But as you didn't, you can stay there. If you're good then I'll let you up here in an hour."

"How was I supposed to know I had to ask?" Rodney snapped. A second later John's hand connected again with his naked flank. "OW!" he protested.

"I've been telling you often enough – you just haven't been listening," John told him.

"I hate you," Rodney said, leaning his head against John's thigh just the same. John sighed, his hand coming to rest on Rodney’s hair.

"I know, buddy," he replied. "I know."

Rodney zoned out a little, trying to ignore the growing pain in his knees as he knelt there, leaning against John while the movie played. This was so boring! And such a waste of time when there was so much work he could be doing. John stroked his hair the entire time which helped, but not much.

After an hour, John was as good as his word and he unfastened Rodney and allowed him up on the couch. Rodney sat down beside him but John wasn't having any of that.

"No, Rodney. Wrong position," he said. He hauled Rodney over so that he was lying on his front, arms still tied behind his back, his face resting sideways on John's lap, his body sprawled out on the couch. "That's better. I want to fondle you while I watch the rest of the movie."

Rodney relaxed as John's hands played with his body, just idly, stroking and caressing him absently as the movie continued. He gave a contented little sigh. He might be naked, blindfolded and tied but being this close to John was never a bad thing.

The movie finished, and John's fingers started to tangle more purposefully in Rodney's hair as he pushed Rodney down into his crotch. His cock was starting to harden and Rodney nosed at it hopefully through John's jeans. He loved giving John blow jobs as much as John liked receiving them.

"That's it, good boy," John sighed happily, opening his fly. His cock sprang up, hard and ready, against Rodney's face. John shifted Rodney, guiding him down in front of him onto the floor and putting him in a kneeling position again, and then Rodney felt John's hands on the side of his face, directing his head down. He took John's hard cock in his mouth and sucked on it. It felt strange to be doing this in a position of such abject bondage but good all the same. It gave a whole new perspective to giving a blow job; his hands were tied behind him and he couldn't see, so he had only his mouth with which to service his top and he felt suddenly very aware of how naked he was. John's hands were firm on his head and he fucked Rodney's mouth expertly, never once letting Rodney take charge.

"Relax your throat…that's it," John murmured. "Open it up for me…no…don't move, just let me use your mouth." He held Rodney fast and thrust back and forth, harder and harder. The angle was deep, and Rodney couldn't move. He couldn't lick, or blow warm air over the crown, or perform one of his usual truly spectacular blowjobs; all he could do was kneel there, and let John use his mouth the way he'd used his ass earlier.

John held Rodney fast as he grew closer to his climax, and then he came and Rodney felt warm semen in the back of his mouth. John's cock was still between his lips, softening, and John stroked Rodney's cheek encouragingly.

"Clean me, Rodney," he ordered, and Rodney obliged, sucking the last drops of moisture from his top's spent cock.

John didn't move away when he was done – he just sat there, his cock still in Rodney's mouth. Rodney wasn't sure what he was supposed to do but he couldn't move or speak so he just knelt there, breathing around John's soft cock. After awhile he shifted on his knees and John caressed his jaw warningly. He settled back down again between John’s legs and zoned out. If John wanted to sit there with his cock in Rodney's mouth then he supposed that was fine with him.

They sat there for what felt like ages and Rodney started to wonder if his top had fallen asleep. This felt kind of weird…although, he did like the feel of John inside him. John would often fall asleep with his cock in Rodney's ass, and this was a bit different but it gave him the same sense of warm connection. Finally, he stopped wondering about it and just gave in to it. Just when he did that, he felt John's cock start to harden again and he sat up straight, wondering if John wanted to pound into his mouth a second time…but John drew back and pulled Rodney up onto the couch instead.

