He stood silent, still, looking around the wreckage of the living room of the house he owned. As he looked around he recalled all the times with Mayson he had there. The smile that spread across his face was more of a sneer than a smile. He heard the echoes of Mayson's screams with every place he looked. He laughed, low and deep, quietly to himself.

If only Jonathan knew just how correct he had been when he'd told Mayson that Lucius had done this before. Mayson was the last in a long line spanning back since he himself was a child. It was something he thrived on. The power. At just the memories of all the screams and pain he'd inflicted on Mayson began to make him hard. He leaned against the couch, as if he had Mayson pinned under him, and released himself into his hand as he began stroking. He moaned and thrust his hips forward into his hand, envisioning Mayson writhing in pain underneath him.

He imagined slamming into him, feeling the vibrations of the union ripple painfully through Mayson's body.

With a deep growl, Lucius came hard into his hand, his whole body shuddering as his knees gave out. He hadn't had a good fuck in too long. Not since that son-of-a-bitch interrupted him before he was arrested.

He laughed. What a joke that was.

He cleaned himself off and changed clothes. It was late. With a glance at the clock on the wall, he discovered it was three in the morning. He grinned maliciously and exited the house, not bothering to lock the door behind him.

The fury he felt burning in his veins at having his toy so forcefully snatched away from him was great. It drove him so blindly that not once did it occur to him that if he were to actually get into a brawl with Jonathan Carson he would lose, and lose badly.

The lights were off inside the house and he smiled hoping they were asleep and he would catch them unawares.

Quietly he picked the lock and slipped unseen into the house. He searched around, the bedrooms, everywhere was vacant. They weren't home. He would have to come back in the daylight to see if he could find any evidence to suggest where they might have gone. It was risky...the chances were the neighbors knew they were gone, so while risky to venture inside in the daylight, it was less suspicious than lights suddenly turning on and off at four AM.

Lucius went back outside and slipped into the night.

At home, he cleaned the house before settling down in front of the television with his favorite home videos he had compiled over the years. He always films his conquests. There are cameras hidden in every room, the ceilings, the walls, behind mirrors.

On the video that played he was ravishing a boy, one he lured into his car just prior to his meeting Mayson. The sounds of the boy's screams excited him, but he wasn't ready to pull himself out yet. He palmed himself through his jeans, lifting his hips slightly, moaning. He waited through the next two videos before finally, he allowed himself to build his release.

Featured was Mayson, the first time he began ignoring when Mayson couldn't be touched.

"What's wrong, Mayson?" His voice was so sweet. He reached to comfort him and Mayson jumped away. Lucius smiled inside.

"Please...please don't touch me right now."

Lucius did not remove his hand but slightly tightened his grip, his left hand coming up to grip the inside of Mayson's thigh, sliding upward. There was fear in Mayson's eyes and he cowered, shrinking back away from those hands. He knew Mayson knew what was coming, and it turned him on to see the look of resignation on the scared face.

Quickly Lucius took off his pants and boxers and forced Mayson's head down, his mouth encasing his cock. Gripping Mayson's hair he controlled his movements, fucking himself deeply into Mayson's throat.

Lucius moaned as he stroked himself. Harder as he forcefully bent Mayson over the couch and pounded into him. Mayson screamed and Lucius came.

The next morning Lucius returned to Jonathan's house and slipped inside undetected. He looked around trying to find a clue as to where Jonathan could have absconded with his possession. He searched through drawers, mail, anything that would give him a clue as to where he could find them. As he searched through a drawer in the kitchen he found what he was looking for. He smiled. In his hand, he held a receipt for groceries delivered to an address about a week after he had been arrested. He slipped the paper into his pocket and slipped back out the door. He looked around. Minus a few empty cars parked in front of some houses down the street, he saw nothing. The neighborhood was still. He walked away and down the sidewalk planning on how he would make them both pay.

From down the road in one of those empty cars, a pair of eyes watched Lucius go into and exit out of Jonathan's home. As he watched Lucius walk away, he picked up his phone and listened as it began to ring.

"Hey, it's me,"

"What do you have for me?"

"He went into the place of residence. In there less than an hour. Subject is walking away from the house. Should I pursue?"

"Negative. Hold your position. We have a visual."

"10-4,"

Jonathan and Mayson sat enjoying their lunch of spaghetti when Jonathan's phone rang. He answered with trepidation when he saw the name appear on the screen.

"Mike, what's the news?"

Mayson watched Jonathan's face as he conversed with the detective. He made sure to keep his face stonewall and inexpressive, a sign Mayson did not take well.

Suddenly the food wasn't so appealing anymore. Mayson set his fork down and pushed the plate away.

He wondered if this stress would ever abate. If he would ever feel completely safe, or if he would walk around always looking constantly over his shoulder.

Jonathan hung up after several minutes of listening to Mike Callahan update him on happenings on his side of things.

"He's found me, hasn't he?"

Lucius Black did not take a change of clothes as he boarded a plane for South Carolina. He knew that where he was going he wouldn't need a change of clothes or any other personal effects.

Lucius Black had several acquaintances in any state he found himself in; he could get anything he might need once there.

The plane ride was too long for  Lucius' thin patience, and he grew increasingly angry with each passing minute. The man sitting next to him, a middle-aged man with a nervous tick, kept covertly glancing sideways at the stranger next to him. He had been in the warpath of men that looked just like him for too long and hoped that this one would not notice him, too.

Lucius stared out the window oblivious to the man's anxieties.

At the beach house, Mayson sat quietly on the couch, his knees drawn up, arms wrapped tightly around them, and his chin resting atop his knees.

Jonathan moved about the place, inside and out, like a madman. Mayson didn't have the mind to pay attention to exactly what he was doing, lost as he was inside his own nightmare. He didn't know how long he sat there, it felt like days, but finally, Mayson felt a presence at his side.

