The master returned and put his hand lightly on Diego’s shoulder. “From now on, things will be different. Last night was a real wake-up call, not only about Kurt, but about myself, as well. Come on.” He steered Diego over to the lounge chair and urged him down. “We’re going to spend a lazy day by the pool and put all thoughts of that asshole away.”
Diego, of course, did as told. Lying down, he let his eyelids droop against the sun, yet kept his gaze on the master. He watched the man resume his sketching, although the bird was long gone. His master’s words echoed in his ears, though. He didn’t quite understand how things would change, what the master meant by all of it. The odious Kurt was gone, and that was a promising start. With the sun baking into him, he let his mind drift and enjoyed the quiet time with the hope that once again, his life would be better.
****
His life had become awful. In the two weeks since that horrible last night with the master and the despicable Mr. Kurt, Diego’s life had settled into a quiet misery. On the surface, it looked as if he had it made. He still ate at the table with his master, still lounged around the pool with him, and went about town with him to art shows and restaurants. He even still shared the massive bed with the man, except they each stuck to their side of it. Between them lay an expansive of cool, crisp sheets that neither touched. Diego didn’t want it that way. He’d understood that the master was being kind by leaving Diego alone for a few days, letting him heal. And, while Diego could still service his master in other ways, no demand was made of him. The master had even had him take out all of the piercings.
Okay, Diego understood all of that. He got that the master felt guilty, and no amount of reassurance on Diego’s part would change how the free man chose to feel about the matter. Still, he’d assumed that eventually everything would go back to normal, and that they’d once more find pleasure in each other’s company. As the days dragged on and the master kept his distance, Diego had started to worry. What if the master really resented him over the loss of his boyfriend? What if the master didn’t want him anymore, yet kept him around and treated him nicely simply because the master was a kind man? As Diego’s worry grew, so did his desperation. He’d tried to employ the tricks he’d been taught as a boy to entice his owner. He shed his clothing at the least provocation, and shot his master the kinds of looks that conveyed how much Diego wanted to be touched. Wanted to be fucked.
Nothing worked. Instead of taking Diego in his arms, the master held them out to keep Diego away. At least figuratively, he did, and sometimes literally. Always with an apologetic smile and a quick change of subject to distract them both from any physical wants and needs. The master still had those. Diego could see the master’s cock pressed against his jeans, or tenting the sheet right before lights out and just as dawn broke. Whenever Diego looked at that hard length with longing, the master would bolt away. He’d go into the bathroom for long minutes, likely jerking off, as if his own hand would be better than the touch of a slave.
The separation hurt, but not as much as how the master stopped drawing him. Not since the debacle with the painting had the master used Diego as a subject. No, the man drew birds and flowers, people walking around the park, dogs frolicking in the grass—anything and everything except Diego. He wouldn’t have thought he’d miss being his master’s muse as much as he did. Perhaps if that were the only distance between them, he could accept the loss better. Coupled with the no sex or affection, it made Diego fearful and lonely. Even though he spent about every minute of every day in his master’s company, it was as if the two of them existed in parallel universes.
There were lots of changes in the works, too. The master had decided to sell the house and almost everything in it. An agent had arrived that morning to go through the inventory, and Diego had been trailing the free woman and his master since she’d arrived. They’d started with the upper floor, marking each item for auction while the woman took pictures and notes so that she could have an appraisal done before having them removed. Not a stick of furniture or area rug, none of the artwork or even the curtains interested the master. He wanted it all sold or if no one could be enticed to buy it, he wanted it donated to charity. Now, they were working their way through the main floor and had entered the music room.
“Oh, another exquisite rug,” the agent enthused. “With everything so new and well-maintained, you shouldn’t have any trouble selling these pieces, Mr. McGill.”
The master shot her a tired smile. “Great.” He’d said that a lot during the long tour. He obviously found the process more tedious than the woman who stood to make a fat commission.
“When was the last time this baby grand was tuned?”
