This part comes with an extra warning -- it includes *graphic*
depictions of *consensual* homosexual acts, bondage,
discipline, and sado-masochism. If these things offend you,
you may want to skip it -- however, the story may or may
not make sense without this part. (i.e. I didn't write it so that
this part could be skipped without interrupting the story flow.
Sorry!)
We fell like stars. We're falling still.
We shared the dark. We always will.
Who else but you could lead me to my heaven?
And it's useless to fight.
Will you be my fallen angel tonight?
--Nan Knighton, "Marguerite"
(from the Scarlet Pimpernel soundtrack)
After dinner, Derek excused himself and requested that unless it was an
emergency or someone discovered something useful, he didn't want to be
disturbed. Sloan had given him a questioning glance, but he shook his head
and emphasized that he needed time *by himself* to think.
He locked himself in his bedroom and changed into his pajamas, then sat down
to read through the journals he had pulled. Towards the back of his father's
journal some of the pages had stuck together. When he peeled them apart he
discovered the reason was a partially torn envelope flap that must have
gotten damp in the humidity and glued them together. Carefully separating the
envelope from the journal pages, he turned it over and looked at the neat
handwriting addressing it to Winston Rayne, care of the Luna Foundation.
Recognition sent a shock through him -- he would know that writing anywhere, having seen it numerous times grading his archaeology papers, in field notes, and occasionally in much more personal notes to him requesting private meetings after class . . . _Arkadi!_ he thought, swallowing reflexively as his throat went dry, _Why the hell did he try to write to my father?_
With trembling fingers, he opened the envelope, realizing now that it was stiffer than it would be if it held only a letter. He slid the contents out onto the journal, his heart skipping a beat when he saw an edge of a photograph peeking out from a folded piece of letterhead.
_Oh my gott . . ._ He carefully unfolded the letter, noting as he did so that the letterhead was from the undergraduate archaeology department that Arkadi had taught in. The letter was dated shortly after they had become more than teacher and student, and the contents of it were gloating taunts about how Derek's father had lost him. Derek smiled humourlessly, thinking about how his father obviously had never seen the letter since he had died four years before the events mentioned in it transpired. Perhaps the instinct that told him not to mention his father's death to Arkadi had been correct, he reflected. After all, what kind of weapon would he have turned to if he had known this one had failed . . .
And yet, someone had opened the envelope and stuffed it inside the journal, he realized, shivering as a chill ran down his back. _Jonathan? Sloan? Why did they . . ._ he thought, his mind racing. _Someone *knew*, and they didn't warn me!_ He swallowed again, steeling his nerves. _No use putting it off any longer . . ._ he thought, turning the photos over and looking at them one by one. The first one was innocuous enough: just the two of them at a dig, covered in dust with Derek wearing a hat to shield his eyes from the desert sun. They were both grinning broadly and kneeling in front of some artifacts, Derek leaning against Arkadi slightly although it didn't look like anything more than comraderie and genuine happiness. Derek felt a sudden pang of sadness pierce him and he flipped the photo over rapidly, wishing he could make the memory go away as easily.
The second photo, on the other hand . . . Derek felt himself blush as he looked at it. Judging by the uneven focus and the framing, it was one of the tripod-mounted, timer photos Arkadi had taken. He shook his head, wondering how he could have ever let himself believe that they were only for 'personal enjoyment' -- except that Arkadi himself was also visible, and as a teacher sleeping with a student, he had been at more risk than Derek ever was . . .
He shook his head and put the photo down with the first one, trying to ignore the tingle he felt in his gut at the sight of him and Arkadi sixty-nining.
The final one was obviously the most damning of the lot and had been part of a later set, when Arkadi had finally managed to talk him into allowing a friend into their sessions to take some very creative and erotic photographs . . . He shivered as he looked at the photo, memories -- and sensations -- flooding back to him, no matter how hard he tried to ignore them . . .
. . . All good things had to come to an end, and at the beginning of fall they returned from the dig and went back to the daily routine of classes.
Except that Derek quite often spent time with Arkadi after the last class of the day, or on free evenings when neither of them had to prepare for the next day's classes.
They were careful and managed to keep rumours and suspicions down to a minimum among the faculty, and true to his word, Arkadi never gave Derek's work any grade other than what it deserved. Of course, Derek, being much more driven and committed than most of his peers, always turned in excellent work and received outstanding grades. If it caused any hostility towards him from his fellow students, he didn't really notice. By this point, he was more than accustomed to spending time by himself or in the company of people older than him and put little stock in the gossip and chatter of his classmates.
