heroeswork | Walk, come with me now, I'm gonna take you down

That look sends a thrill through Liam. Never before has he been able to break someone twice. They were too different after, and often never recovered at all. But Mike was different. Resilient and strong. The idea of getting to do it again, of needing to apply as much force as possible until just that first tear was shed, thrilled Liam more than he could imagine.

They weren't quite there yet. Because in the end Mike lowers his gaze and answers. Still so well trained. But the start of something was there. A sign that perhaps, once it had time to take root, he would need that behavior ground out of him once again. It was a day Liam would look forward to with each passing moment.

His expression softened, and his hand fell from Mike's chin to his neck. A gentle, warm touch. A reward of sorts, a subtle way of indicating there would be no violence and no punishment. His other arm draped elegantly over the man's shoulder. An intimate sort of gesture.

"Tell me about Tim," he implored. Keeping his tone level and almost sweet. Nothing to indicate the sudden flare of bitter jealousy in his chest. Mike wasn't allowed to have anyone else, not when Mike was his.

Just a simple hand on his neck and Mike breathes out, audibly pleased. Liam wasn't upset that he'd mentioned another guy--so maybe this was alright. Maybe this could happen.

He's cautiously optimistic, and he leans into the other's touch, gaze going back to Liam. His voice rises to it's normal tone, and he's still trying to keep it casual as he brings a hand up to touch the arm around his shoulder, thumb rubbing it sensually.

"He's a veteran," he says softly, looking at Liam with a careful warmness. He needs to make sure Liam knows that Mike knows his place, so he shifts a little closer, face inches away from the other. There's no way he's saying that he's a CI, even though his criminal juggling has nothing to do with Liam.

"I gave him Oxy. He likes it, now." He's addicted. Mike still can't quite say that word. "So I thought it could be the same like with us."

The bitter jealousy doesn't so much fade as it gets masked by something else. Something that's half a step away from pride. The same, like with us. The closest approximation to a warm smile spread over Liam's face. This wasn't some tart coming to woo Mike away from him. This was something vastly better. He could see now just how well he'd taught Mike. To the point that he wanted to pass it on to someone new.

"Oh, Mikey..." he breathed out, leaning his forehead against the other's. He couldn't find a way to convey just what he felt. A junkie getting a veteran hooked on Oxy. That was either incredibly easy or a massive accomplishment. But still, he was proud.

But there were concerns. So very many concerns. He lifted his gaze, looking Mike in the eye at such an incredibly close proximity. "Do you think you're ready to handle that on your own, with someone else?" A ploy. He waned an excuse to meet this supposed veteran. To see just what Mike had accomplished.

It's working. Mike moves his hands up to cup the other's face as they touch foreheads, and he breathes out, visibly relieved. Liam trusts him. Liam knows he can do the right thing.

Part of him kind of does want to kidnap Tim. To keep him in a warehouse, to deprive him just so he can get Tim's love. Just like Liam did with him.

Did Mike love Liam?

He thinks so, but it's hard to tell sometimes. He's scared of Liam, sure. But right now he's still comfortably numb thanks to the oxy, and his smile widens. "He had a nightmare and I gave him a pipe," he explains. "And he's been with me--us--ever since." He doesn't talk about the punches, or the rough parts where Tim vets his frustration on him with a hand on his throat. Doesn't talk about how Tim hates him when he's sober. That's what he's trying to fix.

"I think I can do it," he tells Liam. Keeps the fact that he doesn't want to do it exactly like Liam, though, doesn't want to kidnap him and wants Tim to want it for the most part. "He was fucking someone that looked like you and I thought it was a perfect idea." He pauses.

"Do you think I'm ready?"

Liam pulled his head back, blinking. Almost startled. Someone that looked like him. Here? In Kentucky? No, it couldn't be. The pills had clearly warped Mike's perceptions, or it was someone who merely looked vaguely similar. There was no way it could actually be who he thought.