“Oh.” The master sauntered over to where she stood by the bench. “Recently, I believe. I know it sounds wonderful.” He slid his gaze over to Diego and rubbed at his earlobe. “I’m not sure I’m going to sell it, though.” He paused. “No, I’m definitely going to keep the piano.”
Diego breathed a sigh of relief. Until the master had said those words, he hadn’t realized how important the piano staying was to him. And, if the master intended to keep it, surely it meant he would keep Diego, as well.
“Well, if you’re sure.” The agent made a note on her tablet. “How about we do the dining room next?”
“All right, this way.”
As the master ushered the woman out of the room, he took a second to run his palm up Diego’s arm. Then he gave him a reassuring smile that conveyed a whole lot of meaning. Diego understood that the master had kept the piano to please Diego, which was very sweet of him. But, what really made Diego’s heart sing was that simple touch. It felt like years, not weeks, since he’d been treated to that kind of attention. It was like giving a starving man a crust of bread—delicious, yet leaving him craving for even more.
Diego kept the memory close for the next hour until the agent finally had all of the information she needed and had left. She’d promised to get back with estimated prices and times for when the pieces would start being picked up for auction. The moment she left, the big house started to feel emptier, even though she hadn’t taken a thing. It was the anticipation that raised that feeling, Diego supposed, and while he wouldn’t miss any of the overdone trappings of wealth, he did have to wonder what was next. If the master didn’t want to live in this house, where would he go? Diego only knew the man had no intention of living in New York City the way his ex-boyfriend had wanted. That left a whole lot of other possibilities.
“Well, that was tedious, huh?” The master flashed Diego a smile. “Had to be done, though, and now I think we’ve earned ourselves a swim. What do you say?”
“Yes, Master. That sounds like a good idea.” Any excuse to get wet and naked with his master was fine by him.
“Okay, let’s go get our swim suits on.”
Damn. Throwing caution to the wind, Diego dared to touch his master’s arm. “Wait, Master.” When the man stopped and arched an eyebrow at him, Diego almost lost his nerve. Desperation allowed him to power through. “Do we have to bother?” He cleared his throat. “I mean, the girls are in town with Alphonse doing some shopping. And, Ginger is likely getting lunch started. So, why not, um, you know, just go skinny-dipping?” His nerves did get the better of him then and he stared down at his toes.
“Oh. Well. Ah. I guess that would be okay.”
Diego hid his smile and docilely followed his master out to the pool. As much as he wanted to strip down and show off his diving skills to amuse the master, he let the free man go first. The master shucked off his T-shirt and jeans and dove in without even looking at Diego. Diego allowed himself the luxury of watching the man’s beautiful body as it arched over, then cut into the water, before following suit. He was careful to avoid hitting the man, yet didn’t leave too much room between them.
For the next few minutes, they swam laps side-by-side, and basically cavorted around in the water. They were like toddlers, playing in parallel, yet not together. Excep
t Diego got as close as he dared without an overt invitation, bumping into the master “accidentally” every once in a while. The casual contact had the usual effect on Diego’s body even though he was submersed in water. Soon, his dick started to harden. He didn’t even try to hide it. He wanted the master to see it. But, the man twisted away when Diego got close, and swimming over to the edge, hauled himself out.
Frustrated almost to the point of tears, Diego followed. As he climbed out of the pool, he caught a glimpse of the master trying to wrap a towel around his waist. And, his hard cock. Diego’s breath hitched. There is was, obvious proof that the master did still want him and in a situation where it was difficult to hide. Determined to return to his usual duties, Diego quickly approached his master.
“Let me, please, Master.” He reached out to grab the towel, intending to help the master dry off, yes, but also to expose the hard-on.
The master stubbornly held onto the cloth. “No, that’s okay. I’ve got it.” There was a note of impatience, or was that pleading?
Diego let go of the towel and reached for what he really wanted. He clasped the now-exposed dick in a firm grip. “Then, let me help you with this.”