"Ride me, Rodney," he instructed, removing Rodney's butt plug and positioning Rodney on his lap. Rodney felt his buttocks being pulled apart, and he moved his hips down, cautiously, to impale himself on John's hard cock. It was wet from where he'd been holding it in his mouth and there was still some lube in his anus but entry was dry enough to make his eyes sting all the same. John held his hips steady and pulled him down, right down, until his cock was filling Rodney's hole, stretching him as far as he'd go. He gave a little muttered sigh, and then felt John's fingers on his nipples, pinching and playing.

"Hold still…hold it right there, with me deep inside you," John said, and Rodney did as he was told, surrendering himself utterly to the sensation of John's rock hard cock filling him. He heard John reach for something, and then, completely without warning, he felt a blaze of atrocious pain rip through his left nipple.

"OH SHIT!" he screamed. Normally he liked wearing nipple clamps but only when he could see them coming, and ease himself into the sensation. This had taken him totally by surprise.

"Easy," John said, stroking him. Rodney tensed, waiting for the right nipple to be similarly assaulted, but nothing happened. The pain in his left nipple began to subside into a steady, persistent throb, and John wasn't saying anything.

"John?" he whispered. "Oh shit…John…that hurt."

"Mmmm…looks good though," John replied. And at that moment Rodney felt the other clamp go on. He convulsed, the action making his anal muscles clamp even tighter around John's cock, embedded deep within him, and the dual sensations caused fireworks to spark inside his mind. He swayed, moaning softly, and was grateful for John's hands on his thighs, holding him in place.

Now both nipples ached – and Rodney knew from the way they felt that John had used the particularly nasty clamps on them; the ones that pinched right in and got worse the longer you wore them rather than better. He could feel the sweat on his body, running down his chest in little rivulets, and still John's hands were on him, calming him.

"Take it, Rodney," John whispered, and in truth Rodney had no choice. He was bound, blindfolded and completely at John's mercy. All he could do was trust that John wouldn't take him too far, or to a place where he would drown. "That's good," John crooned affectionately. "You're doing so well. Hold on now…"

Rodney put his head back and howled as John took hold of both his clamped nipples and twisted, hard. He could take a lot of nipple play but it had been a long time since John had been so uncompromising in making him endure it. There were times, in the middle of it, when Rodney longed for it to be over and for John to leave the poor, abused nubs of flesh alone, but then, when it was over, Rodney took a secret pleasure in remembering how it had felt. His nipples were sensitive, and the pain/pleasure line often became totally blurred when John played with them.

John held the twist for a long moment and then released his nipples, and Rodney slumped down, held in place only by John's hard cock inside him and John's hands on his thighs.

"Please…" he croaked.

"What, Rodney?" John asked. Rodney wasn't sure what he was pleading for. He wanted this to stop but at the same time he felt a familiar warm sensation creeping through him at the thought of being so completely in his top's control. "Your body is mine, Rodney," John reminded him, and this - *this* - was their dynamic. "And I can play with it any way I like, can't I?"

"Yes, John," he whimpered, that warmth spreading out inside him. There was a brief respite and then his nipples were twisted again and he put his head back and yelled out loud now - yelled and screamed and shouted - and it felt so good to be letting it out.

He forgot work, and NCIS, and the lie he'd told. He was just John's collared sub, his body a plaything for his top to use. He was aware of nothing but the ache in his nipples from the clamps and the ache in his anus from where it was stretched around John's hard cock, His hands were fastened behind his back and he couldn't see or do anything – he could only submit.

Then John was pushing him back on the couch, going slowly, taking care to keep his hard cock sheathed deep inside his sub's body. Now Rodney was lying on his back, his bound hands beneath him, and John was on top of him and inside him. He tensed, and then relaxed and waited for what was coming next. A moment later he felt John's warm, wet mouth on his nipples, playing with them around the edges of the clamps, roving from one to the other. It was soothing and painful at the same time, and Rodney wriggled and struggled but there was no getting away from his top. John's body was keeping him pinned, and he was bound and helpless.

