Get Kidnapped to a Dungeon? Pt. 01

*This is a fantasy; obviously, everything done IRL must be agreed to by people capable of consenting.*

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I am laying comfortably in my bed as I begin to drift off for the night, just on the border between waking and sleep, when a large hand suddenly clamps down over my mouth. My eyes flash open, wide and terrified, and I struggle, trying to squirm sideways, pure reaction with no idea what is happening. Before I can get anywhere, a strong arm scoops under me and flips me onto my stomach.

"Wha--nph!" The hand releases my mouth and I try to cry out, only to have my jaws stuffed full of balled-up fabric and another cloth slotted between my wedged-open lips and tied around the back of my head. My hands try to reach up, fumbling to get it off, but my wrists are caught in an inescapable grip and pulled together behind my back, where I feel cold metal and hear the distinct cl-cl-click! of cuffs tightening around them. Brain reeling with the dregs of sleep and the blast of adrenaline, I wriggle my torso ineffectively, moving awkwardly without the use of my arms, my legs tangled up in my blankets.

"Hey there," a deep voice says. "Awake, huh? Good, more fun that way. You gonna come quietly? Nod if you understand."

My brain seems to be two steps behind everything around me, and I close my eyes and shake my head jerkily, more in confusion and denial of this impossible reality than in actual disagreement.

"No? You'll come around.... Up you go." I suddenly feel myself hoisted up out of bed and the blankets pulled free from my legs. I stumble and then find my balance, alarmed at the ease with which I've been practically lifted to my feet.

My frantic gaze catches sight of myself in the full-length mirror on the wall, and widen farther at the shadowy bulk of the man standing behind my bound and gagged form. Well over six feet tall and broadly muscled, he is wearing what my spinning brain identifies as a police uniform, hat making him look even taller, gloved hand practically engulfing my upper arm. My confusion only compounds at the sight, at the contrast between our sizes... and at the way my groin tightens in response to it.

My wide eyes watch the cop in the mirror move closer behind me, pressing our bodies together. "Hnf!" I jerk slightly as I feel a sizable bulge press against my lower back, and I realize I am shivering in the chilly bedroom, wearing nothing but my boxers.

"Out to the car now," he whispers in my ear. "And don't think you can get away." The warmth of his body along my entire back and his breath on my ear raises goosebumps on my neck and arms. I can see now that what he's wearing is not a real uniform: his jacket and pants are both made of black leather, and underneath the jacket his chest is bare; I can feel his chest hair against my shoulders.

There is no way that this man is a real cop, but my questions are silenced by the gag in my mouth. Still, I wouldn't stand a chance against him even if my hands weren't bound, and seeing no alternative, I reluctantly allow him to steer me toward the door.

He takes me out the front toward an unassuming black sedan parked in the driveway. In that moment, the reality of my situation suddenly breaks through my confused haze, and I am terribly sure that if I get in that car I'm going to wind up as nothing but an article on the local news page. Kidnapped. --I'm being kidnapped!

I throw my shoulder forward suddenly, arm slipping free from the man's grasp, and run barefoot across the dewy lawn with my hands still cuffed behind me. "HMMMMMMF!!" I yell for help as loud as I can through the gag, but it comes out well-muffled and entirely incoherent. Before I've even made it to the neighbor's yard, thick arms wrap around me and lift me off my feet, easily depositing me into the back seat of the car.

"Hnn! Nnmf!" I try to squirm, but my kidnapper reaches across me, holding me down with his body as he cuffs my ankles with chains to the floor, one and then the other. I am surprised when he then reaches behind me and releases my wrists, but they are soon secured again, stretched apart and cuffed to opposite sides of the ceiling. He shuts the door, and I notice that all the windows are blacked out; I am alone in a little box of darkness for a few seconds. Then he opens the driver's door on the far side and gets in, starting the car quickly and pulling out.

After several turns I realize that I should be trying to keep track of them, but it is already too late. I can see nothing out the opaque windows. I have no idea where he is taking me.

He drives for a while before stopping just long enough to pull the cleave gag out, and then continues forward again. "How you holding up back there?"

Chained with my limbs spread apart inside the back of a blacked-out car, the question sounds utterly absurd to me. I work the wet wad of fabric out of my mouth and blurt out the question that has been roiling around in my brain since I finally realized I was being kidnapped. "What are you going to do with me?"

