He went straight upstairs to his bedroom after Billy dropped him off, took one look at the rumpled bed, and knew he wouldn't be able to sleep. He trundled back downstairs, tried to think of something to occupy his mind. He could watch the telly, he supposed. Finish the new mystery he'd been reading...play "Thief" on the computer... He paced, prowling throughout the living room and kitchen, searching for something, anything really, to occupy his mind, his thoughts, his brain. And failed. Images kept assaulting him. That body pressed against his, the helplessness, the hopelessness, the shame of wanting in spite of himself...fuck Karl. Who the hell did he think he was, anyway? All Dom had wanted was a shag or a few kisses...nothing serious, nothing major. If Karl hadn't been interested, why the fuck didn't he just say so? There was no need for the drama, no need to drag him off. Fuck this. Fuck this. Fuck this. Dom abruptly turned, headed back out the door. Thoughts kept swirling in his head, taunting him with images he'd rather forget. And those images stayed with him on the ten minute walk to Karl's house. The light was on over the porch when he arrived. Great, Karl wasn't home yet. Dom stood in the middle of the walk, shaking with...he didn't know what, actually. Rage, maybe? Shame? The need for payback? Where the fuck was Karl? He turned to retrace his steps to the party, thinking maybe Karl had gone back, and heard the front door open behind him. "Scared away already?" an amused voice asked. Dom turned back around to see Karl leaning against the doorjamb. Still in those black jeans and that tight black t-shirt, but barefoot and with tousled hair. He looked like he'd just gotten out of bed. He made Dom's mouth water. And knowing that made him angry all over again. "We have to talk," Dom said, unclenching his fists and taking a deep breath to calm down. It didn't work. Karl said nothing, just continued to slouch against the door. His look was unreadable, much like the look he'd given Dom when he'd accepted the invitation to the party. It was too much. "Invite me in, you bloody bastard. I've got things that need saying and they need saying in private." Again, Karl tilted his head in that enigmatic way he had, like he was trying to figure something out. Or studying a particularly interesting insect. The idea that he might just be an insect to Karl kicked his temper up another notch. Without saying a word, Karl turned and walked back into the house. But he left the door open. It was all the invitation Dom needed. He stalked in, found Karl in the kitchen. "Want something to drink?" Karl asked conversationally, going to the icebox. The sheer domesticity of the question gave Dom pause. "Sure," he replied automatically, years of proper manners answering for him. Karl poured him a drink -- some kind of tea -- handed it over. Dom took it, careful not to brush his fingers against Karl's. Contact of any kind would send him right over the edge. Karl took his own drink and sipped slowly, still studying Dom over the rim, not saying anything. Dom watched his throat move as he swallowed. Was there any part of this man that didn't scream of sex? No. He wasn't going to think like that. He was mad. Furious. Violated. He needed to remember that. Dom put down his untouched drink, gathered his anger around him like armor. And prepared to do battle. "Why did you do that?" Karl set his empty glass on the counter behind him. He leaned back against the counter, ankles crossed. God, they could be having a cozy conversation between friends for all the tension he showed. "Why did I do what?" "You know very fucking well what you did." Each word was ground out through clenched teeth. "You almost raped me and you know it. Why?" Karl pounced, his movement swift, sure. He was inches away from Dom before he could even think to move, to back up, to escape. "No," Karl said, those watchful eyes boring into his with the force of a sledgehammer. Dom was helpless to look away. "Not rape." He swallowed, searched for his rage. "What would you call it?" Something like respect glimmered in Karl's gaze for a second, but it was gone so quickly Dom wasn't sure if it was real. Then Karl reached out and skimmed his jaw, and he forgot all about it. Forgot about everything except those hands on him. "Let's make one thing very clear, Dominic," Karl said, stroking slowly over sensitive skin. "You wanted it. You chased and I allowed myself to be caught and you allowed yourself to be degraded. But you wanted it. And if you don't choose to believe it, I am more than happy to provide you with another demonstration." Just like that, Dom remembered his anger. He leaned in, eyes flashing, temper flaring. "I won't let you beat me." "This isn't a game," Karl answered and for one terrifying second that seemed like an eternity, Dom was sure Karl meant to kiss him. And knew -- knew, goddammit -- that if that happened, he would be lost. Hazel eyes searched, probed, seemed to see into Dom's very soul. Every secret fantasy, every indecent thought, every warped dream was laid bare. Dom closed his eyes against the images, against Karl. Only when he knew Karl was back across the room did he dare to open them again. Heat suffused his cheeks as vivid memory washed over him. But he would not yield again, he would not break. He stared at Karl as he leaned against the counter -- the long graceful lines and planes of him -- and, in spite of himself, ached. It shamed him, but he could not lie. Not to himself, at least. Karl was a dark angel, temptation incarnate, everything Dom had always wanted and never admitted out loud. "What do you want from me?" he asked, so tired his very bones ached. Karl pursed those full lips, shrugged. "I told you. I haven't decided yet. But I will tell you one thing. Whatever happens will be your choice. And yours alone. You will accept full responsibility for your actions." The smooth words in that soft accent contained a warning. Dom knew this. But they also contained a promise. He could have that graceful body, that unerring focus all to himself. It was a heady offer. If he said no, if he turned around and walked out of that kitchen, out the door...he'd never know. And he'd regret it. He knew that. But what scared him more was the thought that he'd regret it more if he did do it. Could he live with himself in the morning if he did? Could he live with himself if he didn't? He studied Karl much like he imagined Karl studied him. The black clothes, the long dark hair, the dangerous cat-like movements, they all looked so out of place in this pristine white room. Dom wondered why him, of all people? Why not Orlando? Someone worthy, someone beautiful. He didn't have the courage to ask...he didn't want to know. Not really. It was enough, wasn't it, that Karl had singled him out? The promise in those come-hither eyes and perfect mouth tugged at something dark within his soul. Karl could show him so much...and as long as he kept his wits about him, he would be fine. Karl had caught him off-guard, unprepared, last time. It wouldn't happen again. This time he'd be better equipped to handle things. He'd learn how to harness all that intensity and turn it into uncontrollable passion. He wanted Karl writhing beneath him, those stunning eyes cloudy with lust, those sensual lips screaming his name. He wanted to learn control. Karl seemed to read the acceptance in his body language, because, at that moment, he smiled. It was slow, languid and filled Dom's head with images of hot sex on cool sheets. "I am going to enjoy this," Karl stated. He crooked a finger. "Come here." And, against all logic, all reason, all common sense, Dom crossed the room. Onto Part Five
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