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

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

It wasn't often that Billy let those he'd trap walk free. He'd play with them until they were all used up, then dispose of them. Or they were unable to pass his little tests. More than a few just swallowed a handful of pills rather than face what he'd do to them. But Mike was different. Special. So Billy got curious. After he'd played with him for long enough, he still wasn't used up. And he hadn't stuffed the pills into his mouth. So now came the rarest test of all.

He'd made plenty of promises of keeping Mike well stocked in his vices, and for so much cheaper than Kelly ever could do for him. But sitting in his usual perch in that dive bar, he wasn't shocked, but mildly surprised when just a few days later Mike walked in. He'd expected at least a month to pass before he'd see the boy again. A token effort of resistance.

Billy could have done the deal then and there, but he couldn't resist toying with the man. So he followed the same processes as before. Getting him out to the truck. Driving far, far from the bar. Only this time when they stopped it wasn't the side of the road or an old warehouse. It was a house that had seen better days. The place Billy currently called home.

He led Mike inside without a word. Tossed his coat over an old arm chair. Went into the kitchen to grab a drink. All without a word. Just waiting to see what Mike was really after. He couldn't have gone through his stash already, could he?

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Once Mike finally responded, Liam watching his every shift, every flicker, with rapt attention, he looked rather impressed. While it wasn't the correct answer, it was an honest one. Said without whimpering or unnecessary begging. An incomplete lesson, but still better progress than before.

He pulled his hand away from Mike's cock, letting his fingers drag slowly and lightly over it. He clicked his tongue, shaking his head, as disappointment fell like a shadow over his feature. "No, Mikey..." he drawled, as he climbed on top of the junkie. "...you don't want to cum."

He settled across the other's stomach, positioning himself to provide absolutely no contact where Mike wanted it most. His hand, however, clamped over the junkie's mouth, leaning close enough to look him dead in the eye at point-blank range. "Sure, you need to cum. You ache for it, like a hunger. But you don't want to, because I don't want you to." He tilted his head, fingers digging hard into Mike's face, "I would have thought by now you understood. Your release is mine and mine alone. What you want is irrelevant."

His heart stutters in his chest, and the slight amount of panic is easy to see flash across his face--but he's at that stage where he's drained, and it's a miracle he's even putting up a fight. He's honestly not sure if he can take it anymore--Mike can fight through a lot of things, but Liam had always been his particular brand of intense.

And he got it wrong.

Mike bites at his own lip--tries to, but Liam's hand is in the way--and after a brief moment he screws his eyes shut, pained, trying to think of something--anything--to say.

He doesn't want to come. He needs to--but Liam is teaching him an extremely valuable lesson. That anything he wants is irrelevant. All that matters is what Liam wants, and if he doesn't do it, he'll be punished.

Mike is fairly certain he's going to start crying again, though this time most likely just from the constant duress of stress and a number of other things. All of them inflicted by Liam. He's bound by the jacket, unable to move, and he lets out a shaky breath. Liam's hands are warm and calloused and cruel. He breathes through his nose, trying his best to nod.

What he wants is irrelevant. But lord, does he just want to be touched. He just wants to come, and have Liam do it.

That was more like it. Mike looking so completely distressed but trying so hard to comply. Liam took in a slow, breath, as if savoring the moment, savoring that hot breath on his hand, that tension around Mike's eyes. The junkie had come so very far already, but there would always be new lessons to teach. The hand over his mouth wasn't to silence him, not entirely. But instead proved one simple fact. When Mike was first brought into Liam's custody, he would have bitten that hand, without a moment's hesitation. Vicious and desperate. But now? Now he didn't even try. He didn't thrash or struggle. He simply accepted it. Just as he would eventually accept this new rule. A rule that they'd building up to since the beginning.

