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Don't Tell The Family

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Crowded city streets are such a good way to strongarm someone. Nobody in either family would cause a public scene, so as soon as Bill gets close enough to put a hand on Sean's shoulder, he knows he's got him.

"Take me for a ride," Bill says. "Tell your driver to just go sightseeing for a while."

So Sean climbs into the limo with Bill behind him. He gives a quick order to the driver and then puts up the privacy screen. Bill grins, stretching out across the back of the limo as if he owns the thing.

"Now c'mere."

Sean gives him a look, and Bill retaliates with a little mental shove, enough force behind it to break through Sean's shields and send the image of Sean on his knees on the floor of the limo, face buried between Bill's legs. Sean grunts when the image hits, moving to his knees before he can stop himself. Bill's got a stronger psi, even if it's brutal around the edges where Sean's is tidy, able to send thoughts and words, dig in under shields rather than just pummeling through them. In a fight over a long period of time, half an hour or so, Sean would have the advantage. When it comes to split-second images, the kind that can be used to such great effect in fights, Bill does it better than anyone.

It gets Sean right where Bill wants him, matching his body to the image Bill projected. He snarls when he leans forward, though, and Bill reaches down to stop him, gripping Sean's hair hard, shaking him a little.



"Quit bitching. You love it." Bill drags Sean's face down between his legs again, rubbing it against his cock. "The family would kill you if they knew. Turn on you in a heartbeat, turn you out and have you killed."

"Not before they got you," Sean murmurs. "Don't bluff."

"Don't fight." Bill pushes Sean back some and gets his fly open, gets his dick out. "Suck it like a good slut and we can go back to pretending this never happens."

"It doesn't happen," Sean insists, right before he opens his mouth wide and swallows Bill's cock down just the way Bill likes it.

Two months. He's had Sean for two fantastic months, ever since the day Sean showed up at a negotiation session. The session didn't go much of anywhere, but Bill could tell what Sean needed. It's what Sean still needs.

"That's it," Bill hisses, "right there, suck it, bitch. You fuckin' love this, so don't even think about fighting it." Not that Sean could, now; Bill's got his hair gripped so tight that Sean couldn't move even if he wanted to. He thrusts up a few more times and comes, head of his cock hitting the back of Sean's throat. It makes Sean gag around him, but Bill knows damn well Sean likes it that way.

Once he's come, it's Sean's turn. Bill uses one hand to keep Sean pinned down, cock still in Sean's mouth, and he pulls a set of thumb cuffs out of his jacket pocket. He lances that image into Sean's mind, and Sean gets his hands behind his back, thumbs outstretched. It only takes a few seconds for Bill to snap them on. Thumb cuffs are so convenient.

"Okay," Bill says, sighing as he pushes Sean back. "Go ahead. Rub up like the whore you are, boy, and let's see you get off in that pretty suit of yours."


"Uh-uh." Bill pulls the handkerchief out of his pocket and shoves it into Sean's mouth. "You've used your mouth plenty today. No more talking."

// Fine. No more talking. You bastard. //

Bill grunts and tightens up his shields. He hadn't expected Sean to get in so easily. Either he's tired after that mindblowing orgasm or he's starting to trust Sean. It better be the former; I can't afford the latter. He can practically read the smugness coming off Sean, though, and it doesn't stop when Sean struggles closer and starts rubbing his cock against Bill's leg.

// Show me something pretty. //

Christ, another one, even with tighter shields. Bill wonders how long Sean's been insinuating himself, pressing himself in. He keeps underestimating Sean. Sean's better at all this shit than Bill is ever going to be.

// Damn right. Now show me something. //

It's almost got the strength behind it to make it an order; thank God Sean's talents don't lie in control. Bill gives Sean a nasty little grin and sends him a barrage of images, one after another, changing every half-second: Sean with his arms wrapped up in chains, getting hit hard with another length of chain; Sean cuffed down and screaming while Bill pierces both his nipples; Sean taking it hard up the ass, something they've never managed enough privacy to do--

// Fuck! //

Sean bends forward, panting and gasping as his cock jerks against Bill's leg. Bill feels heat more than wetness, and Sean gives him a pleading look.

// Clean me up before I stain? //

"What, you afraid of someone in the family knowing you came in your pants today? Like they wouldn't just lick it off you as soon as you got in. Bunch of fucking perverts."

// And yours aren't? //

"Touché," Bill says, pulling the handkerchief out of Sean's mouth and unbuttoning Sean's pants. He does a rudimentary job of cleaning Sean up, enough that he probably won't stain too visibly. They'll have to be looking for it, and nobody will.

"Going to let me out of the cuffs?" Sean asks softly. Bill can feel him leaving, mentally, and inwardly lets himself sigh with relief. He did not need Sean in his thoughts.

"I better," Bill says, leaning down to do it.

Sean stretches his arms out once they're free and climbs up onto the seat opposite Bill. "Where do I have him let you off?"

"Central Park. Innocent enough. You think anybody saw us?"

"We'd know by now."

"Good point." Bill chuckles. "God, you're so fucking hot. Why the hell do you have to be in the wrong goddamned family?"

"A rose by any other name..."

"Fuck you."

"Eventually." Sean rolls down the privacy screen just enough to talk to the driver. "Central Park, and you'll tell no one who was in the car today."

"Of course not, sir." The loyalty of the mind-blind. Money can't buy anything that good. Bill's envious; he's got no servants of his own, and Sean's probably got a dozen. Then again, Sean's a son, and Bill's basically a thug. Imbalances happen. At least one of them has a limo to fuck around in.

The privacy screen goes up again, and Sean raises an eyebrow at Bill. "Well," he says carefully. "Are we planning out a next time or playing it by ear again?"

"I thought we were pretending this doesn't happen now."

"Not yet. When do I see you again?"

"We're playing the next one by ear, unless you're going to the shindig in Maui next month."

"I'm going."

"Then I'll see you there." The limo comes to a stop, and Bill knows that's his cue. He reaches out and gets a hand behind Sean's neck, brushing his fingers over the nape of his neck for a second before tightening his grip. "You let anyone even look at you and I'll make you fucking sorry," he growls.

"I can't stop them--"

"You find a way." Bill leans close, rubs his cheek against Sean's. "I want to fuck you knowing no one's been there but me since we got started."

"Too late," Sean whispers, but his voice is weak. "Already been had by a few since we got started."

"Then I want to fuck you knowing no one's been there but me since now. You hold them off."

"I'll try."

It's more of a promise than Bill expected. He gets out of the car, standing next to the limo as it starts to pull away.

One more. He shoves another image into Sean's mind, another one of those sweaty, pounding fucks, with Sean screaming so hard Bill has to hold a hand over his mouth to stop him from attracting attention.

// You better fucking make good on...... //

Then he's gone, thoughts pulling out of range. Bill's relieved; he didn't even know Sean was still there. Sloppy.

He catches a cab back home, grinning as he goes. Lucky bastard, he thinks. Maui's going to be great.