�Oliver Facet? Thank you so much for joining us on such short notice... we really needed another night guard.�

Oliver stepped forward, shaking the stern woman's hand. The room was dingy, a window in one side letting in dusty beams of cloud-dampened sunshine, that fell on an equally dusty desk.

�It's a dangerous job, I won't lie, but, the patients are all locked up at night. Your job is just to patrol the corridors at night, make sure nothing has gone wrong, and that everyone is in their cells. We'll give you a panic button, a gun, a knife... all the essentials, but in the end, it's up to you to make sure you're alert at all times. Now, here is your kit...� The woman rummaged under the desk, then produced a cardboard box, handing it to Oliver.

�Now, take those to your car, and I'll give you a tour?� Oliver nodded, carrying the box to the beat up car outside. That was one plus of this job, it paid well. His boyfriend had been against him getting a job, especially this job, saying he could support both of them, and that someone like Oliver, weighing barely 100 pounds, and just topping 5'6�, should stay at home. Oliver knew he couldn't afford to look after them both, though, so he had decided to use the degree he had gotten to some use.

He walked up to the prison, eyes moving from the stern woman up to the sign over the steel doors.

Maxwell High Security Institute for the Criminally Insane

Inside, the first thing Oliver noticed was the screaming. It echoed down the bleak, barren hallways, coming from various directions, all of it seeming far off, but present. As they walked down the aisles, a few faces pressed against the mesh, a few hopeless whines. Oliver gulped, knowing this was something he would have to get used to.

�We're getting near the recreation area...� The woman led him out to an area where a few prisoners lounged about.

�So... why do these ones get to come out?�

�Because they show good behavior, mostly. Or, their crimes were less severe, or their on medication that makes their problems void...�

�Ah.� Oliver followed the woman further as she showed him his route. She left him in the room with a few of the off duty guards, then, while she went to file new transfers. Oliver introduced himself awkwardly, smiling at each in turn.

�Just remember, when those creeps start crowding at the mesh, you're welcome to just prod me with your nightstick, you know.� it was a large, burly, red-faced man talking. Oliver winced.

�That's not very polite... they're people to, you know, just.. screwed up.�

�Oh, look, shrimp here's a regular humanitarian.� The man laughed. �Spend a night here, boy, and you'll see what I mean.

Oliver wasn't entirely sure how to respond to the thinly veiled insults, and was glad when the stern woman re-appeared. He followed her out, politely answering her questions, and saying he would arrive at the designated time that evening.

Lucas, his boyfriend, was out when he returned home. He was a little relieved, he was nervous enough about his first day of work without Lucas there telling him he wasn't cut out for it.

Oliver changed into his uniform, made sure he looked decent, then sat on the couch, watching TV till it was time to go.

When he arrived at the prison disguised as an institution, it was dark. He walked in, a little nervously, finding the place time, with the night lights on. He punched in, finding the atmosphere a little eerie. The screams were silent, now, as was the entire compound, except the metallic echo of his shoes on the concrete floor. Oliver took a deep breath, and began his patrol route.

There were no disturbances, and Oliver was making a second lap when someone grabbed him from behind. He yelped, but knew there was no one to hear him.

�Relax, just a tradition for newbies. Spend a night in an empty cell, and you'll really sympathize with these things.� Oliver recognized the voice of the beefy man who had harassed him earlier in the break room.

�This isn't funny! Let me go!� Oliver struggled, but the man was at least twice his weight, and about a foot taller then him. Oliver struggled harder as the man chose a cell, opening it, tossing him in, closing it, and locking it. Oliver rushed to the mesh at the front, trying to keep the man in view as he walked away.

�Let me out!� Oliver rattled the mesh of the cell, then groaned, resting his forehead against it. Suddenly, he was acutely aware of a presence behind him. He slowly turned, gasping in fear as he saw eyes shining in the darkness, and a black form slinking closer. Oliver groped for his panic button, only to find it was missing. It must have fallen to the ground when he was struggling against the man who had put him in here.

�Looks as though someone chose the wrong cell...� The voice was soft, whispery, and sinister. The soft laugh that followed made every single hair on Oliver's body stand up, as he backed up till he was pressed against the door.

As the man in the cell came closer, Oliver lost the breath to scream. His hair seemed to gleam in the light from the hallway beyond the mesh, and although the darkness bleached everything to black and white, the man's hair was the only thing that had a metallic shine. His eyes were shaded by the long, wild hair, his form thin and tall.

�I-I'm terribly sorry, it wasn't my idea to come in here, they'll let me out in the morning, I'll stay out of your way...� Oliver was babbling, unsure if he had landed in one of the cells of the less-insane, or if his life was in danger. His question was answered a second later, when the dark figure lunged forward, somehow managing to capture both Oliver's hands in one of his, slamming Oliver's thin body against the steel door. Oliver's breath left him in a gasp, pain shooting through his body.

�They'll be along to let you out in the morning, will they? And what about me, I wonder? I'll stay here forever, I suppose...� The most terrifying part of the experience was not being physically attacked, nor the pain of being slammed into the door. It was the way the man's voice never wavered, never rose above that malevolent whisper. Oliver felt a hand unstrapping his gun from it's holster, heard the clip clatter to the floor them skitter away, heard the firing pin be dropped through the mesh above his head, and the shell of the gun being dropped to the floor. Then, his knife was withdrawn, flashing in the moonlight as the man held it up. Oliver struggled, trying to free his hands, only to discover that the man had him immobilized, even with one hand. He brought up a leg to kick, only to feel the metal of the knife touch his throat.

�Put your leg back down.�

Oliver did as he was told, starting to shake. He knew he was in trouble, quite a bit of trouble, and that he would be lucky to live through the night. The knife rasped across the skin on his throat, and he whimpered, finally finding his voice.

�Oh, God, please don't kill me! Please...� Oliver's voice cracked with fear as the man smiled. Oliver stared as the dim light from the hallway illuminated the man's mouth.

His teeth were filed into points. Perfect points. It made his smile vicious, terrifying. Oliver practically fainted then and there. The man just grinned more, pressing closer. He pulled the knife back, and Oliver's eyes opened wide, a smothered scream escaping his throat as the knife came towards his face.

It rattled as it penetrated the mesh right next to his head. Oliver felt his knees give out, and would have slid to the floor if the man weren't holding his hands in a death grip. Oliver's eyes flickered to the knife as the man wrenched it to the side, point still between the links of mesh. Slowly, the knife began to bend. Oliver stared, knowing the knife was thick, and well made. When the blade shattered, he jumped and yelped, unable to believe that that sort of strength was even possible. The man tossed the handle to the ground, his hand moving down to quickly pull Oliver's belt free, moving to bind both his hands with it. Oliver had slide down the wall a bit, and without his head blocking the mesh panel in the door, he could see the man attacking him a little better.

His hair was silver, as far as Oliver could tell. Not even the greyish silver that came with age, nor white, just pure, shining silver. When the man looked up from his task of binding Oliver's hands, Oliver couldn't stifle his shocked gasp.

The man's eyes were a firey orange, even in the dim light. They shone with an unholy beauty from beneath dark lashes. Now that Oliver could see better, he wasn't that old, maybe only a bit more then his own 23 years. Oliver was reasonably sure that colored contacts would not be allowed to a prisoner here, and the combination of the eye and hair color, as well as the pointed teeth, bewildered him. The man straightened, now holding the belt that bound Oliver's hands. He stepped forward, and Oliver cringed and pressed himself against the door, ready to faint from the fear and stress. The man was in an institution for the criminally insane, and in one of the maximum security wings. He had already proven he was stronger then Oliver, or anyone Oliver had ever met, and he seemed intent on doing Oliver harm.

�You ask me not to kill you... you know I'm insane. Why would I be in here if I wasn't? Do you honestly thing begging will save you?� The man laughed, and Oliver's knees went out again. �Easily startled, aren't you? I ought to kill you... I have all night, I could make you scream for hours... but... I don't think I will. You're beautiful, you know that?� The man stepped forward, and Oliver started shaking harder as he felt a thigh slide between his legs. This couldn't be happening...

�Like an angel, really... and it's been a long time...� The man's mind seemed to be straying, but Oliver found his muscles wouldn't obey him, wouldn't let him even try to escape. And what was the point? There was no where to run to, and this man had just destroyed any means he had of defending himself.

�What is your name, angel?�

�O-Oliver?� Oliver could barely find the voice to speak, but it didn't seem prudent to refuse this man.

�Oliiiiivveerrrrr...� The man rolled the name in his mouth like it was an expensive piece of chocolate, and Oliver couldn't help but stare, heart jumping a bit.

�I'm Antoine. Pleasure to meet you.� With that, the man's lips were on Oliver's own.

Oliver gasped sharply, mind suddenly frenzied with frightened thoughts. He tried briefly to struggle, but with the thigh between his legs, and his hands above his head, there was very little he could do. He whimpered softly, and Antoine took advantage of the moment, slipping his tongue into Oliver's mouth.

Oliver considered biting down, but realized it would just upset the man who's power he was under. He just stayed limp, doing his best to not respond to the kiss, even though it was one of the best he had ever experienced. It was obvious Antoine was experienced. His sharp teeth scraped and nipped, never enough to hurt, just making things interesting. Oliver found himself twitching in response, despite his brain's frantic protests. When Antoine finally pulled away, Oliver was panting, a bulge growing against the thigh rubbing up between his legs.

�Ah... my angel is responsive! Let us move to the harsh comforts of the bed.�

�N-no! Please! D-don't...� Oliver's weak protests went ignored as he was pulled over to the bleak-looking bed in the corner of the room. The frame was steel, the mattress thin. Oliver struggled timidly as he was pushed down, too scared to put much effort into it. Antoine pulled the mattress down a bit, revealing the metal slats. He tied the belt binding Oliver's hands to it, securing him on the mattress. Then, he stalked down, standing next to the bed and looking down at Oliver. He sat, one hand trailing down to slide under the hem of Oliver's shirt. Oliver whimpered quietly, green eyes wide with terror. He took several deep breaths, then found a shaking, scared voice.

�Please.. I'm begging you! D-Don't rape me... I don't... I...� Oliver trailed off as a few sobs wracked his body. He felt like he was about to fall apart, about to be dashed to the floor in a million pieces. He couldn't take this, couldn't take the fear, the humiliation, and the pain to come. He was sure he would be torn apart, ripped to shreds, left for dead. As Antoine unbuttoned the shirt of Oliver's uniform, the security guard shook harder, unable to close his eyes as he watched long, pale hands, barely visible in the dark, slowly reveal the skin of his chest.