He settled slightly, with a faint, almost sympathetic smile. He patted Mike's cheek before pulling back. He'd never actually think Mike was ready, because thinking he was ready meant Mike had progressed beyond his control. And that was something he would never allow to happen.

"That's not an easy answer," he said, sounding troubled and torn, as he retrieved his drink. "Veterans are...well, they're tricky. Tough as nails in almost everything, but they've always got this trigger. You hit that and you never quite know what's gonna happen." He moved back to where he'd been a moment before, so very close to Mike. "But what I'd like to know, is how you came to see him fucking another man." Because that comment 'that looked like you' was still nagging at him. He needed proof it wasn't who he thought it was.

Liam pulls back and Mike is sure he's fucked up-just that action alone. He leans forward, trying to follow him with his body, but it's too late and Liam is talking. He's trying to memorize all of his words, or as much as he can while he's still in a state, pupils blown wide.

Hit Tim's trigger. The nightmares? The booze? He'd never, ever been sober enough to pay attention, thinking this was just their thing. How it was different. Turns out it wasn't so different at all.

Liam touches him and Mike forgets to watch his mouth. Mostly because Liam is so close and as defiant as Mike always is to some extent, Liam has the ability to strip him bare in terms of psychology.

"We rented a hotel room to smoke and fuck around. His boyfriend found us." And, quickly-- "It's okay. I gave him some, too. That's why I'm out so early, I needed to placate him like you did me."

It was all part of the game. Keep Mike on his toes. Just a little unbalanced. Just a little unsure of himself. Allowing him too much confidence would without a doubt lead to problems. Like thinking he can do to someone else what was done to him. Finding his own form of control and wandering too far from Liam.

There was a word in there that certainly had his attention. Placate. Was this boyfriend demanding the pills, or was he involuntary in this? Curiosity burned white-hot inside him, but he couldn't appear too interested. That would give Mike too much control in the situation.

"So he was already hooked?" Liam asked, as if more concerned about clarity of information than the actual events.

"No." It comes out quick, correcting Liam before he can come to any conclusions. He's proud of this--eerily proud, and it shows on his face. He smiles, wide, crow's feet around his eyes more pronounced, dimples surfacing.

He can't help himself--he grabs Liam by the upper shoulders, squeezing tightly, and nods.

"I did it. To two people, I did it." His smile only widens as he steps forward again, body close against Liam. Liam will be happy to hear that, he's sure of it. "I didn't think--I mean, you've got all the pills in the world. That's why I knew it would be okay if I came back early, and then the more I thought about it, the more I want to do what you do but to Tim."

The quickness of the response seemed to startle Liam, an eyebrow raising. That smile, however, would have been unsettling to anyone else. But to Liam it was a mark of absolute triumph. Mike came to him as a junkie in denial about his problem. And now he was proud to drag others down into it. An aspect that Liam had never actively tried to inspire, and yet it was happening.

To show just how much he appreciated this, his hand found Mike's chin again. But only to keep him there as he leaned in to kiss the man. Kiss him in a way he hadn't ever done before. There was such tenderness to it. Deep and loving. He was very good at mimicking such heartfelt things.

However, it didn't last long at all. Only a few seconds. He pulled back, just enough to speak and said softly. "Let's sit down. I want you to tell me all about how you did it." And about this mysterious boyfriend.

It's amazing. It's the same way he and Tim kiss, soft and tender and beautiful. Mike wants to kiss Liam more like that, and just take his time with the other. He's learned to enjoy the bruises and the restraints and the gags and the welts, but Liam's said before that their time was all about different experiences. Why couldn't this be one, too? He'd been good.

It's obvious he wants to continue, moving up to catch the other's lip but the other stops him and speaks softly and nicely and Mike suddenly wants another hit of Oxy, just to make this even better than it already was.

