by Tiegan Clyne
Christopher pressed his hand against the star-shaped scar on the crest of his right hip bone. The Countess had branded him with silver when she’d taken his marker - the oath that gave her ownership of his soul - and until he was released, that star would remain. It throbbed whenever she was angry with him, and it was throbbing now. There would be hell to pay later. There always was.
He left the shower, toweled off, and pulled on a black satin bathrobe. The back had been embroidered with scarlet bat wings, a loving joke, and he smiled at the memory of Nicholas and his humor. Had it really been two decades?
Tempus fugit.
Christopher left the bathroom and checked on Sebastian again. The drugs were still in control, and the dragonel was sleeping quietly. He gently collected Sebastian into his arms and moved him so that they could both lie beneath the covers on the bed. Christopher curled up on his side, facing Sebastian. He took the dragonel’s hand in his and studied it for a moment. It was elegantly shaped, with long fingers and nails with the slightest golden tint. There were no scales to be seen, but his skin looked brushed with gold dust.
He turned Sebastian’s hand over to look into his palm. Divination based on lines in skin had always seemed silly to him, but Nicholas had taken it all quite seriously, and he had learned the art despite himself. Now he studied Sebastian’s palm and ran his fingertip along the natural marks that supposedly told so much. The lifeline was long, with two breaks, one at the beginning and another midway through, that were meant to indicate times of trauma. The headline rose directly from the lifeline, indicating a strong will. Above that, the heart line, also called the love line, was crossed with two large “x” marks, meaning two broken hearts. Christopher sighed, wondering whether the story the lines told was anything like the truth. He snorted softly and shook his head as he realized nobody would ever know. Sebastian’s memories had been taken from him when he’d first arrived at Crown Holdings, and again when he’d been recaptured after his ill-conceived flight. If Sebastian had any sort of story, nobody would ever know it.
Chapter Nine
Sunlight danced on the surface of the water, sparkling on the curling tops of the tiny waves as they ran toward the dock. He sat in swim trunks, his feet dangling in the lake. Another man came and sat beside him, and their shoulders touched.
“A toast,” he said, handing Sebastian a glass of honeyed wine.
He held it up with a smile. “To what?”
“To another century together.”
He woke with a start, expecting to taste the bittersweet alcohol but tasting menthol and mint instead. Sebastian felt his backside tingling, and the gentle touch of a finger tracing his injuries with a salve.
“Does it hurt?”
Christopher was kneeling at his feet, and Sebastian was lying on his stomach with one arm beneath the pillow. The other arm lay at his side. He was groggy, and it took a moment to remember how to speak.
“No,” he finally said. “It tingles.”
“Well, tingling is infinitely preferable to pain, I think.” There was plastic snapping sound, and Sebastian guessed that Christopher had shut the lid on the tube of salve.
“Mm.”
It was a non-committal sound, and the best that he could manage at that moment. His head felt fuzzy, and he wasn’t entirely certain he should be awake. He opened his eyes, and it felt as if it took a lot of strength to move his eyelids.
“You’re still groggy from the sedation and pain medication that I gave you,” Christopher told him. “If you want to go back to sleep, go ahead.”
Sebastian reached his free arm down to touch his own buttocks. He could feel the sticky medicine that Christopher had applied, along with the swollen lines that remained. He sighed through his nose, and his fingers dipped toward his opening.
“Please try not to touch that,” Christopher said, catching his wrist. “There’s a bit of tearing there, and I don’t want you to irritate it.”
He remembered the party and Lord Ashmar, and he rolled onto his side so he could see Christopher’s face. He didn’t find his voice, but his thoughts formed, -Why didn’t you protect me?-
Christopher didn’t respond, and he wondered if perhaps their telepathic connection had been closed.
He sighed again, and this time he spoke aloud. “What time is it?”
“Mid-morning.”