�Shhh, don't cry...� Antoine leaned down, laying a gentle kiss on his cheek. Oliver choked on a sob, finally closing his eyes, curling his legs up a bit, trying to shield his body from the onslaught of pain he was sure was coming.

Antoine parted his shirt, leaning down and laying gentle kisses on his chest with cold lips. Oliver trembled and sobbed quietly, feeling sharp teeth scrape occasionally. Antoine moved lower, his teeth clinking against the button on Oliver's pants. Suddenly, it was undone. Oliver blinked. Had Antoine just undone his button with his teeth?

�Nice skill, isn't it?� Antoine chuckled quietly, and pulled down the zipper. Oliver trembled quietly, focusing on breathing as his pants and boxers were pulled away. He knew he had an erection, and could hear Antoine's soft laugh as it was revealed. His cheeks turned dark pink, and he was suddenly very thankful for the darkness of the room.

His pants were slipped off, and Oliver closed his eyes in shame as he felt those maniacal orange eyes travel over him, judging him. He jerked as he felt lips brush over his thigh, keeping his eyes tightly shut, legs curled up as much as he could, with Antoine between them. He heard the rustle of Antoine removing his own clothing, which probably consisted of a simple hospital-type long sleeved shirt and drawstring pants he had seen on other prisoners. He let his eyes flicker open, saw the silhouette of Antoine's body, and quickly shut his eyes again. Soon, he felt bare skin brush on his, and shivered more, too scared to even whimper. His boyfriend had entered him without preparing him a few times, more often in the last months. It was horrible and painful enough with Lucas, and judging only by the brief glance in dim light he had had, Antoine was much, much bigger.

Oliver's entire body was tense, waiting for pain as Antoine knelt between his legs, lifting them a bit.

�Aww, angel, you're trembling... you think I'm going to take you right now, unprepared, don't you?�

Oliver let out a noise halfway between a whimper and �please.�

�Don't worry... I'm not as cruel as some...�

Before Oliver had time to comprehend the secret knowledge Antoine seemed to be suggesting, the man was kissing his stomach again softly, moving lower. Oliver gasped in shock as he felt lips brush over the base of his member.

The last time Lucas had gone down on him had been his birthday, six months ago. Before that, their anniversary, nine months ago. Oliver was confused and stunned. This was supposed to be rape, wasn't it? Wasn't rape supposed to be painful and horrible and non-enjoyable? But here he was, with Antoine's mouth slipping over the head of his member, breath whooshing from him in a fit of pleasure. His fingers curled against his palms, back arching as Antoine slid down his member, tongue moving around it's head as he moved down and up. Oliver was moaning freely within a few minutes, still shaking, but his sobbing ceased. When Antoine pulled away, Oliver whimpered in protest, only to fall silent with a gasp as he felt a finger probe his opening. When it slid in, he hissed a little, the intrusion uncomfortable without lube.

�This won't do at all... you're too tight... mmm, I have an idea.� Oliver could practically hear Antoine's sinister, pointed smile in the dark. He yelped as he felt his hips being lifted up, Antoine sliding closer until his hips were far off the bed, and he was resting on his shoulders. For a moment, he was confused, then he felt a tongue swipe across his entrance.

�Oh!� Oliver gasped loudly, jerking. Lucas had never done that... not in the three years he had been with the man. Oliver trembled harder as Antoine's tongue slid into him, his breath coming in short gasps and moans. Antoine brought his hands down, stroking Oliver's trembling chest, them moving up, petting the soft skin of his hips, one moving to stroke his member, while the other moved to aid his tongue.

Antoine slowly slid a finger in, his saliva making it slide in easily. He curled it, and Oliver moaned softly, thrusting his hips slightly into the air.

�No... Agh...� Oliver couldn't figure out what he wanted. He knew this was wrong, knew it was supposed to be horrible and degrading, but somehow, he couldn't bring himself to protest it too fervently. The pleasure was making his thoughts grow foggy, unclear. Antoine continued this slow torture, sliding another finger in after awhile, then another. Oliver shivered at the feel of sharp teeth scraping sensitive skin. Finally, Antoine seemed content, and pulled back and away, letting Oliver settle on the bed again.

�Are you ready, my angel?� Antoine leaned down, pressing his lips against Oliver's again. Oliver wanted to protest, wanted to try to beg one last time, but he found he was quite out of breath. Slowly, ever so slowly, Antoine slid in.

Oliver's breath left him in a short scream, back arching as he struggled to maintain sanity, his body breached, penetrated, speared. It hurt, but not as much as he had expected it too. Antoine was larger then anything he had ever taken, even Lucas' toys. Lucas had been his first, after all, his only.

Antoine stopped when he was totally buried in Oliver, watching the boy with an amused, pointed smile as he writhed and arched. He held still, waiting for Oliver to adjust.

Oliver finally calmed down, when he realized Antoine wasn't moving. He took several deep breaths, then let his eyes focus on Antoine, bottom lip trembling a little.

�There, that's better. Deep breaths, angel.� Antoine shifted his hips, and Oliver let out a low, sensual moan. Antoine smiled a fierce smile, leaning down, and pressing his lips against Oliver's in another deep kiss. Oliver whimpered as he felt the long, slow slide of Antoine's member within him begin to move in time with the tongue sliding into his mouth. He was bound, helpless, terrified, and loving every second of it.

Antoine gave a sincere thrust, and Oliver cried out loudly, his orgasm hitting him with no warning.

The pleasure ripped through his body, hastened by Antoine's hand. Oliver arched on the bed, hands clenching in their bonds. He gasped, the pain of Antoine's intrusion hitting him. The hand stayed on his member, though, stroking quickly, until pleasure was flooding him again. Oliver winced as Antoine started to move again, breath coming from him in soft pants, too tired to even squirm. Despite that, his erection hadn't flagged. If anything, he was harder then ever.

Oliver turned his head to the side, fingers clenching as Antoine increased his pace. The man seemed to slam into his prostate with every stroke, bringing Oliver a type of ecstasy he hadn't thought possible during sex. Oliver moaned loudly as often as he had the breath, no longer caring if anyone heard, forgetting where he was, and who he was with. He heard Antoine make a soft sound, the first he had heard. It was somewhere between sound of approval and a hiss. Oliver arched as he felt Antoine swell in him, then release, coating his insides with heat.

Oliver whined and tugged on the binds on his hands, realizing he would have to finish himself, now. It happened with Lucas a lot. To his surprise, Antoine pulled out, slid down on the bed, then fixed his mouth over Oliver's member again. Oliver whimpered, his hips lifting off the bed. Antoine was skilled, his tongue flicking around the head of Oliver's sensitive member, lips wrapping round it gently. Oliver didn't last long under the gentle, seductive touch, crying out softly as he came a second time.

Oliver collapsed back on the bed, panting softly. He heard that soft, whispery laugh, and shivered, thin chest heaving up and down with his desperate breath. Antoine stood, and Oliver whimpered.

�W-wait...�

�Someone wants to cuddle? It's alright, I'm just letting you go.� Antoine unbuckled the belt, and Oliver pulled his hands down, rubbing his wrists. He jerked a bit as Antoine settled next to him, turning his back, curling up a bit.

�No... don't fall asleep yet. You feel that? Right now? That's life... you haven't felt it for some time... breath deeply, enjoy it.� Oliver shivered as he felt Antoine's hands on his back, rubbing and stroking gently. Oliver sighed, allowing himself to relax. It was true. He could feel every inch of his body, the whisper of Antoine's breath on his back, the cool, stale air of the cell, the rasp of the thin blanket across his skin.

Antoine gently ran his hands down Oliver's thin, pale back, then forced him to roll over to face him. Oliver let his eyes open a bit, meeting Antoine's fiery ones with a sort of startled, timid reverence. Antoine slide his arms around Oliver, and the boy didn't resist, putting his cheek against Antoine's cool, smooth chest.

�Now you may sleep.�

And Oliver did.

When he woke, he was momentarily confused. The room was dim, but brighter, now that the daytime lights were on, the florescent lights seeming to make the room shimmer. He blinked, freezing when he caught strains of piano music. His eyes flickered to the source of the noise, where Antoine sat, shirtless, playing one of the most beautiful pieces of music Oliver had ever heard.

�Do you like it? I wrote it for you, once you fell asleep last night. It seems I've found a new muse... they're so difficult to find here, I'm sure you understand.� Antoine took a drag on the cigarette dangling out of the corner of his mouth, then snubbed it out, placing it in an ashtray. He rose, smiling a sharp smile as Oliver shrunk back.

Oliver's eyes swept over Antoine as he approached. It was the first time he had seen the man clearly. He looked ever scarier in daylight, orange eyes contrasting with pure silver hair. His teeth were indeed pointed, as were his nails, which were black, judging by the look of it, colored with a sharpie.

His loose, drawstring pants hung dangerously low on his hips, showing an almost emaciated torso, ribs clearly visible. His hip bones were showing, and Oliver gulped, quickly looking away. Antoine chuckled, sitting on the bed and leaning down, pressing a light kiss on Oliver's lips.

�Hmm... we may have time for another go...� Oliver whined and squirmed, fear rising in his stomach. Just then, there was a clatter in the hallway, then static.

�Jesus Christ! He's got the new guy in with him! Backup!�

Antoine nipped Oliver's neck one last time, then straightened.

�Well. Apparently we don't have time. Here, I don't want anyone else getting a sneak peek.� Antoine stood, retrieving Oliver's briefs from the floor and finding the boy's legs. Oliver whimpered and closed his eyes, breath coming faster. Antoine just slid the underwear up, fingers sliding over Oliver's skin. He laid a soft kiss on Oliver's thigh, moving up to sit next to him again.

�God you're beautiful. Just one more thing, before they save you-�

Just then, the door burst open, several armed guards brandishing weapons. Antoine moved with uncanny speed, jerking Oliver up from the bed, grabbing one of the shards of the knife, and pressing it to Oliver's throat as he pulled them away from the guards, and the woman who had shown Oliver around. Oliver yelped as he was moved so abruptly, the soreness hitting him full on.

�Antoine... drop it...� The stern woman looked like she was scared out of her mind, but trying to hide it.

�I'm not a dog, darling.� Antoine pressed the knife down, and Oliver whimpered, embarrassed to be almost naked and so weak in front of all the people in the room. All of the people were on edge, he could tell, and he wondered what had happened to other people at Antoine's hands. Antoine leaned in close, his lips brushing over Oliver's ear.