John used his tongue and teeth to pull on the clamps, and twist them, and each time it sent a wave of pain through the abused flesh. Rodney gasped and whimpered and yelled but nothing stopped John. He held Rodney in place beneath him and tormented his nipples for what felt like hours. Rodney lost track of time. There was nothing he could do but accept, and the longer it went on the easier it seemed to become. He was John's, and John could do what he wanted to him. He was John's, and John wanted to play with him. He was John's, and could expect nothing back – no pleasure, no chance of coming. His body existed to please his top right now and all he could do was offer it up and submit.

Something clicked inside his brain and he felt waves of endorphins flood through him. It had been a long time since he'd been this far inside his own sub-space and he hadn't realised how much he'd missed it. The problem was he hated the getting here, but when he was here it felt so good. He felt as if he was floating, and the only thing keeping him anchored was John's brutal mouth on his chest, and John's heavy weight on and in his body.

His cock was hard but he wasn't allowed to come. This wasn't about him. This was about his top taking whatever he wanted from him. He felt John's fingers on his left nipple and then a sense of freedom and release as the clamp was removed, followed by a blaze of atrocious pain as the blood rushed back into the tortured piece of flesh, and then, just when that blaze of pain was hitting, John's mouth descended again, taking the nipple whole, and he bit down – hard.

Rodney felt as if he'd died, and his consciousness was above him somewhere, hovering around the ceiling. If he looked down he could see their bodies on the couch below; himself bound, John's long, agile body on top of him, John's mouth fastened around his nipple, a feral look in John's eyes. Oh god it hurt; he was sure he was going to pass out from the sensory overload.

Then it was over, and the pain subsided, and there was just John sucking gently on his nipple and he was back in his body again.

"You've got a beautiful mark there now," John told him. "Nice and red." And Rodney felt him lapping at the mark with his tongue.

Next thing he knew, the clamp had been removed from his right nipple and he was too far gone to even convulse this time as the waves of pain came, too zoned out to tense in expectation as John's mouth came down on the newly released nipple and bit it, just as hard as he had the other. He was John's to mark, John's to bite, John's to play with.

Then the bite was over, and now John was moving inside him, his hard cock claiming him with a series of brutal thrusts. John didn't usually thrust into him like this, raw and hard and hungry, and Rodney couldn't brace himself because of his bound hands so all he could do was lie there and take each powerful inward thrust, whimpering softly as John used him without mercy. John had been recently sated by the blowjob, so he had considerable stamina and he didn't let up, his hips pistoning into Rodney for what felt like hours.

Rodney was aware of a crimp in his arms from where they were pressed into the couch, and a vivid ache in both his nipples. He was aware of sweat running down the side of his body, of his legs resting on John's shoulders, and the weight of John's body on top of his own. But most of all he was aware of John's large cock inside him, filling and claiming him with each savage thrust.

It was as if they were caught in some kind of time anomaly that stretched on for all eternity. Rodney felt as if he'd been here forever and would be here forever, and this was all there was in the whole universe; him, John, and John moving inside him like this, claiming him so totally and completely, without any room for doubt.

Then, as if from afar, he was aware that John had stopped moving. There was a rushing sound in his ears and he couldn't hear anything but he felt warmth trickling down his leg, and then the solid, plastic weight of the butt plug pressing into him again as John shoved it home. He whimpered as it went in, longing to feel John's warm hardness and not the cold plastic but John pushed it into place and he felt his body settle around it. John had put it there, so that was where it had to be, whether he liked it or not. It was pressing up inside him, keeping what John had left there in place. He was a receptacle for John's come, and if John wanted to mark him in that way, scenting him and filling him, then that was fine.

He felt himself being pulled onto his side on the couch, and his chained hands were fastened again to something on the floor – probably the coffee table. And then a blanket was thrown over him, and he felt John's lips on his forehead.

"Sleep," John told him, and it was what his top wanted, so he did.

He was awoken some time later – he had no idea how long it had been – by something warm being wrapped around his cock. The blanket had been flung aside and he was on his back again. He came to with a start, realising that John was sucking him. He gave a gurgle of pleasure as John deep-throated him, and thrust up between his lips. John sucked him expertly until he was right on the brink of coming…and then stopped. Rodney moaned out loud, still teetering, longing for his climax.

