Title: Lethe's Snare
By: Tara Keezer
Rating: R
Pairing: Brass/Ethan Rayne
Crossover: CSI: Vegas/Buffy The Vampire Slayer
Notes: This takes place immediately after the end of Ellie, so it's set during CSI's S2 and BtVS's S6.
Warnings: Slash; non-con (worst of it is off screen).
Summary: All Jim Brass wants is to forget for a while. Unfortunately, he meets someone who can help him do just that.
Disclaimer: Neither CSI nor Buffy: the Vampire Slayer is my baby, which is probably just as well, all things considered.

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Jim stood as still as possible, watching Ellie fade into the crowd on the Strip, his throat tight with the effort of holding everything in. She didn't want him? Fine. He didn't need her, didn't need this crap. And maybe, if he told himself that often enough, he'd believe it one of these days.

Once he lost sight of Ellie, Jim turned to go back to his car. Going home wasn't an option, not yet anyway, but Vegas offered plenty of other places to go. One of them was a bar so far off the Strip it might as well be a different world, and right at that moment, it sounded pretty damn perfect.

He'd been called out there once when he still headed the CSI unit, and as he recalled, it had been filled with the promise of anonymous sex with any one of a dozen pretty boys or — something else. Though he was a little fuzzy on the details of what the something else was, he was pretty sure the memory of horns had more to do with his mental state at the time than with what he'd actually seen. Still, he had a very clear memory of the boys — young men, really — all made up and ready to sell themselves to anyone with cash.

It wasn't the brightest idea he'd had lately, but Jim figured if anyone deserved to indulge in a little self-destructive vice right now, he did. If nothing else, maybe it would help him forget the complete disaster that was his relationship with Ellie. For a little while, anyway.

Though he took a couple of wrong turns along the way, he eventually found the place and parked along the curb, just a few car lengths from the club's main entrance. He sat for a few minutes and made a half-assed attempt to talk himself out of going in. When it didn't work, he got out of the car and headed to the door. About to go in, he was barred from entry by the overgrown bouncer at the top of the steps.

"No cops."

Jim sighed and looked up at the vaguely human-shaped mountain, spotting twin glitters that might be the eyes. "I just want a drink. That's all."

"No cops."

"Tell you what. I'll put my badge and gun back in the car. Will that let me through the door?" Jim waited as the compromise he offered filtered through the bouncer's head.

After a moment, he repeated, "No cops." However, his tone wasn't quite as certain as it had been before.

"Honestly, I'm not here to bust anyone's chops. I just want a drink is all." Though Jim thought it was a little like trying to roll a boulder out of the way using a kid's sand shovel, he couldn't quite give up on getting in. Not yet.

The boulder was about to speak again when the door opened behind him, and a middle-aged man stepped out. "Is there a problem, Frederick?"

Jim steeled his face not to react, either to the bouncer's name or to the innuendo the newcomer exuded just by standing there. A small voice — perhaps the last of his sense of self-preservation — whispered that maybe he should just get a drink at the Tangiers instead. God knew, it was a hell of a lot safer than trusting his dick to some kid.

Frederick frowned, saying, "Guy's a cop. No cops allowed."

The other man smiled at Frederick, and Jim shivered at the way the bouncer cringed away. A guy that big shouldn't be intimidated by anyone, let alone a man said boulder could probably break using just one hand. The Tangiers was looking better all the time.

"Nonsense," the older man said. "Never let it be said that Chaos Reigns discriminates against anyone, least of all one of Las Vegas's finest." He held out his hand to Jim, saying, "Please come in. You'll be my guest for the evening."

He did the only thing he could think of and hid behind his cop persona, adding a healthy dash of New Jersey skepticism for good measure. "Yeah? And who are you?"

The smile, fueled by a dark promise, was now directed at Jim. "I'm the new owner. Ethan Rayne at your service."

~*~*~

Jim had been at Rayne's side for a good hour, and he was kicking himself for not having left when he still had the chance. Okay, yeah, something like this was what he'd had in mind when he went to the club, but really, he'd been more interested in getting a blowjob from a kid who needed the cash. He hadn't wanted to become the focus of the owner's attention, and he sure as hell hadn't expected to start spilling his life story to the guy.

And really, it was the way Jim was telling Rayne everything that bothered him the most. He was a cop, had been for the better part of his life, and cops didn't open up to strangers like this. Yet every time he tried to shut himself up, Rayne would ask just the right question, and Jim would be off and running again, spilling out even more of his life for the guy.

"Here you go. I think you'll enjoy this particular malt," Rayne said, his voice oozing through the cracks of what little remained of Jim's defenses.

"No thanks." Rayne's voice made him feel more than a little dirty, and Jim was determined to get away from him before he said anything more. "I've had enough. Have to drive home soon."

"Nonsense. You've only had the one drink. Surely it's time for another?" Tugging the empty glass from Jim's hand, Rayne put it down and took a full glass from the bartender. "This is an excellent Islay single malt, and since it's my treat, you should enjoy it, shouldn't you?"

For a moment, a distressingly brief moment, Jim fought that insistent, cajoling tone before finally losing. He took a sip, telling himself it would get Rayne to back off, so Jim could finally leave. It was the last moment of clarity he had before the world slid two paces to the left.