Arkadi and Derek spent the next break back at the dig, mainly cataloguing finds and helping with analyses, and having nights of wild sex in Arkadi's tent. Arkadi was surprised at Derek's curiosity and adventurous nature, but was quite pleased with the younger man's willingness to indulge in the less mainstream activities. It was this willingness that had led to the photographs, which both of them found extremely arousing. It was also this willingness that led to their vacation the next summer in Amsterdam . . .
Arkadi knew the reputation that Amsterdam held among certain circles and was ecstatic that Derek was the one who suggested a summer of decadence and debauchery in the numerous clubs and bars. His young lover was willing to try just about anything once, and thus one night they ended up in an S&M bar, Derek slightly drunk on _genever_ and completely free of inhibitions.
Derek sat close to Arkadi, leaning back against his shoulder and smiling as the older man's arm wrapped around his waist and a questing hand slid to his crotch, fondling him rudely in full view of anyone who happened to walk by. Arkadi turned to nuzzle the soft hair that framed Derek's face, gently nipped him along the jawline until Derek turned to face him. "You look like an angel," Arkadi murmured, bringing up his hands to stroke Derek's shoulder length hair, entangling his fingers in it and pulling Derek into a forceful kiss. Derek moaned and submitted to the kiss, feeling hunger sing along every nerve in his body.
When they finally broke for air, Derek whispered, "An angel? Somehow, I doubt that . . ." and brought a hand up to finger the black leather collar Arkadi had given him for the occasion. He smiled again, this one lascivious and inviting, and Arkadi chuckled.
"Your halo might be a little tarnished, but yes, an angel. You're beautiful . . ." Arkadi purred, tightening his grip on the sides of Derek's head. He smiled at Derek and whispered, "So, do you want to try what we discussed earlier?"
Derek swallowed convulsively and asked, "You promise you'll stop if I ask you to?"
"I promise -- it'll be exactly the way we discussed: if you can't handle something I'm doing, you say 'red' and I'll stop. If you want me to slow down or take it easy, you say 'yellow' -- and if you want more, you say 'green'. You think you can keep track of that if things get intense?"
Derek tried to nod but Arkadi held his head immobile. He met the dark gaze, saw the lust in it and shivered, recognizing the older man's power. "Green," he whispered, knowing he'd done the right thing when Arkadi smiled and released him, then hooked an index finger through the D-ring on the collar and stood.
"Come along, Derek, the room should be ready by now," he instructed, pulling Derek to his feet by his collar. Derek swallowed hard and followed Arkadi as they walked down a dark corridor towards the back of the club. Arkadi stopped in front of a door and knocked, and the door unlocked and quietly opened.
Arkadi smiled darkly and ushered Derek in first, watching him carefully for any signs of hesitance or real fear.
The first thing Derek saw as he entered the room was a bed -- with fur-lined restraints attached to the headboard by a sturdy chain. To one side of the bed was a nightstand which held a cup of water with a straw, a bowl of ice, and a lamp.
Arkadi entered behind Derek, pleased to see him looking at the bed with
curiosity and interest instead of fear. He turned to the man who had let them
in and asked, "Are all the supplies in the nightstand?"
Derek looked at the bed, then back at Arkadi and smiled. "So, what on earth
is in the nightstand?"
"You'll find out in due time," Arkadi purred. "Now remember, you are the
student, I am the teacher. You will listen to my instructions and obey them,
or the consequences will be dire . . ."
"Yes, Sir," Derek answered, although he couldn't hide the slight smile which
he suspected would eventually get him into trouble. "What do you want me to
do, Sir?" he asked, seeing the anger fade from Arkadi's expression as he
settled a little more into his role.
"Out of the clothes," Arkadi ordered, watching with pleasure and growing
hunger as Derek stripped without question, stretching and revealing his long,
lean form. The lightly tanned skin was virtually unblemished, pale rosy gold
stretched over beautifully sculpted limbs and darkening to a deeper rose
shade at his lengthening cock and erect nipples. The black collar stood out
in stark contrast to the light gold of Derek's skin, a very prominent mark of
ownership that sent a thrill through Arkadi, especially when Derek reached up
to caress the supple leather.
"Do you like the collar, Derek?" he asked huskily, taking a step closer to
his lover. Derek looked him in the eyes and nodded, his full lips parting
slightly as he took a deep breath, something in Arkadi's expression sparking
the first hint of nervousness in him.