He reaches over to the sink to tap ashes out and grabs a used cup for an ashtray, and it's then that he sits down. He doesn't know where to begin, and it shows, so he settles for sitting just a little out of reach of Liam, closing himself off physically as he thinks.

"Me and Tim met each other and rented a hotel room. He slept before me, and then started having some weird nightmare or something about living in the army." He doesn't care that's not the proper wording, not right now. "So I woke him up and told him I know what would help him forget all of that and fix it."

Liam wants to keep giving Mike more. Keep him wanting more. Just for that look alone, that reaching for it once its gone. But this is a reward, or rather a hint of a reward that's to come once he tells the story. It can only be given out in small pieces. And already Liam was thinking of so much more that could be done to further that reward, if the story was good enough.

He let Mike pull away, distance himself as he sat down. Liam himself finished off the last of his drink and set the bottle beside the sink. He maintained that distance, leaning against the wall, watching and listening.

Starting with Tim, not the boyfriend. Not exactly what he'd asked, but he couldn't fault Mike for that. Yet. It was a matter of interpretation on the request, filtered through the fogged mind of a junkie. But still, his fingers itched to grab Mike by the hair, yank his head back, and demand a concise answer. He made himself wait.

"It was that easy?" His tone was neutral, almost bland. Masking just how interested he really was.

Mike murmurs yes, leaning back once he knows Liam's not going into the couch. He's a little more comfortable, but not much. He's used to not being comfortable. He's used to not being used to anything, and that in and of itself is a dichotomy.

He takes a small breath before he starts again. "Yeah. But Tim--he knows the other guy. So we went to the hotel room, he came on, too, wanting to meet him. I was there, too." His lips curl up into a smirk.

"He was so fucking pissed, man. He had been trying to get Tim clean, I thought he was gonna just punch me. But he didn't. He didn't and I just knew what would make it better. I took a hit and shot gunned it, and then Tim and I got Billy cuffed to the bed so we could just duck around and let it happen."

Oh, Liam wanted to be right there with Mike. On top of him. Not letting him forget for an instant who was in control here. But part of this was catching him off guard. Letting him think it was all fine, then tearing the rug out from under his feet. So he let Mike be comfortable. Probably the only time he'd allow it in his presence. Because he needed that comfort. Comfort loosened tongues. It would allow the story to flow more smoothly, to let certain details slip out.

It was going so well, and Liam actually looked impressed. Then a name slipped out. That's all it took. A name. And his face went completely blank. A mask sliding into place to hide a strange mix of eagerness and irritation. After a moment, he nodded, as if thinking it all over.

"Billy," he repeated finally. "He's the one who you mentioned before. That you saw Tim with." No questions, just repeating facts. "So it was all three of you at once, then."

Mike is calm, now. Riding out the last of his haze. He wasn't joking about needing more, though, and for all the noises about wanting Liam's stuff--and if he's honest with himself Liam's expertise--he needs oxy, too. That was just plain simple.

He's halfway done his cigarette now, off-guard, and he nods.

"Yeah, I think that was his name. Looked a bit like you." Looked exactly, but Mike is never sure when he's that high. He spends most of his tim with Tim extra fucked up, just because it makes it more special. His face curls up into another smile, different--he's unable to hide it from his face.

It was the best threesome in his life. Hell it was one of the best weekends of his life. "All that was there was drugs and fucking. You woulda been proud," he comments, because he's sure he would. Mike learned a lot under the other's tutelage.

What business would Billy have in Kentucky? That was the question Liam kept returning to. It must be a coincidence, it had to be. Sure, they were a day's driving away from the DC area, so it wasn't completely out of the question. But the odds were astronomical that after six years they'd end up not only in the same city, but connected to the same people. It couldn't be. There was no way little straight-laced, do-gooder Billy was popping Oxy and having a kinky threesome while handcuffed to a bed a seedy hotel room.

"It sounds like it..." he said, just a little softer than usual.

