Restraint

Disclaimer: omg. This is purely a work of fiction, I do not know either of these amazing actors or make any money from this and this never actually happened ever in any universe or represents real events in any way and I mean no disrespect I'M SO SORRY. *goes to hell* Also, apologies to Jason Patrick. XD

Kiefer -was- actually lassoing people, by the by. But no one ever mentioned him lassoing Rufus. :p Also, I completely blame my breaking down and writing RPS on "I Trust You to Kill Me."
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Restraint

It was a little strange, seeing Kiefer Sutherland off the set, while we were filming Dark City. Part of it was seeing him drop character - standing tall, speaking normally, even the way he held himself was different. We'd done screen tests together, of course, and readings, but there still seemed to be a noticeable shift, between when he was Kiefer and when he was Schreber. It impressed and intrigued me all at the same time, that he was able to switch it on and off in a way that was seemingly so easy, and how good he was at being in character. I'd seen a number of his movies and was well aware of his talent, of course. But it was much different to actually work with him, to see it in person.

Turning a character on or off was never that easy for me. I always had John Murdoch halfway in the back of my head - the feeling of the character, his thoughts and motivations, many of the details and characteristics I'd hashed out with Alex Proyas. Perhaps part of me thought I might lose him, if I let go of him completely.

Perhaps the strangest thing I encountered about Kiefer Sutherland off set, though, was seeing him at his trailer, still in a three piece suit, full makeup and antique style glasses, twirling a lasso. I paused to regard the strange sight curiously from a distance, remembering warnings I'd heard from the crew about him lassoing people. Then I shrugged, and continued on my way, only to hear his voice behind me. "Hey, Rufus!"

I half turned - none too soon - finding a rope looped tight around my biceps and chest. He still held the other end, grinning, and gave a light tug. I couldn't help but laugh. "Nice aim."

"I've been getting better," he replied, still grinning - a warm, easy smile completely unlike the twitchy nervous one I was used to seeing him give as Schreber. "Though after I tripped up that poor crew member I've stopped aiming for the feet. Come here and I'll get you out of that." He gave a gentle tug on the rope, and I did as he asked without question, suddenly distracted by the thought that there was definitely worse things that could happen than to be tied up by Kiefer Sutherland. I probably could have wriggled enough to easily loosen the lasso myself, but it was much nicer to let myself be fussed over just a little, watching nimble fingers tug at the rope, then pull it back over my head. He caught my gaze for a moment as he did, a little contemplatively, as if trying to read what I wasn't saying. Or perhaps he just wanted to make sure I wasn't angered by the capture. Whatever he saw, he merely smiled again, and patted my shoulder. "There. Right as rain."

"If you're this kind to all your captives, maybe I should let you lasso me more often," I joked, realizing belatedly how suggestive it was, and hoping it wouldn't seem too intentional.

He just laughed, stepping back and starting to work the rope again, eyes not leaving mine. "Maybe I will."

We were both called back to film at that, and I put the conversation out of my mind, easing back into being Murdoch and talking like an American. He was Schreber again the next time I saw him, the playful confidence replaced by nerves and a strangely cute skittishness, by strained smiles and breathless, broken speech. I couldn't have played the role, I found myself thinking. Not like he did.

We were filming one of the later scenes of the movie that day, something that required me to be strapped into some strange metal wheel construction, stretched out on my back spread eagle with my hands and feet tightly bound, surrounded by actors in bald caps and leather dresses. It seemed a little bit BDSM, it occurred to me, and I almost broke character to laugh at that thought.

The last strap went over my forehead, fastened deftly and carefully by Kiefer during filming, who stood over me. It held me entirely immobile, so that the only things I could see were the lights and cameras above me, and Kiefer standing over me. It made me feel slightly anxious, and I tried to channel that into Murdoch, trembling and gasping as we played out the injection scene. I heard Proyas yell for a cut though, and could only lay still and stare up at the cameras as I waited for the next take, trying to breathe calmly.

