"Cliff!" I begged. "Cliff, wake up!"

After Rowen had knocked Cliff out, he had put us both in chairs and tied our hands behind our backs. We were still in the small room, away from where anyone could hear us, but no matter how loud I shouted, Cliff wouldn't wake up.

It wasn't until an hour later, after the blood on his temple had dried to a crusty sludge, that Cliff finally stirred and opened his eyes. He groaned and sat up only to drop his head over the back of his chair. "What the hell...?" he muttered, frowning at the ceiling.

I tried to scoot my chair closer. "Cliff," I said, drawing his attention to me. "Are you okay?"

He looked at me and then at our surroundings. He tugged at the rope around his wrists. "Great," he said irritably. "This wasn't part of the plan."

He was still working on a new plan that hopefully would get us both out of there when the door opened and Rowen entered the room. He was smiling like a kid at Christmas. "Finally! I thought you'd never wake up," he said, ruffling Cliff's hair as he walked past him. "You always were a late sleeper."

"What is this, Rowen?" Cliff said.

Rowen ignored him and pulled some duck tape out of his pocket. He tore off a piece before putting it over my mouth with a couple not-so-gentle pats to my cheeks for good measure. "It took me a while to figure out what was so interesting about this kid, but you know, I think I finally get it." He slung an arm around my shoulders like we were pals. "He's a lot like you. You relate to him don't you?"

Cliff didn't answer his question. "Rowen, if you touch him again-"

Rowen didn't let him finish. "Oh, Cliff. You're no fun," he complained. He squeezed me even closer. "At least pretend like this makes you mad. Come on, get angry like you used to. You had such a temper." Rowen looked excited remembering his times with Cliff, but when Cliff just looked at him, pity in his eyes, Rowen's smile dropped. He almost sounded disappointed. "What happened to you?" he asked.

"I'm not like that anymore," Cliff said. "I haven't been for a long time."

That made Rowen laugh, but it didn't sound genuine. "You are, you just don't want your precious little angle to see it," he accused. "What is he? Your therapy toy?"

Cliff didn't dignify him with a response and Rowen scowled.

"Fine," he said. "I'll just have to push some buttons."

Rowen circled behind me, pulling a small knife from his pocket. "You seem to be overly attached to this one," he said, and he drew the blade slowly up my cheek, slitting the skin. "Does this make you angry, Cliff? Does this fill you with rage?"

Cliff watched the blood trickle down my cheek, but he remained silent.

"How about this?" Rowen sliced the knife down my arm, and I gasped at the pain, muffled because of the tape.

That one made Cliff look away, but he still refused to give Rowen the reaction he wanted.

Though Rowen chuckled, he sounded frustrated. "You don't like to break do you?" he asked. "I guess I can't fault you. I taught you that."

Cliff looked at him, but his eyes showed more contempt for the man in front of him than any I had ever seen. Whatever Cliff had learned from Rowen, he wasn't proud of it, and he would rather not be reminded. 

Sighing deeply, Rowen tossed the knife away, accepting the fact that no amount of pain was going to push Cliff over the edge. He looked at me, then at Cliff; there was a plan formulating in his mind. "Maybe it's not just about protecting him," he said. "Maybe it's about possession."

I wasn't sure what he meant until he leaned down to my ear. "What do you think, cutie?" he whispered, and he bit at my ear lightly.

The look on Cliff's face changed quite obviously from quiet frustration to something that radiated fury like a poisonous gas. "Don't joke around," he warned.

Rowen grinned and moved to drape his arms over my shoulders from behind. "I found it, didn't I? That's what makes you mad," he said.

I hunched forward to get away, but it didn't stop Rowen from catching the hem of my oversized shirt and lifting it to reveal the bareness beneath. The action made me shiver from the cold and embarrassment, and I flushed red.

Cliff tugged on his restraints. "Don't touch him," he snapped.

Rowen laughed. "Oh, believe me," he said. "I've done much more than touch him."

Making sure Cliff could see every act, Rowen sucked marks into my neck and dragged his nails up my chest to mar the skin with faint, red lines. I grimaced in disgust and tried to squirm away to no avail. His hand roamed down to my cock and he gripped it firmly, making direct eye-contact with Cliff who looked like he would have strangled Rowen if given chance. "Are you mad yet?" he asked.

"Get your filthy hands off of him," Cliff said through gritted teeth.

Rowen rolled his eyes. "Like your hands are anywhere cleaner," he said.

