Barbed Wire by Elektra Pendragon Damon eyes were closed. He liked it that way. Every sense was sharper, every touch a welcome surprise. It was almost as though he could feel more that way, through the simple, decisive act of closing his own eyes. Damon sagged against his bonds, weight and gravity pulling the barbed wire tight across his skin. With every movement--a breath, a stretch, a moan, a shudder--the little barbs dug into his skin, the wire bruising where it was pulled too taut. Deeply embedded, the metal spines shifted and pulled at his muscles. His vampire body tried to heal around the metal, which added a constant gnawing itch to the knife-pricks of pain. The wooden posts to which he was lashed met between his shoulder blades. The long heavy beams left splinters under the skin of his back and arms and ass, the miniscule shards of oak hurting worse than all the metal combined. "I thought about using the razor wire, but you might have found a way to seriously damage yourself with that." Stefan's voice was low and cruel; Damon could hardly recognize it. The deep purr of his words rolled down Damon's spine like a warm hand. His hips jerked, the wire resisted, and several long gashes tore across his stomach and thighs. He whined as the bloodscent grew stronger in the room. Stefan's hands gripped his hips, fingers digging bruises as he stopped Damon's movements. "See what I mean?" His breath was warm against the blood dripping down Damon's stomach; it had been so long since he'd last fed, Damon's skin was cold. Almost mortal-hot, Stefan lapped at the blood around Damon's navel, curling his tongue inside. One of his hands wandered away from the handles of his hipbones to twirl the wire between his fingers. Finding a long barb, Stefan twisted the wire so that a spine would press into Damon's skin. Sharp, but not too sharp, it took a lot of pressure to break the skin, to puncture its way through to solid muscle. Stefan didn't stop until the wire was flush with his brother's skin. "You need to learn to listen to your little brother when he tells you not to move." Damon nodded his head blindly, mastering his control to keep his body as still as a living statue. Overtaxed muscles strained with exhaustion, his skin stretched thin with starvation. How long had the game gone on? Two weeks? A month? A season? "Good," Stefan said against Damon's stomach, his lips slick with blood. "Now... are you ready to take your punishment?" Damon licked his dry lips, tasting the cracked and salty skin. "Yes." His voice broke on the word. Stefan moved, and Damon could feel a phantom-breath along his painfully hard erection. "Do it," he said, his voice strong with the weight of his desire. Stefan's hand lightly stroked down the length of his cock, and it took almost all of his control not to shout out and come from it. But Stefan didn't go any further, didn't move another inch. Damon opened his eyes and looked down. Stefan stared up at him with brilliant oak-green eyes. His mouth and chest were streaked red, garish against the paleness of his skin. With every breath, the metal links of Stefan's collar clacked together, the leash resting lightly along Stefan's shoulders. Damon tightened his grip on the leash's lead as much as he could without moving his arm, tugging the collar tighter around Stefan's throat with a slight jerk of his wrist. The younger man rose, his head tilted down, and he looked at Damon through his lashes. "Punish me," Damon commanded, his voice cold. "Now, little brother." "Yes, Master," Stefan said automatically, his voice suddenly soft. Then he growled as he picked up the knife. THE END