"Whatever I want," the man replies. In the rearview mirror I see that he doesn't even bother lifting his eyes off the road to answer me.

Fuck. I can't deny the way my dick twitches as he says that. That's not how I should be reacting right now! My breathing is shallow and I feel like I can't get enough air, my body vibrating, but I realize that fear is not the only reason for that. "I... am a little cold," I say after a moment, answering his original question as I glance away from the small slice of his face I can see in the mirror.

"Oh right, of course. Sorry about that." He reaches forward and spins a knob, and I feel warm air on my body in the back. "Wouldn't want you to be... uncomfortable."

A soft, incredulous snort escapes me at that. The strange mix of domineering and consideration in his manner is leaving me feeling continually off-balance, and I don't know quite how to respond. I am becoming strangely less afraid than I think I should be--a thought that causes another spike of adrenaline to shoot through my gut.

"In that case, how about you uncuff me?" I say somewhat breathlessly, before I can think better of it.

"Not yet... almost there though." I feel the car turn onto a gravel road and continue for a while before stopping.

"Alright, we're here. Now we're going to play a little game... it's pretty simple. We're parked at one end of my dungeon. Well, more like a maze, really. Exit's at the other end. All you have to do is make it to the other side without getting caught and I'll take you home. If I catch you..." he puts an arm behind the back of the passenger seat as he turns to look at me with a grin, "well, that's the fun part. Any questions?"

"D-dungeon?" I ask disbelievingly. I can't believe that this is really happening, and yet here I am, somewhere at the end of an unknown gravel road in the middle of the night, with a strange man who just kidnapped me out of my bed, who is telling me that he is going chase me through a dungeon maze and try to catch me.

... But the most terrifying thing is how tempted I am to find out what would happen if he did.

My pupils are huge in the darkness as I look up at him. "I-- What--... Just like this?" I stammer, awkwardly waving a bound hand at my shivering, almost-naked body.

He simply grins. "Just like that. Anything else you want to know?"

I stare at him. There are a thousand things I want to know! But considering how laconic all his answers have been, I don't know if I would get any useful information out of him anyway.

"Just... how far is it to the other side?" My entertaining of this insane scenario makes my brain buzz in alarm, but what other choice do I have? Run off naked into the countryside? I saw how well my first attempt went--he would run me down in a dozen yards.

He sits back in the driver seat and looks at me in the mirror. Considering, he says, "That depends... it's just a few acres. The fastest path is only a minute or two if you run. Well, if you can outrun me. You have a better chance sneaking around one of the slower paths... probably take you about ten minutes." He puts a big hand to his chin thoughtfully. "But again, that depends on how you do with what's inside. And again, if I catch you--when I catch you, I hope--it'll be a sight longer than that."

The sound of his voice talking to me, as well as the weight of his gaze meeting mine--even reflected in the mirror--are enough to send shivers running down my spine. It has become pleasantly warm in the car, and I suddenly realize that my trembling is actually equal parts adrenaline... and nervous anticipation.

And then something he said penetrates through the haze of my thoughts: " 'What's inside'...?" I echo, my inflection making it a question.

"Oh, that's a good question, what's inside..." He bites his lip and narrows his eyes at me, smirking a bit. "Well, what would a dungeon be without traps? Maybe you'll touch something you shouldn't, or go through a one-way door, or... well, I shouldn't spoil it. I want to leave some things as a surprise...." He raises his eyebrows in mock innocence. "After all, you didn't think this was going to be just a maze did you?"

I shake my head mutely--I had no idea what to expect from any of this. Dungeon, traps... I have only his word that it's not some sort of Silence of the Lambs situation in there. I haven't been getting murderer vibes from him, but on the other hand, some serial killers are notoriously charismatic....

I want to keep him talking to me, to delay the start of this crazy "game". And also because I don't want him to stop talking to me.

But I find myself unable to come up with any more questions.

Noticing I've gone quiet he asks, "So... are you ready?" He gets out of the car and comes around to open my door. I shrink back into the seat cushions as he leans over me again to uncuff my wrists and ankles, leaving me free to walk and use my hands.

As I climb hesitantly out of the car, I see we are already inside, a large garage door shut behind us, and before us is an entryway. The contrast would be funny in other circumstances--the broad-shouldered man in a leather police uniform next to a guy in his underwear.