Arkadi smiled darkly and purred, "Good." Then he walked around the bed to
the nightstand and instructed, "Get on the bed and lie still. If you behave,
you'll be rewarded." He watched for a moment as Derek climbed onto the bed,
then he opened the nightstand cabinet and withdrew a box roughly the size of
a shoebox. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Derek, pleased to see the
younger man obeying his directions; then he opened the box and selected an
item from its contents.
"This," he began, holding a black leather strap up for Derek to see, "is a
cock-strap. It snaps around your cock and balls to keep the blood in your
erection -- it shouldn't hurt unless I accidentally pinch your skin. Do you
want me to put it on you?"
Derek's eyes widened as Arkadi explained the implement to him -- he had seen
pictures in magazines, and suddenly realized that some of the leather
'wristbands' people wore might not have originally been intended as such. He
smiled and whispered, "Green."
"Very good," Arkadi purred, reaching down and stroking Derek's cock into
full erection. He stopped just as Derek began to sigh, and carefully slid the
soft leather band under his balls and snapped it closed around his erection.
Then he took a tube of lubricant out of the box and put some on his hand, and
gently stroked Derek's trapped erection. "Did I mention that it also keeps
your skin from sliding across your cock and therefore intensifies the
sensations when I touch it?"
Derek gasped at his touch, his eyes going wide in surprise, and answered,
"No, Sir, you didn't . . ."
Arkadi smiled and said, "I apologize -- we don't want to neglect your
lessons." Seeing Derek beginning to splay his legs, he lightened his touch to
a gentle, teasing stroke, smiling as the younger man arched towards his hand.
"And we also wouldn't want your lessons to be over before class is over, now
would we?" he asked, moving away completely.
"No, Sir," Derek answered breathily, wondering what would be next on the
curriculum.
"You like it when I fuck you, don't you?" Arkadi asked softly, looking into
the box again and smiling.
"Yes, Sir," Derek answered, unable to keep the curiosity out of his voice.
"Then I think there's something you might like while we explore other
areas," Arkadi said, selecting an item then putting the box down where Derek
couldn't see into it. "This," he said, showing Derek the black rubber item,
"is a butt plug. The flange here is to keep it in place," he explained,
indicating the base of the plug where it went from a wide cone shape to a
narrow neck, then back to a wider base. "That way it stays just where it
should and keeps your ass nice and full. I think this one is just right for
you . . ."
Derek stared at the item, embarrassed by how aroused the sight of a black
piece of rubber was making him. He could feel Arkadi responding to his
arousal and realized just how much restraint his lover was exerting on
himself to keep from jumping him right there. "Please, Sir," Derek whispered
softly, licking his lips and swallowing when Arkadi opened the lubricant
again and smeared some on his fingers and some more on the butt plug.
"Roll over, Derek," Arkadi instructed, glad when he complied and the
maddening sight of Derek's trapped erection was no longer visible. Derek
squirmed on the bed, settling his cock and balls more comfortably; then
spread his legs, already relaxed and hungry for Arkadi's fingers to prepare
him. He moaned when Arkadi worked the first finger into him, pressing back to
drive it deeper until Arkadi said, "Not so fast, lovely one," and gave him a
little slap on his ass. The unexpected sting shocked Derek for an instant but
rapidly faded into a warmth that spread to his groin. Arkadi had not missed
the twitch of his sphincter at the instant of the slap, and wondered why they
hadn't tried spanking -- or something more intense -- before . . .
When Arkadi slid the second finger into him, Derek tried not to move. He
almost succeeded until Arkadi started fucking him with the fingers, thrusting
deeper and pulling almost all the way out again -- then he moaned again and
thrust back, hungry ass swallowing all it could of the thick digits. It
earned him another slap, this one slightly harder than the first. Arkadi
smiled darkly when the reaction to the second slap was identical to the first
one. _Yes, this will be good,_ he thought, carefully withdrawing and
retrieving the plug from the nightstand.
As Derek was about to ask what he was doing Arkadi slapped him again, this
time fully across both cheeks. His question was lost in a gasp of surprise,
and then in a moan as Arkadi repeated the action. Then he felt something
strangely flexible yet hard probing his anus and realized Arkadi was sliding
the plug into him. At first he thought he was going to find it disappointing,
but it rapidly thickened from the narrow tip and when he felt it slide the
rest of the way in he nearly cried out. Arkadi tugged gently on the base to
make sure it was placed properly and Derek moaned helplessly, the delicious
full feeling sending pleasure through him.
