The Jigsaw

Thank you so much for your reviews. I see many people open (read?) my story but only a few leaves their signs. It is very rewarding and important, so many thanks to you, that you give me a few minutes of your time to share your opinions!

kylee - well, as you see, Casey also can be a jerk ;)
anyway - I also sympathize with Sam sometimes; it's sure he had a hard life... but takng it out on others - well, that debatable ;)

viz - long time no see :) yep, Casey can stand up to Sam finally; he lost some ideals and he has grown to be a tough man; although, there are still some lessons ahead...

Aleks - you had a hunch ;) and now I'm updating quite fast again!

Lisa - yes, I love reviews :] especially those long ones as they give me an insight in my own work; I can see what readers like, what is needed, what should I correct...

SunaoTsuji - oh, thanks for so much reviews! it's such a joy to read that some readers are so enthusiastic about what I create! stay with us and share your thoughts :D

[Announcer] - we'll get back to Sarah, Ramson and LaVay sooner or later ;) there are many events ahead of us ;) and Sam and Casey - well, we'll see what they're capable of in a battle...

And now... enjoy the chapter!

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We're All Square

Now they were going fast. Like...really fast. Feverish kisses were devoid of charm, delicacy, seduction. Casey felt in power and Sam was smashed enough to let control slip out of his hands. Not that he did it on purpose; it just happened—nobody asked him for permission.

"You're my drug, you son of a bitch," whispered Casey, actuating his hips into the dance with Sam's ass. In strong, circular movements, he pushed his hard-on in between the thighs that were forced apart.

Sam just panted, "God...", instinctively pressing his own erection against the counter in an unconscious attempt to escape. It did exactly the opposite, stirring up his excitement and the strange, perverse pleasure of being deprived of a way out. It happened rarely, if ever. He wouldn't remember even if he could think clearly, which wasn't an option now.

"God? Do you even believe in God?" Casey asked, his voice harsh and aggressive, and his hips still waving.

"Fuck, no," breathed Sam, and then he laughed insanely. "I simply can't believe, for my own good. In this life, at least."

"Well, damn right." Casey slipped his hand into Sam's pants and squeezed his member.

Sam moaned and arched back, joining Casey in the wild dance of heated bodies starved for satisfaction. "Do you?" he panted, his mind floating over unknown lands.

"I used to," the answer came. "I don't know any more." Casey's other hand slipped under Sam's shirt and went up to caress a nipple. "It's easier not to believe sometimes, just as you said." He found it extremely dirty and sexy to talk about God at such a moment. A delightful blasphemy, a perverse pleasure of sacrilege.

"I'm a wise man." Sam laughed again and wrapped his hand around Casey's neck to pull the other man closer.

"No, you're just unbelievably intelligent." Casey pulled the black hair of his prey to see the naked, vulnerable throat and open mouth gasping for breath. "And so am I." He kissed that open mouth again, and again, shortly, briefly, always leaving a feeling of want, making those lips beg for more and chasing his for the next caress that wouldn't be enough. "And you fucking want me," Casey whispered into the promise of the kiss, which turned out to be another deception.

Sam tried to catch those merciless lips but failed as they avoided the kiss and sucked onto his sexy, tattooed neck instead, just below his ear. "And what if I do?" he asked, his tone challenging.

"Well, you'll have me." There was a tongue-in-cheek smile in these words. "This way or another." Casey chuckled. "So, when was the last time you did it? Or well, the last time someone did it?" He felt like teasing Sam endlessly. Finally he was on top and he wasn't going to let the chance of payback pass by.

"Fuck off. You're asking for trouble." Sam jerked in the embrace, and the pressure between the men escalated.

"I'm already in troubles, my fucked-up, beautiful Eagle...for a looong time now. So you can simply bite me."

"I will. I promise." Saying this, Sam suddenly pulled Casey's head and crushed their lips together in a painful kiss, biting the surprised man's tongue. "You like to talk, don't you? Casanova the story-teller?" He snorted, amused.