"There, you see?" He spoke almost lovingly. "You'll have just one more task to see if you've earned your reward. Do it well, and you'll be in my best graces. Fail, and you will be performing your next favor for me more frustrated than you've ever felt in your life." His hand tightened further, forcing the other's head back against the bed. "Either way, by the time you get there, you'll understand that the very air your breathe..." His free hand came up to join the first, simply resting there at first. "...is by my will alone..." Slowly, his fingers started to close against Mike's nose, cutting off his air completely.

One more. One more task, and Mike tries to focus on the love in the other's voice--in the blissful happiness of someday actually fulfilling the other's wishes, not so he can get a break, but so he can see Liam happy.

He nods as best as he can--he does see, he wants to say, but he knows he can't. He can't say or do anything because Liam doesn't want him to. It's that simple--that known. apparently not known enough, because he has to keep reminding himself. Because Liam keeps getting disappointed.

His cock is hard, to an almost painful degree, and he laments the fact that, currently, he's unable to do anything about it. But it's not about him, is it? It never was.

Mike is cut off from this fleeting thought when Liam continues, and Mike listens as well as he can before those deft fingers pitch his nose and his eyes widen, unable to get any air in his system.

His face is already growing read by the time he thrashes--and it's not out of habit or his own will, it's pure instinct--against Liam, desperately trying to rid himself of the jacket by yanking and moving as hard as he can. He sounds pained, but anything he's saying--if he's saying anything at all--is muffled as his face turns read, and allhe can think about is air.

It's dizzying. It's tantalising. He loves it, and if Liam keeps it up he's going to start seeing black spots in the corner of his eyes.

But Liam doesn't let go. He just holds more firmly, his position allowing him to minimize Mike's thrashing. Elbows digging hit his chest, body weighting down his torso. Strategically placed so nothing Mike could do could dislodge his hands. And just as he'd suspected, it wasn't the same reaction as being choked. Closing off the the throat had a more immediate and stilling effect. Simply sealing off airways, the body continued trying to suck air, even when it was futile. Involuntary and desperate. Just the lesson he wanted to teach.

"There we go..." he said, almost a purr. He knew Mike wouldn't consciously hear him, but words had a way of sinking in deeper. "Now you see that everything belongs to me. If you breathe, it's because I allow it. Because I give you permission to. In everything. Right down to the air you breathe..."

He watched and waited, drawing out the words. He could feel Mike's lungs beneath him desperately trying to draw in more air. He waited until that vital function started to weaken. Until Mike seemed almost on the verge of losing consciousness. Then he suddenly let go, just freeing his nose. Watching with delight as he pulled his hand back.

It's different. it's a different sort of feeling, and while that blind panic is setting in, and while his vision is blurring and fading, and while Mike is yelling as loud as he can even though no one can hear him and Liam doesn't care, he's struck with the fact that all of this is moot. Nothing matters.

Nothing matters, even breathing, unless Liam wants it.

His yell turns into a whimper and gradually turns into nothing at all--and he stills, because energy is oxygen and he barely has any--when Liam takes his hand off of his nose. Mike gasps, breathing heavily, eyes snapping open, and while he doesn't jerk around anymore--he's literally exhausted himself--his eyes are a mixture of fear and confusion, head spinning, feeling more than light headed. He doesn't bother to stop the whimper in his throat, either.

Instead, he starts to shake. He understands--he understands perfectly, even if only half of it had registered.

"You see?" Liam said as he smiled softly. "If you've earned it, I'll give you what you think you want." He could have kept going, a whole monologue about how he should be grateful that he was allowed various luxuries, like breathing, so very often. But it would be a bit much at the moment. And he doubted Mike was in much of a receptive state at the moment.

Keeping his hand firmly over the other's mouth, he adjusted his position so he could reach behind himself. His fingers wrapped around Mike's cock, stroking him firmly. "There's just one thing to do before I let you cum. Are you going to do it for me?"

It didn't matter what he wanted, or that he hadn't yet stated what that thing was. No matter what, there was really only one correct answer.

Finally. It's just a single stroke but it's enough to arch his hips despite the pain on his back for doing so. The whimper is hard to hide, even with Liam's hand over his mouth, gaze stern, voice pointed, and Mike realises with a strange sort of detached horror that he doesn't care.

