Testing Lysander Page 2

  “So, now you’ve had a good look, do you think we can be friends?”

  “Fuck off.” Brock was defiant but he shivered a little, though whether from fear, cold or arousal he wasn’t too sure.

  “Are you cold?”

  “Do you care?” Brock snapped back a little quicker than sense would have dictated considering he was handcuffed to a chair in his underwear. However, he was feeling angry, humiliated and vaguely feverish, so to hell with the consequences.

  “Feisty, aren’t you?” The stranger threw a sheaf of photographs onto the table then walked around it to stand behind Brock. “Perhaps these will make you a little more compliant.”

  Brock’s stomach knotted as he took in pictures of his nephews on the beach and in their school uniforms, his brother at the gym and his parents in their garden. They had all been taken in recent weeks.

  “My organization wishes to engage your services. Agree to help us and your family will never know that they are being watched. There will be no need for things to become…unpleasant.”

  Brock knew when he was beaten. There was no way he would put himself before the safety of his family. Two large hands curled over his shoulders and squeezed, warm breath caressed his neck and a deep voice sounded in his ear.

  “Do we understand each other?”

  He didn’t respond. The man grabbed his hair and yanked his head back.

  “All right! I understand.”

  His head snapped forward as he was released. Brock trembled as his tormentor stroked his arms and chest before pinching his nipples hard.

  “Good. I’m glad we’re going to be friends.”

  Brock squirmed in his chair, willing his cock not to react to the sensation of strong hands on his body, but it was no good. Fear did not stop it visibly hardening beneath his trunks, pushing against the thin material until it created a lewd bulge.

  There was a deep chuckle from behind him. “Mmm. Very nice.”

  Ashamed of his involuntary reaction, Brock dipped his head, his face heating.

  “Look at me.” The voice was sharp enough to make Brock obey. The stranger had moved around him and taken the seat opposite.

  “We are going to be spending some time together. You need to know why.”

  “Is there any point in asking you to free my hands?” Brock really wanted to cover his bulging crotch.

  “Absolutely none. I’m enjoying the view far too much, so shut up and listen.”

  Brock’s groin fired up again at his tone and he groaned and whispered to himself, “For fuck’s sake, find some self-respect.”

  Kyle stared at him with knowing amusement.

  “You can call me Kyle. You are my new best friend because my organization needs some pictures taken and you are the chosen photographer. It’s as simple as that.”

  “Pictures of what, you son of a bitch?”

  “That information will be given to you when you need to know. In the meantime, you will pack a few things. In the morning, we will be going somewhere where it’s easier for me to keep an eye on you. “

  “Oh good, that sounds like fun.” Frustration at his helplessness gnawed at Brock’s mind.

  “There’s no need for sarcasm. Now I expect you’d like to go back to bed?”

  Kyle walked over and released him from the handcuffs. Brock massaged his sore wrists and tried to ignore the cool grip on his upper arm as he was led toward the stairs. His captor was so close behind him that he could feel Kyle’s thighs brushing his ass as they climbed upward.

  “Do you need to use the bathroom?” Kyle asked.

  Brock shook his head. Kyle pulled him into the small en suite regardless.

  “Well I do, so come in here where I can watch you.”

  The cuffs came out and Kyle attached one bracelet to the towel rail and the other to Brock’s wrist. Facing him, Kyle unzipped his fly and released a large cock unencumbered by underwear. He turned away with a sly smile and relieved himself before zipping up and turning back. He washed his hands thoroughly before releasing Brock’s wrist and pushing him into the bedroom.

  Kyle wrapped an arm around Brock’s chest while the other hand dipped to massage Brock’s arse through the fabric of his trunks. Brock shuddered and fought Kyle’s hold, but he was too strong.

  “Get your hands off of me!”

  “Keep still. I’m thinking.” Kyle obviously didn’t need his hands to think. “I need to sleep, and I know I can’t trust you to behave, so this is what we’ll do.” He pulled the covers back and shoved Brock down onto one side of the bed.