After that Casey didn't say anything, just smirked, squinting. He unbuttoned Sam's pants and with one unhesitating pull he stripped the lower half of the tempting body. Kneeling behind Sam, he placed his hands on his lover's thighs, shifted them up to the lines marked by the round muscles of his buttocks, and back down to the insides of his knees. Then he went up again to the hips, teasing diagonal rows leading to the crotch, and playfully withdrew, leaving a trail of goosebumps where he'd touched.

Admiring the shapes before his eyes, with his fingers widespread, he encircled the firm butts and squeezed them together. Slowly, softly, he licked the line of connection, which dragged out a muffled, hampered groan from Sam's throat. Hot breath on the wet line sent a new wave of pleasure, followed by the next one, built by the stimulating flourishes Casey's tongue managed to conjure up.

A slight shiver of excitement went through Sam like electricity through a wire. But instead of fanning the flames, Casey abandoned Sam’s bottom and set off to conquer the rest of his paradise. His big, warm hands wandered higher, under Sam's shirt, crumpling it and pulling it up. They seized the broad back covered with the proud eagle, the wonderfully carved belly, the strong chest, making Sam a prisoner of his lechery and lust. Then they brutally ripped the shirt off of that body. A shower of buttons torn out of the fabric pattered on the floor and what was left of the shirt slid down Sam’s shoulders and arms, exposing his whole naked and shameless beauty.

It was so new for Sam to feel a strong hand, domination, desire that had to be fulfilled no matter what. New, scary, and so...thrilling. He had never felt wanted in that way, adored almost to the verge of being worshipped. On the other hand, nobody had ever claimed him so bravely, with rapacity blended with unexpected commitment, to the end, with all the hell he'd harboured inside. That mix was mind-blowing, hard to understand, yet very enticing, pulling him in, subduing him. He missed those hands, those lips; he missed...that man! Everything in him was screaming with longing, the emptiness in his heart begging to be filled.

Casey's left hand caressed the inside of Sam's thigh, and at the same time his teeth nibbled the flesh of Sam’s butt. His hand crawled higher, higher—God, such wonderful tension—until it reached the end and touched all those magic places. His thumb pressed against the back door, still closed, his palm rested on the prostate, and the rest of his fingers teased Sam’s balls. Sam moved his hips back and forth, sliding through this touch. He placed his hand on Casey's and pressed it more strongly against his points of ecstasy. Then he slowly pulled it up, along his dick, and down to the root again. Up and down. Up and down. Stronger, faster, more impatient. His breath sped up distinctly; Casey could hear it, hoarse, irregular, interlaced with quiet moans.

That worked as a catalyst for the kneeling man. He swallowed loudly, feeling dryness in his mouth and blood pumping to his head...oh, well, two heads, actually. His hand, kept between Sam's legs and still covered by other man's hand, travelled higher and encircled the hard, big cock. It was soft, resilient, slick...almost ready. He squeezed it a few times, Sam's hand guiding him, and started to pump it, moving his fingers up and down, teasing the head and going back to the base in turns. Feeling his own excitement building up in his gut, he gripped his crotch with his other hand and massaged it for a moment through the thick fabric of his jeans. But it wasn't enough any more. Impatiently, in a fever, he quickly undid his pants, tugging the buttons with illogical anger as if they were dragons guarding the entrance to their lair. Finally he managed to take his treasure out and started working on it to the rhythm of his second hand.

As his desire exceeded his level of control, Casey just barely pushed his finger through the ring of sphincters displayed right before his eyes. It was an impulse.

"Fuck!" The tattooed body, which had been giving in to the ritual dance of sex so nicely, suddenly tensed and bucked forward. "You're like a fucking child stabbing a dead cat with a stick!" Sam hissed, turning around.

"And what are you—a princess and the pea?" Casey jibed, smirking unpleasantly. Sam was supposed to be a whore, right?

"I haven't done it in—I fucking don't remember! It was years ago, so don't treat me like a sex doll, asshole! If there’s anything precious to me in this world, it's my ass!"