"Thirty seconds head start," he says. "Doesn't sound like much but you'd be surprised. Even I sometimes still get lost down here. 3... 2... 1..." and, in a soft whisper, "go."

My heart gives a lurch--oh fuck, is this really happening?!

I don't want to voluntarily pass through that ominous entryway, having no way of knowing if what I am running into is worse than what I am running from. It also somehow feels like tacit agreement to participate in this whole insane scenario, which I am not at all willing to give.

But thirty seconds leaves me no time to think, and I don't doubt that he will take advantage of my every hesitation. All these thoughts flash through my head in a few rapid heartbeats, and then I lurch forward through the opening, entering the maze.

After just a few steps of dimly-lit hallway I see the first fork and turn left at random, trying to put as much distance between myself and the uniformed man as possible in the short time I have. The floor is covered in the sort of uninspired low-pile carpeting found in dentist waiting rooms, but there is a strange springiness to it, as though there is padding underneath. The walls are all painted a uniform faded cream, illuminated by distantly-spaced recessed lights in the ceiling; often the only light in a given hallway is reflected from around one corner or the other. The passageways are narrow--I could probably touch both walls if I stretched out my arms--but the ceilings are about ten feet high, making them feel even more narrow than they are. It puts me uncomfortably in mind of the Backrooms.

After a few more turns, I realize that I am well and truly lost down here. Remembering what he said about sneaking around, I listen carefully for him as I make my way around a few more corners, trying to keep quiet. Suddenly, something cinches tightly around my ankle and I hear a clatter. I look down and see a thin rope in the dim light, strung with small pieces of metal that clang together when I move. Thankfully it's easy enough to reach down and free myself, but I can't help but make more noise as I do so. As I'm standing back up, I notice a pair of underwear on the ground... perhaps stripped from a past "visitor" who ran into the same trap?

I shudder, straightening--if my kidnapper heard that noise, that fate may well be mine also. Swallowing, I hurry away from the trap and see a sign under one of the rare lights up ahead. To the left is labeled "Rest Area". To the right "Playroom". Not that I can trust the sign, but... my only options are to choose one of the two directions, or try to double back and find something else. I pause, quickly looking down the halls to left and right. "Rest Area" seems like an obvious trap, but maybe it's so obvious that it's actually a harmless decoy? "Playroom" does not sound like anywhere I want to be, but for all I know that clatter has put that man right on my tail. And if so, I want to make the choice that I think he wouldn't expect me to make. I turn right.

My instinct is to hug the wall as I walk quickly down the hall, eyes darting everywhere, trying to find a balance between caution and speed after my brush with the rope trap. But it seems the walls are just as likely to be trapped as the ground, so I resist the urge and maintain my distance.

After another few turns the passage opens up into a larger, octagonal room--definitely a playroom. On one wall is an array of toys, whips, chains, and other bondage gear. On others, there's a fuck bench and an X-cross. Looking around, I also see that this room has five exits. It must be a central room, which hopefully means I'm getting closer to the end.

My eyes go wide at the display of equipment in this room. l can't even figure out how some of them are supposed to be used, but that one there, with the interesting pattern of ridges on it... how would that feel sliding into--? I cut that train of thought off with a vigorous shake of my head. My gaze falls on something in the center of the room--a pile of leather on the floor, with a conspicuous note on top of it.

As I step closer, I realize that the pile is the man's discarded clothing, and my heartbeat suddenly spikes higher. He's been in this room! I glance around, straining my ears, but I sense no sign of him now. I look back at the clothes. Does this mean that he's running around naked now too? Or did he change into some other outfit?

Leaning over the pile, I carefully read the note without touching it: Hope you're having fun. Would love to run into you soon. You might want to use this lube. And sure enough, there is a small bottle of lube next to the uniform and note.

I rock back on my heels in shock. God. Fucking. Dammit!

He wants me to--! Does he actually think that I would--?

My breathing has gone shallow again. There is no way I am going to lube myself up in anticipation and just walk around his twisted sex maze...

... But what if he does catch me, and I haven't done it? Is this my only chance? Perhaps it's better to be safe than sorry... I find myself reaching for the bottle, and then stop. I picture myself in this playroom, lubing my own ass at my strange kidnapper's orders, playing his game, and I simply can't bring myself to do it.

