Title: Let's Pretend
Author: angstytimelord
Pairing: Greg Sanders/Spencer Reid
Fandom: CSI/Criminal Minds
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,761
Warning: ongoing series
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the lovely Greg Sanders or Spencer Reid, unfortunately, just borrowing them for a while. Please do not sue.

***

Greg awakened slowly, unsure of where he was or what he was doing here. It took him a few moments to realize that he was lying face down on a bed; he couldn't move or speak, and for just a moment, he felt a wave of panic wash over him.

Then it all came back to him in a flash; he had been out with a client, and then he had .... what? Passed out for some weird reason? No, there had been a pinprick at the side of his throat; he could barely remember what had happened, but the memory was there, hazy at it was.

Why would that man have done something to knock him out? Greg's mind reeled; he tried to lift his head, sending a sharp spike of pain through it. He wanted to groan, but he couldn't make any sound other than a soft, strangled whimper.

It took him a few more moments to realize that he was tied down, his wrists and ankles bound to the four bedposts, his body stretched taut. And there was a gag in his mouth -- that was why he couldn't cry out, or make any kind of sound to draw anyone's attention.

George. That was the name of the man he'd been with. Who was he, and what had possessed him to do something like this? Greg blinked, waiting for his vision to clear, hoping that this was just some kind of weird game and that it had all been done for a laugh.

If this was supposed to be a joke, it wasn't funny, he thought as he jerked at the cords that bound him. He could barely move; the bonds seemed to tighten around his wrists with every movement, and the man who had done this to him was nowhere in sight.

Why was this happening? Was it because he was a CSI? Was this man -- George -- someone who had some kind of grudge against the law enforcement of Las Vegas? That was the only reason Greg could think of for him to have done something like this.

If that was the case, he was in bigger trouble than he'd ever been in before in his life. He tugged at his bonds again, hoping that he might be able to loosen them enough for him to wriggle free -- but that wasn't going to happen. He was bound far too tightly for escape.

It dawned on him that he was naked; he had hardly realized that in the shock of finding himself in such a situation. Why would George have taken his clothes off, unless ..... unless ..... Greg's mind shrank from the obvious inference of what was going to be done to him.

No. That couldn't happen. He couldn't have read George so wrong; he was usually good at sizing up his clients right from the start, and he had read nothing in George's manner that made him think that the other man was bent on rape -- or murder.

"Nice to see that you're finally awake." The voice came from behind him; Greg tried to turn his head to see just where George was standing, but the other man was out of the range of his limited vision. "You were out longer than I thought you'd be."

Greg shook his head, trying to make some kind of sound, hoping that George might decide to remove his gag and let him speak. But he should have known that wouldn't happen; instead, the other man moved closer and twined his fingers through Greg's hair, jerking his head back.

"Don't try to tell me no," he snarled, his voice in Greg's ear very different from that of the sophisticated, urbane man who had sat across from him at the table in the restaurant. "I can do whatever I want to you. So tread carefully. You don't know what I've got planned."

Greg closed his eyes, not daring to move. He didn't know if this man expected a nod in affirmation of what he'd said, or if he would be better off to stay still. It wasn't as though he could move away; all he could do was lie there and hope that he would survive whatever might happen.

There could only be one thing that George had in mind, given the position that he was bound in, Greg told himself. He wouldn't be face down on a bed with his legs spread, stark naked, if Geroge didn't intend to rape him. Or maybe this was just a scare tactic.

No, he didn't think that was the case. George didn't seem like the kind of person who would play some kind of elaborate joke. He wasn't going to laugh and say that it had all been in fun, just something to scare Greg with and not a serious matter.

"Let's play a game," George murmured, leaning close to whisper into Greg's ear. "Let's pretend that you and I are waiting for Doctor Reid to come bursting through that door to save you, to play the conquering hero and put me back behind bars where I belong."

When Greg didn't flinch or make any kind of sound, George continued, his voice rougher than it had been a moment ago. "Oh yes, I've been behind bars. I've been languishing away in jail for quite a while now, Greg. And it's Doctor Reid's team who put me there."

The situation was slowly starting to become more clear to Greg; this man had come here specifically to find him, to torment Spencer with the thought that one of the unsubs he had put away at one time was holding his lover hostage. This was all about revenge.

George was obviously a twisted individual, someone who Greg should have tried to avoid. But how was he supposed to have known just how dangerous this man was? He'd had no clue in George's behavior that he was dealing with a psychopath.

A hand raked through his hair, then moved down his back, fingers slowly trailing along his spine. Greg wanted to cry out, to struggle against the touch, but he knew better than to try. He was sure that George would find some way to punish him if he made any move to escape.

He winced as those fingers trailed down the cleft of his ass, then moved between his legs to cup his balls. Greg squeezed his eyes shut, expecting George to squeeze his balls, or give them a savage twist. But he didn't; instead, he simply weighed Greg's balls in one hand, stroking gently.

Greg didn't want to respond to that touch. He didn't want to make this man think that his touch was in any way wanted. But his traitorous body had other ideas; it was a purely physical reaction for his balls to tighten, his breath coming faster, his cock hardening.

"You want this, don't you, pretty boy?" George whispered, moving his hand from Greg's balls to squeeze one rounded, firm ass cheek. "Oh, you'll get what you want. Doctor Reid is going to get you back slightly more used than when he first had you."

Greg couldn't hold back a muffled sob; he had known this was going to happen, from the moment he had realized where he was and the danger that he was in. He couldn't have doubted it, not with the position he was in, and with the way George had been touching him.

"He'll never be able to look at you again without knowing that I've had you," George continued, the bed dipping on one side as he climbed onto the mattress, settling himself between Greg's spread thighs. "That is, if I decide to let you live. You may not want to."

Those words made Greg's blood run cold; he struggled against the cords that bound his wrists, but it was impossible to wriggle free. He had been bound too tightly; there was no way for him to escape. He had no choice but to simply lie here and face whatever was coming.

Greg held back a sob as George leaned over him, the man's breath hot against the skin of his bare shoulder. He didn't want to think of what was going to be done to him -- and he didn't want to think of what Spencer's reaction might be.

Spencer might very well try to confront George once he knew what this man had done -- and Greg had no illusions that his nemesis would be ready for him. It was probably what George wanted -- to get rid of one of the members of the BAU in his own way.

He had no idea of how good Spencer was with a gun, but he was certain that the odds would be against his boyfriend. The last thing he wanted was to be responsible for Spencer's death, for the man he loved to meet that death while trying to protect him.

"Let's pretend that you and I are lovers and that we're just waiting for the big bad wolf to huff and puff and blow our house down," George whispered into his ear, his mouth trailing down Greg's throat as he spoke. Greg let out a muffled cry as he felt the man's teeth sink into his shoulder.

He squeezed his eyes tightly shut as the bed shifted again; within seconds, he knew that their bodies would be joined, against his will. He only had to wait for the thrust that he knew was coming; there was nothing he could do to stop it.

"Let's pretend that this is good for both of us," George murmured, his hands moving to Greg's hips to hold the young man still. Greg knew that it was useless to struggle; anything that he did could very likely anger this man and cost him his life.

He had to play for time. And if that meant letting George have his way with him, then that was what he would do. When the inevitable thrust came, the gag in his mouth muffled Greg's agonized scream of pain, the waking nightmare closing over him in a black void that seemed to have no end.

***