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Michael Biehn Archive


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Artwork by DichotomyStudios



Chris stood in a circle of soft lantern light in a darkened outbuilding, dressed only in a pair of ragged trousers that did little to protect his modesty. The fly gaped open and when he twisted they slipped daringly low. He would have just hitched them back up but since he was trussed like a side of beef it just wasn't going to happen. Pulling hard at the rope tied far above his head, Chris cursed loudly, "Son of a bitch!"

A soft chuckle from the darkness brought his head around. "This isn't funny anymore," Chris growled, peering into the blackness.

"You were warned," the voice came from behind Chris just past the light's reach, "And the consequences were clear."

"You planning on jawin' all night or are you gonna put your money where your mouth is?" Chris taunted as he yanked on the rope once more.

The scrape of boots across the rough-hewn floor drew Chris's attention from his bonds to the man lurking just out of sight. He followed the sound as his jailer made a circuit of the room.

"Face forward!" the order snapped from the darkness.

"Make me." Chris smirked and waited for a reaction.

The reaction he got was not what he was expecting as the man strode purposefully into the light, his face obscured by a dark bandanna and the shift of shadows. Chris winced as his hair was grabbed and his neck bent at an uncomfortable angle.

"You just can't listen," the man hissed next to his ear. "Always tempting fate, thinking you're bulletproof."

Involuntary tears leaked from Chris's tightly closed eyes as his hair was yanked harder. "Fuck you!" Chris spat and tried to twist away but a hard slap to his ass made him pull up short and gasp in surprise.

"You'd like that wouldn't you, you selfish asshole." Hands traveled around his front to brush close to the opening in his trousers. "You love this, the danger."

Sucking in his belly as the hand traveled lower, Chris complained, "You talk too much." He was bereft when the hands left his skin and the man yanked down his bandanna and removed his hat.

"This isn't a game anymore," Buck hissed back at his lover. "That kid you winged yesterday could have put you down, permanently."

"He couldn't hit the broad side of a barn. I gave him a gift. Maybe next time he'll think twice before calling someone out." Chris yanked hard on the rope and growled in frustration, "Untie me."

Crossing his arms, Buck glared darkly. "No. You can feel as helpless as I did."

Chris winced as he tugged at the rope and it pinched at bruised skin. "I didn't even get a scratch."

"This time." Buck took a step closer, but didn't move to untie the rope.

Holding his ground as Buck brushed up against him, Chris breathed, "The rope."

Buck's eyes turned smoky and he'd leaned closer, his mustache ghosting over Chris's cheek, "I think I'll leave it. Least I know where you are."

"Buck...," Chris growled as Buck's teeth nipped at his earlobe.

"Chris," Buck whispered back.

"Didn't you mention something about fucking earlier?" Chris huffed, enjoying the feel of Buck's hands sliding down inside his trousers and over his ass.

Buck pulled Chris tightly against him and grinned evilly. "I'm still not untying you."

The End
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