One of Kiefer's hands still rested on my chest, waiting to tuck the glass and copper prop syringe back into my pocket for the next take. His other hand touched my cheek gently, leaning over me a little so I could see him better. "Are you all right?" Breathless, soft. Schreber's voice.

I kept my American accent and forced a smile, trying to joke around. "I'll be okay, doc. You can't be much more comfortable than I am at the moment." It was true - they had him closed into some strange kind of mobile cage made of painted aluminum that wardrobe affectionately referred to as the Iron Dress, and it wasn't the lightest or most comfortable thing in the world by far.

"I'm not the one who is -- all tied up," he replied, with a little hint of a smile. He ran his fingertips along my skin at the edge of the leather strap, and suddenly I was having very un-Murdoch-like thoughts that definitely involved being all tied up, and also finding out what that voice, which could somehow be breathy and beautifully throaty all at the same time, would sound like when he was -

"From the top," I heard Proyas call out, and I dragged my mind back to the task at hand, trying very hard to forget any and all thoughts that involved shagging Kiefer Sutherland.

~~

Kiefer was in make-up when I staggered in later that evening, having the latex prosthetic over his eye carefully removed. He waved in my direction as I entered. "Hey, Rufus. You should come out with us this evening."

"Out?" I sat down and slathered my face in cold cream, then started to wipe away makeup. "It's ten at night."

"I know," he replied, "And we have a very rare morning off tomorrow. A bunch of the crew are going out to a local pub, you should come and unwind."

I pondered the idea for a few moments. Sleep had been the highest priority on my list, but the filming schedule was very tight, and there likely wouldn't be another chance to go out on the town until we were done. "Sure," I replied. "Thanks."

Half an hour later found us seated in what proved to be a very welcoming, cozy pub, talking over a pint as various members of cast and crew arrived in twos and threes. Kiefer nodded greetings to a few of them, but seemed more interested in talking with me for the time being. "I know this is going to sound really weird," he said at one point, with another one of his infections grins, "but I'm really not used to the British accent."

I laughed, taking a drink. "I can pretend to be American if you like."

"No, no. I'm just impressed, that's all. Accents are hard, but you do it so well. You never slip up."

I chuckled, pleased at the praise. "It's a survival tactic, I'm afraid."

"Survival tactic?"

"If you can only sound British, you'll only ever be cast as British," I replied with a chuckle. "You get used to it."

He gave a little understanding nod. "Still, you're very good at it."

"And you're far better than I am at jumping in and out of character," I returned. "So we're even. I love what you've done with him, by the way."

His answering smile was modest, almost bashful, and undeniably adorable. "Thank you."

"You... your character is very endearing," I found myself continuing, and he looked up at me with a little curious smile.

"A crippled mad scientist?"

I laughed softly. "You bring a vulnerability to the role that not many could. It gives Schreber so much more depth than I saw in him when I first read the screenplay."

"Thank you," he said again, still just as quietly pleased as before. "I have a bit more to work with than the rest of you, though."

"I suppose," I thought about the script. "I'm not very nice to you, am I?" I mused, laughing as he gave me a questioning look. "Murdoch, I mean. He's a bit of an ass."

Kiefer shrugged. "I don't know if you can really say that. Schreber doesn't exactly inspire confidence. For all Murdoch remembers, he could be his greatest enemy, or his best friend."

"Or something else?" I suggested, my mind moving, unbidden, to the thought of a blonde and a brunette entangled in a lover's embrace.

"Or anything," Kiefer agreed, thankfully unaware of where my thoughts had gone. "That's the beauty of the story." He eyed me thoughtfully as he took a drink. "How do you think they'd end up, after everything's said and done?"

I resisted the urge to make wishful jokes about shagging. "Hmm. I think they'd both play it cool, for a while. Maybe Schreber would open a practice, to monitor some of the people, or be in a better position to help out if something went wrong and people started remembering. Murdoch would pretend to be normal for sure, maybe settle down with Anna. But he'd come find you eventually. He'd be too isolated otherwise, without anyone around him that could understand what he is. He'd need you."