He cares about Liam--but he doesn't care about whatever it is that he's supposed to do. He doesn't care he doesn't know what it is and he doesn't care that Liam is going to hold it over him. A while ago, he would have fought. Spit in Liam's face, even. Now? Now he just nods, trying in earnest not to seem too eager.

Anything. Right now, he'd do fucking anything.

Giving the tip of Mike's cock one last swipe of his thumb across the tip, Liam pulled his hand free. That eagerness was what he wanted to see. Mike desperate and eager not for release, but to please. Jumping at the chance to simply do as he was told. Blindly willing to follow any command. They were still miles from where he wanted Mike to be, but it was a step in the right direction. He needed to know if he could break such a willful, intelligent man down to nothing more than a mindless plaything.

"Atta boy, Mike. You've got it," he said with glowing praise as he pulled his hand away from Mike's mouth to pat his cheek. "You're starting to learn the right answers." Don't think, just agree.

In one fluid motion, he not only got off Mike, but the bed entirely. "I always knew you had it in you. Now you'll just have to keep it up, until it becomes a habit." Liam talked while he moved around the bed to pick up something he'd set aside. And he returned to the bed just as easily. He didn't ask, he didn't explain. He just grabbed Mike's leg and set to fastening a bent around it, lashing calf to thigh. "If you learn it quickly, it's going to help you with the favor you're going to do for me."

He's got it. He's done it!

Mike doesn't smile because he knows that's the wrong move to make--but he soaks up all of attention, all of that love in his tone, and his nostrils flare, pleased. He lifts his head up as best as he can to watch but he doesn't dare move, doesn't dare step out of line. things are starting to go well. Finally.

All he has to do is shut up and obey.

There was a time he'd fight back. He's still thinking about it--how he can try to kick free of Liam before his leg is pushed to bend and he's tethered. But he doesn't. His breathing does pick up, Mike knowing he shouldn't speak. He feels like he should let the other know he understands but he fights that urge, too.

He just has to focus on the fact that it's going to work. That finally, he understands just a bit more of Liam.

He's never been happier.

Liam took his time, fastening and adjusting the first belt. He gave Mike more than enough chances to struggle, to fight, to try to break free. To even just argue. But he didn't move, he didn't even flinch. Breath, it seemed, was the motivator all along. Really, he should have seen it sooner. It wasn't the choking after all. It wasn't the sex, or the pain, or the need. It was just the air in his lungs.

He moved on to the other leg. If he'd tried this before, at the warehouse, he might have lost some teeth. Mike had been quite a force, needing to be strapped down, drugged up, or left in withdrawal until he was too weak to fight. But now, he didn't even need to be told to sit still. He just obeyed. For now.

As he tugged the second belt to make sure it was secure, he said "You've been so impressively good I think you've earned a little something..." His hands slid over the insides of Mike's thighs, up onto his canvas clad stomach. "...something I'm sure you think you need..." He settled back, hands falling away from Mike as he reached into his own pocket. From it he pulled something Mike likely knew well: a glass hitter. He held it up so Mike could see, toying with it between his slender fingers. "Do you think you've earned it?"

The first belt is adjusted and Mike is briefly caught off guard by the fact that it isn't too tight or constricting. He can't move and he'll probably have marks from it, and it'll be uncomfortable, and probably wind up resenting it in some fashion but it doesn't feel like he's going to lose circulation.

The second one, too, and Mike can't believe his ears. Those hands on the insides of his thigh seem to give him shivers just from the simple touch alone, and then they move to his stomach, and Mike's mouth is dry as the other speaks.

Has he? Has he finally got it? Has he finally learned what Liam wants?

That glass hitter causes his entire demeanour to shift. It's not his fault--it's hardwired into his brain, trying to be a little straighter, trying to lean towards it. It's unconscious but it's there, and Mike's gaze doesn't leave the pipe.

