Table of Contents [Report This]
Story Notes:
Under higher Rating than is probably needed, just to be sure
"We've been here before."
"Yes, and we might end up here again."
"Why?"
"Depends."
"On what?"
"We'll see."
Lyle groaned and Jarod grinned darkly, circling the man again, watching his captive as he once more moved against the bounds. "They won't give," he informed the other casually. He didn't react to the dark look Lyle fired at him.
Shrugging when the other didn't voice anything, Jarod turned away from Lyle. He must have known the man's eyes didn't leave him and he spoke while turning back to the other. "So Bobby," the word was drawn out, a taunt. A light shudder ran through the pretender, like a pleasant shiver of thrill upon seeing his captive's reaction to the hated name - a violent jerk on the restraints. Another circle around the former hunter, now captive, was completed before Jarod leaned close, "want to answer some questions?"
Apart from a growl, Lyle remained silent, turning his head away from his captor. The anger in the man's eyes was visible and Jarod easily understood Lyle's anger over the situation: having been caught by the rat he was to catch - ironic if you thought about it.
"I figured most of it out anyway," Jarod said evenly, shifting behind the bound man and coming up on his other side. "What I don't understand yet is: why Asian?"
"Why not?" The words weren't more than a hiss.
The quiet chuckle coming from the pretender was humorless. "There's a reason behind everything, Bobby. You know that." This time, the bound man's lip curled into a sneer upon the name. "There's a reason," Jarod repeated slowly; the words, though spoken quietly, once more had a taunting quality, though now they were firmer, more assured of their correctness.
"Maybe I simply like their flesh best," Lyle growled. "Or the way they come," he taunted. Even bound, he seemed to be trying to rile the other up, get a response and use it to his advantage - just the way he loved to play his games.
Jarod straightened and stepped away from Lyle, his lips pursed. "No," he drawled, once more starting to circle the man, "no, that's not it." He shook his head, watching the other's face while he kept circling him.
Where he had first tried following the pretender's movements, the bound man now seemed to have given up, though his attention likely was still focused on it, listening to the movements instead of watching. He looked up, his face a mask of disinterest when Jarod appeared in his line of vision again.
"You like them," contemplative, slow, "but for a different reason."
"You sound like Sydney," Lyle muttered, shifting on the chair. It wasn't clear if it was discomfort over the topic or discomfort at sitting bound to an uncomfortable wooden chair - so unlike the leather seats he was used to. The pretender seemed to decide on the first option because a smirk crossed his features and he moved closer again.
"You don't like them, you like the power you have over them."
The answering smile was chilling. "That's mandatory for what I do."
"Oh, please, you murder them and eat them," Jarod scoffed.
This time, there was a dark flash in the man's eyes. "It's an art," he snapped.
The words were a low growl, "What? Fucking them before you kill them?" Jarod arched a taunting eyebrow at Lyle, rolling his eyes and waving a dismissive hand, trying to lure the man out from behind his facades.
"It's all got an order, a reason, perfection," Lyle hissed.
"And Asians are the perfect canvas?" Jarod asked again, stepping back. The flicker of frustration was badly concealed when the bound man's defenses came up again and he shut his mouth. This time, it was the pretender's temper that flared. "I'll tell you why."
"Let's hear it." The roles seemed to have temporarily shifted, the bound man now taunting when just moments ago it had been the other way round.
"They're small."
Again, the bound man shifted. "Oh, please," the voice was mocking, but there was a slight crack in it, "I could take down bigger ones."
Jarod tilted his head to the side again, watching the other man for a few silent seconds in which he seemed to find his footing again. "Maybe, but it wouldn't be the same, would it?" he asked, continuing to watch him. "It would distort the proportions."
The renewed shift from his captive seemed to reassure him as he went on, surer of the words than he had been before. "They're small, as small as you were - back in the good old days with Lyle Bowman and Raines."
The words had impact and the bound man seemed to recoil physically.
"Yes," Jarod continued, luring Lyle, seemingly fascinated by the effects. "They were bigger, and stronger than you, right Bobby?"
"I don't know what you're talking about." Unconvincing denial.
The tone of voice shifted, becoming deeper and gentler, nearly lulling. "You were helpless and now you want them to be helpless. You want to be in the position of power."
His jaw was clenched and Lyle's eyes were wide as he looked up at Jarod who came to a stop in front of him, his hand running down the front of his shirt.
"It's where the name comes from, right Bobby? Why you call yourself Lyle." Words barely above a whisper now. "You feel more powerful with it, and you took it away from him, robbed him of his power and stuck him into a small cell - not like your shed but it has to do, right?"
"No." Once more denial, but the slightly trembling voice was lacking conviction.
"Yes, I think so." Adamant now, "you have them shipped here - mail order brides. They won't fight, not their husband. It's not in their tradition, not their role; a woman endures what the husband deems right. You didn't dare fight too much either, did you, Bobby? You endured what Bowman and Raines dished out?"
"No," the word was yelled, a last try to keep his defenses and drive the nosy pretender away.
Jarod went on as if he hadn't spoken. "They're isolated here, no family, no friends, nothing - as isolated as little Bobby was." This time the hand crept up the man's throat to his cheek, angling his head up a little. "He's still alone."
The man was trembling now, being stripped of his defenses and his darkest secrets, being uncovered and reduced to the boy he hated for his weakness, who he banished to the farthest corner of his being, ignoring and denying his existence.
"You're reliving things but reversing the roles, aren't you?" There was nearly a lulling tone creeping into the captor's voice.