The master yelped and tried to tug away. “No, thanks. You don’t have to.”
With stubbornness he never thought he could ever possess, Diego held on and kept pace with him. “Please, Master, let me. I want to.” He went for broke. “Please, Jason.”
The master froze, and in that moment of hesitation, Diego pressed his point home. He dropped to his knees, ignoring the bite of the cement patio, and gulped down the cock in his hand.
Chapter Ten
“Oh, fuck.” Jason knew when he’d lost the war. The moment Diego sucked Jason’s rod down, he was lost.
With a gasp, he dropped the towel and fisted Diego’s hair instead. He braced his legs and bucked into all that tight, wet heat. Christ, he’d missed this. The past two weeks had been agony. Staying away from Diego, giving the poor boy time to heal both physically and emotionally, had required far more discipline and self-sacrifice than Jason would have thought he possessed. The experience with Kurt had been a rude awakening, highlighting not only Kurt’s failings, but his own. From the moment Jason had stepped foot into his new home, he’d convinced himself that he could be a decent slave owner. He understood now that the concept represented the classic oxymoron. One couldn’t be a decent person and a slave owner by definition.
He’d been determined to treat Diego like the human being he was and not some object that existed to make Jason’s days and nights more pleasurable. That strategy had entailed keeping the boy close, continuing to afford him the benefits of living with a wealthy man, without imposing on him. Jason hadn’t expected it to be so hard—sitting next to him in a car or at the dinner table, or God help him, lying a few feet away in a soft bed in a dark room. There, all of Jason’s fantasies had played out in his head whether he wanted them to or not. Temptation had pursued Jason and loomed up everywhere with Diego’s beautiful body seemingly in Jason’s line of sight at every turn. It had sometimes seemed as if the boy was trying to entice Jason, until Jason had remembered that while the slave might be worried about his future, he surely couldn’t actually want him. Not after everything that had happened.
With Diego gobbling Jason’s dick and sucking it like the best tasting lollipop on the planet, it was hard to think anything. And, even though part of his brain screamed at Jason to pull out, not exploit a slave’s obvious fears, he simply couldn’t do it. The plain truth was that he missed Diego. He missed the closeness they’d formed in the days before Kurt had arrived, the pleasure that they’d found in each other. There had been pleasure, too, he was sure of that much. Whatever Diego’s experience had been with Vince or others, Jason had unlocked something in the boy. Knowing that he'd succeeded in doing that one thing for the slave had been important. Now he realized, as his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he focused on the mindless pleasure being given to his cock, that he’d been the one to become dependent on their relationship.
Diego sucked and laved Jason’s shaft with an enthusiasm that easily convinced Jason in the moment that Diego really wanted to be doing this. A gentle hand cupped Jason’s balls and rolled them with enough pressure to goose his arousal. A hum around his rigid flesh, followed by a hard swallow, sent Jason over the edge. He jerked forward and grasped the strands of hair twined in his fingers with a tighter grip. As the cum jettisoned out of his cock, his knees started to buckle. But, Diego shifted his hands up to cup the back of Jason’s thighs to hold him upright until his balls had completely drained.
“Shit.” Jason sank down to his knees, crashing into Diego. The slave miraculously stayed with him, pressing his lips together to keep them connected. Eventually they ended up in a heaping tangle of body parts with Jason on his back with Diego’s head cradled between his legs. He ignored the heat and roughness of his cement bed and concentrated instead on the heavenly feel of being physically connected with Diego once more.
He put his hand on the boy’s head. “God, that was amazing.”
Diego dragged his lips up and off Jason’s rod. With a sigh, he nuzzled against the tender inside of Jason’s leg. “Did you really enjoy that, Master?”
“Of course I did. How can you doubt that?”
Diego didn’t answer right away. “Because,” he started in a halting voice. “You haven’t wanted me in the last two weeks, Master.”