Even if he wanted to, he couldn't say anything other than yes. He licks his dry lips, and is about to say yes, when he stops.

Instead, he looks to Liam, not quite unsure on how to proceed. He wants to say something--something other than yes or no--and he isn't sure if that rule is still in effect. He doesn't want to say anything, or the hitter will, no doubt, go away. Heart racing fast, he tries to find a middle ground.

"Sir?" Permission to say something?

That shift in Mike was all Liam needed for confirmation. Like pulling treats out in front of a dog. Immediately alert and nothing else matters. There wasn't even anything in it. It was just a small bit of glass in a very specific shape. The way Mike looked, he didn't want to ruin it. That tension and uncertainty. Wanting it but knowing he shouldn't ask for it. Wanting to beg but knowing it would get him in trouble. He'd finally learned. And Liam wanted to take his time to savor that tension and conflict.

Slowly, he closed his fingers around the hitter as a sly smile curved his lips. This is right where he'd wanted Mike. Desperate beyond reason on every possible level. This was his own personal high. Satisfied, he slid off the bed, leaving Mike completely alone. He moved to a spot he knew he couldn't be seen unless the little junkie strained hard enough. And even then, he had his back to the bed as he used the night stand to slowly crush a pill. Making sure to reduce every small piece to uniform dust.

He understands. Liam understands but that doesn't make it any less frustrating, and he grinds his teeth audibly. He disappears from view and Mike cranes his neck, discovers he can't see anything, and grunts with the effort of trying to see.

It's sad. It's sad and pathetic but Mike isn't sure he has pride left--not anymore. He instead tries to get a better look, neck at a twisted, odd angle, and he catches a glimpse of Liam and Liam's backside, hearing the subtle, quiet crush of something familiar.

It's oxy. He knows that--it's unmistakable--it's oxy, and Mike could almost cry with how pleased he is. He's anxious--too anxious--and he can feel his skin crawl. He opens his mouth to say something, almost lets out a syllable before it catches in his throat.

He's intent and watching, though--and the worst part is that he knows that Liam is blatantly aware of it.

At one point, Liam glances over his shoulder, staring right at Mike, one eyebrow raised. He is aware of everything Mike is doing and not doing, everything he must be feeling. And he wants Mike to know that fact. There's nothing he can hide anymore. Not in this room.

Eventually, he turns back to his work with the pill. If Mike's paying close enough attention he might even hear the faint sound of powder falling against glass. He takes his time with this, as well. Getting as much of the powder into the hitter, getting it settled. Making it just right.

Finally, he moves back to the bed. Still without a word, he reclaims his spot, climbing onto the bed, straddling Mike's stomach. Only this time he was a few inches further back, making sure his jeans rubbed right up against Mike's cock, seeming almost careless. He didn't even look at the junkie beneath him as he held the hitter.

He didn't make a habit of dipping into his own product. It wasn't even a treat here and there. If he let himself get foggy, he'd lose his edge. But sometimes, he had to be sure what he was selling was worth his price tag. Or on the very rare occasions he felt he'd reached a point he could relax or celebrate. Having Mike in such a state was definitely both. So he didn't hesitate as he applied his lighter to the glass, far more focused on it than on Mike.

It might as well be porn. His ass aches from the welts, and so does lower legs, but the moment Liam sides and his arms are gently pinned beneath him due to the coat, and none of it matters. what matters is Liam on top of him, not giving him the time of day but his jeans rub up against Mike's cock and he stifles a moan. Shit.

He's trying his best to be good--to wait--and he almost--almost--wishes he has a gag. It's much easier than trying to hold his tongue.

The powder in the hitter, the lighter near it, all sounds and sights Mike desperately craved. Liam had hit it in just the right window of time--he was uncomfortable when he got here from not having any, now it was starting to get agonizing. That, compared with the pain he'd felt already, was rough. This was rough. But Liam had all the answers.

He's practically drooling, even though Liam hasn't done a damn thing. It's those lips that curl around the pipe, the amazing way he inhales--Mike wants to see that far more often. Mike wants to see Liam like this, pleased, even if he's not paying attention to him.

