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Visited by a ghost

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players only. backdated to middish June 2015, a few weeks after Ryan gets himself in trouble.

Ryan tenses instantly when his cell phone blares its Strangers and Unlisted ringtone ("Kiss Off" by The Violent Femmes), then drags one eye open to check the bedside clock. "Three a.m., Jesus," he mutters, snuggling back into Sam. "Wrong number. Just ignore it." In all of two seconds, he is once more fast asleep.

But only a minute later, the phone rings again, and Ryan forces himself to sit up and look around. His cell is all the way over on the far side of the bed, far out of Ryan's reach on Sam's side table. With a shake of his head, he lies down once more. "I'm sorry," he whispers, and pressing a kiss to his husband's lips. "I don't know who that is. But if they call again please feel free to tell them to go fuck themselves." Like Sam needs his encouragement for that.

Sam mumbles agreement, still half-asleep, doing his best to ignore the ringing until it happens a third time. "For fuck's sake," he growls, reaching for the phone. "Hello?"

There's a pause of dead silence. Then, a voice very suspicious in tone asks, "Who is this?"

"You're the one who called, mate," Sam points out. "Who's this? And what are you doing calling in the middle of the fucking night."

"I'll ring when I goddamn well want to," the mystery caller snaps back. "And it's not your fucking number. You have no right to answer that phone."

Fuck this. Sam snorts and hangs up. Fucking assholes and their wrong numbers.

Frowning, Ryan pulls his husband into his arms and strokes his back, trying to soothe him to sleep.

Until the silence is broken once more. "Seriously?" Ryan rolls his eyes in disbelief. "Here, give it to me. I'll go plant it in the playroom or something." And maybe someday soon he'll even learn how to turn all notifications off.

"No, I'll get it," Sam says, snatching up the phone once more. "Yeah?" Paranoid that the one time they don't answer it'll be something important.

"Put Ryan on the phone." Apparently the time for foreplay has passed. "Now."

"Not until you tell me who this is," Sam retorts, amused. Asshole.

"None of your fucking business, that's who," comes the irate reply. "I don't know who the fuck you are, and I really don't give a shit. Give the phone to Ryan before I call the cops and report he's been abducted."

Annoyed but oblivious, Ryan leans up on one elbow to watch Sam in the dim light from the window.

Sam laughs. "It's some guy for you," he tells Ryan, muffling the phone against his shoulder and wondering if he's actually still dreaming. "He won't say who it is and he's threatening to call the police and say I've abducted you."

Blinking in surprise, Ryan sits all the way up and takes the phone. "Hello?" he asks, loosely circling his arms around his knees.

"And there you are. You owe me an apology for your rudeness, boy." The voice is distant but familiar, ingrained in Ryan more deeply than he ever knew. Andrew.

"S– sir," he says quietly in reflexive submission, and clears his throat. "I'm sorry." Fuck, how did the room suddenly turn ice-cold? "I mean... No. No. Why would you ring me up in the middle of the night like this?"

"It's broad daylight here," Andrew replies smoothly. "Where are you?"

"I'm..." Ryan looks at Sam, panic in his eyes.

Christ. Sam sits up. Between the look on Ryan's face and the stuttered title that doesn't belong to anyone but him, he has a pretty damn good idea who it is now. He takes the phone back from Ryan, almost prying it from his fingers. "I thought you were a prank or a wrong number at first and then I thought you were just some rude asshole," Sam says. "But now I know who you are and for your information, Ryan's my boy now. Contracted and collared for a few years. So what do you want?"

Andrew's answer sounds simple enough. "I've been thinking about taking him back. I called to arrange a meeting." The man chuckles. "And I'm definitely not worried about competing with you."

Sam pulls Ryan in close, his arm tight around his husband. "Oh? And why's that?" he asks, back to being amused and wondering how Ryan ever could have been with someone who's such a colossal asshole.

"Because I owned him long before you ever saw him. I moulded him, I made him. He was just a baby when I collared him. The devotion and loyalty to a boy's first dominant... You simply can't compete with me. It's basic human wiring."

His thoughts scattered but racing, Ryan lays his head on Sam's shoulder, so fucking grateful that he didn't instantly get himself in massive trouble for betraying his lover that way. For calling another man Sir.

"Bullshit," Sam says simply, casually. "You threw him away and I found him and I've hit his kinks harder than you ever did. There may be some basic wiring left, sure, like when some idiot leaves knob and tube in the walls of a house after they rewire – but even though the old stuff's live, it's fucking useless." He drops a kiss on Ryan's head, tightening his hold on him, working to reassure his boy.

If possible, Sam's words chill Ryan even more. Threw him away. He rubs his cheek against his Sir's skin, trying to get warm.

Another soft laugh on the line. Then, "Why don't we let him choose for himself?"

"No. He's my boy, my property, and it's not my problem – or his – that you've suddenly woken up to what you lost. I suggest you go find yourself another boy and try to actually value this one," Sam says.

"Fuck you." The words ring with bitterness, a sign that Sam hit his mark. "Do you honestly think you can keep him away from me? He's a good boy, but he's always been pushy."

"Yeah, I know," Sam grins, his smile coming through in his words. "That's one of the things I love about him."

Ryan lifts his head, staring at his Sir in awe.

"He doesn't want love. And he doesn't need a pussy like you in his life."

Sam laughs. "You don't even know me," he says. "And it's obvious you sure as hell don't know Ryan," he finishes, hanging up and blocking the number on Ryan's phone.

Tugging the blanket up around his shoulders, Ryan huddles into it. "I'm sorry," he whispers, awash in cold shame. And a little frightened about what Sam might do next.