  Once Brock was flat on his back, Kyle yanked his arms above his head, cuffing them to the wooden headboard. Brock glared up at him and got a look of barely restrained lust in return. Then Kyle turned away and undressed, stripping to bare skin. His body was hard all over, muscles defined, his thick cock erect. Brock turned his head away, refusing to display any interest in the view.

  Kyle gave a low chuckle as he slid into bed next to Brock and pulled the covers up. He turned on his side and pushed a few stray tendrils of hair away from Brock’s face then slid one hand beneath the sheets and began to explore Brock’s body, touching and stroking his way across his chest and stomach. He dipped lower, tracing the pelvic bone to the waistband of Brock’s trunks.

  Brock bucked his hand off and snarled, “Very fucking brave, aren’t you, when I can’t fight back.”

  Kyle smiled patiently. “I’d like you to fight me, Lysander. I’d like to feel you struggling beneath me as I fill that perfect ass and fuck you senseless. I think you’d enjoy it too, though our situation means you must take the moral high ground and pretend otherwise.”

  Kyle turned away and began jerking his cock with smooth, rapid motions until he came with a grunt of satisfaction. When he returned from cleaning himself up, he took a peek beneath the covers, much to Brock’s embarrassment.

  “It’s a shame you can give yourself no relief from the rather sizeable problem you have there, Lysander. I’d be very happy to oblige, but, as you’ve already pointed out, that wouldn’t be fair. I have no intention of forcing myself on you. I think in a few days you’ll be begging me to fuck you.” He turned over and closed his eyes. “Sleep well.”

  Within minutes, Kyle was asleep, leaving Brock to suffer the discomfort of his own unrelieved need. He tugged on the unyielding metal cuffs and swore under his breath but it was no use. He stared daggers into the back of a dark head until he finally drifted into an uneasy doze.

  * * * *

  Wet heat, steamy humidity that soaked through clothing and sapped his strength surrounded him. The jungle was full of movement, unexplained noises and dripping, vibrant vegetation. A canopy stretched beneath the trees formed a shelter of sorts and slung underneath it was a large hammock made from netting. The edges of the scene were ragged and Brock knew he was dreaming, but he didn’t fight it. In the way of dreams, he was suddenly naked, his body slick and shiny with moisture, damp, blond locks clinging to his face. His muscles seemed more defined, his raging erection painfully hard as he watched Kyle stroll out of the trees. Kyle didn’t pause but grasped Brock’s neck and kissed him roughly, his breath as hot and sweet as the jungle air. He pressed Brock back to the hammock and waited while he climbed in. The fine net dug patterns into his skin as Kyle forced Brock’s hands through holes that then held him in place. Kyle pushed the edge of the net back until Brock’s backside was at the very edge and threw his legs over the suspending ropes. On his knees, Kyle leaned in to Brock’s exposed ass and stabbed with his tongue, probing and testing the resistance of his small, dark entrance. The hammock swayed as Brock jerked and twitched, thrusting his ass wantonly toward the pleasure of that tormenting tongue. Kyle stood and stripped, positioned his huge cock then thrust forward. Heat upon heat enveloped Brock’s body as his tight passage gave way to the massive intruder. Entangled in the netting, he screamed with pleasure and pain as Kyle used the swing of the hammock to add to the force of his penetration. Eyes bright with lust an
d concentration, Kyle leaned forward to wrap one hand tightly around Brock’s slick shaft. He shouted his triumph and thrust again and again until…

  * * * *

  Brock awoke to a cool flannel being pressed against his forehead. He was soaked with sweat but shivering with cold at the same time and fought the clinging embrace of tangled sheets.

  Kyle’s deep voice penetrated his confusion. “Calm down. The fever’s broken. You reacted badly to the vaccinations.”

  A fresh cloth replaced the first. Kyle used it to wipe down Brock’s glistening chest and stomach.

  “Try to sleep now. Everything will be fine.”

  The words were reassuring but, somewhere in his subconscious, Brock knew that things were far from fine. He was vaguely aware as Kyle tidied the covers and pulled them up over him. The last thing Brock heard was Kyle apologizing.