�I'll let you go, unharmed, just say my name.�

�A-Antoine?�

�Like you mean it.�

�A-Antoine.�

�Like you would if you were saying it right before you fell asleep last night.� Antoine's voice was still a whisper, too quiet for anyone else in the room to hear.

Oliver took a deep breath, closing his eyes and drawing up the feeling he had experienced last night.

�Antoine.�

Antoine chuckled. �Thank you, angel, Now I'll have something to remember you by.� With that, he dropped the knife shard, shoving Oliver forward, staying where he was. Oliver yelped in pain again, not resisting when one of the guards caught him. He felt weak, and didn't have the strength to object when the guard picked him up. Another guard kept a pole with what appeared to be a tazer on the end of it pointed towards Antoine, pinning him up against the wall. Antoine kept his hands raised in a gesture of surrender, a cold, wicked chuckle echoing around the room.

�I hope you'll remember me fondly, angel! Thank you! Come again! And again... and again...� Antoine cut off into another bought of hysterical laughter, and Oliver watched as every other person in the room got the same disgusted, scared look.

�Enjoy yourself now, Antoine. Someday, they'll let me send you to the executioner's block, and on that day, I'll be laughing as I watch you die.� Oliver blinked at the woman, and the look of pure hatred on her face.

�I'm sure you will darling.� Antoine laughed, then abruptly launched himself forward, mouth parted in a razor sharp snarl. The guard with the pole jerked, but hit him, making Antoine growl and sink to the floor, twitching. All of them hurriedly backed out of the cell, locking it throughly.

It was then Oliver blacked out.

When he woke, he was in a hospital bed. There was a small bandage on his neck, and he could tell he had been cleaned off and changed into a hospital gown. He brought a hand up to his temple, rubbing to ease the pounding headache. He could remember everything that had happened. It was painful, but at the same time, he was glad there was no rush of returning memories.

The stern woman poke her head in, and Oliver blinked. She stepped into the room, and a man with a tape recorder and a notepad followed her.

�Mr. Facet, are you ready to talk about what happened, or would you like awhile?�

�I'll talk.� Oliver sat up slowly, pulling the blankets up a bit, and making sure there was a box of tissues on the nightstand.

�What was the sequence of events that led to you being in Antoine Telfair's cell?�

�I was making rounds, I was near the cell and one of the other employees came up behind me and told me that it was a tradition to make a new employee spend a night in one of the cells, then he put me in... I don't think he realized it wasn't empty.

�Nothing stranger then normal there... odd, isn't it, how people have a way of finding themselves in there with him... What did the employee look like, who put you in. Or do you know his name?�

�Will actions be taken against him, if I tell you?�

�Of course! I mean, I've heard of this tradition, but... you could have been killed due to his stupid mistake.�

�Then I'd rather not give up that information, ma'am. I honestly don't believe he meant any harm. Not Antoine, the guy who put me in.�

�... Fine. I respect your decision. Now, what happened after you were locked in the cell? We found your panic button outside the cell, another odd coincidence that seems to coincide with the other incidents.� The last part was spoken to the reporter, who nodded and scribbled something down.

�Wait, other incidents?�

�You aren't the first person to get locked in with Antoine. Three before you, but... you're the first to get out without extensive physical damage, and I want to know why. What happened once you were locked in the cell?�

�He jumped on me, and pinned me against the wall, both of my hands in one of mine... I tried to resist, but h-he was stronger than me...� Oliver glanced down at the bed, and the woman sighed.

�Don't take it too hard. I've seen men who can bench 300 pounds turned into sniveling messes by Antoine. What happened after he pinned you?�

�He dismantled my gun, dropped the firing pin out the mesh, then he put the tip of the knife in the mesh a-and shattered it... it sound so impossible now...�

�We saw the shards. Continue.�

�He tied my hands with my belt, then he said... he said he could and should kill me, but that I-I was beautiful, and it had been a long time. Then, he dragged me to the bed, tied my hands to it, and... then he raped me.� Oliver grabbed a tissue from the nightstand, cradling it in his hand as he brought it up to cover his eyes. �I-I don't have to tell you about that, do I?�

The stern woman gasped putting a hand over her mouth, looking shocked.

�The doctor told us there was evidence... but... I didn't want to believe it. You don't have to tell us, but, what happened... after?�

�I fell asleep, when I woke up, he was playing the piano. He gave me back my underwear and then you guys came in... you know the rest.�

�Thank you, Oliver. I'm terribly sorry this happened. We'll be back to talk with you more in the morning. Thank you.�

Oliver just stifled a sob, curling up and pulling the blankets over his head, waiting for the sweet oblivion of sleep.

When he woke up, Lucas was looking down at him. He sat up quickly, green eye wide and a little pleading.

�You didn't come home last night. I was worried sick.�

�T-they told you what happened, right?�

�Yeah... why the hell did you go into the cell in the first place?�

�Someone shoved me in... it was supposed to be a practical joke... they chose the wrong cell.� Oliver winced, remembering Antoine's words and that smirk perfectly clearly.

�I TOLD you it was too dangerous! Maybe next time you'll listen...�

Oliver glanced at up at Lucas, shocked he could be so coarse at this moment. Lucas wasn't exactly sensitive, even at the best of times, but this was not something Oliver thought he should be scolded for. When he burned meal, or didn't quite perform in the bedroom, sure, but this? It was entirely out of his hands... tears welled in his eyes as he looked up at Lucas, and the tall, imposing man sighed, sinking down on the bed and patting Oliver on the back.

�Sorry. I was just worried about you. You ok?�

�N-noooo,� Oliver wailed the word, tears coming more freely as he wrapped his arms around Lucas. The man didn't pull away, but Oliver was acutely aware he didn't return it further then a pat on the back, even when Oliver's tears soaked through his shirt.

Oliver was checked out the next day, returning home to the bleak house and hiding for three days. He spent a lot of time watching mindless soap operas, drinking tea, and curling up with a blanket. He had a meeting on the fourth day with the director, to discuss reparations and his job. Oliver already knew what he was going to say.

The day came, and despite Lucas' protests, Oliver went by himself.

The woman, who had finally introduced herself as Carrie, was waiting for him in her office.

�Now. Let's get right down to it. We'll give you a great reference, full severance pay, and will pay the hospital bills, all we ask is that you don't sue.�

�Actually... I wasn't even considering suing.. and I want to keep working here, if it isn't a problem...�

�Really?� The woman's voice held a tremendous amount of disbelief. �But... Antoine is still here, you know?�

�I know, but I'll have to face my fears, or I'll never get past them.� Oliver took a deep breath, thinking of the look on Lucas' face.

�I'll stay for my shift tonight.�

�Very well... I'll make sure you get a raise, for your bravery.� Suddenly, the woman's radio crackled.

�He's out again. He's got Brandon.�

�Shit!� The stern woman bolted to her feet. �Antoine's gotten out again... he does it about once a week. Usually, we catch him before he causes much trouble... stay here.�

�I'm coming with.�

�Fine, but be careful, Antoine isn't the type to forget a past victim.�

The woman hurried out of the room, and Oliver followed, tense with nervousness.

When they came into the cafeteria, chaos reigned. In the middle of the cafeteria was a short little booth, seven feet tall, with counters around it where breakfast was laid out. Antoine was on top of it, standing up fine in the high ceilinged room. He had a knife to the throat of the beefy man who had pushed Oliver into the cell. Oliver winced when he saw blood. The man was sitting perfectly still, legs dangling over the edge of the small concrete booth, while Antoine knelt behind him.

Oliver stayed out of sight, while Carrie went into the room.

�Let him go, Antoine!�

�Ah, darling. Glad you could make it. And I'm sorry, but I'm afraid this man has to die.�

�Antoine. You don't have to listen to the voices, just because they say something doesn't mean you have to do it. Please put down the knife.�

�Haven't you run enough tests to know I'm not a paranoid schizophrenic, darling? I'm just nutty. And the only voice telling me to do this is my strong sense of justice. He deserves this, and he knows why. Don't you?� Antoine pressed the knife down, and the man whimpered. Oliver put a hand over his mouth. He knew what the man had done wrong as well, and he wasn't about to let the man die for it. He stepped out, clearing his throat. Several pairs of eyes darted to him.

�Let him go, Antoine.�

Antoine actually started, knife moving so it wasn't digging into the man's throat anymore.

�Angel... I didn't expect to see you back here.�

�Yeah, well, I'm here. Drop the knife, Antoine.� Oliver kept the waver out of his voice by sheer determination.

�But... I'm doing this for you!�

�I can take care of it myself, Antoine. Drop. The. Knife.�

�Fine. If my angel commands it. But on one condition. You keep working here.� There was a mildly desperate look in Antoine's eyes that scared Oliver a little, but he gulped and nodded.

�I've already decided to. Please, Antoine.�

�Well. As long as you ask nicely.� Antoine yanked the knife away in such a way it shallowly cut Brandon's throat shallowly, blood leaking out in large, but not terrible amounts. Antoine shoved Brandon off the booth, grinning manically as he landed in a heap with a small groan. Antoine flung the knife, then. Oliver gasped, thinking it would hit Brandon, but instead, it ended up buried in a tiny crack in the tile right next to the man's head. Antoine hopped down gracefully, raising his hands in supplication as the guards surrounded him.

As soon as handcuffs were on him, he moved with lightening speed, flipping the chain over a guard's head, circling his neck. Instantly, everyone in the room froze again.

�I want my angel to take me back to the cell. I don't care if others follow, but angel holds my leash.�

�Alright. You could have just asked, Antoine.� Oliver stepped forward, grabbing the chain between Antoine's cuffs, and carefully lifting it over the guard's head, and keeping a grip on it. He was totally on edge, trying to stop images of this man looming over his, orange eyes flashing from beneath silver hair, sharpened teeth bared in a snarl of pleasure and lust. He was walking on tiptoe as he led Antoine toward the hall. Two guards followed close behind, eyes riveted on Antoine.

�I love how... pliable you are, Angel...� Antoine grinned, leaning closer to Oliver, who stuck out his elbow rigidly, holding him at bay. He quickly got Antoine back to the cell, opening it while keeping a careful eye on Antoine. He held the door open.

�In you go.�

�Thank you for staying, angel. You make this place a hell of a lot brighter...� Antoine stepped towards the door, then abruptly spun and lunged for Oliver. The guards yelled, and Oliver started to pull away, but Antoine already had a firm hold on him.