"Don't come, Rodney," John warned, and Rodney gave a whimper of disappointment. He was so close, and he wanted to so much! But John had told him he couldn't, so he fought it, and finally won, battling the sensation into submission. He felt his cock starting to droop, and then cried out as it was slapped. "Keep it hard for me, Rodney. Keep your erection – but don't come."

Rodney wondered how the hell he could do that.

"I want you on the brink, Rodney," John warned, teasing the underside of his cock with what felt like a fingernail. "But there is no question of you coming today. You'll stay hard because you're mine and I'm telling you to."

Rodney gave a frustrated groan. He remembered the feeling of John's warm, wet mouth sucking him, and his cock hardened again. Then he tried to stay in that place.

"I have my cock whip, Rodney," John told him warningly, and Rodney felt the cool tendrils of leather gently waft over his hard cock. "The second your erection flags, I'll use the whip on it."

It was torture! Rodney felt everything inside him rebel at such a cruel demand.

"I can't," he whispered, hoarsely.

"You have no choice," John told him resolutely. Rodney struggled with it for a moment, going around his options in his head until he realised there were none. John would make him do this if it took days. He had to find a way to stay hard, to stay excited and eager and ready to come, and yet not go over the brink.

He tried to run through every sexy scenario he could think of. He remembered earlier, his hole stretched tight around John's demanding cock and his own cock spasmed with need.

"That's good," John whispered, and he sounded dangerously close, sitting right there, watching, waiting, whip at the ready. Rodney did his best to hold onto that thought but, without any further stimulation, his cock gradually began to droop. Before he knew it, John's whip flashed a line of pain through his groin.

"Oh shit! Please…I'm trying – I'm trying!" he whimpered.

"Not hard enough," John said, and there was the sound of an evil smile in his voice. "Literally," he chuckled. The whip assaulted his cock again and Rodney wrestled with his bonds, trying to get away from it, but it was no use – he was tied fast. He howled as John's whip set about in earnest, sending a biting line of fire through his groin and deep into his balls.

The stimulation at least had the effect of causing his erection to return and the whipping stopped. Rodney slumped back on the couch, panting heavily.

"I'm still watching, Rodney," John hissed, and he sounded dangerous and predatory. Rodney remembered how he'd often thought of John as being like a big, black panther, and he shivered – he liked that image but it had been a long time since he'd thought it. Of late, John had been more vulnerable and preoccupied and Rodney had been worried about him. This man here, though, the one standing over him and demanding he stay erect or face his whip – he didn't seem vulnerable at all, and if he was preoccupied with anything it was only with whether Rodney's body was obeying him the way he wanted.

Rodney shifted, feeling the butt plug press uncomfortably inside him. His nipples were sore and his entire body ached but he had to stay erect because John had demanded it. He tried to relax and switch off, while at the same time concentrating for all his life on keeping his cock bobbing hopefully in the air, without hope of release.

Time passed again – blindfolded, he had no idea how long it was. There were intervals when he failed, and the whip stung his cock, and then time when he succeeded, and trembled on the brink of orgasm, knowing it was denied him, and he lurched between the two. It was agony but a delicious kind of agony. And then it was over, and John was unfastening him and taking him over to the table to feed him again. Was he hungry? He couldn't tell – but if John told him to eat then he would.

After they had eaten, the butt plug was removed again, briefly, but only so that John could bend him over the back of the couch and take him again. He shot another load into him and replaced the plug. Rodney could feel his top's come inside him, becoming cold and heavy, seeping out around the plug. John took him over to the mattress, and released his hands from behind his back.

"You've been good today, Rodney," he said, and Rodney felt a glow of pleasure at the praise. "So you can sleep with your hands tied in front of you."