He gave a little smile, seeming pleased with the answer. "It's interesting to think about it, isn't it? I think they would need each other, in some way. Maybe they'd balance each other out." He drained his glass, and stood. "I need another, you coming?"

The rumours of what Kiefer was like when drunk were not, I discovered, understated. He didn't become any less himself - the kind thoughtfulness was still there, and he was still unfailingly polite - the Canadian influence, I thought with a smirk. But it was like every care in the world had fallen from his shoulders, and every inhibition was thrown away. More and more of the cast and crew trickled in, and several hours and several more drinks later I found myself with his arm around my shoulders as he joined a number of the crew in a rousing rendition of what John from costume informed me was a very well-respected Australian drinking game.

"Here's to Rufus, he's true blue! He's a piss pot through and through! He's a bastard so they say - tried to go to Heaven but he went the other way! Drink it down!"

I laughed, shaking my head, but chugged the rest of my beer as urged, gasping for breath. It was nice to unwind, I reflected, to let myself get caught up in the tipsy warm feeling of being slightly drunk, in the light and laughter around me. Someone handed another beer to Kiefer, and I joined in as they started up again. "Here's to Kiefer, he's true blue!"

"You have a nice voice," he told me with a smile once the beer was gone.

I laughed and shook my head. "My mother kept trying to get me into musical theatre, but it's not my style. Thanks for inviting me out tonight, this is a lot of fun."

Kiefer gave a slow nod, and as he watched me speak, his eyes narrowed slightly, dark with an emotion that I couldn't quite place. Then he grabbed my arm. "All right guys, I promised Proyas I'd have our leading man home at a decent hour. Drink up and have a blast!"

"You did?" I asked, puzzled, but he grinned and ignored me, bidding goodbye to the crew and exchanging a few one-armed hugs without letting go of mine. I found myself caught up in a number of drunken embraces myself, but eventually we were outside and he was bundling me into a cab, giving the driver the address of the studio. I glanced to him with a curious smile. "That's not home."

"I know," he replied with a little smile, and something about the dark look still in his eyes made me shiver despite myself. "I left something there. I hope you don't mind?"

I shook my head wordlessly, watching as he paid the cab driver, then following him out of the car and toward the studio. He spoke briefly with the security guard, giving him the same explanation, and we were let in without question. It was, I reflected, the only time I'd seen the studio entirely dark and quiet, and it seemed strangely empty to me.

We headed towards the trailers, then detoured at the last minute, and Kiefer lead me to an emergency exit for one of the studios. There was no handle on the outside, but as he eased the door open with his fingertips, I could see that the lock had been taped over with a piece of electrical tape, keeping the door open. I looked over at him with a quirked eyebrow, feeling my pulse race and trying to tell myself that there were a million reasons to be here that didn't have to do with shagging. "I thought you said you forgot something."

"In a round about way," he replied, still with that little smile playing about his lips. Really, really nice lips, I couldn't help but think. He tilted his head slightly. "You coming?"

The studio was lit only with a few safety lights, just enough to keep from tripping over anything, to see the outline of his form ahead of me in the darkness. He seemed completely sure of himself, and part of me wasn't at all surprised when he stopped beside the big metal wheel we'd used in filming.

Kiefer turned to me, and I could just see him well enough to watch the tip of his tongue flick over his lips, watch his gaze move slowly down my body, promising. Then he spoke again, voice low and husky, sending a shudder of arousal down my spine. "Lean back against the wheel."

I hesitated for a moment, not quite believing that this was happening. "Just tell me this isn't some practical joke."

"No," he replied, smile widening, and he stepped forward, reaching up to run his fingers along my jaw, thumb brushing against my lips teasingly. "I won't leave you tied up here. I promise."