The other man left the mattress and turned his attention to the medical bag that he had placed on the bedside table. He was wearing tan trousers and a white button-down shirt. The sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, and the shirt was unbuttoned to his mid-chest. He turned his back to Sebastian and took off the exam gloves he’d been wearing. Strangely, when he turned around again, he was wearing thin leather gloves the same color as his trousers.
“Are you that disgusted by the thought of touching me?”
He was surprised by his own question, and he regretted it as soon as he saw the pinched, almost pained look on Christopher’s face. The other man banished that flash of sorrow behind a placid smile.
“I’m not disgusted by the thought of touching you. Quite the opposite.” He sat down on the bed, hitching his knee up onto the mattress and folding his gloved hands in his lap. “But I think you’re done being touched for a while. Aren’t you?”
“By Lord Ashmar,” he nodded. “What a bastard.”
He hadn’t meant to say the last comment, and he supposed that the drugs in his system were making him incautious. He held his breath for a moment, waiting for Christopher to respond with anger, but he did not.
“Indeed.”
“Who is he?”
Christopher turned and reclined on the bed beside Sebastian, crossing his ankles and leaning back against the headboard as if they’d had countless cozy conversations just like this. Sebastian didn’t feel quite so casual, but he didn’t dislike the feeling of sitting so close to the other man. He didn’t move away.
“Tell me, do you remember the Five Cities?”
Sebastian scratched his head. The hair product that had been put in his blond locks for the party was making his scalp itch. “I remember you mentioning them.”
Christopher smiled. “Then that’s a no.”
“Essentially.” He caught himself. “Sir.”
The application of the honorific seemed to please Christopher, and he nodded. The casual feeling slipped farther away.
“The world is split in half. There’s the Kingdom, which is where the mythrics live, ruled by King Gixotli, a golden dragon. We’re in Pentepolis, where the humans live, ruled by the League of Five Cities. Between Pentepolis and the Kingdom lies a stretch of arid and rocky border territory called the Badlands.” He raised an eyebrow. “Does any of this ring a bell?”
Sebastian shook his head. “Either I was never taught geography, or the mind wipe was very, very efficient.”
“Maybe both.” Christopher reached over and gently moved a fallen golden lock from Sebastian’s forehead. He smiled. “You’re beautiful.”
The dragonel blushed. “Thank you, sir.”
There was an electric moment, and Sebastian almost thought that Christopher might lean down toward him, but the moment passed and his owner didn’t move. Sebastian stifled his disappointment.
Christopher sat back and continued with his lecture. “We are in Numea, which is the richest city. It’s run by the Countess and her Privy Council. Lord Ashmar is a member of that council and the commander of the Numean Armed Forces.”
“Hence the uniform.”
“Exactly.”
“He really hates me.”
Christopher shrugged one shoulder. “He hates anything draconic.”
“Why?”
“Because of something in his past. That’s all I know.” He looked down at his tan gloves and picked a piece of fuzz from one of the seams. “The other people at the dinner last night. Do you want to know who they were?”
“I don’t know.” He thought about the way he’d so willingly displayed himself befor
e them, and of the way he’d loved having them watch him. He couldn’t quite believe he’d ever felt such things. “Will I be seeing them again?”
He dearly hoped that the answer would be no, but Christopher said, “You may.”
“Will they….”
He didn’t complete the thought. “Will they…?”
Sebastian closed his eyes in embarrassment. “Will they want to touch me again?”
“More than likely.”
His voice caught in his throat. “What did you do to me to make me like that so much?”
He answered, but hesitantly. “Beings like me have certain abilities. One of those abilities is to encourage others to lose all sexual inhibitions. I’m sorry if it distresses you now, but it was done to make the evening more tolerable. It was my hope that if you enjoyed being watched, you’d mind being used a little less.”
‘Being used.’ It was an apt phrase. Christopher’s supposition hadn’t been incorrect. In fact, his intercession had helped Sebastian enjoy the experience more than he ever would have on his own.