He licks his lips, and he swears he can feel his heart beating in his chest a little faster, swallowing hard and thick.

He has to be good. He has to stay silent.

Another test passed. He'd expected Mike to start begging for it. He would have allowed one or two words, but he'd really expected an overflowing of desperate words. But Mike stayed silent. Usually, Liam would have been disappointed to not have a reason to give any further punishment. But he could see and feel the younger man's utter desperation. The fact that he managed to hold his tongue was frankly impressive.

The first hit, he took for himself. Drawing in deep and slow. It had been months since he'd touched the stuff, long before Mike wandered into his life. And because of that, it was better than the first time. Feeling it settling deep into his lungs as he leaned back. He held it there, head thrown back, perfectly still for a long moment. Then he finally exhaled, feeling as though every nerve in his body were calming all at once.

As he drew in the second hit, however, he dropped the lighter on the bed so he could grab a fistful of Mike's hair. Finally, he looked down at the junkie, his face utterly impassive as he lowered the hitter, holding his breath. He leaned down, practically nuzzling against Mike's lips. Slowly sinking into what could have been a kiss, if not for the smoke he breathed into the other's eager mouth.

Oh, fuck.

Is it possible to come without being touched? Probably not, but Liam leans down and mike leans up and he moves his body as much as he can towards that gentle waft of smoke. Their lips barely touch and Mike's breathing is ragged as he finally, finally gets some form of oxyconton in his system.

His eyes fluttered closed--this moment, he needs to enjoy. It's not a full dose but it's damn close, and he can feel his brain pleasantly numbing, his ass not hurt nearly as much as it did moments ago.

He moans, and he's unashamed of it, letting the drug sift through his head before he opens his eyes to Liam.

He smiles, and it's genuine, despite his slightly unfocused gaze--he's calmer, just knowing that he's able to please Liam enough for a tiny, tiny hit.

If Liam really wanted to, he could probably coax Mike to full release without every touching his cock. But that was a skill he'd illustrate another time. It would be another way to make Mike think Liam truly controlled him. For now, he merely focused on getting as much of the smoke as he could into the junkie's eager mouth.

That moan, right there, was what Liam wanted to hear. His own head dropped back, hips grinding down against the other's stomach. He let out a slow, unsteady breath. It had been too long since he'd had someone in such a perfect state.

"You see?" he murmured as he dragged his fingers gently over Mike's cheek. "When you behave, really behave...you get the best rewards. You get to feel good." As if to emphasize his mouth, he shifted his hand to be a firmer pressure against the junkie's cheek, his thumb pressing between his lips. Would Mike know what he was supposed to do?

He gets to feel good. God, that's all he's wanted--all he's ever wanted, to have Liam happy and him feel good.

How short a time it's been. A few months from now, he would have fought tooth and nail. Would have claimed that he certainly doesn't need this, need it, but now he feels like he's dependant on Liam's love.

That's what this is, that's what it has to be. The way Liam grinds on his hip, demanding, and those drugs coursing through his system finally making him feel good. There's no pain on his back, and the welts on his ass aren't numb but significantly cooler. All he had to do was give into Liam the way he gives in to drugs--and in a way, they're eerily similar.

Liam's fingers brush his, pressing a little firmer, and Mike instinctively opens his mouth, sucking obediently and deliberately. he wants more--more oxy, more of Liam on top of him--but he knows better to ask. He knows better than to plead, too. He just has to be good.

With the small hit of oxy in his system, Liam actually feels it. That involuntary buzz of pleasure as Mike wraps his lips around his thumb. A crackle that goes up his arm and down to his groin. Involuntary and pleasant. The drug always disconnected his mind from his body, so his own thinking wasn't dulling the sensation. Which was why he brought the hitter to his lips again, drawing in a deeper lungful this time. He wanted to feel what came next deeper than anything he'd done to Mike before.

