Oneshots (boyxboy)

Partner ! (:

Partner ! (:

**************************************

He didn't know where he was.

The last thing he remembered was getting home. His black cat jumping down off the bookshelf and running passed…Had something spooked him?

He had called his name…

But he couldn't remember anything else.

He woke up groggily, but when the realization of predicament managed to slip passed the fog in his head, he drew in a quick breath, pulling back hard against the thing around his wrists. He heard something creak – wooden. His fingers touched the thing around his wrists. Silk. He pulled again, then tried to pull himself up so he could push away the thing that was covering his eyes. It was no good. His arms ached, his legs ached. A quick shift told him that his ankles too were bound to something – though with a little more length and range of movement than his hands.
Footsteps. He could hear footsteps. Boots.

"Hello!?" He called, pulling against the strong silk that was around his wrists again.

He knew that the footsteps likely belonged to the person who did this to him, but still – calling out seemed to be his only option – a natural reaction to his helpless situation.

He was naked. Well, nearly. He could still feel the cap solidly placed on his head. He could feel the light weight of the badge on it – marking him as police.

The sound of the boots against the floor began again, this time they sounded much closer.

He tugged again, at his wrists, his ankles – he struggled against the bindings. They had to come loose – they had to. God, this couldn't be happening. It just couldn't! He was dreaming. A nightmare. Something. Anything.

His back arched and he gasped as he felt a hand slowly ghost over his skin, following the trail of his spine.

"Who the fuck is there!?" He shouted, pulling again. "Let me go! Let-" a hand clamped over his mouth solidly.

He felt the bed shift slightly – someone leaning on it or kneeling. He felt another body, a bigger body, lean in close to him. He could feel the heat of the other man's form mingling with his. He felt hot breath against his cool skin and shivered – protests muffled into the hand that was silencing him.
A hot tongue brushed over the shell of his ear. He cried out, pulling on the silk.

"Shhh…" the other man finally made a sound, hushing him softly.

The bigger body pressed into him a little more. He felt the man's other arm wrap around him, resting against his back, the hand stroking his side slowly. Knuckles brushed, caressing his skin.

Then, suddenly, to combat the caressing touch, the hand that had been over his mouth changed to grab the back of his neck harshly, fingers digging in – a shock of pain that made him gasp. The soft touch on his side changed, a painful drag of fingers pushed in so hard that nails felt like fire as they dug in.

"Stop!" He cried out, mouth now uncovered. "Please!"

"I told you," finally the man spoke – a low, familiar voice, "not to stick your nose where it didn't belong. I warned you, didn't I?"

"Michaelson?" His voice shook as he said the name – his assigned partner's name. The man he'd been working with for the past two years. Who had taken him under his wing when he had left the academy. The man said nothing in return, however.

"Keaton!" He felt the man shift on the bed. "Keaton, please! Why are you doing this? Let me go!"

"Oh Gabriel…" lips brushed along his shoulder. "I like you Gabriel – have since you first walked in from Academy…"

"Please…"

"Knew you'd be a good cop too. You just had that feel about you…and that fire...But damn it, kid, a good cop knows when to quit. You should have fucking listened…Fuck," his deep voice took on a rumbling edge, "You look good like this, Gabriel."

"Ah!" Teeth dug into his shoulder, right next to his neck. He writhed and pulled again, desperate for the silk ties to loosen, to break.

The teeth let go, but he could feel that they had broken skin, could feel the throbbing pain they left.
"Should have let one of the guys do this, put some fear into you…would have been easier. Knew you'd recognize my voice…But hell, I didn't like the idea - any of them touching what's mine…" He heard a chuckle, "Call me possessive."

"Keaton! Kay! Please! I don't understand…"

A whimper escaped him as the back of his neck was grabbed fiercely, his head forced to turn to the side. Teeth grazed against his light skin, fingers played lightly with the black hair that wasn't covered by his cap.

"The Bayside case, Gabriel."

He drew in a sharp breath, feeling as though he had just been struck.

"You just couldn't let it go. Some money. Some drugs. A couple of dead girls no one gave a fuck about." He felt lips against his ear this time, gasped softly as teeth nipped at him. "Except you, of course. You sweet, caring thing, you…Oh, but you're a good cop, Gabriel…" He felt the man's strong hand slide back down onto his back, then onto his shoulder and slowly up his arm, fingers brushing slowly along his skin, over his bound wrists and hands.