“Thank you, sir,” he said. “It helped.”
“I’m glad.”
“The Countess you know, and Lord Ashmar. And you know me.” He smiled at him, and there was a twinkle in his dark eyes that warmed Sebastian when he saw it. “The obvious blonde in the green dress was Marchelline Covey, the Chief Executrix of Gadmar, Incorporated. They’re an import/export outfit. Beside her was Frank Liudesmia, the president of GenTel, the company that developed your genome. The lady in the black dress was Natalie Fouchall, a geneticist with GenTel and the Chief Biological Officer at Crown Holdings. And David… you know David very well now, don’t you? - is David Mexeil, the COO of Crown Holdings. He loves cryptomorphs.”
Sebastian blushed. “So I noticed.”
Christopher chuckled. “You probably didn’t get the chance to see them, but there were several other cryptomorphs there last night, too. Martin was the wolfring beside you, and Penelope was the blue dragonel on your other side. There was also Belky, who slobbered on your face.”
He shuddered at the memory. “What was she?”
“Sphinel,” he answered. “Half human, half sphinx.”
“She was so... disturbing.”
“I agree. She belongs to David, and he’s welcome to her. Sometimes genetic manipulation results in grotesqueries, and David collects them. That’s what Belky is.” He looked down at Sebastian. “There were also a few taken from the Countess’s own stock, ready to service the party if need be. A laminel and a corva, I believe.”
Sebastian shook his head again. “I don’t know what any of those things are.”
“They are beneath you.”
“I’m not sure anything is beneath me… sir.”
Christopher’s answer was in his head, and Sebastian wasn’t certain that it had been intended for him to hear. -I’d be beneath you if you asked.-
“Sir?”
“I… oh.” The other man blushed. “I didn’t intend for that to be out loud…”
“It wasn’t.”
“Uh…hmm.” Christopher cleared his throat. He looked at Sebastian intensely. “That’s embarrassing.”
Sebastian liked the thought of it. It was almost as if he might be able to take back some of his own power if he symbolically took away Christopher’s. As soon as he had that thought, he wondered where it had come from, and why he was suddenly seeing sex acts in terms of power exchanges.
He didn’t want to think about it. He lifted himself up on his elbows, and the small of his back complained fervently. There was still no pain from the caning, and he wondered if he’d be able to make love if he tried.
“Is it? Embarrassing, I mean?”
Christopher looked down, fiddling with the same seam on his glove. “That all depends.”
“On what, sir?”
“On you.”
He looked into Christopher’s dark eyes again, and he found both trepidation and welcome. Sebastian pushed himself up onto his hip and reached out with one hand, looping it around the other man’s neck and pulling him closer. Christopher leaned in immediately, his soft lips pressing to his in a passionate kiss. Sebastian grabbed a handful of Christopher’s curls and held them tight. It felt strange to take an active role, so strange that he suspected he might never have done so before.
There was a first time for everything.
Christopher put an arm around Sebastian and drew him down. He followed Christopher as the dark-haired man lay back, shifting to lie with his head on the pillow. Their tongues slid together, gentle but searching, dancing slowly to a song with no sound. Heat gathered in the pit of Sebastian’s stomach and stirred his sex to life, and he pulled away to look down into the other man’s dark eyes. They both were breathing faster, and Sebastian’s pulse was pounding in his ears. The tingling in his wounds was starting to give way to pain, but he ignored it, preferring to concentrate on Christopher’s sweet and spicy taste.
“You’re wearing too many clothes, sir,” he said with a smirk.
The other man chuckled. “Yes, I am.”