Casey got angry. He rose and, pressing his body against Sam, he hissed into the other man's face. "So tell me, what should I treat you like, huh? A jerk? A heartless bitch? I'm listening, mister fucking delicate!" But he wasn't listening at all. Not waiting for an answer, he clasped Sam, grasped a handful of black hair, and, keeping the man's head in a strong grip, he kissed that loud mouth in such a way that the body in his embrace relented and went softer.

Sam had no power over him any more. Once he showed weakness, there was no way back. What had been done had been done, and now Sam had to come to terms with the severe consequences that changed the distribution of force. Well, of course, he could toss about in a helpless rage and try to undo what was irreversible, or...he could go with the flow. And when such hot lips were kissing him, when such a hot body was craving him, why not go whole hog?

What the hell! he thought, giving up what was left of his pride and opening his mouth to the kiss, taking it in, drinking it and returning it skillfully.

Nothing mattered any more. Pride, dignity, the game of two strong egos, respect, shame...they didn't exist in the world of pure desire and wild sex into which the two men were sucked. Or maybe they’d jumped in by themselves; whatever. Who cared?

Casey pressed Sam against the counter with the whole weight of his body, as if he wanted to join them together into one by simple physical force. Such was his need to be "inside". Their members, squeezed together, rubbing against each other, were hard, slippery, pulsating. Every movement, every push was bringing them closer to climax, but they both knew the finale was going to be different.

Casey broke the messy kiss, which could be described as anything but romantic or tasty, and dipped his head, his tongue making its way down Sam's chin, throat, and the tattooed lines on his chest. Then he dragged his teeth across one dark nipple and bit it painfully.

"Ah!" Sam grunted and bent forward to avoid the pain. "That hurt."

Casey encircled the reddened place with his tongue before he said, "Sure it did. It's part of the game, isn't it?"

"You son of a bitch. I’ve created a monster." Sam smiled and gripped Casey’s hair to make the amber eyes look into his face.

The blond man raised his eyelids lazily, seductively, and sneered. "Don't flatter yourself. You only woke it up."

"Well, still...."

"Yeah, still.... So, now, take it like a man. Or should I say...." He didn't manage to finish the sentence, as Sam lowered his head and plunged his tongue into that malicious mouth to close it with a deep, wet kiss.

"Shut your fucking face!" he hissed when their sore lips finally parted. "You’re all talk, kiddo. Blah, blah, blah." He smirked disdainfully.

Casey laughed, not offended at all. They were playing a dirty game, no holds barred. And they loved it, rolling in filth and perversion, at the very bottom of human debasement.

He straighten up and brutally turned Sam over, closing him from behind in a tight embrace. His hands slid down to Sam’s crotch and pushed in between his thighs, thumbs rubbing his cock. Then one of his hands let it go in favor of taking care of Sam’s back. His hand parted butt cheeks and dragged itself along the groove. His index finger ringed the tight entrance, trying to get the tense muscles relaxed, while his other hand worked hard to have the front ready. Their sweaty bodies, glued together, rocked in a clinch, smacking sounds mixed with abrupt spurts of breath, grunts, and whimpers.

Short, violent forays made Sam's ass a little more cooperative. Casey used the opportunity. He spat generously on his fingers and pushed one inside. Sam bucked hard, but Casey didn't let him avoid the thrust. For a second they stood still, Sam breathing heavily and trying to suppress the groans that wheezed in his throat. His dark face was twisted in an animal grimace of pain, teeth bared, eyes clamped shut. As his body slowly adjusted to the intruder, the blond man added a second finger, then a third—very quickly, ignoring the writhing of Sam's body, his tries to free himself, and his growling through clenched teeth.

Sam didn't ask for mercy; thus, it wasn't to be granted.

Casey pulled his fingers out and quickly lowered his pants to his knees. For two feverish minutes he worked on his own hard-on until his cock was stiff, swollen, and ready. Then he teased Sam's sphincter and pushed slightly. When it loosened up a bit, he immediately went with the punch and drew up his hips, with a dexterous thrust from below which penetrated to the last nerve and crushed all resistance. Sam sprang up as if he wanted to rise from the ground, jump out of his own skin, but Casey was prepared for this reaction. He held his prey down, shoving body to body, and went deeper with a slow, acquisitive glide. That tight inside must yield, give way, and let him in. And then? Then it would be up to Sam.