I managed a little nod, then did as he asked, letting him pull my wrist out to the restraint. He kissed the inside of my wrist softly before buckling the leather strap around it, then placed another warm kiss to the palm of my hand. He repeated the action with my other arm, then stopped, standing in front of me and resting his hands lightly on my hips. "I've been wanting to do this since this afternoon," he admitted, his blue eyes all pupil in the dim light. "I think you wanted it too, didn't you?"

"Yes," I half gasped, my breath coming faster just from his words, heart pounding so loud in my chest that I was sure he could hear it.

"Good," he murmured, with a little smirk. "So, the question is, who would you rather sleep with? Me, or Schreber? Your choice."

"You," I said automatically, a shiver running through me at the thought. Then I regarded him curiously. "Why, have you had people say the opposite?"

He leaned in with a soft chuckle, lips brushing my neck, and nipped at the skin. "You'd be surprised at some of Jason Patrick's kinks."

I gave a soft laugh despite myself, tilting my head back for him and moaning softly as his lips nuzzled a warm path up my neck and along my jaw. It seemed an eternity of agony and longing, but finally those well shaped lips found mine. I melted under the heat of his kisses, sucking and nipping at his lips and tongue, drinking in the taste of warmth and alcohol and Kiefer. He pressed against me without restraint, body warm and strong and pushing me back against the cool metal behind me. I couldn't help but moan as his hands slipped up under my t-shirt to stroke hungrily over my bare skin, rubbing up my sides and over my chest. It drove any remaining thoughts of restraint out of my mind, and I arched against him as much as I could, wishing my hands were free to embrace him as he was me.

As if sensing my longing, Kiefer drew back with another teasing smile, leaving the only point of contact as his hand resting low on my stomach, thumb tracing small circles over my bare skin just above the line of my jeans. "It's a little surprising," he said softly, "how easy it is to figure out someone's kinks if you know how to look. It took me a little longer than expected with you. At first I thought it might be role play, just from the way you watched me on set. But today left no doubt in my mind." He arched up to nuzzle my jaw again, breath warm against my ear as he spoke, as his hand shifted slowly downwards, just barely brushing against my erection through my jeans. "Let me tell you what I'm going to do to you. I'm going to take these off, and then I'm going to finish tying you up here. I'm going to suck you off, and then I'm going to take you back to the hotel, tie you to the bed and fuck the hell out of you."

"Yes," I had whimpered an agreement almost before he finished speaking, trying to arch into his touch. He chuckled softly, appreciatively, then caught my mouth again, kisses breathless and demanding as he yanked my trousers undone. I shifted just enough to toe off my shoes, gasping as my jeans and undershorts were yanked down my thighs with very little finesse. The studio was cool, almost chilly on my heated flesh, and it made me shiver as he dropped to his knees, helping me off with my jeans, then guiding my feet up onto the wheel's foot rests to be buckled tightly to the metal - first one, and then the other. His fingertips stroked my calf slowly, and when I glanced down, I could see him looking up at me, sitting back on his heels.

"How does that feel?"

I tugged against the bonds, which held true, and felt a shiver run through me at the feeling of being restrained, mostly naked here and entirely at his mercy. The leather wasn't uncomfortable, but the straps were strong, and bit into my skin as I pulled at them. Tight. Helpless. "It's good," I managed to reply, voice coming out roughly, and I saw him smile in the dim light. He leaned in to press his lips to the inside of my knee, kisses travelling slowly up my thigh, almost tantalizingly tender. "Kiefer...."

He glanced up at me with a smirk, hands stroking slowly up and down the outside of my thighs. "The head strap stays off," he said calmly, as if I didn't have a choice in the matter. "I want you to watch me do this, watch me do whatever I want to you, and you won't be able to do anything about it. You want to watch."

"I do," I replied, drawing a sharp breath as his lips ghosted over my erection, barely nuzzling the sensitive flesh. "God - !" I gasped, and tried to arch into his touch, but the footrests were shallow - just enough to hook my heel into, and it felt precarious to move. "Please?"