Jim looked down at the glass, his mind blurry and uncooperative. When his head seemed to clear a little, he thought he should be worried about something, though he couldn't remember what. Maybe — maybe he wondered — "Where am I?"

"You're in my parlor, Captain Brass," Rayne said with a small, tight smile. "Don't you remember telling me that you were here in answer to my ad?"

"Ad?" Jim blinked at the other man.

"Oh yes. ‘Single man seeks same for mutual pleasure and adventure.' Are you sure you don't recall it?" Rayne stroked Jim's back in a long, slow sweep, not ending the caress until his hand reached the top of Jim's thigh.

"No. Don't remember an ad," he mumbled. Frowning, he looked around. "Where am I?"

"You don't remember the ad? Perhaps I never got around to placing it, then." Rayne chuckled as he gripped Jim's ass and squeezed with a proprietary air. He ignored Jim's small grunt of surprise and continued, "After all, the spell was more than sufficient to bring you here."

"Here?"

"Rayne of Chaos, my dear, lovely man." Rayne slipped his hand down the front of Jim's waistband, tutting at Jim's ineffective resistance. "Stop that. You'll only hurt yourself if you fight me. If, however, you relax, I can promise that you'll have a great deal of fun."

"Chaos Reigns," Jim said, a brief memory fighting its way through the haze of his mind. "You welcomed me to — you said Chaos Reigns."

"I say a great many things." Ethan unbuttoned and unzipped Jim's pants and reached in, careless of the fact that they were in a crowded bar. "What a lovely toy surprise you have in there. You're a very naughty man for holding out on me."

Jim ignored the assault for the moment, his mind fixating on another word. Carefully and slowly, he said, "You mentioned a spell."

"Hm. It's much more reliable for ensuring an evening of companionship." Rayne smiled approvingly when Jim's hips bucked forward. "Would you like to know what's going to happen next?"

"Next?" Jim couldn't seem to stop himself from reacting to Rayne's touch, much though he tried. A small part of Jim's mind started screaming that he should get the hell out before anything worse than a little groping happened.

Trouble was, he couldn't seem to get his feet to cooperate.

"You're going to come very soon, directly into the glass I'm holding. This, by the way, is horrendously bad news for you."

Rayne varied his strokes and tugs as he urged Jim toward orgasm, and it took Jim a moment to figure out what to say. "Bad news?"

"Bodily fluids of any kind, but especially blood and semen, can give someone in the know — me, for instance — the ability to control the donor — you, for instance — at will," he said with a gleeful smile.

"Who — who are you?" Jim's hips started moving faster, any illusion of self-control long gone.

His eyes hard and black and cold, he answered, "I'm an evil sorcerer." Rayne smiled again, and Jim imagined a shark might smile like that, just before chomping down on its prey.

Rayne squeezed at just the right moment, and Jim came with a grunt of surprise. His legs were wobbly, and he had to hold onto Rayne for a moment while he regained his balance. Jim made a half-hearted swipe at the glass Rayne used to catch his ejaculate, but it was no use. The man just held the glass up and out of reach.

"Now, now, Jim. Wouldn't you like to know about the rest of the evening?"

"The rest?" He focused on the glass in Rayne's hand, wondering if he could knock it down by hitting the arm at just the right angle. He figured he probably could, but something in the scotch was slowing him way the hell down. His brain tossed a word up to conscious mind. "Rohypnol. You spiked my drinks with that shit."

"Actually, no, I didn't." Rayne took Jim by the arm and steered him toward a door in the back wall. Jim was aware that he was hanging out for everyone to see, but he couldn't get his hands to function at the same time he was walking. And for some reason, not walking wasn't an option for him.

"The second half of the spell kicked in as soon as you took a sip of your second scotch. If you hadn't taken it, we wouldn't be having this delightful conversation right now." Rayne grinned at a patron who stared at Jim's crotch. When the customer reached out to touch, Rayne slapped his hand away.

"Where are you taking me?" Jim wanted to get the hell out, but moving in any direction other than where Rayne led him was like trying to run through a vat of wet oatmeal.

"To bed, my darling, darling man. Once we're there, I shall fuck you to my heart's delight, and when I'm done with you, I'll send you home."

"Rape. It's rape. Can't give consent," Jim said, convinced that saying it would make the man back off.

"It's very much rape." Rayne opened the door with a whispered word then gently shoved Jim through.

"I'll —" Jim shook his head and worked his jaw for a moment. "I'll press charges."

At that, Rayne laughed loudly. "You really are quite sweet. I think I'll use your semen after all. It would be nice to have my very own date on demand here in Las Vegas."

Confused Jim looked up. "I'll arrest you."

"Only if you remember what happened." Rayne leaned forward and dropped a gentle kiss on Jim's forehead before whispering, "And somehow, I don't think you will."

~*~*~

The sun had just risen above the horizon when Jim pulled up to his house. He sat in his car with the engine running as he searched for memories of the last few hours. Something bad happened — the bruising around his wrists was clear evidence of that — and there was a sour feeling in the pit of his stomach that he was quite sure had nothing to do with his latest round with Ellie. He struggled with the attempt to recall, but after a few minutes, his anger and fear drained completely away. Jim got out of the car, his bruising and anxiety as neatly forgotten as the rest of his evening had been.