I leave everything where I found it, untouched, and stand. I have already lost too much time here. Taking a shaky breath, I look at the other doorways. I am so turned around that I have no clear idea of which ones are more likely to point the right way, and which would lead me back to the entrance. I don't even know if the man has passed me and is now between me and the exit--a thought that sends a shiver down my spine. Using my best guess, I choose the second door to the left from the one I came in and walk through it.

I hurry down this next hallway, worried and wondering where the other man has gone. But I don't have to wonder for long, as I turn a corner and find myself looking into the playroom from a one-way mirror behind the St. Andrew's cross. And there he is...

For the first time I see him naked--and unquestionably erect. It looks like a damn beer can is hanging between his legs. In other circumstances, maybe I would... no, I can't think about that! I watch, fascinated and nervous, as he puts the uniform back on, again covering himself. He picks up the lube, chuckles, and pockets it. He pulls out a marker and turns the note over to write something else, then puts the marker away.

Not knowing I'm watching, he goes over to the wall of toys and takes down the ridged dildo I had been looking at earlier. Suddenly he turns his head toward one of the entryways I haven't been down yet and I hear him say "I heard that... found you." But I didn't make any noise, and it's in the direction leading away from me. This must be my lucky break!

I quickly continue down the hall and after only a few turns find myself back in the playroom. The new note says, Big mistake ????, and below that, P. S. good choice in toy. It's one of my favorites too.

As the meaning of the note hits home, I start to hyperventilate. "Shit, shit, shit!" I mutter repeatedly under my breath.

The truth of the matter is that whether I chose to or not, I am already playing this man's game, and I am certain I have fucked up big time by refusing to use the lube.

On top of that, how had he known about the dildo? I glance around--were there cameras in here? Had he been watching me? I look at my nervous reflection in one of the many mirrored walls--how many of them hid secrets as well?

I have to get out of here. My only chance now really is to find the exit before he finds me. I don't have many choices left--the only paths I haven't explored are the one he took, and the fifth exit. I head through the last unexplored doorway, hoping that somehow I can navigate this Labyrinth without ever encountering the Minotaur.

I turn a few corners and then--luck of all luck--there it is! The exit, marked by a prominent sign, about twenty feet ahead. Letting out a breath of relief I hurry towards it... and my luck takes a turn for the worse.

In my haste, eyes full of the light from the sign, I fail to see a tripwire, which brings me crashing face-down on the padded floor. I turn around to untangle myself, and a shadow blocks the light.

"Caught you," the kidnapper says as he puts one foot on my back. "And just in time too.... So close."

My heart is trying to pound its way out of my chest, and I now understand how people can die of fright. I try to worm forward out from under his foot, but he is pressing the breath from me, pinning me to the floor.

He crouches down and then lays on me, pinning my body with his, and I cannot suppress a whimper as his weight settles on top of me, pressing me even farther into the floor. "So... what should I do with you now that I've caught you? So many possibilities...."

I try to squirm, but it is all but impossible. His leather sticks and pulls against my sweaty skin. The smell of leather and... him is strong in my nose as I suck in terrified breaths with my compressed lungs. Forming words seems utterly beyond my capabilities at the moment.

"Let's start by getting these off... they'll just get in the way." I make a little yelp as he suddenly pulls my underwear down with one hand, exposing my ass and cock to the cold air. A moment later, a thick finger reaches forward and presses insistently against my lips. "Open up," he says conversationally, as though he's not holding me down on the floor with the weight of his body.

My eyes flutter shut as he presses on my mouth, the shallow breaths through my nose warming his hand. I see no world in which resisting gets me anywhere, so I do as I'm told and let my lips part.

He pushes his finger into my mouth, then pulls it out and pushes back in. "Nnnnn...." A soft sound escapes me as his finger slides in and out. I can taste the slight saltiness of his skin as it rubs along my tongue, spreading saliva on my lips and cheek. It smells strongly of leather, and I realize that he has taken off his glove just so nothing would be between his finger and my mouth.

Still conversationally, he muses aloud, "What to do with you.... Well, we'll start with this finger here. And then I think I'll have you suck my cock. After that..." he grinds his hips into my ass. "After that you're going to wish you'd used the lube."

The casual way in which he mentions me sucking his cock makes my own twitch in response where it's squashed underneath me. I find myself wondering if I can even fit such a wide girth in my mouth-- Wait, no! I shouldn't be thinking about that! I should be trying to escape-- He grinds his leather-clad hips against my bare ass, his bulge pressing apart my ass cheeks, and I let out an entirely undignified squeak around the finger in my mouth.