He needed to know, for certain, if it was him. But he couldn't trust a junkie's memories. For all he knew this guy just happened to be of a vaguely similar build with the same color hair. The drug haze made it easy to sketch in the wrong details. The name was a mere coincidence. That made a great deal more sense.

Pushing off the wall, he moved over to Mike. He leaned over the man, just so he could pluck the cigarette from his fingers. Everything that belonged to the junkie belonged to him. He took a slow drag from it, watching Mike intently. Not until now did it cross his mind that this could be intentional. Maybe not on Mike's part, but on someone's. If it really was HIS Billy.

"Do you know anything about him beside his name?" Something to settle this one way or another.

"No," Mike says, and the entire time he's staring enviously at those lips. The fact Liam has his cigarette doesn't bother him at all. It's a reminder of his place, and he's not exactly happy about it, but he understands why. It's a part of Liam.

mike doesn't kid himself, he knows he doesn't know all about Liam and how he works. Sometimes, though, he thinks he knows some of it.

"I wasn't exactly asking about his life story, Liam, I was fucking horny and Tim was there."

Liam just watched Mike, unconcerned, as he took another drag off the cigarette. Those harsh words. Not even an apology for any of it. It had been too long since he'd put Mike properly in his place, that's what this was. It wasn't just a remaining spark of defiance. He'd let his control slip. Mike needed a reminder. Even if he didn't know something didn't mean he could talk like that.

Exhaling the smoke, he dropped the remaining stick in the glass Mike had been using for an ashtray. The thing had barely left his fingers when he twisted around all at once and back-handed Mike hard across the cheek.

Fingers still stinging, he gripped the junkie by the chin, forcing the man to look at him. "What makes you think you have any right to speak to me in such a way?" He knew that letting Mike get comfortable would lead to letting something slip.

Mike was too casual. He knows that now--just because he isn't sure what to say to please Liam doesn't mean he should speak his mind. He's struck and while it's not hard he still tastes copper in his mouth from biting his teeth.

Then his chin was forced upwards and Mike, despite himself, finds his heart beating in his chest. He needs to focus, needs to calm Liam down. He knows how to do it by now unless the other is just looking for a reason, and he has to gauge that.

Despite the pain, he winces through it and speaks: "I didn't mean to, I'm sorry," he apologizes. He's under whether to call Liam master, sir, or just plain Liam, so he keeps that out. Instead, he's yanked towards the other by his chin and winces.

His hands are up in the air, as if he surrenders.

"I just thought I needed to express what was going on in my head," he mumbles quickly, and sends a panicked glance to the door.

Liam's gaze follows Mike's, much slower and much more obviously. A slow drag to the door, then just as slowly back to Mike, an eyebrow lifted. He didn't really need to say anything. That look would say enough. He'd given it to the junkie far too often before. The look that said Mike was treading on very thin ice.

Then again, Liam was always looking for excuses. He did so like breaking this particular plaything.

Maybe Mike twitched, maybe he moved, maybe he didn't. But Liam would say he did. Obvious disobedience would not be tolerated. Still gripping Mike's face, he slid onto the couch, straddling the other's lap. His free hand planted on the couch above Mike's shoulder, trapping him completely. Looming over him, tilting his head to look up at Liam directly.

"You will express yourself properly," Liam hissed.

He'd fucked up. He'd fucked up and he opens his mouth to fix it, to try to turn the situation around. The problem is that some of the stuff that comes out of his mouth, the words--he can't control it.

He does shift, only to angle himself better to explain that he was high and he won't do it again when Liam nestles in himself on top of him. It would be sweet and gentle if the hand wasn't gripping his face and it wasn't Liam.

He has to weigh his options here. Either he can try to defend himself and get Liam angry with something he said, or he could say nothing and get reprimanded for not answering. He goes with trying to talk his way out of it, and tries to hide the trapped feeling in his eyes. He's not sure he succeeds.