For a moment, I could only feel his breath, a shivering tease against my skin. Then he moved in to bury his face at the base of my cock, breathing in deep, fingers curling around my hips to press me back against the metal as his tongue flickered gently over the sensitive skin. One hand slipped between my thighs to cup my sack, and the slow drag of his tongue up the underside of my erection drew a shuddering groan from my throat. Teasing, thank god, seemed to be finished now, and he took the head of my cock in his mouth with a groan that echoed mine, beautifully throaty, sending vibrations of sensation through me. "Fuck - !"

I couldn't determine if it was the restraints that made everything feel so intense, or his skill - and frankly, I didn't care. I was lost in the feel of his mouth sucking at me hungrily, tongue working against me as I watched my cock slide between those beautiful lips. His other hand had moved to encircle the base of my erection, stroking what his mouth didn't reach, and the hand that was cupping my balls shifted slightly, the backs of his knuckles rubbing against the sensitive skin behind them, almost making me come right there and then.

"Kiefer - " I gasped helplessly, and thankfully the hand on my sack slipped away, stroking up over my chest instead. My t-shirt ended up pushed up around my armpits as he stroked over my chest, hand broad and strong as he rubbed against my skin before toying with my nipples almost teasingly. Then two fingers moved up to press to my mouth, stroking my bottom lip, and I caught them between my lips with a low groan. It made it easier to hold still and calm down, to focus my attention on something other than what he was doing to me, sucking on his fingers wetly and enjoying the feel of them against my lips and tongue. The combination of sensation was intense - his fingers against my lips, his mouth hot and wet and eager on my cock, moaning around me, and the strain that was beginning to build up in my arms from being restrained. It all lead to an insistent build of arousal that threatened to bring this to an end much more quickly than I wanted it to be.

His fingers pulled from my lips all too soon, and before I knew it they were pressed back between my thighs, stroking slick against the sensitive pucker of nerves, pressing against my opening. I gave a choked cry, feeling a fingertip press carefully inside me just as he took my cock deep into his throat, a rush of sensation that almost pulled me over the edge. "Please," I gasped, inadvertently yanking at the straps as my body jerked tense under the onslaught. "God, Kiefer - going to make me...!"

Kiefer's only response was a low, approving moan, his finger carefully working deeper as he continued to work his mouth on me. My hands twisted, and managed to get hold of the metal bars of the wheel, clenching tight as I shuddered helplessly against him. His finger crooked, just ever so slightly, teasing inside me with a little twist that left me seeing white, all self control gone as I cried out helplessly and spilled into his mouth, every nerve in my body overwhelmed with bliss.

When my mind began to function again, he'd unbuckled my ankles and stood, nuzzling my jaw as warm hands stroked soothingly over my hips. He pressed a warm kiss to my cheekbone, then moved to unbuckle one wrist. "Beautiful," he remarked, low and approving and throaty, rubbing my wrist gently and pressing a kiss to the skin before releasing it.

"Thank you," I breathed, though I meant it more for what he'd done than unstrapping me. "That was... you were... wow." I watched him unbuckle the strap on my other wrist, my mind still reeling with the knowledge that I'd just been tied up and blown on set by Kiefer, of all people. It certainly wasn't a complaint, though. "May I...."

"Put your pants back on? Yes you may," he replied with a smile, stepping back.

"No," I tried, reaching for my pants anyway. "I mean - I want to do something for you...."

"Later," Kiefer replied, and gave a little smirk, seeming entirely calm with the prospect of waiting. "As soon as you feel like you can walk again, we can go back to the hotel."

There was a cab outside the front gate when we got outside, and I half wondered if it had somehow been waiting for us. I climbed into the cab with him, my legs feeling just a little like Jello, but very, very glad I had decided to go out that night. And if Kiefer had anything to say about it, I was sure that we were just getting started.

~~TBC~~