“Jason,” he admonished in a hushed tone. “With your spit drying on my dick and my cum coating your tongue, it’s Jason. Remember?”
“I remember, Jason.” Another pause and a little shudder skittered across Jason’s thigh. “I thought you’d forgotten. I thought you didn’t want me anymore.”
Aw shit. Sitting up, Jason pulled Diego into his embrace. He cupped the boy’s face with both hands and forced him to look at him. “Of course I still want you. I just didn’t want to impose upon you.”
Diego sniffled as if holding back tears and there was a wetness to his eyes that broke Jason’s heart. “But, Master. Jason. I’ve been healed for days, and there was never anything wrong with my mouth or my hands.”
With a heavy sigh, Jason leaned down and touched their foreheads. “There are more hurts than tears of your flesh. I’ve been doing you a disservice right from the beginning.”
Diego shook his head slowly. “No.”
“Yes. Come on, let’s get up. The ground is no place for this kind of conversation.” Jason hauled them both to their feet and guided Diego over to sit side-by-side with him on one of the lounge chairs. Because he told himself that it would help comfort Diego, he slung his arm around the boy’s shoulders.
“Slavery sucks. I convinced myself otherwise right from the beginning and look where it led to—my ignoring Kurt’s terrible treatment of you and he and I getting so caught up in our own pleasure that we ended up hurting you. Christ, I didn’t even give you a choice about being my muse. I made you stay in poses for hours at a time while I became engrossed in my needs. It all amounts to the same thing, and that’s my not giving you any choices.”
Swallowing hard, Diego looked down at his feet. “Even if you’d given me a choice, I’d have picked posing for you. I liked being your subject even though I didn’t understand why you wanted to use me.”
Frustration welled up suddenly in Jason. He bolted off the chair and paced away. Then he whirled back. “If that’s true, why the hell did you ruin my painting?” He immediately regretted both asking the question and his harsh tone.
Diego wiped away the beginning of tears and looked away. “I—I didn’t.” His words were uttered so low, Jason could barely hear them.
He stepped closer. “What?” Before Diego could even repeat what he’d said, Jason’s brain processed both the words and their meaning. Of course. Understanding came quickly and he wanted to smack himself for not realizing the obvious from the beginning.
He returned to sit by the boy’s side. �
�It wasn’t you who ruined it; it was Kurt.” When Diego nodded, Jason asked the obvious follow-up. “Why?”
Diego’s shoulders rose and fell, and he swiped at his nose. “I came out of the pool while he was on the tail end of a call with someone.” He shot a wary look at Jason before continuing. “It was his other boyfriend, I think, and he was saying how he was working on getting you to New York and how the other guy had to be patient. Or, something.”
Jason took a moment to absorb the information. “That fucker. He was two-timing me. And, he ruined the painting as a kind of threat to keep you quiet?”
Diego nodded again. “He said that he could make you get rid of me if I didn’t do what he said. And, the thing with the painting was a way to demonstrate how much power he had and how little I did.” Diego raised his moist gaze to look Jason in the eye. “I would have done anything to stay with you, Jason.”
Pain lanced through Jason’s head and his stomach churned with the knowledge of the injustice he’d done to Diego. “I made it easy for him, believing something when my gut told me that you’d never do such a thing.” He looked away, unable to face the person he’d wronged so badly. “I beat you for it.”
Diego reached for his hand. “Please, don’t blame yourself. I could have told the truth. I should have been stronger.”
Jason entwined their fingers and tugged Diego into an embrace he wasn’t sure the boy even wanted. “You withstood a beating without complaint. How much stronger could you have been?”
More awful thoughts poured into his brain, and he pulled back enough to look Diego in the eye. “What else did he do that I missed?”
The slave wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Nothing. Nothing of importance.”
Jason’s fingers tightened convulsively. “It matters to me.”
With a shake of his head, Diego pressed his face against Jason’s chest. “Please don’t make me tell you. I don’t want to relive it, and you were there for the worst of it anyway.”
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