"You would have figured it out," the words had a bitter edge to them. "Getting way too close. And I couldn't have that. Not with all the work I put in to this. Not when my ass was on the line."

"Keaton…" He didn't want to believe it. His partner, the man he looked up to and trusted with his life every day – he couldn't be involved in something like this. He just couldn't.

"Now what am I supposed to do with you, huh? Can't let you just go back out and tell everyone." That strong hand slipped back down his arm, on to his back, massaging his shoulder – but with a little more strength than was needed – making him wince.

"Have to make sure you're good and silent…"

"Please, no – Keaton, p-"

"Don't want to kill you though. No, that'd be a waste." The bed creaked, he felt Keaton's weight lift from it, heard boots against the floor again, the man was circling around to the other side of the bed.
"Quite the predicament you've put me in here, Gabe, baby."

He heard something open – a drawer…A night stand maybe?

It closed again. Boots.

"You know what…I've always been a fair guy, yeah? Well – you know, except for jumping you last night. That wasn't so fair…But that just means I'll have to make up for it now."

That hand passed over his skin again – this time a leather glove covering it. He shook and stiffened when fingers dug into his ass. He heard a groan escape Keaton, a deep, lusty sound.

Suddenly he felt the bonds on his hands give way. He pulled his hands back quickly and the silk slipped away off of him. He reached up to pull the blindfold off, but he only had time to brush the cloth before his wrists were grabbed by a gloved hand and pulled up above his head sharply – sending a quick shock of pain through him.

"No, no. That would make this too easy. You have to play fair, after all…"

Another hand reached up, his hands were pulled behind his back. He felt the cool metal of handcuffs around his wrists, heard them click shut – they pressed tightly against his skin.

The bonds on his ankles were removed quickly and he was grabbed by his arm, dragged off the bed with such a sharp tug that he hit the ground – his arm still held securely by his partner.
"Get up," Keaton commanded with a growl, pulling up sharply.

With shaking legs, Gabriel forced himself up.

"Good boy…" the man behind him cooed before he was shoved forward harshly. He stumbled, falling to his knees which rapped hard against the ground, sending another jolt of pain through him and making him groan.

"Now, I'm going to count down from thirty. Then I'm going to come after you. If you find your way outside this building, you get to go free."

His heart leapt. "You wouldn't let me go." He said, turning his head back as if to look at the man – even though he couldn't see anything.

"Gabriel, I'm insulted. You know I'm a man of my word. If I make a promise, I keep it. You make it out, you go free."

Silence- except for his own heavy breathing. His mind was working frantically. Keaton wouldn't really hurt him, would he? He'd known the man for years now. They worked together, they shared meals together, fuck they'd shared a bed. How could this be Keaton? He knew those hands – he knew that voice, but how the hell could this be the same man? The Keaton he knew would never do something like this, would never be involved in the things he had been looking in to. Sure, he could be a little rough around the edges, but he was a good man. He was a good –

"Unless you don't want the chance," the voice behind him rumbled. "I'll just have to make a decision now." Boots against the floor – he was drawing closer again.

"No!" Gabriel said, tone betraying his desperation, "No, I want the chance. But Keaton, please. This is crazy. This isn't you. Pl-"

"Thirty…Twenty-nine…"

"Keaton, please!"

"Twenty-eight. I'll help – door right in front of you is open. Twenty-seven."

He pushed himself back up, shaking legs threatening to just give way – to let him hit the ground and not get up, helpless to whatever Keaton decided to do with him. He decided to believe the man, walking forward quickly. His shoulder hit against the wood of a door frame – but the door was open. He ran blindly, hitting a wall, stepping back, turning down the hallway.

Where was he? Keaton's house? Would Keaton really grab him and bring him here? But if it was – he knew his way around. He just had to get his bearings…Alright, if he just left the bedroom and turned left that meant he just had to turn right at the first opening and go forward and he would be in the dining room. His tongue brushed against his lips – wetting them. He turned, went forward.
And his foot found nothing to stand on. He fell, his ass hitting the stairs and he slid down a ways before he managed to stop himself.