Oliver tried to push away, but Antoine ignored the attempt, leaning down and kissing Oliver deeply. Oliver pushed on his chest weakly, held in an iron grip. The guards were approaching, but cautiously. Oliver got the feeling that Antoine had proven he wasn't afraid to kill or maim if threatened.

Antoine pulled away, giving Oliver a quick hug, then grinning, and stepping backwards. Oliver quickly slammed the door of the cell, drawing the deadbolt and turning the key. Antoine hooked his fingers through the mesh, watching Oliver as he stepped back.

�See you later, angel.� Antoine gave that cold, sinister laugh, and Oliver shivered as he walked away. Carrie had some questions to answer...

He found the woman watching as paramedics loaded Brandon onto a stretcher.

�We need to talk.�

�I figured...�

They walked back to her office, sitting down, Oliver leaning forward.

�Why is he allowed out of his cell?�

�He isn't. He's supposed to be in there full time, all the time. Somehow, it doesn't happen that way. I could give you thousands of weird statistics about Antoine, if I wanted to. Including you, four people have ended up stuck in his cell with him. One, he had a few hours with, he ripped him to shreds, we didn't even have anything left to show his family. The second two, he only had a few minutes. He maimed them pretty badly, one is still in the hospital in a coma, although, he's expected to wake up within a few weeks. You're his replacement. That's why you bewilder me so much... Antoine is violent, psychotic, Manic-depressive, anorexic, insomniac, a murderer, kleptomaniac, cannibal, rapist, brilliant musician, writer, composer, and has thought up some of the most delicious recipes I've ever tasted. He's escaped from his cell an average of three times a week since he got here two years ago. My pleas for him to be killed have been rejected five times, and are about to be rejected a sixth time. He always chooses to climb on top of that booth, he enjoys being above the rest of us.�

He has special things the other prisoners aren't allowed, such as the piano. He screamed for thirty three hours, seven minutes, and 8 seconds, until he was told we would find him one. I know what you're thinking, and no, he is not allowed colored contacts, or hair dye. We've run tests, and no chemicals or dyes were found, those are his natural color of both. If you can call them natural. His teeth were filed into points, incisors and canines, but not his molars.�

Antoine has never once been caught on a security camera. We've rigged cameras in his cell, and all along that hallways. It seems like, if Antoine touches it, it just... doesn't register. Any attempts to get a formal investigation into this have been denied, laughed at, even. We don't have any footage of what he did to you. We have footage of you walking down the hall, but as soon as you come within 15 feet of his cell, you vanish. We have footage of the night janitor walking by, supposedly after you fell asleep, but within the cells itself, a closed door, a piano, a bed, no people.�

We've never figured out how he gets out of his cell. One janitor, the first person he pulled into his cell, instead of them ending up there by accident, and one maimed not in a coma, claims Antoine opened the door AFTER he exited the cell. His memories of how Antoine got out are fuzzy, but he remembers that after Antoine grabbed him, he had to unbolt the door and use the janitor's keys to get back in. I think that's about all the important stuff, unless you would like to know the specifics, like how every time he gets out, he makes a scene, and does a small amount of damage, then goes back in.� Carrie sat back, and took a deep breath.

�Sometimes, I wonder if he EVER stays in his cell, except when someone is looking in. We have a very hard time keeping staff on here, because of him. And yet, we can't put him anywhere better. A guard even shot him once, when he escaped. The bullet went right through him, he bled a minimal amount, healed before we could even get him medical attention. The guards barely even try anymore, you're the first to make him obey. Usually, we have to jump him, takes about six men to subdue him. I'd call him a vampire, but he doesn't drink blood. I'd call him a werewolf, but I checked one full moon, and it was just regular creepy Antoine. I'd call him a ghost, but he's a bit too substantial. In the end, he's just the strangest human you'll ever meet. Or at least you had better pray he is.� Carrie inhaled slowly.

�I'll understand if you want to resign.�

�I don't. I want to help.�

�Look, I appreciate your determination... but honestly, he's stronger and meaner then the meanest, strongest man you've ever encountered, and him taking a liking to you is NOT a good thing.�

�Yeah, but you said, I'm the only one he ever obeyed, and I was in his room with him for an entire night, not just a few hours, and he didn't hurt me at all. Scared me, raped me, but didn't hurt me.�

�You mean, even during...�

�He was amazingly gentle. I really think I can help you here, Carrie. I know there's a good chance I'll get hurt, killed, he's made it quite clear he isn't going to let me off with what happened Monday night. My boyfriend isn't going to be happy about this but... I don't think I'll be able to let it go until I find out what makes him tick.�

�And I pray to god you find it out before he explodes and takes you down with him. Good luck, Oliver.�

�Thank you. Now, if you don't mind, I have to call said boyfriend. Wish me luck. I wish I could say I'm more afraid of what Antoine will do to me then what He will.� Oliver gave a nervous chuckle, pulling out his cell and ducking into the hallway.

Oliver left out most of the details, saying he had made the crazed rapist listen to him, when no one else could, and that he was staying, working where he was needed. Lucas was furious, threatening to come get him, threatening to kill Antoine, threatening to call the police. Oliver waited until he had burned himself out, then repeated, quite firmly, that he would be home in the morning.

That night went without incident. Oliver glanced at Antoine's cell every time he passed it, but if Antoine was even in it, he wasn't near the mesh on the front.

Finally, his shift was over. Oliver changed into street clothes, got in his car, and drove back to his house.

When he opened the door, Lucas was standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.

�Jesus! You scared me, Lucas! Don't surprise me like that!�

�What the hell are you thinking, Oliver? You stay out all night, somewhere you KNOW is dangerous and that you're not equipped to cope with, then come home and assume I'm going to be all happy you're being a stubborn bastard?�

�Lucas. I'm going to keep working there. I know, it's dangerous, but Lucas, I'm needed there, and I need to get out of this house and work.�

�Oliver, I forbid you from working there.�

�You can't do that, Lucas. I'm my own person, despite what you would like to believe.� Oliver shivered a little, stepping past Lucas. He couldn't remember the last time he had openly denied Lucas. What made him even more nervous was that it was Antoine's face in his head when he stood up to the man now grabbing his wrist and yanking him back.

�Don't you talk to me like that, you little brat!� Lucas yanked him forward, and slapped him, hard. Oliver wined, raising his free hand to his stinging face. When he pulled it away, a small dot of blood was on it.

Oliver yanked his wrist away, spinning and heading for the bathroom. Before he got far, though, Lucas grabbed him from behind, picking him up roughly and carrying him towards the bedroom. When Oliver caught on, he started to struggle.

�Put me down, Lucas! Put me down!� Lucas ignored him, only putting him down when they got to the bed. He threw Oliver down roughly, grabbing the handcuffs they had messed around with from the nightstand, and quickly securing both Oliver's hands to the headboard. Oliver yanked on the handcuffs, wishing he had insisted on ones with a quick release catch instead of real ones.

�Let me go, Lucas!�

�No. I want to wipe every trace of him off you. It's obviously ****ed with your mind. I'm going to fix you.� Lucas yanked down Oliver's pants, drawing a whimper from him.

�L-Lucas please, not now. I-I'm still scared...�

�I think you're using that as an excuse to hold out on me. Did he even rape you? Did it even happen?� Lucas growled, pulling Oliver's pants and underwear free, then fumbling with his own fly. Oliver whimpered and closed his eyes. This was horrible... if Lucas wasn't his boyfriend, he would call it rape.

Lucas got his pants free, and leaned down, kissing Oliver punishingly as he rubbed some lube quickly on his own member.

�Lucas... plea-AH� Oliver was cut off as Lucas plunged into him with no warning. Oliver barely had time to recover from the scream before he was thrusting, hard and fast, hands gripping Oliver's hips so hard he know there would be terrible bruises the next day. Oliver whimpered, pain shooting through him. He knew he had been torn, could feel a river of warm liquid trickling down his thighs. Lucas seemed uncaring, continuing to thrust brutally. Oliver couldn't even think about receiving pleasure from this. Even at the best of times, Lucas didn't consider him, and now, the man was just in it for his own pride and pleasure. He made no effort to pleasure Oliver, and the young man found his mind straying back to gentle, pleasuring touches and shining orange eyes.

Finally, Lucas finished, collapsing back, panting. He didn't bother to unlock Oliver, waiting until he got his breath back.

�Don't go back.�

Oliver stayed silent, watching as Lucas left the room, and hearing the shower turn on. He was asleep before the man returned to unlock him.

When Oliver woke, his hands were free, red marks on them where he had yanked at the cuffs. There was dried blood and semen on his thighs, and bruises stained his wrist, hips, thighs, and upper arms. Oliver limped to the bathroom, glancing at Lucas, who was snoring peacefully. It was evening, almost time for him to be at worked, and Oliver would be damned before he didn't go.

Oliver changed into his uniform, drove to work awkwardly, praying he didn't see anyone. He was lucky, the building was cleared out, and besides the guard at the gate, he saw no one.

He limped down the hallways, making his rounds. Every time he passed Antoine's cell, he tensed, just knowing that tonight, when he was in a weakened, fragile state, would be the night he was attacked again.

Finally, it was his break. Oliver limped to the stairwell where he had taken to eating the snacks he brought with him. He sat down on the first stair, wincing, shifting till he got more comfortable.

He ate slowly, not eager to stand again. When he finished, he slowly stood, and turned around.

Antoine was standing right behind him, arms folded across his chest, smug expression on his face. Oliver shrieked, toppling backwards towards the long flight of stairs.

Antoine moved before Oliver had time to realize he was falling, grabbing the collar of his uniform and hauling him back, lifting him to the landing with one arm. He held Oliver to his chest, both arms around him.

�Easy there. No point in taking ten minutes to eat a bag of pretzels only to fall to your death. Or at least severe injury.�

Oliver trembled, a little, face pressed against Antoine's bare chest, arms wrapped around his own stomach. He couldn't handle this right now, his body hurt, and he was scared, not just of Antoine, but of Lucas, as well. Would his boyfriend keep hurting him as long as he worked here? Would Antoine keep hurting him as long as he worked here? Had Antoine even hurt him yet?

Oliver started shaking as tears ran down his cheeks, a sob heaving from him. Antoine sighed, hugging him closer.