  “I’m sorry, Lysander, but there is no other way.”

  Chapter Two

  Brock woke to the sound of rain pattering against the windowpanes. He turned to look at the clock on the bedside table and winced as rigid metal dug into his wrists.

  “Shit.”

  The events of the previous night came flooding back and he was filled with a combination of despair and resignation. Next to him, the bed was empty and he heaved a sigh of relief. He’d been thrown off balance every time Kyle touched him, wanting more while at the same time resenting every uninvited contact. He had vague memories of waking in the night and fever dreams that had soaked him in sweat and left him feeling weak and drained.

  “I need a shower.” He felt sticky and stale.

  Kyle chose that moment to appear around the en suite door, a towel wrapped around his hips, broad chest glistening with water droplets. He gave himself a quick rub-down and bent to retrieve his clothes. Brock couldn’t restrain his whimper as he was presented with a perfect view of a tight backside and muscular thighs.

  Kyle turned and smiled at him. “Good morning. Are you feeling better?”

  Brock had to hook his tongue back into his mouth and stop himself from drooling. Kyle was completely unselfconscious, standing there in all his glory. Even soft, Kyle’s dick looked huge to Brock, but in perfect proportion for the man’s height. Kyle pulled on his trousers then came to stand by the bed, looking down on Brock with laughing eyes.

  “I’ll let you use the bathroom if you give me your word not to do anything silly. No trying to run and no attempts to fight me.”

  Brock nodded and groaned with relief as his wrists were released. He rolled out of bed, grabbed clean underwear from a drawer and stalked across to the bathroom without a backward glance.

  The shower was a joyful experience. Soap and shampoo had never felt so good, but Brock couldn’t get the image of Kyle’s stunning, naked body out of his mind. He braced himself against the wall with one hand and wrapped the other around his painfully stiff cock. He jerked harder than normal, punishing himself for his lack of control, until he came with a gasp against the tiles. He rested his forehead against the cool ceramic and groaned. Why does this man make me feel this way? He should be angry, scared of what was happening to him, but all he felt was a guilty desire to get up close and personal with that hard body. He was also really curious about the mysterious job Kyle needed him to do. It involved photography, it had to be risky and that pushed his professional buttons in the same way that Kyle pushed his personal ones.

  “If you’re finished…you need to get ready. There will be a car here to pick us up in less than an hour.”

  Brock jumped at the sound of Kyle’s low tones coming from the doorway. How long had he been standing there? From the self-satisfied expression on his face, long enough.

  Brock stepped from the cubicle, grabbed a towel and rubbed vigorously, trying to ignore Kyle, who stood and watched, his eyes never leaving Brock’s body. Brock pulled on black shorts and wished that he’d chosen less clingy underwear. He gave his hair a final rub then combed it with his fingers. He shaved quickly, cleaned his teeth then turned to the door.

  “Can I dress?”

  His face heated as Kyle examined him.

  “I’m tempted to say no—but you are very distracting in that state, so please do.” Kyle leered.

  Brock dressed in jeans, a black T-shirt and a soft black pullover that he loved. He pulled on socks and boots, watched constantly by Kyle.

  “Pack a small bag for the next few days then come downstairs. I’ll make you some breakfast. Oh, and pack as many pairs of those shorts you’re wearing as you like. They look good on you.”

  “Screw you,” Brock muttered under his breath as he carelessly threw clothes and toiletries into a leather holdall. He found his least attractive pajamas and shoved them in the bag too. Tartan brushed cotton, a present from his mother, should conceal everything of interest to Kyle. Brock glanced in the mirror. Tousled blond hair shaded his eyes and deepened the shadows under them. His skin was paler than usual and he appeared tired and stressed. Sighing, he turned toward the door and headed downstairs, where the smell of frying bacon assaulted his nostrils and elicited loud grumbles from his stomach.

  Kyle had clearly been exploring the fridge because he served up a remarkably good plate of bacon and scrambled eggs with warm toast on the side. Coffee bubbled away in the percolator and delicious aromas filled the room.