"Stairs!" He heard Keaton call, chuckling lightly, "Careful! Twenty-four!"

As he pushed himself up again – body sore and throbbing from the fall – he heard music start to play. A waltz. He couldn't remember what it was called – but recognized the tune. Keaton had played it for him the first night that he had been invited to the bigger man's house to spend a night alone with him.

"Twenty-three! You love this song, don't you? And you dance so gracefully!"

He was more careful this time, shifting a foot forward, checking for more stairs. There weren't any. Flat ground. But now he had to wonder if he had fallen into a basement. If he had, how the hell was he going to get out of here? Or he could have fallen down to the ground floor – in which case his chances of escape were better.

There was no time now, really, to wonder, however. If he had any chance of getting out of this, he just had to try.

He hurried, trying not to run, lest he hit a wall or fall down another flight of stairs. But it was hard. His heart was racing in his chest – knowing that time was ticking by until Keaton came after him. And it wasn't as though the man wouldn't know right where he was.

He turned his back to the wall that he was sliding along, feeling for a door knob. His fingers found one after a little while and he twisted and pushed. The door moved – but not far. It hit a stop and he heard a little clink. A chain lock? Maybe a hook? But was it on this side or on the inside?
He bent forward, trying to raise his hands as high as he could to feel for anything keeping the door from opening.

"Fifteen!"

He couldn't tell if that was really what the count should be or if Keaton was giving him more time. Either way, it still seemed an abysmally small amount of time.

He turned around, instead feeling along the door with his shoulder, his cheek, whatever he could. And then he felt it. His lips pressed against the hook that was keeping the door shut. He tried nudging it with his nose. It made a little noise, shifted, but didn't come loose.

"Thirteen!"

He stuck out his tongue, brushing it against the small, cold metal hook. He pushed up, feeling it slip out of the little latch. He turned around again quickly, twisting the door knob and backing up to push the door open. This time it opened all the way. He slid inside and shut the door behind him – trying to do so as quickly as possible, but quietly, hoping that there were other possible ways out of there that Keaton would have to check as well.

He heard Keaton's voice as he wandered into the room, but it was muffled and he couldn't hear the number.

He felt along the wall again. A door to one side and to the other it seemed to stretch on – like a hallway. He followed the hallway, hoping that Keaton would think to check behind the door first before moving on. He tried to take cautious steps, afraid that he would find more stairs or something worse, but it was so difficult not to just run. He knew the other man would be after him in no time.
His foot struck the end of the hallway. Another door.

He turned around so he could open it, finding that this one slid open with no trouble. Cautiously he stepped into the next room before closing the door behind him.

He took a few steps into the new room before a sound stilled him.

A door. Behind him. Keaton was already after him – had already gone through the door he had to unhook.

His steps did quicken now as he hurried, trying to find some place to go or some place to hide. He groaned as he ran right into something – another quick shock of pain as his knee struck it. A counter – a cabinet, actually – he could tell from leaning against it.

He crouched down, felt for the door of the cabinet – the little knob that would let him pull it open. His fingers found it and he pulled forward. He pulled as much as he could, so that there was an opening. He slipped his fingers in and turned, pushing it the rest of the way open. Carefully he maneuvered himself inside, moving in the spacious cabinet to reach out with bound hands and pull the door shut as far as he could. He heard it creak, then touch wood – it was closed.

The silence seemed deafening inside his hiding place – the smell of wood almost seemed overwhelming. He supposed he was just lucky there was nothing in the way in here, that he had been able to fit. He took in a deep breath, let it out slowly – trying to calm down, to get his wits about him.

Another deep breath.

This one caught in his throat as he heard that sound again. Door opening and closing, but this time it was much closer.

Boots against the floor. Keaton was there in the room with him.

He heard the boots pass by, heard the sound of a doorknob being turned, but not giving way to open the door.

"Well," he heard Keaton's voice rumble – deep and heady with lust and amusement, "door's still locked. And there really isn't anywhere else to go…You in here, Gabriel? My little angel…" He heard another door open, then shut. A closet? He was searching now. It was only a matter of time, really.
Another door. Open, close.