Jonathan sat sideways, his left arm bracing himself against the back of the sofa several hours later. He watched Mayson carefully, trying to gauge if physical contact would be safe or if a distance was required.

Mayson almost smiled at his cautiousness and blinked the tears from his eyes.

"Jonny?"

"What, little duck?"

"He's gonna kill me, isn't he?" His voice was quiet, ragged, and held a certain terror that Jonathan had not heard in a long time. More than just the terror from a lucid nightmare or flashback. This terror stemmed from eight months of threats that he would find him if he ever ran, and when he found him, he would kill him slowly.

"No, Mayson. I won't let him hurt you, my love. If for some reason he gets inside...come with me..." Jonathan got up and walked toward the back of the house. Mayson followed him, curious.

They went down a hall at the back of the house and turned right. Then they entered the door directly to the left. Mayson walked in and Jonathan closed the door.

The room was plain, a seemingly ordinary extra bedroom. Jonathan opened a closet that was behind the bedroom door.

"Look." Jonathan moved the hanging clothes all to one side and felt around at the seam of the top of the wall. It opened.

"You'll hide here. I know you don't like small, enclosed spaces, but you'll be safe here, duck."

Mayson looked inside and swallowed nervously. "In here?"

The room was small. Close to a 3X5 but maybe a bit smaller. Just enough for a single, smaller person to fit. There was no light for better concealment. It was a fancy hole.

"I know. It's small. But even if he looks in the closet and thrashes things around a bit, he won't know you're in here. Look." He closed the wall and knocked on it.

"So?"

"So? Listen." He knocked again. "It doesn't sound hollow." He knocked again and Mayson understood.

Lucius exited the plane and made a phone call as he walked through the terminal. It was a quick call to a former associate with whom he had done many jobs in the past, and who owed him a favor.

"I'll be there in an hour." He hung up the phone, acquired a cab, and had the driver drop him off one mile from his destination. Once he reached the house he knocked twice, waited a span of three heartbeats, and knocked three more times. The door opened and the face of a young girl appeared behind it.

She was blond with pigtails and had a dirty face. She did not smile as her eyes met his. He walked past her and further into the house without a word.

"Louy!" The man called as Lucius entered the main room. He stood from the couch if you could call it that, his arms open for friendly embraces.

"Don't fucking call me 'Louy', you ugly bastard."

The man laughed good-naturedly. "I must admit, Lucius, I was surprised by your phone call. It's been years. I thought maybe you'd forgotten my debt."

Lucius smiled. "I never forget, Manley. I just only call on them when it's prudent."

"So then. How can I finally repay my debt?"

"A job."

Manley's face flickered with nervous apprehension before he quickly schooled his features. The long scar that ran from his eye to his chin stuck out in the mixture of light and shadow.

"You'll do it, Manley. Or I'll tell the right people what you do with these kids you've got 'round here."

"Hey, man, ain't no need for all that, now. You know I've got your back, man." He babbled a bit nervously and reached for the girl who opened the door. He began to kiss her neck. She just moved her head to allow better access. She was no more than seven. Small, puny, and underfed.

His hand snaked its way under her skirt, and she whined as his hands moved slow circles around her most sensitive area.

"What's the job?" Manley asked not looking up from what his hands were doing.

"A slave I was training escaped. He has a...friend...who helped him. He had me arrested but they let me go on some technicality. Now it's time to pay."

Manley nodded his head and smiled as the girl's breathing became quicker with his ministrations. "Go play," he told her once she recovered.

"So, we're taking these two out?" Manley smelled his fingers and smiled. "I love how she smells."

"Focus, Manley, you sick fuck. I need your most trusted. Round them up fast. This is happening within the next forty-eight hours. Make it happen, Manley."

"You got it, boss. Kennedy!" He yelled and moments later a boy of about eleven appeared from the next room.

"Yes, Father?"

"You remember my friend Lucius. He's had a very long few weeks. Go sit in his lap."

The boy did as he was told. Lucius wrapped his arms around the boy and leaned back, taking the boy with him. He fondled Kennedy through his shorts, inciting a moan and then a whimper. As Lucius rid the boy of his pants he started to silently cry. Lucius paid no mind to his tears. He pulled himself out, hard and ready, accepted the lube from Manley, who grinned and patted his son on the head. Kennedy shrank away from his touch.

"This might hurt you a little bit, boy," he said. The boy screamed as pain erupted throughout his body and tried to get away, but Lucius held him, his arms vice-like, immobilizing the boy.

The boy's screams drove him onward, his hand clutching and feeling the boy's genitals. Finally, the fight left him and he sat there limply and let Lucius finish himself off inside his body. When he was done Lucius pushed the boy off of him and he unceremoniously splattered to the floor. He screamed at the jarring impact and ran back into the other room.

"Mayson, love, please eat something," Jonathan pleaded. It had been thirty-six hours since Jonathan had gotten the call from his detective friend Mike Callahan saying that the undercover officers had spotted Lucius entering Jonathan's house and leave just over an hour later. After Jonathan had shown him the hiding spot he had returned to the spot on the sofa, curled up, and didn't move. He didn't speak. He wouldn't eat. He barely blinked.

"Mayson." There was no reply. No reaction. He knew time was short, and Mayson was sure Lucius would kill him when he found him.

"Mayson, baby, please...answer me...just look at me...something..." Jonathan grabbed hold of Mayson's arm and tried to turn him to face him. Mayson's arm fell into Jonathan's lap, his body half-turned, his eyes far away, empty and full of so much terror that his stare was blank.

"Mayson, please-" whatever else he was about to say was lost as beeping alarms sounded throughout the house.

Lucius Black found them. And he was here.