Once more a visible shudder ran through the bound man. "And what about you?" he hissed, with undisguised hatred. He once more jerked away from Jarod.
"Oh, I do the same right now," Jarod said calmly, "I'm reliving my youth as well, changing the roles - for once not being the one who's analyzed and played with." He smiled darkly, once more reaching out and making contact, fingers lingering against Lyle's chest, uncaring he tried to jerk away.
"You hate not being in control, hm?" the taunting tone was back and a delighted smirk crossed his features as he watched Lyle's renewed struggles against the binds; they seemed half hearted though, as though he was still dazed by the words that had hit their mark.
Jarod's hand rose to his prey's hair, angling his head up with a slight yank. "Tell you what," he whispered as he bent closer, "there are always things we don't like."
Several seconds passed in silence as both men stared at each other, neither backing down.
There was a small smile on Jarod's features while he drew back and Lyle once more yanked on the bonds.
The bound man visibly struggled to calm himself down again. The masks were still working, even though there was a crack in them. It would soon vanish though. They all had their masks, lived with and because of them. This time would be no different. A crack would be merged. No one dared to look for too long anyway to see any cracks... and those who did tended to vanish.
"What now?"
"What do you want to happen now?" Jarod asked with an arched eyebrow.
"How about you undo the cuffs?" The reply was spoken in a casual tone, the usual silky tone of voice the other man used to seduce the women... before he killed them (not anymore).
Jarod chuckled quietly. "Cute, not funny, but cute," he gave back, moving around his captive and coming to stand behind him. He watched the back of the other's head for a few seconds. "You trust me, Lyle?"
"Hell no," the answer was prompt and firm, rising a chuckle from the pretender.
Sobering slightly, Jarod leaned closer. "What about Bobby? Does he trust me?" As much as Lyle denied it, his other personality was still there, hidden and well protected, held in check by the dominant personality of Mr Lyle, but there.
Jarod didn't wait for an answer before he left his post behind his captive and moved over to the duffle bag in the corner of the room, returning moments later and sliding a blindfold over the bound man's eyes.
The chair trembled violently under the man's struggling. "Shh, shh, shh," Jarod practically cooed, a hand sliding down the Lyle's back until it met with the wood of the chair's backrest.
The room was silent after Jarod drew away, the silence only disturbed by slightly uneven breathing of the bound man. Jarod remembered the feeling well, the darkness, the fabric over his head. For him it had been a hood, Lyle only had a blindfold, but the meaning was the same: the lack of sight, the lack of control.
"What, no cattle prod this time?" The question was somewhat breathless, the tone of voice showing that he was trying to make light of the situation, creating a diversion for the lack of control Lyle was faced with now.
Laughing softly under his breath, Jarod renewed the contact of his hand moving down Lyle's spine. "Why? You liked it?"
"No." Plausible deniability, though with Lyle's preferences, you could never know.
His fingertips moving against the back of Lyle's neck, he leaned down. "I have it around. In case you come for a visit," he told the other man with a smirk, earning a soft shudder.
"I didn't-" Lyle started but was interrupted by Jarod's words.
"It was you who came here. I didn't force you."
"You just force me to stay," was the prompt and pointed reply. Lyle was rarely ever short of a comeback.
Jarod watched the man's face from the side after Lyle's words, observing the tension in him. Tense, but not tense enough to make him call this off. "Maybe, maybe not," he murmured, then reached for the man's hair and angled his head towards him. Lyle tensed further, this time anticipation. Jarod knew, could tell when he had been around him and simmed the man often enough to know his reactions - despite Lyle still managing to surprise him every now and then. "You could leave. You know there's just a little word and you'll go free."
The silence remained, prolonged when Lyle didn't struggle against the light hold or the bonds anymore. It could be stubbornness or what Jarod had seen in the man before, the anticipation that seemed to have been in the room. Whatever it was, the tension remained but neither man backed away. And then the roles shifted again, not captive and captor anymore, but something just as intensive and intimate.
The contact - once made - was hard, heated, demanding, both meeting the challenge that had been put down.
The room was silent when they parted, silence only disturbed by slightly uneven breathing.
"You should trust me," Jarod said quietly.
"What if I don't?"
"Then I can still call your twin and tell her where to find you." Words calm and even, emotion concealed.
The tension was back, an internal struggled raging in the bound man. If the words were on the tip of his tongue, he didn't say them, silence remaining for a long time between the men before eventually the contact was renewed, lighter than before. The tension slowly drained from the bound man, melting away under the light contact of lips and fingertips on his skin.
"So you trust me after all."
A faint smirk appeared on the bound man's lips. "Maybe, maybe not," he gave back, drawing a chuckle from the pretender.
~~~~~
He raised his head when a faint staccato reached his ears, growing louder. His twin was coming to collect him. Jarod had needed to be a bastard about it and left Lyle still bound and blindfolded. Then again, it made it easier for Lyle to rant about the rat and how he had escaped.
Parker ripped off the blindfold and practically growled at him. "We've been here before," she muttered, her eyes moving over him.
He gave a half-hearted shrug. "So I told the rat. Now will you untie me already?" he snapped at her, watching her roll her eyes but indeed start to untie him.
He wasn't sure if he should be annoyed that he had submitted to Jarod or not. He wasn't anyone who gave the dominant role away, but in a way it had been as liberating as it had been frightening, the complete lack on control.
Lyle shook his head and concentrated back on his twin as she knelt in front of him. He would have to talk about this scheme with his pretender - the next time he caught up with him.