Boots against the floor. Drawing closer. He could feel his heart fluttering in his chest again. But fluttering seemed to easy a word for the way that it seemed to strike against his ribcage.
He heard a creak, felt the cabinet next to his close again. This wasn't even really going to be a contest – any kind of challenge. How long had it been since the countdown had ended? And here was, already about to find him.

He felt the rush of air as the cabinet was pulled open, turned his head as if to look at the man through his blindfold.

"Gotcha."

The one word rumbled just before a strong hand wrapped around his arm, pulled him quickly out of the cabinet.

Gabriel writhed, tried to break the hold. Another arm reached out to wrap around his waist, but he pulled away just before it grabbed him. He nearly fell to his knees again, but recovered – quick to dash away. He didn't know where he was going, but he was going to run anyhow. He ran, but the boot falls behind him quickened as well. Keaton caught up with him – it seemed effortlessly.
He felt arms wrap around him, lifting him up into the air.

"No!" the word left him, but somehow it didn't even feel like he had said it. He struggled, writhed, but Keaton's hold would not break.

"Where do you think you're going?" Keaton asked with a chuckle. He was shifted in the man's hold, moved so that he was over his shoulder. Carried so easily, like a doll to the big man."Almost ran right into a wall, you know that? Don't want to mess up that pretty face, Gabriel."

They were moving, going back the way he came. For all the panic and all the frantic attempts to get through the door and figure out where he was, he was just being carried right back.

"Nice try though, angel. Made it further than I thought you would. And to think – you were getting close."

Close? How close was close? Had he been a room away? Two?

They were going back up the stairs. God, how was it so easy for Keaton to carry him? To catch him and over power him? The man was like a mountain, yes, but still – it left him awestruck.

The door opened. That waltz was still playing.

"Mmph!" The sound escaped him as he was dropped to the bed, his back hitting against the sheets.
He moved to sit up, but his arm was grabbed and he was pulled up the bed, turned over. He felt like putty in the big man's hands – unable to do anything about where or how he was moved. For a second, he felt the handcuffs give way, but Keaton was careful, made sure that he couldn't pull away with a strong hold of his hand. The handcuffs were off, his arms were pulled around to his front, and they were back on again.

The chain of the handcuffs was pulled forward – he heard a sound as they were released and he pulled back. Keaton had looped them around something – a part of the headboard? He felt smooth wood under his hands. He moved to raise his arms up and take the chain off of the headboard, but his hips were grabbed by gloved hands, he was pulled back harshly, his bare skin hitting against Keaton's uniformed hips.

He heard Keaton growl.

He felt the bigger man lean over him – felt the press of a bare, strong and muscled chest against his back. It was not hard to know just how strong those muscles were just from the feel of them, but Gabriel already knew anyhow. Not only had he just been carried like a doll by the man, but he had known him for a while now – had seen the things he could do. Had seen those muscles at work. Had felt them at work.

"Up against the headboard – move," he heard Keaton growl against the shell of his ear.

He felt Keaton lift off of him. The big man moved off of the bed. The sound of the night stand opening and closing again.

"I said – move!" Keaton repeated, voice raised.

He obeyed. What point was there to not doing so anymore? He slid forward, pressed his chest against the headboard, held on to the part of it that the cuffs hand been placed around.
"Spread your legs."

Again he obeyed, spreading his legs, bracing his knees against the bed to keep him upright.

"Good boy."

One hand grabbed his hips, pulling them back again so that they were sticking out behind him – his torso at an angle now as he continued to hold on to the headboard and try to press his upper chest against it.

He felt Keaton's palm pass over his bare ass, caressing his skin.
He gasped as he felt fingers slide passed the cheeks of his ass and felt a cold sensation against his heated skin.

"Keaton – please…" He had time to gasp out on a heated breath before the man's finger slid in – just one at first, but it was quickly joined by a second. Gabriel groaned, resting his forehead against the wooden headboard.

"I think I've decided what I want to do with you, Gabriel…" The man's breath spread hotly against his skin, Keaton's lips pressed against his neck.

Moans and gasps and mewling sounds that were half made of protest and half of pleasure slipped passed his lips as Keaton's fingers moved – rubbing and pressing and scissoring inside of him while the man's lips touched ever sensitive place on his neck and shoulders that they could find. They knew them all, by this point. And that waltz was still playing, dragging his memories back to the first night he had spent with Keaton.