�Shh, please don't cry...�

�I-I can't take this tonight... please, Antoine, not tonight...� Oliver trailed off as another sob shook his bruised, battered body. Antoine carefully slid his hands down, finding Oliver's thighs and lifting him up. Oliver wobbled, then wrapped his arms around Antoine, not wanting to fall backwards down the stairs when Antoine picked him up.

Soon, they were walking, Antoine cradling Oliver carefully as they walked towards his cell. Oliver kept his face buried in Antoine's shoulder, his tears making the bare skin slick. Finally, they were in the cell, Antoine sprawled next to Oliver on the bed, holding him tightly.

Oliver was afraid to calm his desperate sobs, unsure if once he did, Antoine would make a move. He finally wore himself out, though, giving one last weak whimper into Antoine's chest before letting himself breath.

�There... that's better. Deep breaths. You can't do this, Oliver.�

�W-what are you talking about?�

�You can't keep letting him hurt you. It will only get worse, from here. He doesn't like you having a free will, and if he believes he can beat it out of you, he'll keep trying until he does.�

�I don't know what you're talking about...� Oliver was frightened and confused. How could Antoine possibly have summed it all up? Sure, it was obvious he was injured, and it was doubtful a female could hurt him so badly, but it was Antoine's predictions that scared him.

�Yes you do. I'm talking about Lucas. Your abusive boyfriend who you need to get away from before he kills you.�

Oliver went stiff, pushing away from Antoine and looking into his orange eyes with wide green ones.

�How do you know... who told you?� Oliver knew he hadn't shared details about Lucas with anyone at the institution.

�No one had to tell me. Come on, they must have told you I'm spooky by now. Don't worry, I can't read minds or anything... I just... know things. And I know that if you don't get out soon, he'll end up either killing you or chaining you to the bed and never letting you walk free again. He's a sadistic bastard, angel. Please, listen to me.� Antoine's gaze was so intense Oliver actually pulled away from him, scared, confused, and conflicted in whether he should be taking advice from this man.

They stared at each other for a few more moments, then Oliver dropped his gaze, tears welling in his eyes again.

�B-but I've lived with him for two years... dated him for three... he's the only lover I've ever had... up till you... I can't leave him... I don't know where I'd go!�

�There's a one bedroom apartment for $400 a month two blocks away from the prison. In pretty good shape, new carpeting and paint.�

�More just knowing?�

�The classifieds.� Both of them chuckled quietly, and Oliver blinked, wondering when the last time he had laughed while in bed with another man was.

�How do I tell him?�

�Tell the truth.�

�I don't know if I can do this...�

�But you can't stay.� Antoine shifted, pulling Oliver close again. Oliver shivered a little when he felt lips on top of his head.

�I can't believe I'm listening to you...�

�I can't believe I'm giving you good advice.� Antoine chuckled, and abruptly, Oliver found his hands being bound again. He closed his eyes and shivered a little.

�Don't...�

�If I didn't, you might think I'm soft.�

�They'll make me quit if I get caught by you again... and miss my work...�

�The security cameras are showing you making your rounds as usual.�

�Please don't rape me... not tonight... god, I hurt.� Oliver whimpered as he felt his clothing being stripped away. It hurt even more because, a second before, he had been sure Antoine was different, was going to ask before taking what he wanted.

Antoine slid down his body, fingers lightly caressing his skin as he moved down, stripping away Oliver's clothing as he went. Oliver found tears running down his cheeks again, eyes closed tightly, hoping this was all a terrible dream.

Antoine started with the bruises on his upper arms. He lightly let his lips dance over them, letting his tongue brush just enough to keep Oliver on edge. Then, he moved down to Oliver's hips, gently kissing the bruises there. Oliver's hands clenched in their bonds, body trembling with stress, pain, and anticipation. When Antoine started licking the bruises on Oliver's thighs, the young man moaned softly, feeling his groin respond enthusiastically to the feeling. It felt like years before Antoine was satisfied, and moved on to turn that talented tongue on Oliver's member.

He teased with his tongue, first, licking from base to head in long, slow, thoughtful strokes. Oliver squirmed and groaned, wishing Antoine would hurry up about it, if he insisted on doing this.

Antoine closed his mouth over the head, but stayed there, tongue swirling idly in a way that made Oliver want to scream from pleasure and frustration. By the time Antoine actually started moving, Oliver was ready to do exactly that.

He tipped his head back, red hair falling from his face as he closed his eyes, letting himself fall victim to the pleasure. Antoine pulled away, drawing a whimper from the quivering lips of the man below him He propped Oliver's hips up as he had the night before, softly parting his rear and laying a gentle kiss to his entrance. Oliver whimpered.

�Not tonight... please, Antoine...�

�I didn't intend to.� Antoine softly slid his tongue in, and Oliver groaned. It smarted a bit, but Antoine was incredibly gentle, soothing instead of pressuring. He pulled away pretty quickly, returning to Oliver's member.

The gentle touches and Antoine's agile tongue tipped Oliver over the edge quickly. His vision blurred with black streaks, back arching as he came into Antoine's mouth.

When it was over, he collapsed back on the bed, hands dropping to his sides as soon as Antoine freed them.

�I-I have to get back to work...�

�Shh. Like I said, according to security cameras, you ARE working, and I'll wake you before your shift is over. Sleep, Oliver, and think about what I've said. And do it soon. You don't have much time.� Antoine laid a gentle kiss on Oliver's lips, then pulled him close again, holding him as he fell asleep.

Oliver woke naturally, blinking in the dim florescent light. He groaned softly, body still tired, and rolled to face the room. He knew perfectly well where he was, and what he was doing here. His body still hurt from Lucas' administrations, but he could feel that the bruises were healing.

He looked into the room. Antoine was sitting on the piano bench, pad of paper and pencil in hand, looking at Oliver quietly.

�Good morning, angel.�

�Good morning, Antoine. I have to go back to my shift...�

�Of course.� Antoine gracefully swept to his feet. Oliver was beginning to think he never wore a shirt. Antoine set aside the pad of paper, walking over to the bed and sitting down. He leaned down, placing a soft kiss on Oliver's lips, then handing him his clothes. Oliver dressed with many winces, accepting Antoine's help when it was offered.

�The doors lock automatically after an hour... how am I supposed to get out?�

Antoine snagged the keys off Oliver's belt, stood, and walked straight through the door. Oliver stared, unable to believe what he had just seen. There was no flash of light, no bizarre stretching, just Antoine stepping through the door as if it were open. A second later, the lock clicked, and light flooded in as the door was opened. Oliver stood, shuffling to the door. He gave Antoine a brief, bewildered look, but didn't ask questions.

Antoine just grinned, pointed teeth flashing as he leaned down, giving Oliver a quick kiss before slipping back into his cell, and closing the door.

�Think very hard, and very quickly, about what I've said, angel.�

�I will.� Oliver had no idea what he should do, and he decided to finish his shift, and think about it at home.

Oliver patrolled for a few more hours, then made his way to the security room.

�Hey... can you guys do something for me? Can you check to the tape in the B wing around 3:15?� Oliver figured that, if he had continued patrolling from his break, that would be where he'd go, if he hadn't ended up in Antoine's cell. The officer nodded, rewinding the tape. They waited a few minutes, then Olive came walking past, in his uniform, every detail perfect.

�Anything in particular you're looking for?�

�No... just thought I saw something there. Must have been a trick of the imagination.� Oliver laughed, thanked them, and left. Antoine had kept his word, the security cameras HAD seen Oliver doing his job.

Oliver drove home very slowly, not eager to confront Lucas. When he got there, Lucas was waiting on the couch, looking a bit haggard.

�Hey... I know I was a bit rough last night, but seriously, I don't want you working there.�

�I'm going to bed, Lucas. Wake me if the house gets lit on fire.� Oliver stomped to the bedroom, changing into his pajamas and falling asleep quickly. Lucas was acting a bit better, but Oliver still found himself discontent, remembering Antoine's soft touches and careful words. It was hard to go back to cheap beer, when Oliver had tasted the finest wine.

Oliver practically slept through his alarm. The stress and healing had taken a lot out of him. Lucas was at work, and Oliver found himself very glad of that fact. He made himself an extravagant breakfast, realizing his shift started two hours later, as it was visiting day. After breakfast, he took a bath, washing away the marks stress had left on him. Once he was sure all the dirt, sweat, and blood was gone, he carefully did his hair, ironed his clothes, and even put a tiny amount of eyeliner on. He wanted to feel attractive again. With Lucas' constant criticism, it wasn't something he got to feel often. When they had first started dating, Lucas complimenting him all the time, on his pale, perfect skin, his soft red hair, his vibrant eyes, but as time went on, they became criticisms.

Oliver drove to work in a decent mood, only to find an uproar in session. He hurried to where the guard pointed him, finding everyone gathered in the common area, several visitors who had stayed later included. All were staring at Antoine, who was on top of the booth, holding a knife to the throat of an inmate.

�Stay back, or I'll bleed him dry.� Antoine's voice was different from how it had been the night before, back to the sinister whisper it had been in the cell. Oliver put his hand on his hip, eyes narrowing. How dare he be so kind and supportive one second, and insane the next?

�Antoine.� Oliver was surprised his voice could hold such authority. All eyes in the room turned to him, people shuffling back to clear a pathway between Oliver and Antoine. Oliver strode forward, hand still on his hip.

�Antoine. Drop the knife. Don't hurt him, and get down here. Now.�

Antoine stared at him for a second, then opened his hand, letting the knife fall to the floor. He grabbed he patient's upper arms, lowered him off the platform, dropping him the last few feet, then leaped down, trotting to Oliver's side.

�Good. Back to your cell.� Oliver could feel all eyes in the room on his back as he cuffed Antoine and led him out of the room.

�So I'm your dog now?�

�Hey. I've been bossed around in a relationship long enough, it's about time I get to do it.�

�So we're in a relationship?�

�Yeah. Dog and owner.� Oliver opened the door, smiling slightly at Antoine's chuckle. He unlocked the cuffs, and pushed him in. �Now. Sit. Stay. Good dog.� Oliver pushed his fingers through the mesh and poked Antoine's nose. �Seriously, though. If you're going to be so unpredictable and... insane, I'm going to have to leave this place. Please, Antoine, I don't mind if you wander, just... stop threatening people?�

�I'll think about it.� Antoine inclined his head. Oliver turned, getting ready to walk away.

�Wait! I have something for you!�

�If it's your penis, I'm not interested.�

Antoine chuckled, disappearing into the cell and returning a second later. A piece of paper slid under the door, upside down.