Rodney lay on the mattress on his side and John began fastening him to the bedposts again. Rodney could hear the chain tightening and rattling until he was held fast, barely able to move. At least his hands were in a more comfortable position than they had been the previous night, and that was good.

But now he found he missed John's hands on his body, and the way John had been touching him and filling him all day.

"Can't I sleep with you?" he whispered. "Please."

"No," John told him, firmly. "You must earn that."

"I know. I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'll try."

"I know," John told him, and a gentle hand smoothed his hair and he felt John's lips on his forehead. He longed to feel them on his mouth and moved his face accordingly, but John pulled away. "That has to be earned too," he said, and Rodney gave a whimper and buried his face in the pillow.

He slept better that night than he had the previous night, and woke to find John unfastening him. He was sat up, and, before he was even fully awake, John took hold of his face, and pushed his cock in his mouth. He sucked on it without thinking about it, loving the smooth feel of it on his tongue, and the way John was stroking his hair as he worked.

It was his second day blindfolded, and he found he lost all track of time. There was just John, and him, and John's hands on his body, and John's cock in his mouth, or in his ass, and John's butt plug filling him and John's come inside him.

John tied him when he wasn't being used, and Rodney forgot even to complain about his aching knees or back. He just slumped against John, trusting that he'd look after him, because he always did. He always *had*. There had been just that one time…he pushed that thought aside angrily because that hadn't been John's fault, but it niggled away at the back of his mind. He could rely on John. John was strong and solid and always there for him.

He wasn't sure what time it was but he felt tired, so maybe it was late, when John suddenly pulled him to his feet.

"It’s time for me to punish you now, Rodney," he said. "I’m going to punish you for the lie you told. You’re ready to take that now."

Rodney frowned behind the blindfold. What lie? Oh, yes…with a great effort of will he dragged his mind back from where it had gone. He'd told a bad lie, and John was right – he did deserve to be punished.

"Yes, John," he whispered obediently. “I’m ready for my punishment now.”

"Good boy."

He felt John's hands on his shoulders, pushing him over to the wall. They had a nice, padded spanking bench but Rodney knew John preferred him braced against the wall when he was going to whip him hard.

He felt his hands being untied, and then he was being turned. He placed his hands on the wall, and he felt John moving his legs apart. He instinctively got into the right position, hands braced, ass out and exposed, ready for the sting of his top's strap, or his paddle, or his cane or anything else he wanted to use on him.

He stood there, waiting to be told what to do next, and then he felt hard wood being held up to his lips.

"Kiss the cane, Rodney," John told him and Rodney did so, without question. It wasn't something John had ever asked of him before but it was fine – if that was what John wanted. He dimly registered that it was the cane he was kissing and he hated the cane, but that didn’t matter. If John wanted to cane him then he would submit to being caned.


He heard John behind him, moving away a little, and then the whistle and hiss of the cane moving through the air, and, finally, a terrible, fiery sting as it landed on his bottom. He stifled his yelp but John wasn't satisfied with that.

"I want to hear you scream, Rodney. Don't hold back," he warned. Rodney nodded, and next time the cane landed on his naked, exposed ass he cried out. It hurt but it felt good to be crying and yelling. Something deep and dark was unravelling in the pit of his stomach and it wanted to get out, to be screamed out. John’s cane was relentless, driving into his skin, marking him with its savage caress.

The blindfold kept him in the dark, and he remembered another place and time and a different kind of darkness. He was lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood and his chest hurt…He pushed it back down. He wasn't going there. No matter what happened, he wasn't going back to that time and place.

He came to with a jolt as the caning stopped, and he felt hands on his nipples; they were still very sore from the previous day and he cried out loud.

"Ssh, easy, Rodney," John soothed behind him. "I think we need to step this up a bit don't you?"