He pulled away for a moment to move beside me. With one hand, he made me turn my head to look at him, and with the other, he peeled the ducktape from my mouth. "Tell me, Zane. What do you think is going through Cliff's head right now?" he asked me. However, before I was given the chance to answer, Rowen cupped my face in his hands and pressed his lips firmly to mine. 

He couldn't have been kissing me for very long, but it was long enough that I started to realize I was running out of air. Then there was a cracking sound as Cliff completely broke his chair and shoved Rowen away from me with so much force the man went stumbling into the wall.

Coming back to my senses, I watched as Cliff ripped the ropes from his hands like they were mere threads, and grabbed Rowen's collar. "You are so dead," he growled.

Rowen threw his elbow into Cliff's stomach, and was given a reprieve to straighten himself out. "Kill me then," he said, "if you really think you can."

Cliff swung his fist, and Rowen ducked and rushed him. But Cliff saw it coming and braced against the floor, the two men yanking each other around as each tried to gain the upper hand. Cliff slipped and Rowen forced him to the ground, punching him repeatedly. I could see blood dripping from Cliff's busted nose as he tried unsuccessfully to guard his face. Finally, Cliff managed to grab Rowen's hands and shove him off. As Rowen tried to get to his feet though, Cliff pinned him face down, locking his arm behind his back. 

"I am not afraid to kill you," Cliff hissed.

Rowen laughed, but it was raspy from the position he was in. "Then do it," he said, dropping his forehead to the floor. "What have you got to lose? You could walk out of here like we never knew each other. What are you waiting for? Do it. Kill me!"

The angry demand went unanswered for a long moment, the silence in the room making everything that had come before it seem extraordinarily loud. Then Cliff loosened his grip. "No." He let go of Rowen's arm and stepped back. "I won't because I'm better than you. The moment I give in is the moment that stops being true. That's what I have to lose."

Rowen turned to glare at Cliff, but Cliff ignored him to walk over and untied my wrists.

After Cliff lifted me into his arms, he turned back to Rowen calmly. "Make no mistake," he said. "If I ever catch you near Zane again, I will kill you."

For a moment, Rowen looked furious. But slowly, he seemed to relax and a hesitant smile crossed his face. He shrugged. "I thought I knew you," he said. "But you really aren't that same stupid teenager anymore."

I didn't fight Cliff as he took me from that house and silently drove us back to his own. I didn't protest when he pulled me from the car and carefully carried me through the front door, or when he brought me into the bathroom and set me in the tub. I didn't even care when he gently tugged my shirt off, even though I was completely bare for him to see. I was just thankful to be somewhere even relatively safe compared to where I had been.

After he had filled the tub with warm water, he sat beside the tub with a washcloth and cup, and carefully cleaned my injuries. Every now and then I would wince, and Cliff would murmur apologies and promises of almost being finished. Honestly, it was almost surprising how cautious he was when it came to my wounds. He warned me each time he needed to pour water over a cut, or scrub an area with a bruise. It was comforting.

He shampooed my hair, and made sure all the grime and blood was gone before he unplugged the tub and helped me to stand. He wrapped me up in a fluffy towel and lifted me into his arms to take me to bed. Once he had deemed me dry enough, he left and came back with a kit full of bandages. I watched numbly as he put cream on my sores and bandaged up my cuts, mindful not to press on any of my bruises.

Now sufficiently patched up, Cliff pulled out some clothes for me. He helped me slip the slightly large nightshirt over my head, and apologized when I hissed at the pain it caused to move my arm; the one Rowen had cut. Once I was dressed, Cliff told me to lay down, and he left the room. I was exhausted, but my system was still on too high an alert to allow me to sleep. Not to mention the agony of my injuries was more than enough to keep anyone awake for days.

However, like with everything else, Cliff seemed to know exactly what I needed. A short time later, he returned with a bowl of steaming soup and mug of tea. I could smell it from across the room, and it smelled so much better than dry toast.

"Here," Cliff said as he sat down on the edge of the bed. "This might help you sleep."

The next few minutes were spent in silence as he fed me. The soup was better than it smelled, and I was grateful to him for helping me. I knew I probably would have spilled the entire bowl if I had tried to eat it by myself.

When I had finished the soup, he set the bowl down on the bedside table. The warm food was relaxing, and as Cliff had predicted, I felt my eyes drooping sleepily. Cliff helped me to lay down and he layed next to me, respecting my boundaries enough to stay about a foot away. As my eyes drifted close, I felt like I could finally sleep peacefully again.

*******

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