�I hope you like it... I had to do most from memory.� Antoine disappeared back into the cell. Oliver stooped to pick it up. Right then, he heard footsteps echoing down the hall. He quickly tucked the paper into his jacket, hoping it wasn't urgent.

�Oliver! I heard about what happened... what did you do?� Carrie signaled for him to walk with her.

�Just told him to get down. I guess he likes me.�

�I'll say... that was amazing.�

�Thank you. Now, I have work to do.� Oliver nodded to her, and continued his rounds.

The night passed without incident, and soon, Oliver was back at his apartment. He sighed, stripping off his gunbelt, and sitting down across from Lucas.

�We need to talk.� Lucas raised his head from his magazine, looking vaguely annoyed.

�What? I'm reading.�

�Lucas... the other night was unacceptable. You can't treat me like that.� it took all of Oliver's strength to say it, but he got it out. Lucas put down his magazine, looking throughly pissed.

�What the hell are you talking about? You're never had a problem with it before. It was that guy, wasn't it? The one who raped you, Must have put ideas in your head... I told you you weren't cut out for that sort of work.�

�At least I'm working. And no, it wasn't him, although he contributed to it.�

�Yeah. Next time, don't let yourself get caught. Stop working, stay home for a while, and things will get better.�

�I don't know what bothers me more, the fact that you seem to think being raped was my fault, or the fact that even while he was raping me, Antoine was sweeter and more gentle to me then you EVER are!� Oliver shot to his feet, and Lucas did the same.

�Oh, so now he's Antoine! Need I remind you what that man did to you!?�

�He gave be good advice. To get the hell out of here and start living a life free from YOU. I'm leaving you, Lucas. I'll be back later to pick up my stuff.� Oliver turned, grabbing his belt on the way out. Lucas stood where he was, looking a little stunned.

Oliver drove for hours, finally finding a hotel and checking in. He opened the door to his room, sighing and slumping down on the bed, head in his hands. Suddenly, a glint of silver caught his eye. He turned his head, and saw something on the pillow.

It was a rose, beautifully crafted out of silver, silver leaves and a stem, with two leaves emerging to cradle an orange stone cut to perfectly resemble the flower of the rose. It was perfectly crafted. Oliver blinked, knowing exactly what the orange and silver reminded him of. He felt something on the stem, and glanced at it.

'For my angel

You are loved'

Oliver stared at the rose for a moment, then reached into his uniform. He pulled out the piece of paper. On it was a beautifully sketched picture of him sleeping. Underneath it was written, in Antoine's flowing handwriting:

�Good luck this morning. I'll be there for you.�

Oliver felt a tear slide from his eyes, just barely keeping it from touching the drawing of him. It was perfect. Antoine had captured every detail, even the sense of peace. Oliver carefully stashed the rose and drawing in the safe in the room, then practically ran back to his car.

He made one quick stop on the way, then hurried to the prison. It was evening, but it was Oliver's day off. He walked quickly to Antoine's cell, standing it front of it awkwardly until Antoine came to the window.

�I... thank you. For everything.�

�Do you want to talk?�

�Why do I get the feeling talk means sex?�

�First, we talk. Then we have crazy amazing sex. Then, if you want, we talk more.�

�And if I don't want the sex?�

�If you didn't want the sex, you wouldn't be carrying lube in your back pocket.�

Oliver sighed, and stepped forward, unlocking the door and stepping inside. Antoine opened his arms, and Oliver fell into them, tears welling in his eyes.

�Oh, angel... I'm sorry it had to end like this... it's for the best, you know.�

�I know... but... he's just been such a part of my life...�

�But it was a bad part of your life. Things will be better from now on, I promise.�

�The rose... and the picture... they're the most romantic things anyone has ever done for me...� Oliver held Antoine tighter, letting himself be shuffled to the bed.

�Well, that's a little pathetic.� Antoine chuckled, sitting next to Oliver, rubbing his back gently.

�If I had rose petals, I'd be strewing them right now.�

�You've done enough...� Oliver leaned into Antoine's shoulder, still sniffling a little. He let his hands slide into Antoine's.

�Tell me about him.�

�Who?�

�Lucas. Where did you meet? What made you fall in love with him? When did he change?�

And so, Oliver told, every moment of his life with Lucas, how it had changed over the years, up to their fight. When he was done, Antoine held him for several minutes, letting him calm himself.

�I-I think I'm ready now...�

�You're still stuttering, you're not ready.� Antoine held onto Oliver for almost another hour, letting him cry himself out, and calm down intermittently, until he finally calmed down.

�I'm all red and blotchy and gross,� Oliver giggled.

�You're still beautiful.� Antoine chuckled, and carefully dug into Oliver's back pocket, withdrawing the small tube he had bought at the drugstore on the way.

�This time, you actually get to touch me.� Antoine smiled, gently pushing Oliver back on the bed, starting to work at his clothing. Oliver sighed softly, raising a hand to gently stroke Antoine's silver hair, then his cheek. His skin was smooth and cool, and Antoine found himself running his hands over the man's bare chest, testing the skin, stroking it. Antoine shivered a little under his touch, hurrying to strip Oliver. Once his clothes were lying in a pile on the floor, Oliver pulled himself into a sitting position, fingers stroking down Antoine's stomach, finding the rim of his pants. He laid gentle kisses on Antoine's stomach and hips, then slowly pulled down his pants. Antoine kicked them off, and Oliver stared at the organ he had never quite seen clearly. He moved his kisses lower, kissing the base of it. Abruptly, Antoine pushed him back on the bed.

�That's my job, darling. I get to use your body, I should at least give you a lot of your own.� Antoine moved down Oliver's body, touching and kissing every inch, worshiping Oliver's body. Oliver squirmed and sighed, letting his hands tangle in Antoine's hair, practically clinging to the man.

Antoine slid a lube covered finger into him, and he moaned softly, feeling Antoine curl it inside him, pressing against delicious spots. Antoine didn't take long. Oliver had healed from the night before, and he was used to being stretched. The lubricant made it a thousand times easier, and it wasn't long before OliverOliver's knees were hooked over Antoine's shoulders, and the man was preparing to enter him.

Antoine slid into hims with one long, slow thrust. Oliver cried out, gripping at his shoulders, holding on for dear life as he was penetrated. It helped, being able to cling to Antoine. His nails dug into the man's shoulders, but Antoine ignored it, gently shifting his hips. Oliver moaned softly, pulling away a bit and pressing his lips to Antoine's. Antoine returned the kiss eagerly, tongue slipping into Oliver's mouth. He started to thrust, slowly, carefully, taking time to hit Oliver's prostate with every stroke. It wasn't long before Oliver was writhing, heat welling deep within his body, fire seeming to ignite on his skin everywhere Antoine touched him.

�Ah!� Oliver arched as Antoine gave a particularly hard thrust. He felt his climax boil over, still clasped in Antoine's arms as he came. A second later, Antoine released deep inside him, giving a low moan of appreciation. Antoine fell to the bed next to Oliver, panting a little.

�God, you're amazing...� Antoine sighed, long fingernails tracing over Oliver's chest, an indulgent, pleased look in his fiery eyes.

�You're not bad yourself.� Oliver smiled, stretching and rolling to face Antoine. �I like it a lot more when I can touch you.�

�Well, look at this body. Of course you do.� Antoine snickered, leaning forward to kiss Oliver softly.

�Might as well stay here until your next shift... We'll figure out what to do afterwards.�

�It's very hard for me to say no to you right now.� Oliver yawned, snuggling closer to Antoine, and letting his eyes drift shut.

He slept long, worn out by the sex and the crying. When he woke, it was evening. Oliver blinked sleepily, stretching and yawning. He glanced around, eyebrows raising slightly when he caught sight of Antoine.

Antoine was sprawled across the baby grand piano, totally naked, his head hanging over the edge, watching Oliver with a pointed smile.

�'It's quite comfortable... come try it.�

Oliver chuckled, standing, flushing a bit as he realized he was naked. He strolled to the piano, climbing onto it and laying next to Antoine, mimicking his position.

�Mmm, you're right, it's nice.�

Antoine rolled over until he was straddling Oliver, then leaned down to kiss him. Oliver easily accepted it, one hand resting lightly on Antoine's shoulder. He was a little too worn out to want sex, but he got the impression Antoine just wanted to make out.

Sure enough, when Antoine started getting aroused, he rolled off again, putting an arm around Antoine's shoulders.

�I could see us doing this more often... you would be willing to stick around with me, right? I mean, you've given up Lucas, but I suppose I've been automatically assuming that means you're mine...� Antoine sighed, propping up a bit to look down at Oliver.

�I wouldn't have come here last night if I didn't want to. It's going to be hard...�

�Then we should leave here. Go somewhere warm, live quietly.�

�But... I can't afford that... it's going to be hard supporting myself on what I make here...�

�I have a rather large trust fund waiting on the outside... years of inbreeding in a blue blooded family you get money along with the mental illness. Do you have family here? Or friends?�

�No... my parents are long dead, and I was an only child...� Oliver was surprised to find he was actually considering this. It would be nice... live somewhere warm, with Antoine. He had never liked the rat race... which was probably why he had enjoyed Lucas so much for so long. All that had been expected of him was sex, other then that, he had been welcome to read all day.

�Well, then, we should definitely think about it. But, now, you should probably get ready for work.� Antoine rolled off the piano, pulling on his pants and boxers. He tossed Oliver's clothes to him, watching raptly as he dressed. Oliver found himself blushing, and when he finished, he moved to the door a little awkwardly. Antoine grabbed him from behind, pulling him back and gently kissing his forehead.

�Bye, gorgeous. I'll miss you. Please come back when you're done with your shift?�

�Of course.� Oliver hesitated, smiling at Antoine, then ducked out of the door as Antoine opened it.

He realized that he was happy, truly happy. He hadn't felt that way in a long time, but the promise of a life with someone who actually was willing to work for him thrilled him. He was reasonably sure he was making a stupid choice, jumping into a relationship with a man who he knew was insane, who had raped him, and who was a murderer. There was something that made him believe differently, though. It was almost as if he had tamed Antoine.

Oliver made his patrols as per usual, barely able to wait for the night to be over. Finally, after what seemed like years, it was. He trotted back to Antoine's cell, opening it and slipping inside.

Antoine wasn't inside. Oliver blinked, and turned around, only to run into his chest.