Head thrown back, he slowly exhaled. He looked utterly satisfied as if the drug were some form of nourishment seeping into him. Slowly, he rolled his head back and down, eyes half closed, just enjoying the twin sensations of the high and of Mike's lips.

"Do want another one, Mikey?" He let his stretch out, sounding almost lazy, making no indication what he might mean. Especially since his fingers curled beneath the other's chin, pushing his thumb a little deeper.

He doesn't have a choice, and even, he's not so sure he'd give a fuck. What he cares about is the sudden shift in Liam's personality, and he knows he should be worried but he isn't. Not when Liam is against him, looking as out of it as he is.

He smiles through the finger in his mouth, just as lazy, and feels like he's going to melt into the bed, straightjacket be damned.

One simple, clean nod--yeah, he wants another. A finger, a hit, anything. He wants Liam. Christ, that's all he's ever wanted. His hips arch up, unable to help himself now, still hard and hot and wanting.

He's so very close to asking please. To pleading for it, even though he knows he can't.

A smile slowly drew itself across Liam's face at the nod. Mike was turning out to be so good. Better than Liam had ever expected someone to be. People were so often stubborn and brittle. They refused to give in until they shattered. They didn't break, they just disintegrated. Became nothing, useless. Disposable. But not Mikey. Not his Mikey. Who broke just right to be reformed into something new. Something pliable. Something actually useful. And now Liam could consider just how much he wanted to keep Mike. Literally or metaphorically, it didn't matter. Loyal, or on a leash, or in a cage, on a shelf. This one he never wanted to throw away, so long as it stayed so very useful.

He brought the hitter to his own lips again, drawing in deep. As he did, his thumb moved, sliding in and out between Mike's lips, the sensation sending sparks through his entire body. Couldn't they just stay here, like this? Mike unable to move, unable to satisfy himself, unable to speak. Completely and utterly dependent and desperate. Mike at his most perfect state. Maybe he should get Mike a collar to wear always...

In one fluid motion, he leaned down, his thumb pulling free, and lips pressing over Mike's, mouth opening wide enough to allow the smoke into the other's lungs.

Fuck. Sucking on Liam's thumb should be childish, should be degrading, but it isn't. It just serves to get him even more worked up--even more in need. He needs Liam.

Liam's the one with the drugs. Liam's the one with the brilliant, unobtainable mind that twists every single thing into a sordid fantasy--ones Mike didn't even know he wanted until now. The buzz of the drugs are flooding through his system, spreading along his spine.

The whimper that leaves as he kisses him turns into a moan, unable to handle himself as his hips buck for what feels like the fourth time. he inhales the drugs and, stunned by how pleasant everything is and the sudden dose, lets his head hit the back of the bed, eyes closed, mouth open, completely and utterly in bliss.

Liam let his lips linger on Mike's for far longer than necessary. Even as Mike's head dropped back, Liam nudged and nuzzled at the junkie's lips, teasing a kiss that would never actually happen, exhaling the remaining smoke. It was so easy rewarding a junkie. They didn't even need the things most people did. They'd already destroyed their own emotions, their own will, their own drive toward anything resembling life. Give them their drugs and they were putty. Easy marks, really. But oh so satisfying.

He could do it, keep Mike there. Keep him like a pet. A prized pet at that, not one chained up in the basement. Lock him up here, in the bedroom, where he could be used and played with always. Keep him squirming and begging, and so very desperate. It would be so beautiful, because the drugs would be the reward. Punishment would be taking them away. And everything else would just be fun for himself. Outside of this beautiful haze, he'd never do it. He'd get bored of Mike in a few days that way. But right here, right now, it was beautiful to think of. A little pet junkie of his own.

He sat up a little further, so he could look Mike in the blissed out face. His own hand returned, thumb grazing over Mike's lips again. "Are you ready to put that pretty little mouth of yours to good use?" He asked, his thumb tracing the curve of the junkie's power lip. To feel it all without a gag, without worrying about teeth. This would be the reward for taming such a wild thing.

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

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