Sam stood with his hands widespread, digging into the counter, his head hanging low. His nostrils were fluttering like the wings of a butterfly, his mouth desperately catching air and releasing it in short moans. He accepted the pain with honor, like the tough man that he was.

Casey pushed once more, all the way to the end. It was good...tight, but good. He stuck himself to Sam's back and started to ride. The soft interior of Sam's ass gave him a real blow of primal excitement. He was going insane, driven by the deep desire for release. Soon he was lost in pleasure and let a wave of lascivious delight sweep him away. Completely indifferent to his partner’s feelings, Casey was doing him hard and fast.

For Sam it was a crazy dance of pleasure and pain. A moment of relief and then the dull torture of the next thrust, as in a wild trance. He ground his teeth, trying to keep all sounds inside, but in vain. He wanted to shout, to howl!

"Fuuuck!" he stammered in a guttural voice. He ran out of strength to react, to fight, to defend himself. A burning pale ravaged his intestines again and sweat flowed down his face to the corners of his mouth, onto his neck and torso. He couldn't stop a moan and he hardly could stay fully conscious of what was happening. It wasn't just a physical pain; it was a pain of his whole nature. Not only his ass, but also his heart and soul were being torn apart and raped. He managed to formulate a single vague thought: Just wait, you asshole...I'll pay you back and fuck you through the floor! But a second later he almost had tears in his eyes, as he found it inexplicable: why would he endure all this? Why for Casey? Why...for anyone at all? Thrown back and forth with violent shoves of the other man's hips, he shouted, releasing his internal hurricane.

It was bad. Very bad.

But also...good in some way.

Walls crumbled. Ice broke.

He had to die to be born again.

He endured.

He felt Casey's convulsion when the man came. He felt the hot fluid spreading inside him. He felt the soft cock slipping out and warm semen running down his thigh. And he felt his strength leave him. His legs refused to obey him and he slumped to a squat. His ass was awfully sticky, his insides still pulsated with painful contractions, and he couldn't stand up to fight back. He raised his blank eyes and rested them on the serious face just a few inches away from his. Casey stared at him with no sign of joy or pride.

"Victory?" Sam asked quietly.

Casey tenderly cupped Sam's cheek with his hand and said, "No. We're just square."

"Are we?" A weak smile flashed across the dark face.

"Actually, there are still some points I should gain to settle the score." Casey returned the smile. "But I guess I'll let it go. And I'm sorry for what I did. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Your control failed?"

"Um...not really. I think I wanted to give you a taste of that shitty feeling."

"You think I hadn't enough yet? In my rosy life?" Sam snorted, strangely disappointed.

"It was stupid. I'm sorry." Casey bit his lower lip. He felt really low now. And this was a shitty feeling. "Why...why didn't you resist?"

"Listen to yourself. That’s like saying, ‘I'm sorry I shot you. I thought you'd dodge the bullet’." Sam smirked unpleasantly. "Don't make me responsible for your actions."

Casey lowered his head. "I said I'm sorry. What else can I do?"

"Give me a towel."

The blond man raised his eyes to see Sam's ironic face. "I...I love you, you know? " he sighed. "Leavin' everything aside...I really do, although it's all fucked up."

"'I love you' doesn't fix everything. Actually, it doesn't fix anything." Sam rolled his eyes. "Do you really have to say shit like that?"

"Dunno, maybe." Casey shrugged his shoulders. "Nevertheless...I try. It's better than nothing, ain't it?" he asked hesitantly but the answer never came. "Well, I'll bring you a towel." He pulled up his pants, stood up, and marched to the bathroom.

"It is, asshole," Sam whispered when Casey couldn't hear him. "You really fucking got to me. Can you believe it? 'Cause I don't."

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Well, revenge is done! How did you like it? Was it fair? Was it harm? Was it... hot? :)
I'm waiting for your reflections!