  “I’ll let you have a cup if you promise not to throw it at me.”

  His smirk made Brock want to do exactly that, but the allure of his addiction meant Brock would have promised anything in exchange for a mug of his favorite blend. He hoped that his curt nod didn’t betray him—Kyle would no doubt take full advantage of his weakness and bend him over the nearest table. Brock’s arse clenched at the thought and he tried to switch his concentration back to the coffee.

  Hot, bitter silk slid over his tongue and he sighed his appreciation. “Oh God, that’s good!”

  His obvious pleasure brought a grin to Kyle’s face. “Just the kind of comment I’ll be expecting in bed.”

  Refusing to rise to the bait, Brock sat at the table and ate in stony silence. He kept his gaze directed at his food and attempted to focus on the fact that Kyle was his enemy and not a deliciously dominant potential boyfriend. It just wasn’t working. He pushed his plate away and made eye contact.

  “Why don’t you just tell me what this is all about, Kyle? Has it not occurred to you that I might help you without the threats?”

  To his surprise, Kyle didn’t deny him straight away. He looked thoughtful, as if he were weighing some options, then he disappeared into the kitchen and Brock heard him muttering on the phone. When he came back, he gave Brock a stern look.

  “Fine. I can see you’re going to be nothing but trouble if I don’t tell you. I had reservations from the start about taking this approach.”

  Brock didn’t push. He let Kyle take his time.

  “For some time, the British and American intelligence services have been attempting to locate the base of a subversive terrorist group funded by the Colombian drug trade. A high-tech spy drone has taken aerial pictures of what we believe is their headquarters but it’s in a remote, inaccessible area. The only way of getting anywhere close undetected is via a virtually unexplored cave system. Access to the caves can only be reached by crossing terrain that would be challenging to the average mountain goat.”

  Brock felt strangely excited. “I’m guessing that you need photographs of this base and you want to use my officially sanctioned expedition as cover.”

  Kyle took a sip of his coffee. “What we are asking you to do is dangerous. If you are caught, you could be taken hostage and your actions would then come to the attention of various government interests. We have to make sure there is a plausible reason to justify your presence in the country and a trail that could prove you have been coerced.”

  “Who is ‘we’ exactly?”

  “That’s the one thing I can’t tell you. My organization handles certain…difficult tasks…for the British governmen
t and its allies—things that can’t be done above the political radar.”

  Brock frowned. “So you’re telling me that your strong-arm tactics are all a ploy? For my own protection?”

  Kyle nodded. “That’s right.”

  “You should have told me the truth from the start, Kyle, but, I have to admit, I’m intrigued.”

  Brock was silent for a while as he reflected on what he had learned. Kyle was one of the good guys. That meant that lust at first sight was not such a bad thing. This could turn into an amazing adventure in more ways than one.

  “I should be furious at how you’ve deceived me,” Brock said quietly.

  “Should?” Kyle sounded hopeful.

  “I don’t even have any way of knowing that you’re telling me the truth.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “But I believe you. Whatever shadowy organization you work for seriously needs to work on its contractor engagement policies, though.” Brock’s lips quirked into half a smile.

  “I’ll pass that back to management,” Kyle said with a straight face. He gazed intently at Brock. “So you’ll do it?”

  Brock grinned. “Yes, I’ll do it. I’ll take your pictures because they will do some good and because there are only two other photographers in the world with the skills needed to do this.”

  “There’s a major adrenaline junkie hidden inside that beautiful body, isn’t there?”

  Brock ducked his head. “Nobody else will ever get the chance to take pictures like these.”

  “There’ll be no recognition. You understand that, don’t you?”

  “That’s not why I take pictures, Kyle. Sure, I make a good living, but the satisfaction comes from capturing the perfect shot—freezing a moment in time that will never be repeated.” Brock looked up from beneath his lashes.

  “I’m glad you know the truth, but we still have to maintain the illusion that you are an unwilling participant in all this. Until we are tucked away in a safe house, I’ll have to treat you like a hostage,” Kyle said blandly.