I already wish I had used the lube. I wish it fervently. He is going to break me apart! So why does my dick start throbbing when he says that?!

After a minute or two of enjoying my mouth with his finger, he leans back and gets off me. My whole body decompresses, my lungs finally able to expand properly again. My feet are still tangled up in the tripwire and my underwear, and apparently he's not worried about me going anywhere. He stands over me for a moment, looking down at me, then lowers to his knees in front of my face.

"Get to work," he tells me, pointing at the zipper of his pants. "I like my blowjobs sloppy, with lots of eye contact."

Pulling in a deep breath, I slowly push my torso up off the ground, surreptitiously shifting my feet to see if I can work them free from the wire. I look up at the curve of the zipper running over his bulge, and suddenly feel sweat break out all over my body. He takes up most of my field of vision, but just past his hip I can see the lit exit sign, glowing brightly.

So fucking close.

I glance up at his face, towering over me, and then back to the zipper. I search with the corners of my eyes for anything that could help me, but there is nothing. Seeing no other choice, I reach up and grasp the zipper, beginning to pull it down. My fingers brush the smooth leather, and it is warm from his body heat.

The zipper gapes open, revealing the base of his cock, but the head is still down the leg of his pants. He helps me out, reaching down a hand to pull it up, and it practically springs free, almost hitting me in the face.

Suddenly confronted with the thick length of his cock, my eyes widen and I swallow.

I want it.

I can smell it--the scent of him, as well as, faintly, a hint of precum.

I want it!

I lick my lips nervously. This is wrong. I shouldn't be feeling this way. I should be trying to escape!

But I can't escape.

--I'm not sure there was ever even really a chance.

I close my eyes and give in to my base urges, sticking my tongue out slightly as my warm, wet mouth closes around the tip of his cock.

He is too far away from where my feet are trapped for me to get up on my knees and still reach his cock, so I am in a sort of cobra position, using my hands to push my torso high enough to reach. I remember he said eye contact, and I lift my eyes up--up past his abs, past the broad curve of his pecs, all the way up to meet his eyes. I try to maintain the contact as I spread my mouth wide to slide farther down his shaft, but it is so hard. The weight of his gaze on mine while I start to suck his dick is almost more than I can handle, my eyes continually wanting to dart away, to fall.

He looks down at me, holding my gaze, and smiles knowingly. How many other men has he brought here, chased, captured? How many others, just like me, when it came down to it gave in to their instincts, letting him take over?

Perhaps taking pity on my struggles to lift myself high enough, he reaches down with practiced ease and grabs my wrists. I make a noise of surprise as he lifts me up, holding half my body-weight with little apparent effort. He raises me until my mouth is suspended over his cock, and then slowly, deliberately, he lowers my arms so that gravity pulls my mouth back down over it, first the head, then the start of the shaft. As his shaft slides inside, I have no way of controlling anything that is happening: without my hands to support myself, I am entirely powerless to stop the weight of my own body from driving his cock deep into my mouth.

It is thicker than anything I have ever taken, but he keeps lowering and it keeps sliding, pushing against the narrower opening to my throat. I gag, my body clenching, but he is lowering me farther, and I struggle to open my throat wide enough to accommodate him. My eyes are watering as he head pops in and slowly drives deeper and deeper inside of me, until he has buried himself to the base. I try to keep my throat relaxed, but I can't hold it for long. I gag again, eyes almost closing, head rocking back on my neck as my drool sputters and slides down his cock onto his balls.

He leaves me there for a moment, letting me gag on it. When he pulls me off again, the thick cock in front of me is now positively slick with my own spit--and with some precum too, if I'm not mistaken--long strands of saliva and slime from my throat coating his length.

He lets out a low moan as he lowers me back down again, looking into my eyes, losing himself in the pleasure. "Ooooohh fuck yessss... work my cock. Show me how much you want it. Don't try to hide it, I see how much you're enjoying this..."

At the sound of his deep moan my dick spasms, doing its best to stiffen underneath me. A part of me squirms in pleasure that I am the cause of that sound, that I am doing a good job--the thinking part of my brain is running in small circles in a corner, entirely offline. I suck as he draws me off his dick this time, lapping my tongue along the bottom of his shaft as he plunges me back down again.