Sebastian slid a knee between Christopher’s thighs and slid closer to him, pinning the other man to the bed. Their eyes locked again, and Sebastian could hear thoughts that weren’t his own rumbling through his head. They were spoken in a language he didn’t understand, but the emotion behind those words was very clear. He tugged the shirt out of Christopher’s tan trousers and unbuttoned it completely, laying his master’s chest bare for the first time. He was exquisitely built, as if a sculptor had made his body his life’s work. Every muscle, every plane, was an exercise in perfection, and if Sebastian hadn’t already known that Christopher wasn’t human, the sheer flawlessness that he was encountering would have made him suspicious.
He pushed the shirt down over Christopher’s shoulders, bringing his arms behind his back. Sebastian grabbed the shirt and twisted the loose cloth, tightening the hold that the garment had, loosely binding him in its folds. He kissed him hard, then looked into his eyes again. Christopher nodded slightly, showing both understanding and consent, something that had rarely been granted to Sebastian.
The dichotomy made him angry, and he didn’t want to hurt Christopher, but he wanted to be strong for once. He wanted to be the one in control. He wrestled the other man’s trousers and briefs away and threw them onto the ground. Christopher’s perfection continued to his erection, which was the most beautiful cock that Sebastian had ever seen.
“Are you real?” he asked, staring into Christopher’s flushed face.
“More or less.”
He didn’t want verbal sparring, and the non-answer added to the wellspring of anger inside him. Sebastian grabbed Christopher by the ankles and bent him in half. His hands beneath his hips acted like a fulcrum, and he tipped backward, his knees resting against his shoulders.
He didn’t know if he was doing it right, but he showed Christopher his memories. He flooded their telepathic link with the memories of the milking machine, the stirrups, and the countless episodes of humiliation he had endured. He didn’t try to conceal his anger and his frustration; to the contrary, he wanted Christopher to know. He wanted his so-called Master to know what it was like to be a slave.
“I’m gonna fuck you, sir,” he growled. Heat was gathering in his chest, in his back, and deep inside himself. He hissed at the way his own temperature was ramping up, and a thin stream of smoke streamed out between his teeth.
Christopher’s eyes went wide, but he said, “Do it.”
Sebastian’s head was spinning, and he didn’t feel like himself, or at least not the self who had so passively allowed himself to be bred, bartered and sold. He felt powerful, and he felt angry. His cock was rock hard and hot to the touch, and he wondered briefly whether he would burn Christopher when he entered him. He wasn’t sure he cared.
The man beneath him, doubled and in an extremely vulnerable position, said again, “Do it. Take your revenge.”
He p
ressed the head of his cock into Christopher’s puckered hole, breaching the tight ring of muscle without preamble, and the other man squeezed his eyes shut in obvious pain. Sebastian thought he could smell something burning, and he pulled back out. This wasn’t him. These emotions, this raw hatred… this wasn’t who he was.
“What are you doing to me?”
Christopher’s voice was thick. “I took away your inhibitions again.”
Sebastian reeled away from him and staggered to his feet. His wounds screamed as if he’d just awakened them, and he grabbed the footboard of the bed to steady himself.
Christopher lowered his legs and sat up, his arms still caught behind his back. “I wanted to…”
“What about what I wanted?”
“That’s never been a part of the equation.”
He shook his head as his eyes flooded. “Stay out of my head.” It was partly a request and partly a plea, and they both heard the desperation in his voice.
“I was trying to help.”
Sebastian couldn’t listen anymore. He tried to walk to the bathroom, the only escape that he could think of, but his injured legs shook too hard to hold him up. He fell to the floor in a heap, his fists grabbing at the soft carpet. He would have torn it if he could. He began to weep.
Christopher freed himself from his makeshift bondage, rose from the bed and put his clothes back on. He left the room without saying a word.
Chapter Ten
It seemed to take hours, but Sebastian managed to get his emotions under control and haul his battered body into the bathroom. There was no lock on the door, and there was nothing he could use to bar it, so he laid down with his back against it to hold it shut. There was a skylight in the ceiling the allowed sunlight to filter into the room, and the light and heat were welcome companions after the darkness of the evening before.