Encrypted Connection

Blaise: Twelve

Blaise let the hot water fall down over him and chuckled, remembering Joey's innuendos, his quips, and he had to say he liked it. That cute grin he got when he knew he'd pitched a verbal strike really got Blaise going.

He wished he could spend all afternoon verbally sparring with the guy, maybe in bed, naked...you know. However, he had someone he needed to talk to first, someone who likely didn't want to talk to him.

That was alright. Blaise was very persuasive.

Serkov had already been in a stress position for an hour. Sil had informed him before he left the girl with Joey that Serkov was crying out, screaming, and this time was asking for mercy, not throwing around threats.

Good, thought Blaise, That's a start.

When his shower was done, a quick shave and some toothpaste and mouthwash made him feel like a new man. He knew that after dealing with Serkov that he'd need to destress, and he knew exactly how he wanted to do that. It involved a few firearms and a certain smart-assed guy.

Blaise passed by Joey's room quietly, just to make sure the girl was fine, and the light was low so he had to squint.

No, Blaise wasn't fine. That cute baby girl? Totally fine. The half asleep growling behemoth wrapped around the girl? Totally fine. Joey, head back and snoring? Very, very fine.

The kitten in the girl's arms who was sound asleep?

Blaise rubbed his hands down his face, barely held back a sneeze, and booked it back to the bathroom to find the allergy meds.

What the fuck was his world coming to?

If he was honest, he felt more alive right now than he had in years.

Blaise passed Sil when he walked down to the basement, cutting his eyes at him.

"You know about the cat?"

Sil just smirked.

Blaise cussed under his breath. The whole god damn world was conspiring against him to go slap as crazy.

When he walked into Serkov's cell, he was pleased. Just as he'd instructed, Sil had put him in the frog position, and there was sweat pouring off Serkov's body. He started to lift his head, but Brick slapped the man's thigh with a long rattan cane, and Serkov put his head down quickly.

Blaise positioned himself in front of Serkov, and he could see his thighs and his arms were already involuntarily trembling, and he nodded.

"How much longer, Doc?" he asked Brick.

The man shrugged, "Day, maybe."

"Hear that?" Blaise said, crouching down so Serkov could see him, "we can keep you like this for another 24 hours without killing you."

Blaise reached out and grabbed a fistfull from the front of Serkov's head and jerked it up so they were eye-to-eye.

"Personally," Blaise said, speaking low, "I'd love nothing more than to choose something where you'd die slowly, painfully, and I could watch you the entire time. You're worth nothing to me except the location of your boss."

Blaise paused, held Serkov's gaze, even as the man whimpered and groaned. There was too much defiance, though, and when Blaise looked up at Brick and dropped his hold on Serkov's head, Brick nodded.

They laid out the plywood, leveraged one end, and Brick positioned a protesting Serkov on it.

He'd devolved to speaking only Russian, so Blaise called Paul, who spoke Russian fluently.

Brick handed Blaise the rag and the pitcher, and Blaise looked down at Serkov.
"Where is your boss taking the girls?" he asked, and Serkov began to ramble in Russian.

Blaise looked at the phone Paul was on the other end of.

"He's saying that this is illegal and you're...crazy," Paul told him, and then he rattled off a few sentences.

"What did you tell him?" Blaise asked.

"I told him that he hadn't seen crazy yet, but if he didn't talk, he'd find out just how fucking crazy you were."

Blaise smirked.

Interrogation was never easy. It took a certain detachment that Blaise found hard to shake afterwards. When Sam was alive, it was after times like this that they needed each other most, to feel human, to remember what it meant to even feel.

Blaise did take a certain amount of comfort in the fact that Serkov was a despicable man who did perverted things, so he felt little guilt in what he was doing. After he was done, though, he'd be putting Serkov in the hands of his bosses who'd care for him and then serve him up to the highest bidder.

"I'm feeling generous. One more chance," he said, and Serkov began to speak.

Paul just sighed into the reciever, so Blaise pushed the rag over Serkov's face, even though his head was thrashing side to side, and began to pour the water.

Six hour later and the evening sun was beginning to set as Blaise walked out of the garage into the back yard.

Some days it felt wrong to have such a suburban stunner of a house that was home base for a black ops team with a detention center in the basement.

But such was life.

He took a seat spread himself out, hearing a light buzz above his head.

When he looked up, a surveillance camera suspiciously stopped panning.

Blaise just smirked.

Slowly, he pulled up his shirt so that his stomach showed, not bothering to flex, knowing these days it was more of a suped up dad bod.

He splayed his fingers over the flat surface, some peeking into the waistband of his pants, ever so often, and then with the flick of his thumb he'd unbuttoned the first button.

Levis 501. Only thing he wore besides tight cargo pants.

Each button he unbuttoned showed Blaise's secret obsession of going commando, especially after a shower.

Don't hate the playa, he thought, raising his hips up off the chair a bit, pulling the fullest part of his lip between his teeth and leaning his head back.

If he wasn't careful, he'd be finishing this tease because he'd seduced hisself.

Just as he was about to have some naughty parts, Sil busts through the back door.

"Yo, yo, yo Judge. Keep the anaconda caged."

Blaise startled and sat up, one hand squeezing the two sides of his pants over his junk, the other trying to keep his chair upright. He pegged Sil with a hard stare

Sil just smirked. "Just trying to look after everyone's business. Unless you plannin on retiring with your OnlyFans."

Blaise awkwardly flipped him the bird, and Sil, being intelligent, booked it back in the house.

Blaise could feel the heat in his body, his face, and everywhere in between. He was aroused, quite a bit, and he faced away from the camera as he struggled to get his pants buttoned.

He needed space. He needed just five minutes to himself.

He needed to get laid, and soon.