"I'm sorry," he says for the second time. "It won't happen again, I swear."

It will, though. Get him high enough and it will. He sniffs, unsure, and it's reflected as he looks up over at the man looming over him. His hands go up, into the air, like he's not armed and he swallows, hard.

"I promise."

Liam lets out a slow breath, seeing that look. There was no hiding it when it was exactly what he'd been looking for. That signal that Mike knew just where this was going. That he knew there was no escape no escape until Liam deemed it so. He did so miss keeping Mike all to himself. He was proud to know he'd gone out in the world in a whole new form than when he'd been taken in. But still, he did not like the idea of Mike enjoying himself with others. It was strange to hold both at once, and yet he did.

His fingers loosened from Mike's face, giving him a moment of reprieve. Well, almost. Those fingers ghosted down over the man's throat, tracing the subtle lines in his skin. Liam remembered just how well Mike had responded to being choked. It had been such a wonderful tool in the beginning. And he wondered if it would be so still.

"You promise...what?" There was that warning tone. There was only one correct response. Could Mike find it?

"I promise to express myself properly," his voice is quick and crisp and it's said as fast as he can. The real problem is he doesn't know. He doesn't know what will help get that tone soothed because he can't read the other's mind.

He knows better than to ask, though, because that gets Liam's ire even more. So he scrambles for what he can use, what he can do and guess and he prays he's right.

Maybe there's more, though. Those fingers on his neck are making his pulse beat faster, the room get warmer, and he brings his hands up, slowly, to Liam's face. "I promise," he repeats, and lifts his lips up so he can kiss the other softly.Try to disarm him.

There were times when such a move from Mike may have diffused the situation. A simple show of subservience, anything to show he wanted to please Liam. But that's not what he was looking for right now. And he showed his displeasure at the wrong answer very firmly.

All at once, he grabbed one of Mike's wrists. Using that and the hand at his throat, he slammed the junkie hard against the back of the couch. The grip on the wrist was almost crushing, but the one at his throat wasn't enough to block his airway. It was only enough to get his attention.

"You've been away too long, Mikey," he said, his tone dark and dangerous. "You've already forgotten." Then a razor sharp edge started to creep into it, "But what else can I expect from a worthless junkie like you?"

Here it comes. Mike half expects to black out because of the hand on his throat but it's not the problem--oh, no. The problem is the look in Liam's eyes, the warning and the fact that as soon as he opens his mouth, Liam is going to say things that cut to his core.

He can already feel his wrist bruising, already feel his hands shaking with the effort of trying to push back. It's useless. He knows it is, but it's still instinctive.

And then Liam says it. 'Mikey,' and 'junkie,' and all of the things that make Mike mad. The worst part is that Liam knows it makes him angry. He's pushing buttons. He wants Mike to step out of line.

Mike's eyes narrow, glaring.

"I haven't forgotten anything. I came here on my own, and I apologized," he tries to explain. "Multiple times. This isn't fair."

It was never about fairness, though, was it?

They were long passed Mike's protest against such things. At least, the obvious, vocal sort. But Liam knew just what nerve he'd struck, and that look confirmed it. Still raw after all this time. Something he could scrape his nails over any time he wanted to get Mike's attention.

"It isn't fair..." Liam repeated, his hand tightening an ominous fraction on Mike's throat. "...that you think it's okay to bed anyone you wish." He leaned closer, those ice blue eyes at point-blank range. "That you assume I'd just give you more pills because you gave yours away..."

He let go of Mike's wrist, to instead push his fingers through the man's hair. "But what's truly unfair," His fingers closed into a tight fist, forcing the man's head back against the couch. "Is that I allow you to wander, and already you've forgotten to call me 'sir'." On that word, snarled with his distaste for Mike's behavior, he started to squeeze. The junkie had precious seconds to rectify his mistake before he lost the ability to breathe.

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Tagging while waiting for the couple.

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