�Ha. Scared ya.� Antoine smiled as softly as a man with filed sharp teeth can, and leaned down, kissing him softly.

�You ought to go back to your apartment and the hotel and get your things out, now. Come back when you're done, we can store your stuff here, no one ever comes in.�

Oliver nodded, embracing Antoine briefly before heading out the door. He went to his car, heading to the motel first. He retrieved the things from the safe and checked out, and drove to the apartment. He knew Lucas was at work, so he entered the apartment without caution, only to find Lucas sitting on the couch.

�Oliver! I knew you'd come crawling back.� Lucas sneered, bolting to his feet.

�I'm just here to get my things, Lucas.� Oliver slipped past him, into the bedroom. He grabbed a suitcase, and started packing hurriedly, throwing in his books, photographs, and clothing. Soon, he had two large, rolling suitcases full of mementos and necessities to the front door.

�Where the hell do you intend to go?�

�Anywhere but here. Get out of my way, Lucas.� Oliver tried to push past the man, only to be slammed violently into the wall. His breath left him in a pained gasp, only to have his lip split open as Lucas punched him hard in the face.

Oliver cried out in pain as the fist slammed into his ribs. He dropped to the floor, only to have Lucas kick him viciously. He had no idea how long the beating continued before he passed out, vision going dark with pain.

�Paramedics! Get in here STAT!� Antoine clung to Oliver's limp body as the medical team swarmed around him and Lucas. Antoine had slammed Lucas' head with the suitcase when he saw what was happening, then kicked him so hard several ribs snapped. He had called paramedics, then moved to cling to Oliver, who was bleeding from several spots, horrible bruises forming, with, from what Antoine could surmise, several broken bones.

The paramedics approached, and Antoine hissed, orange eyes flashing. They quickly backed away.

�We just want to help him... please, let us do our jobs.�

Antoine seemed to ponder it for a second, then carefully de-tangled himself from Oliver's limp body, staying very, very close as the paramedics loaded him onto a stretcher. Antoine trotted after them, ignoring Lucas' as he was carried out too. Antoine grabbed the suitcases as he went, carrying both in one hand. He was vaguely aware he was still in his uniform from the insane asylum, and realized he must be getting odd looks.

He elbowed his way into the ambulance, sitting next to Oliver's head, after tucking the suitcases in the corner.

�Hey! You can't be in here, get out.� The paramedic reached for him, and Antoine started growling, deep in his throat, and inched closer to Oliver, showing his fangs. The paramedic quickly withdrew his hand, staring at Antoine for a moment before administering to Oliver. Antoine remained tense the entire time, not liking Oliver being touched.

Finally, they were at the hospital. Antoine grabbed the suitcases, following the stretcher into the hospital. He stashed the suitcases by the desk of the emergency room, ignoring stairs as he hurried after Oliver, staying beside the stretcher perfectly, not matter how sharp and unexpected the turns.

Soon, they were in a surgery room. Antoine stood in the corner quietly, growling at anyone who tried to approach him. His mouth was twisted in pain as he watched them patch Oliver back together. Every time the boy moaned in pain, Antoine started forward. Finally, it was over. Antoine followed like an obedient dog as Oliver was taken to an ICU room. He pulled a chair to the bed and sat down, sliding his hand into Oliver's.

The boy looked bdk, bandages swathing most of his body, a cast on his arm, and tight wraps around his broken ribs.

�Look, buddy, you're going to have to get out of here.� A security guard was in the room. �You can wait in the lobby, but no one but immediate family in here, and then only during visiting hours.� He stepped forward. Antoine glared at him. The next second, he had flashed from his seat, ceased the man's gun from its holster, turned off the safety, cocked it, and had it aimed at him.

�I'm staying. Back off. Now!�Antoine yelled the last word, and the man hurriedly backed up, calling for backup on his radio. Soon, the police were outside the door, and Carrie was there, explaining why Antoine was out of his cell, finally, she walked into the room, nervous of the loaded gun Antoine still held.

�Antoine... please put the gun down.�

�No. They'll make me leave.�

�Look, I know you like him, but it's against hospital policy... this could easily turn into a very bad situation if you keep threatening people.�

�I'm not threatening anyone. I just want to stay with him.� Antoine slid the hand not holding the gun into Oliver's, eyes locked with Carrie's. She sighed, and stood, moving to talk to the police.

�He won't do any harm, as long as you let him stay with Oliver. I should warn you though, he won't hesitate to hurt or kill any one of you, if he's threatened. Just... let him stay, watch him, if he hurts anything, do what you will, but as long as he's where he is, I wouldn't worry too much. He understands what he's doing. Honestly, I've never seen him so devoted or so... sane.� Carrie glanced over her shoulder, aware Antoine could hear every word she was saying. �Just... don't threaten him or Oliver too much, and he won't cause trouble.� She disappeared, and the police slowly filtered out, besides one or two officers.

Antoine sat like that for several hours, keeping a close watch on Oliver. In a while, they brought his suitcases up, a doctor placing them carefully inside the door. Antoine stirred, moving to collect them. He opened one, looking inside. There were several old books, and a few photo albums. Antoine flipped through them, smiling softly at images of a young Oliver, and his parents. He carefully repacked the suitcases, glancing up when the door opened.

It was a young doctor, the only one, from what Antoine had heard from a heated discussion in the hall, who dared come into the room. He inched in, eyes flickering between Antoine's eyes, hair, and teeth, to the gun in his lap. He moved to the opposite side of the bed, checking Oliver's hands with trembling hands. Abruptly, Antoine stood.

�BOO.�

The doctor yelped, practically jumping out of his skin. Antone chuckled, and sat back down. �I won't bite. Do your job.� He slid his hand into Oliver's, watching the man carefully as he worked on Oliver, replacing bandaged, sterilizing, checking.

Finally, he finished, and straightened.

�How's the other guy who came in with us? Did I kill him?�

�N-no... but close, his skull was nearly cracked open... he's in a coma right now, but it's expected he'll recover. His face will never look the same, though...�

�Damn. I wanted to kill him.� Antoine leaned back, and the doctor hurried from the room into the arms of his nervous coworkers.

It was almost three days before Oliver woke up. In that time, Antoine didn't eat or sleep, only read Oliver's books and drank the occasional glass of water he was offered. Finally, evening of the third day, Oliver stirred. Instantly, Antoine was hovering over him, hand in his, watching him intently. Oliver groaned, and blinked.

�God... what happened? I feel like a bus hit me... Antoine?�

�Your ex attacked you. I got there right after you passed out, hit him in the head with your suitcase, and called the hospital. I'm so sorry...�

�Why? You saved me... he would have killed me...� Oliver was remembering, now.

�I should have gotten there earlier, before he hurt you. I should have gone with you in the first place.� Antoine lowered his head, and Oliver sighed, reaching out to stroke his hair.

�You saved my life, Antoine, I'm lucky you came at all. What happened to me?�

�Three broken ribs, an arm and wrist, multiple cuts and bruises.�

�Yeah, I'm feeling those.� Oliver winced. �How long have we been here?�

�Three days.�

�And they let you stay in here?�

�Ah, well...� Antoine glanced at the gun. Oliver did as well, and sighed.

�Well, I said no more violence... but I'm thankful.� He reached up with the arm not in a cast, and pulled Antoine down, kissing him gently. Antoine could taste the cut on his lips, and wondered if it was too late to go find Lucas and finish him.

�Well, Stockholm syndrome if I've ever seen it.� Carrie leaned in the doorway, watching the occurrences. Oliver went bright red, hiding his face in Antoine's chest. �Frankly, I'm glad. I didn't want your rapist to be the first thing you saw when you woke up.� Carrie grinned, and exited, and a policeman entered.

�Will you give up the gun and get some sleep and food, now?�

�I'm fine.�

�Sleep and food?� Oliver glanced at Antoine.

�Your friend here hasn't eaten or slept the entire time you've been here.�

�Antoine! You have to look after yourself!�

�I'll look after me when I'm done looking after you.� Antoine stroked Oliver's hair, avoiding the bandage on his forehead.

�Can you get him some food?� Oliver glanced at the police officer, who hesitated, then nodded. He exited the room, and Oliver pulled Antoine down again, kissing him softly.

�Is Lucas...�

�No. I fractured his skull, but I was too worried about you to finish him.�

�Is he still in this hospital, then?� Oliver glanced around nervously, but Antoine smoothed his bright red hair back.

�It's alright... I'm staying right here.�

�Alright... but eat and sleep a little?�

�If you command it.� Antoine raised his head as the officer brought in his food. He ate it grudgingly, disliking the poor quality of the hospital food. When he was done, He snagged the police officer's keys and handcuffs off his belt, crawling into the bed, and cuffing one wrist to the frame. He handed the key to Oliver.

�Don't let them take me away from you.� He snuggled closer to Oliver, closed his eyes, and let himself drift to sleep.

Oliver healed quickly, and was ready to be discharged within a few days. Antoine allowed himself to be taken back to the institution as soon as Oliver was set up in a hotel. Lucas was still in the hospital, conscious, but in pretty bad shape.

Oliver returned to the apartment several times, boxing up all his belongings, instead of just the essentials. Antoine had left a large packet of papers detailing where he wanted to live, the funds available in the trust fund and how to access them, and when they should leave. He also had written a note, saying Oliver should call around about houses, but book a hotel and storage unit until they found one they wanted together. Oliver did as he was told, announcing his resignation at his work.

There was an astonishing amount in the trust fund, billions, almost trillions. Oliver was scared out of his mind to have such a huge sum in his hands, barely eating with it, even though Antoine had instructed him to. He got plane tickets, had his things shipped to the storage facility. Finally, it was the day to leave. Oliver paced around his hotel room, praying Antoine would show. If not... Oliver didn't even want to consider it. But sure enough, with plenty of time to get to the airport, Antoine appeared.

�Ready to go live happily ever after?�

Oliver nodded, sighing and holding Antoine tightly, allowing himself to be led to the waiting cab outside.

Soon, then were through security, with several strange looks at Antoine. Antoine put on a pair of sunglasses and did his best to keep his mouth closed during the ride, hand holding Oliver's tightly between the seats.

�When will they notice you're gone?�

�Who knows... hours, days, weeks, even. But... no one wants to put out alerts to citizens for someone like me. They'll probably ignore me, I mean, tell police, but not make a big deal about it if I stay low. Don't worry, I'll never leave you.�

�I'm not worried.� Oliver sighed, leaning over and resting his head on Antoine's shoulder.