"Ah!" and his thoughts were quickly ripped back to the present as fingers pressed against that sensitive place inside of him, rubbing and stroking in a way that practically made him see stars in front of the black cloth. And he didn't let up, fingers stroking inside of him still as he felt the other hand wrap around his cock, smoothly stroking in time with his fingers.

"Keaton!" He called out the man's name again – and only received a low hum in return and a nip of teeth against his neck.

The hand on his erection slipped away to slide up his stomach smoothly, around his side, over his thigh, and then it disappeared from his body – the actions of the fingers on his other hand still kept him moaning and dizzied with sensations.

"Never too hard with you…" Keaton whispered against the shell of his hear, "Always so sensitive…" He heard a zipper, the movement of cloth.

He started to remove his hand from the headboard, though he didn't know what he was going to do – words seemed unable to leave his lips. A big hand covered his, placed it back on the headboard.

"Hold on," he commanded – Gabriel's fingers tightened around the wood, clinging to it obediently.
The hand disappeared again, and now fingers were sliding out of him completely. They were soon to be replaced, however, as he felt the head of Keaton's cock against his entrance.

"Keaton – I…please…" He tried to move back away from the headboard, was pressed against it by the bigger body. He was trapped now, the headboard against his front, Keaton pressed into his back – the man's cock right at his entrance, but not pushing inside.

"Please…what, Gabriel?" He rumbled.

A whine escaped his throat. He had intended to say, 'please let me go', to protest. But god how he ached for the man now. That familiar scent, the skilled fingers, the feel of Keaton pressed up against him. Even with the fear, and the panic, and the adrenaline rushing through him – he wanted this, wanted to feel Keaton inside of him, fucking him.

"Ask for it." The bigger man rumbled deep in his chest. "Beg."

"Keaton-"

"Beg!" The command was given emphasis as the crown of the other man's cock pressed in to him – just a little bit. Further torture and temptation, not satisfaction.

"Please!" The word slipped so easily from his throat.

"More!"

"Please, Keaton. Fuck me, please!" He gasped, pressing his forehead into the headboard, legs shaking as they held him up and awaited the assault that he knew was coming. And oh god he already knew what Keaton could do to him.

His words were answered almost immediately. One hand on his shoulder, one on his hip – and Keaton thrust, pushed inside of him.

Gabriel cried out, feeling every inch of the man's length, every bit of his thickness as it entered him.

And oh, it felt so good.

Keaton wasted no time after hilting himself the first time. He withdrew and slammed in again – eliciting another cry from Gabriel. The smaller man's fingers gripped the headboard harder, clinging to it.

Moans and cries from the smaller man filled the room, a chorus to the sound of the bed creaking, headboard slamming against the wall, and skin hitting deliciously against skin. The sounds that Keaton made were far lower, oh so easy for Gabriel to hear though. Grunts as he pushed in, deep and rumbling groans as he pulled out – growling like an animal.

Gabriel gasped, clinging desperately to the headboard as his hips were suddenly pulled further back, angled as Keaton adjusted the angle of his thrusts just a little – just right to hit that sweet little bundle that had him screaming. And screaming was certainly a good description of the sounds pouring from him as Keaton hilted himself again and again – slamming inside of him and hitting that spot mercilessly over and over again.

Then suddenly, Keaton pulled out completely – leaving Gabriel feeling empty and cold and aching. He moaned in protest, but Keaton most certainly wasn't done with him.

The hand cuffs were pulled over the headboard and he was pulled back away from it, his fingers slipping off of the wood. He was turned around and moved – it all seemed to happen so quickly and now he was straddling the bigger man, cuffed hands pressed against his chest. Hands were on his hips again and he was pulled down. He cried out as his warmth slipped over Keaton's cock again. His fingers curled on the big man's chest and a little whimper escaped him.

"Ride me." Another command –and he was more than eager to obey.

He started moving, bringing himself up and down over the other man's cock – fucking himself on the stiff rod. He ground as he came down, head thrown back and moans escaping him as that thick cock hit all of the places inside of him that he needed it to. He sped up, bringing himself down harder and up faster, panting and moaning as the man below him rumbled and growled his pleasure.