"Don't be. It's not your fault," Sam says, pulling Ryan in tight, a kiss pressed to his temple. "What a fucking asshole."

"...I reckon," Ryan says after a moment, surprised to hear Andrew described so bluntly. "When I was with him, I was still so young and naive – I mean, of course I didn't think of myself that way – that he seemed... different to me. I mean, he was the same person. But the way he acted, treated people... I saw that as powerful. Confident. Arrogant, sure, but in a strong way."

Sam nods. It's hard for him to picture Ryan with someone like Andrew, to imagine how his husband would have been drawn to someone like the man he just spoke with. "What did he say to you?"

"He said I needed to apologize for treating him badly," Ryan murmurs, his lips feeling almost numb. He slowly shakes his head. "We haven't spoken since he threw me out. I don't know why he'd ring me up now."

"He said he wanted you back," Sam says. "And apparently he expected you to just be here, waiting for him."

"Back?" Ryan echoes, like he's not certain he heard right. He looks up to meet Sam's steady gaze. "You told him you own me. That I'm your property."

"Damn right I did. I also blocked him on your phone and if he calls you using another number, I want you to hang up. That's an order," Sam says. Normally he wouldn't dream of telling Ryan who he can associate with, but for Andrew? He'll make a fucking exception.

"Yes, Sir." The words come out in a whisper. Ryan wraps himself around his Sir, burying his face against Sam's throat. "Thank you."

"You're mine now," Sam says, hugging Ryan tight. "Now and forever." The thought of what he'd do to someone who tried to come between them scaring even himself.

"Yes, Sir," Ryan repeats, but now he's starting to smile, and his tense muscles relax by fractions. "Forever."

"And now we're both wide awake," Sam points out with a grin, pushing Ryan down onto his back and moving between his thighs.

Startled, Ryan jumps a bit, and lifts his head to look down the length of his body at his husband. "Sir, you're...? You're sure you're not angry?" he asks, although Sam certainly doesn't seem angry at the moment.

"At you?" Sam shakes his head. "It's not your fault he pulled that and I'm not going to punish you for one small slip – not when I know how much hearing his voice must have shocked you."

Finally Ryan exhales the last of the tension in his body, that lingering fear quenched. "Thank you, Sir," he breathes, so grateful that Sam understands. "Are you sure you don't want to switch places?"

"You want to ride me?" Sam asks, kissing Ryan's throat, right over his boy's collar.

"Truly?" Ryan slides his hands over the smooth skin of Sam's back. "I just want to do whatever will make you happiest right now. I want to give you everything you want."

"What I want is to be inside my boy," Sam says, hiking Ryan's left leg high over his hip, cock nudging at his already slicked hole. "I want to be fucking him. And tomorrow," another bite at Ryan's throat, teeth dragged along his jawline, "I want to cut him. Make him bleed for me."

With a groan Ryan opens to his Sir. His Master. He wraps his legs around Sam, urging him deep inside, his mind and muscles so ready that there's not even a twinge of pain with penetration.

"You were made for me," Sam says, pushing slowly but steadily deeper until he's buried inside his boy.

Ryan clings to his lover's hard body, his fingernails digging into all that gorgeous smooth skin. "Yes, Sir," he gasps. "You're the only one who fits me so perfectly."

"Say it again," Sam demands, pulling out to the tip, hips rocking slightly, teasing them both. "I'm the only one. The only one ever."

Opening his eyes, Ryan stares into Sam's face. And he nods. "Yes. You're the only one ever for me."

"Good," Sam murmurs, staring back and thrusting home again. And again. Pulling all the way out before driving deep, balls deep, with every thrust. Owning his boy.

Ryan gasps and drops his head back. "God, so good," he murmurs, his back bowing. He hikes his legs higher, fire rushing through his blood. "So good."

The act is rough, harsh – unquestionably definite in its execution. But Sam's eyes, his words... they fill Ryan with a glowing warmth. Never before in his life has he felt so safe, so secure... So wonderfully cherished. He tightens his hold on Sam's body, and drops his head back, leaving his throat completely vulnerable. Inviting his Sir to take anything, everything that he might want.

Christ. That perfect expanse of skin bared and Sam drops down, sinking his teeth in above Ryan's collar.

Ryan shouts, his body jerking like a live wire. Fuck, Sam knows him so fucking well – knows just how to set him off in an instant. Whimpering now, Ryan claws at his Sir's back, already shoved that much closer to the edge just by the knowledge that next time he looks in the mirror he'll have a vicious mark on his throat.

Sam bites even harder, hips snapping sharply as he drives into his boy, claiming him completely, his orgasm crashing over him as Ryan drags his nails down his back, marking him in turn. And whatever Andrew might have had with Ryan, it wasn't this. It was never this.

"Please," Ryan gasps, shuddering heavily beneath his lover's weight, and his blood rushes with the incredible triumph of being the focus of Sam's pleasure. His voice cracks under the strain of holding back. "Sir, please. May your boy come?"

Sam nods, raising his head, a smear of blood on his lips. "Do it," he orders. "For me."

That sight... Ryan's back arches and he damn near howls. Pleasure spikes through him so sharply that it's nearly pain, and he clutches at Sam to ground himself.

Christ. Sam shudders, aftershocks still trembling through his frame at the clench of Ryan's body. "Good boy," he murmurs, licking at Ryan's lips, sharing his boy's taste with him.

Ryan whimpers and surges up, his fingers tight in Sam's hair to make sure he doesn't. Go. Anywhere.

"I love you so much," Sam whispers, the words smeared against Ryan's mouth.

Mine, Ryan thinks, the thought undeniable. "Yes, Sir," he whispers back, feeling like his heart is so full it just might burst. "Your boy loves you more."