Before long, they landed. A long cab ride got them to the neighborhood. It was beautiful, houses spaced far apart along the beach front, white sand ringed by beautiful, lush woods.

There were a few for sale signs, on houses Oliver had seen while he was researching. He was unsure how he would choose amongst such beauty, but he was sure Antoine would help.

The hotel was on the beach a ways down from the houses, overlooking the clear blue ocean. Soon, they were in the room, looking out the window at the view.

�So... you have appointments set up with the sellers?�

�Yeah, three tomorrow... are you going to come with?�

�Yeah, but I think I'll go in disguise.�

�Alright... well, there's a pool, and the ocean, and a resturan-� Oliver was cut off as Antoine lunged for him, catching his lips in a fervent kiss.

�I haven't...had you... for one week... two days... twelve hours... 37 minutes... fourteen seconds...� Antoine was speaking the words between passionate, fervent kisses, pushing Oliver back towards the bed. Oliver was a bit overwhelmed by the sheer desperation in Antoine's touch, but didn't resist, unsure if he could summon the willpower, even if he wanted to. He felt his knees hit the edge of the bed and sank back willingly, spreading his legs so Antoine could kneel between them.

Oliver sighed, hands moving up to cup Antoine's shoulders, feeling bones and muscles shift underneath the loose, button up shirt Oliver had bought for him.

He fumbled with the buttons, and Antoine solved the problems by drawing the shirt over his head, then practically yanking off Oliver's shirt. He pulled them both fully onto the bed, then slid down, ravishing Oliver's chest and stomach with his sharp teeth and skilled tongue, making the boy squirm on the bed, hands tangling in Antoine's beautiful silver hair.

Antoine removed them of their pants quickly, pressing between Antoine's legs, grinding against him gently. Oliver moaned, fingernails digging into the man's shoulders, remembering how overwhelming it was to make love to this man.

It wasn't long before Antoine was sliding into him, pushing each inch of that delicious length into him. Oliver squirmed and moaned, fingernails digging bloody crescents into the man's shoulders.

Antoine increased his pace, until Oliver could barely breath, clinging to Antoine for dear life as he felt his climax throb to the surface. It wasn't long before it spilled over, at the same time Antoine came inside him.

They both fell back on the bed, instantly sliding into each other's arms, holding tightly. Antoine reached over Oliver's head, setting the alarm.

�I set it for two hours from now... we'll go to the beach.� Antoine yawned, snuggling closer to Oliver on the neatly made bed, letting himself drift to sleep.

Oliver woke up two hours later to the beeping of the alarm. He leaned over and turned it off, then turned to look at Antoine, about to prod him awake. He hesitated, though, when he saw Antoine.

The man was beautiful in his sleep, dark lashes resting on his pale cheek, chest rising and fall slightly with each easy breath. Oliver leaned over, pressing his lips against Antoine's neck, hand stroking his chest. Antoine woke with a small gasp, eyes shooting open. He relaxed when he saw it was Oliver, lifting a hand up to stroke his cheek.

�Good... evening, I suppose...� Antoine propped himself up and kissed Oliver softly, before sitting up all the way.

�Let's hit the beach, then?�

�Yes!� Oliver sat up quickly, grinning broadly. He loved the beach, had since he was a landlocked child. He quickly slid into his swim trunks, handing Antoine the ones he had bought for him.

�Flowers? Honestly?�

�It's Hawaiian! Tropical!� Oliver grinned, watching as Antoine slid the suit on. They walked to the elevator, ignoring the stares they got when they held hands.

They walked down to the beach, Oliver running towards the water as soon as they wee within a few yards, Antoine laughing, then following.

They both plunged into the slightly chilly water, Oliver coming up coughing a little, laughing.

�I forgot you can't breath under water!� Oliver giggled, splashing Antoine, shrieking when he was splashed back. The people on the beach were staring at them a little, their sunbathing disrupted.

�You look cute with wet hair.� Antoine grinned grabbing Oliver's wrist as he moved to splash him, and pulling him in, fingers picking up a strand of Oliver's bright red, soaking wet hair, then letting it drop to smack Oliver in the face. The younger man gave an indignant hmph, and did the same. In retaliation, Antoine grabbed his shoulders, pulling him in and kissing him deeply. Oliver went bright red, knowing people on the beach were staring. Antoine didn't seem to care though, only releasing Oliver when he was throughly satisfied.

They splashed in the water awhile longer, finally going to the beach and walking back to the hotel, dripping. They showered and dressed casually, Antoine putting on a pair of sunglasses before they went down to the restaurant.

They enjoyed a nice dinner, then returned to the hotel, falling asleep fairly quickly.

Oliver woke up two hours later to the beeping of the alarm. He leaned over and turned it off, then turned to look at Antoine, about to prod him awake. He hesitated, though, when he saw Antoine.

The man was beautiful in his sleep, dark lashes resting on his pale cheek, chest rising and fall slightly with each easy breath. Oliver leaned over, pressing his lips against Antoine's neck, hand stroking his chest. Antoine woke with a small gasp, eyes shooting open. He relaxed when he saw it was Oliver, lifting a hand up to stroke his cheek.

�Good... evening, I suppose...� Antoine propped himself up and kissed Oliver softly, before sitting up all the way.

�Let's hit the beach, then?�

�Yes!� Oliver sat up quickly, grinning broadly. He loved the beach, had since he was a landlocked child. He quickly slid into his swim trunks, handing Antoine the ones he had bought for him.

�Flowers? Honestly?�

�It's Hawaiian! Tropical!� Oliver grinned, watching as Antoine slid the suit on. They walked to the elevator, ignoring the stares they got when they held hands.

They walked down to the beach, Oliver running towards the water as soon as they wee within a few yards, Antoine laughing, then following.

They both plunged into the slightly chilly water, Oliver coming up coughing a little, laughing.

�I forgot you can't breath under water!� Oliver giggled, splashing Antoine, shrieking when he was splashed back. The people on the beach were staring at them a little, their sunbathing disrupted.

�You look cute with wet hair.� Antoine grinned grabbing Oliver's wrist as he moved to splash him, and pulling him in, fingers picking up a strand of Oliver's bright red, soaking wet hair, then letting it drop to smack Oliver in the face. The younger man gave an indignant hmph, and did the same. In retaliation, Antoine grabbed his shoulders, pulling him in and kissing him deeply. Oliver went bright red, knowing people on the beach were staring. Antoine didn't seem to care though, only releasing Oliver when he was throughly satisfied.

They splashed in the water awhile longer, finally going to the beach and walking back to the hotel, dripping. They showered and dressed casually, Antoine putting on a pair of sunglasses before they went down to the restaurant.

They enjoyed a nice dinner, then returned to the hotel, falling asleep fairly quickly.

Oliver woke to the alarm again, seeing Antoine already getting dressed. He did the same, watching curiously as Antoine pulled on a hat that covered his hair, a pair of sunglasses, and carefully cut his nails.

Soon, they were at the first house with the real estate agent, ready to go inside. All the houses they were shown were huge, lush, beautiful homes, fully furnished, with all new fixtures, all multi-million dollar homes. One stood out in Oliver's mind, a white house with huge windows looking out to sea, white wood and soft white carpet on the floor, and a beautiful, light decorating scheme.

Finally, they told the agent to give them a few moments, conferring privately.

�Which one do you want?� Antoine had pulled off his sunglasses temporarily, looking at Oliver intently.

�It's your money, you should choose first...�

�I liked the white one... but it's totally up to you. It's my money, but if it weren't for you, I'd still be back at that institution, not spending it, wasting my life.�

Oliver blushed a bit, and smiled. �I love the white one, it's my favorite. Shall we get it?�

�Of course.� Antoine grinned, sliding the sunglasses back on, and calling the Realtor over.

�Take us back to the office, we're buying the white one, and we want to move in as soon as possible.�

�Very good!� The woman was obviously thrilled, and soon, they were filling out a check for more than Oliver had ever seen. The woman called the bank Antoine's funds were in, ginning and stamping the deed.

�It's all yours! Move in whenever you want!�

Antoine and Oliver glanced at each other, both smiling slowly, then leaning in, lips locking passionately. They had a home. The woman cleared her throat and shifted, and Antoine stood, pulling Oliver up with him.

�Mind giving us a ride back?�

�Of course not.� The woman did so, and explained the bills would be arriving soon for the utilities. As they neared the threshold, Antoine scooped Oliver up, carrying him bridal style through the door.

�We're home...�

�Yep...� Oliver looked up at Antoine, a slow smile crossing his face. Antoine returned the smile, then practically ran upstairs carrying Oliver, tossing him onto the bed in the master bedroom, and practically throwing himself on top of the boy.

They kissed frantically, wanting to break in their new home as soon as possible. Antoine slid down on the bed, leaning pulling down Oliver's shorts as he went, baring his already semi-erect member.

Oliver moaned softly as Antoine's mouth closed over him, lifting his hips off the bed. He loved the care Antoine put in every time he touched him, loved how he acted like Oliver's pleasure was the most important thing. Looking back, Lucas had never been that way. It had always been about him.

Antoine had Oliver reaching his climax within a few moments. He didn't pull away, instead taking more of Oliver in his mouth, waiting for the tide to pass. Oliver moaned softly, his member still hard, still wanting more. Antoine grabbed the tube he apparently carried in his pocket at all times, smearing some on his fingers before sliding them into Oliver.

�Just do it!� Oliver was gasping, desperate to feel Antoine inside him. He had had sex with this man less than 24 hours before, after all. He couldn't be that tight. Antoine prepared him anyway, ignoring his pleas, then gently lifted his legs, sliding in.

Oliver gasped and arched, pushing himself down on the invader. He didn't understand how Antoine had gone from a rapist to a lover, but at that moment, he didn't really care. Antoine moved faster, and they lost themselves in pleasure, climaxing at the same time, and curling up in their new home.

They had found something in each other, a certain mutual understanding and interest that no other individual could provide. A need to need, and to be needed, to understand, and to be understood, to love, and to be loved. Oliver felt content a safe, something he hadn't felt in far, far too long. He looked up, seeing Antoine's strange eyes were full of emotion.

�I love you.�

Oliver started a bit, gulped, then moved closer, kissing Antoine's jaw softly.

�I love you too.� Their eyes met, and Oliver knew he would never be alone or abused again, Antoine's eyes said it all, the devotion, the passion, the need to have the one thing that made him calm near him.

And so they fell asleep, in their new home, in the paradise they gave each other.