Hands grabbed his hips again and slammed him down harder than he had. He was brought back up, held there – unable to bring himself down again. Another scream ripped from his throat as Keaton began thrusting up into him again – pistoning hard and fast and dizzying him. His hands left the bigger man's chest, gripping his dark hair instead as he cried out and writhed in pleasure as much as he could – his hips still held still by a strong grip.

When had he lost his cap? God, he didn't remember in the slightest – but it hardly seemed to matter at the moment.

He was slammed back down against hips suddenly, his hands flying back down to press against Keaton's chest. He was close, he could feel himself so near the edge of bliss – and he was sure Keaton knew it too – the way he was tightening and writhing and crying out. Yes, Keaton most certainly knew.

His shoulder was gripped and was pulled down harshly, his chest pressing against Keaton's. His mouth was claimed in a hard kiss – Keaton's tongue invading his mouth and caressing it. The big man rolled him so that his back was pressed against the bed again and Keaton loomed over him, their lips still locked together in a fervent and heated kiss. His hips hardly seemed to stop, returning to slamming against him, driving that cock into his tight ass again and again – each thrust pushing him closer to the edge.

The kiss broke, Keaton's teeth finding his bottom lip and dragging a moan out of him before they parted.

He reached up, desperate to hold on to Keaton. His hands brushed over the other man's face, down his neck – gripped his shoulders. He brought his legs up, wrapping them around Keaton's hips just as the man buried himself again – impossibly deep, ground in – teeth sunk into his shoulder.

And he came. It seemed so sudden and at the same time as though he had been slowly tortured into it. And it was bliss, that pleasure washing over him. His fingers gripped Keaton's shoulders, legs tightening around the big man as he felt Keaton cum inside of him – heard the man roaring in pleasure above him.

*

He was left, panting and clinging to the bigger man desperately.

He groaned as Keaton slowly pulled out of him. The big form lowered down closer to him, but did not press too much weight on him.

Fingers brushed up his cheek slowly, gripped the blindfold and pulled it away.

He blinked, looking up at the other man's handsome face – blue eyes and light brown hair tousled. They stared at each other for a moment before Keaton kissed him again, this time more slowly, tenderly.

Keaton rolled off of him, reached out and drew him close, pressing him to his chest.

Gabriel smiled.

"That was fun…" He panted, grinning at his big lover.

A deep chuckle rumbled from Keaton's chest and a kiss was pressed to his forehead. "Yeah it was."

Gabriel laughed lightly, kissing his lover gently. He raised his cuffed hands, pressing them into Keaton's chest, "Now, could I get these off?"

"Mmm – maybe," his partner rumbled, grinning mischievously, "I like how they look on you."

Gabriel narrowed his blue-gray eyes at his lover, who let out a deep roll of laughter before rolling over, reaching into the nightstand and pulling out a pair of handcuff keys. He turned back and undid the handcuffs. Big hands pulled them away before gently massaging his wrists to relieve any lingering discomfort from them, making him hum softly at the relaxing sensation.

"Mmm - poor Ko is probably wondering why the hell no one's there to cater to his every whim," he said, smiling softly, thinking of his attention-loving cat.

"Ah, I left him milk - he'll be fine."

Gabriel pressed his forehead into his lover's chest, letting out a soft, content sigh.

"Where are we anyway?" He muttered – tired from their game.

"You know that house we were looking at just outside of town that you really, really wanted?"

Gabriel looked up, a smile on his lips.

Keaton grinned down at him, "Best house warming gift ever, yeah?"

Gabriel kissed him, "Definitely. You're such a giant teddy bear, you know that?"

"Yeah, uh-huh," he was drawn closer by strong arms, a kiss pressed to his lips.

He closed his eyes and rested his head down against the pillow, the top of his head pressed into his lover's chest.

"Mmmm…Where's my uniform?" He asked wearily.

"Oh, around here somewhere…"

"You're gonna help me find that before we go to work tomorrow…"

"Yeah, yeah – I'll even wash it, how about that?"

"Mmmhm. Keaton…?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"Do I ever get to be the bad cop?"

A chuckle. "No, I don't think so."

He smiled softly, "Love you."

"Love you too."