He shook his head, blindly, not liking where this was heading, and then they were back, the evil, vicious, biting clamps from the day before. John took no notice of his cries and fastened them tight around his nipples. Now his chest hurt, throbbing painfully, reminding him…

John put him back in position and then stepped away and the cane rose and fell once more on his exposed buttocks; then again, and again, in a steady, painful rhythm. It was hard to push away the memory when he could feel the ache in his chest, reminding him, and when that cane was burning him from behind, making it impossible to concentrate on keeping the memory at bay.

The darkness flickered, and then suddenly he was falling in a flash of light, falling through a window into another universe. He had barely a moment to adjust before he saw the man in the Genii uniform raising his gun. He lifted his hands, offering to surrender, but it was too late and the gun spat fire at him. He felt the pain in his chest, ripping through him, and then he was on the floor, blood soaking through his shirt, and then onto the floor around him, in a vivid crimson tide.

"John!" he cried. "John? Where are you?"

But he was alone. Nobody was there. There was just him, lying on the floor, lost and alone.

"I'm here," John said, and he felt gentle hands circling him, and someone clasping him, holding him close.

"No, you're not. You weren't there. You weren't there! I called for you and you weren't there!" Rodney cried, his fists rising and falling angrily on John's chest.

"I was," John said, and his voice was breaking as he spoke. "I was, Rodney, remember."

Rodney felt the lifebond pulse between them, and the healing kaeira energy travel along it. He was alone…but there, far away, he could feel John's presence, sending him vitality, keeping him alive, trying to reassure him.

"I was there – not in the room but I was there, with you, the whole time," John told him. "I was there, Rodney, I promise you."

Rodney slumped against his husband, reaching for him blindly, and he felt John's fingers on his nipples and arched against him as the clamps were gently removed. There was a familiar wave of pain, but somehow that just brought clarity.

"You were there?" he whispered, feeling John's beloved face in the darkness with his fingertips.

"Yes, Rodney, and I'm here now," John replied, his fingers linking through Rodney's. "You can trust me. I'm strong…I've got you. You can fall now – fall all the way for me because I’ve got you. You can trust me. I'll never, ever let you down."

"I know," Rodney whispered. "I know."

John's hands helped him up, and John half carried him over to the bed, and gently guided him down onto it, and then John got on the bed beside him and was holding him tight. He settled down against John's chest, snuggling in close, and John raised his face and then he felt – thank god! – John's lips on his mouth, and John's tongue gently seeking entry, and that felt so good. He was being kissed and it calmed him, making him drowsy.

"Elizabeth died," he whispered into John's neck when John was done kissing him. "We were only back a few weeks and then she died."

"I know," John said hoarsely.

"And Peter…" Peter Weir had stayed to bury his wife after she had been killed fighting the replicators. She had fought bravely, winning them time to regroup and save the city from catastrophe but had paid the ultimate price. Then, a few days after the funeral, Peter hadn't showed up for his shift in the lab. It had been Rodney who had gone to his room, and Rodney who had found Peter's body, the hand resting on a note that said only one word: "Sorry".

"I know," John said again, stroking Rodney.

"Then people started being murdered," Rodney continued.

"Yes." John's arms tightened around Rodney. "But I'm still here, Rodney." And his hands were warm and comforting on Rodney's body. "I'm still here and I'm not going anywhere. Not now, not ever."

"No," Rodney said simply, and he rested his chin on John's shoulder. "No. You're not going anywhere," he repeated softly. "I know that now."

John's hands were everywhere on his body, soothing and gentling him, removing the cuffs and the buttplug, wiping him clean with a washcloth and rubbing cooling ointment into his sore flesh, wherever it hurt. Then John's fingers went to his blindfold, and Rodney stopped them with his own.

"Not yet," he said. "Can I stay here a little bit longer, John? Please?" He didn't want to leave just yet. The darkness was warm and comforting, and he knew he could trust John to keep him safe and take care of him while he stayed there.

"Okay." John didn't remove the blindfold. He just settled down beside his husband, took him in his arms again, and pulled the blankets up around them both. "Okay," he whispered. "I've got you, love. I've got you."

~*~

End of Part Nine
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Hiding in Plain Sight: Part Ten