"You like that, don't you?" Arkadi asked with a smile, already knowing the
answer. "And now I can spank you without having to worry about my other hand
being in the way . . ."
"Spank?" Derek asked, looking back over his shoulder at the black clad man
standing over him. The smile he got in return sent a shiver through him,
quickly followed by warmth spreading through his body, centered in his full
anus.
"Or something more, if you'd like," Arkadi whispered, returning to the box.
He pulled out a black leather implement and held it up for Derek to see.
"This is a slapper -- its purpose is obvious from its name," he explained,
bringing it down on the palm of his free hand. Derek gasped at the sound of
leather hitting skin, his eyes widening in slight fear. Arkadi smiled and
said, "I won't hit you too hard -- we'll build up from about the strength I
used with my hand, okay?" When Derek nodded uncertainly he smiled, bringing
the slapper down on his hand again. He wasn't about to give away the fact
that the slapper was made in such a way that the leather body struck another
piece of leather, lessening the blow but increasing the noise it made -- it
was a nice psychological shock to the submissive without risking serious
damage.
"Just relax, Derek, you're going to hurt your neck if you keep watching me
like that," Arkadi purred, walking back so that he had a better angle to
strike on the best part of Derek's cheeks. "Just relax -- where's the fun in
knowing when it's coming?"
"Ohgott . . ." Derek breathed, relaxing again on the bed, focusing on the
fullness in his ass. His panting had just started calming when *slap!* He
cried out in an instinctive reaction, feeling silly almost instantly when he
realized it hadn't really hurt.
Arkadi swallowed hard watching Derek jerk at the first blow, but when he saw
the muscles relax again and Derek's legs spread a little further he knew
there was no problem. *Slap!* He brought the slapper down on the rapidly
reddening flesh again, pleased when Derek's cry this time was a gasped moan,
and even more the next time when Derek whispered, "More, please Sir?"
*Slap!* Arkadi brought it down again, harder this time, a shiver running
through him as Derek squirmed against the bed and raised his ass slightly for
the next stroke. Arkadi paused in the rhythm, making sure Derek couldn't
anticipate exactly when the blow would come, then *Slap!* down harder again.
This time Derek cried out; a hoarse, lustful shout. If they kept going like
this . . .
Arkadi put the slapper down and gently stroked Derek's reddened ass, feeling
the intense heat under his hand. Derek moaned and pressed up into his stroke,
asked, "Why did you stop?"
"Because if I didn't, we'd both be too far gone for the rest of it, lovely
one," Arkadi answered, squeezing Derek's buttocks gently before he released
him. Derek moaned again, feeling the throb of abused flesh and the solid
presence of the butt plug, then looked up at Arkadi once more. He could see
his lover's erection straining against his trousers, and realized how hot
everything was making him. Arkadi saw Derek's expression and nodded. "Yes, my
angel, I am enjoying this as much as you . . ."
"So what--"
"Roll over, Derek, it's time for your next lesson," Arkadi directed, cutting
off his question.
"Yes, Sir," Derek whispered, carefully complying. Every movement reminded
him of the hard rubber object inside him, and the brush of sheets against his
tender skin sent shivers through him. He squirmed against the sheets a
little, feeling how sensitized his skin had become from the spanking -- until
Arkadi saw what he was doing.
"You are a very bad boy, Derek -- if you can't behave, I'm going to have to
make sure you do . . ." For a moment, Derek wasn't sure if he had actually
angered his lover, the slight thrill of fear hightening his arousal as Arkadi
grabbed his wrists and held him immobile. "I already know you don't have any
kind of claustrophobia, crawling around in burial chambers, so this shouldn't
upset you too much." He let go of Derek with one hand and awkwardly opened
one of the wrist restraints, then wrapped it around one of Derek's wrists and
fastened it snugly. With one of Derek's hands restrained, Arkadi quickly
followed with the other one and Derek was trapped, bound to the bed by the
chained restraints and even more aroused than he had been before.
He tugged against the restraints, testing their strength, then looked up at
Arkadi and gasped at what he saw. His lover was eyeing him hungrily and
trying to rearrange his rampant erection so that it wasn't so painfully
restrained in his trousers. The lust in his eyes burned straight through
Derek, settling in his own aching groin and flaring up like a bonfire. "Oh
*gott*," Derek whispered, arching back against the bed and spreading his legs
wide. "Please, Sir, don't leave me like this . . ."
Poltergeist: The Legacy is (c) 1997 MGM/UA and Trilogy Entertainment. This
story is not intended to infringe on these copyrights.
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