He notices the way I start sucking and licking him, and shifts his grip on me, lifting me up a bit higher so I can focus on his head and shaft more. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back, letting out an aroused sigh. "Ahhh I'm so glad I caught you in time... I had no idea it would be this good." His stern demeanor breaks, and he lets out a sound almost like a whimper. "Don't stop," he says, as though he's forgotten that he's the one holding me up. "Please..."

Don't stop.

The command seems to echo in my head. I don't notice the abrupt, suspicious change in his manner, only the satisfied sounds he is making, and the praise which causes a cloud of happy butterflies in my stomach.

I am frustrated that I can no longer take him fully into my throat when I want, but my neck allows for a fair amount of movement and I can still reach several inches. I take his command to heart, sucking vigorously, sometimes going all the way up his length to pop off the corona of his head. It is difficult to swallow in this position, but he said he likes it sloppy, so I don't even try. I make lewd slurping noises as drool slides freely down his shaft and hangs from my chin, focused on getting more of those delightful sounds out of him.

My efforts are rewarded as he continues moaning. "Fuuck man! I can't remember the last time I got head this good... aaaahhh... hold on a sec, let me make this easier for both of us." His hips back away from me, but I don't realize what he's doing even when his cock starts to slide out of my mouth. I continue sucking until it pops free, and then reach my tongue after it as he pulls away, wanting it back. Ropes of drool stretch between my mouth and his glistening head.

He slowly lowers my body back down to the floor, and then cuffs my hands behind my back. I have a few moments to recover my senses, away from the thoroughly-distracting presence of his cock, and my thoughts sluggishly begin to move again. Confusion roils slowly within me as I try to reconcile what I have just been doing for the last few minutes with how this evening began.

He lifts me up to a kneeling position and puts one hand under my chin, raising my face to look up at him standing tall over me. His cock is positively dripping with my spit, twitching just inches in front of my warm mouth, seemingly eager to get back inside. But not just yet... "You're a natural," he says. "What's your name? I want to know who I'm going to be playing with for the night."

On my knees in front of him, I suddenly realize what a sight I am. Stripped, cuffed, and kneeling naked on the floor, my mouth coated in slobber that smells like precum, I cut a pathetic figure at best. But then he puts his hand under my chin and raises my face to look up at him towering above me, and suddenly I don't care about any of that anymore. This is where he wants me, and this is where I belong. The confusion is gone, replaced by clarity. His cock is right in my face, and I know my place now. I start to open my mouth, but his voice stops me mid-motion. For some reason, it surprises me to my core that he wants to know my name, and then my insides bubble with a complex mixture of emotions as he mentions that he's going to be playing with me for the night: pleasure, trepidation, pride, anticipation.

Feeling like I'm giving him a part of myself--or perhaps that he's giving a part of myself back to me--I look up at him and say simply, "I'm Will."

"Alright Will. I'm Derek. But you call me 'Officer'--is that clear?" His tone is stern but also... is that playfulness I hear?

His hands reach out, one going under my chin and the other around the back of my head as he starts to push his cock back into my open mouth, "When I tell you to suck my cock, you say, 'Yes Officer'." At the word 'officer' he thrusts deeply into my throat before pulling out slowly. "When I tell you to bend over, you say, 'Yes Officer'." Another deep thrust. "If I'm in the mood to lube you up after all, you say, 'Thank you Officer'." He thrusts again, holding me there a bit longer this time.

The feel of his dick fucking deep into my throat as both his hands are wrapped around my head, totally in control of me, is almost more than I can handle. My eyes flutter, struggling to stay open, my dick hardens and stands up between my thighs. When he says that he's going to fuck me, my body squirms involuntarily, a moan trying to escape past the dick filling my throat.

He bends down so he can say, quietly, playful again, "And when I fuck you, whether you're begging for more or pleading for me to have mercy on you, what are you going to call me?" At last he pulls his cock back out of my mouth, and I gasp, sucking in air. My mind is reeling, struggling to remember how to speak.

He looks down at me expectantly, and asks again. "What are you going to call me, Will?"

When he says my name, it's like a jolt of electricity through my guts, almost driving the words from my brain again. At last I manage to get out, breathless, "I'm going to call you 'Officer'... Officer."

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'Will' is the same character as in "They Came from Beneath", but the two stories are not connected in any way; think of it like an AU.

'Derek' being similar to 'Derrick' from "Prey" is a complete coincidence (just happened to be my partner's username ^^;).