A Good Servant Chapter 12

A Good Servant – Ch. 12

By Laura S. Fox

Gay Erotica

Intended for Mature Audiences Only

This story contains graphic depictions of sexual intercourse, strong language and it is not meant for readers who are less than 18 years of age.

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Author's note: A bit of warning is necessary for this chapter. Anyone who finds reading graphic descriptions of violence disturbing, please do not read.

~A Good Servant~

"I simply hate these social functions," Lucas murmured while fiddling with his glass.

"We need to get out from time to time. People will talk," Cory shrugged. "Plus, what's the harm?"

"Besides the fact that I'd rather stay indoors and have fun with you?" Lucas angled his head and looked at his servant with a playful expression in his eyes.

Cory rolled his eyes but then burst into laughter. Lucas joined him, but a bit of worry remained hanging at the corners of his lips. The blond studied his lover's face, with a thoughtful expression.

"You are ruminating over something," he eventually said.

"Yes," Lucas admitted. "It was ... too easy. They believed everything, and to my knowledge, they did not even send someone to search for Xavier."

"And who should they send?" Cory wondered out loud. "A bunch of servants out there? Ayn told me there is nothing but the desert between here and where he's from. I doubt even the workers would survive out there. Plus, what would their motivation be? If the Trainers were to give them vehicles, to search the desert up and down, I think most of them would die out there or simply become deserters if they happen upon one of these settlements Ayn talked to me about."

"The continent is not as uninhabited as you think," Lucas linked his fingers and placed his chin on top of them thoughtfully. "In Aeria, where I'm from, we have some maps ... none of them complete in my opinion. I have always wondered what lies out there ..." his eyes became dreamy.

"What stopped you from traveling?" Cory questioned, dutifully taking Lucas's glass, left on a small table near the armchair to fill it again.

Lucas shrugged. "The other cities look up to Drena. It is said it is the most beautiful place on the entire continent."

"It is said ..." Cory echoed his words. "Don't you believe it?"

"I am not sure. All my life, at least from the moment I became conscious of the world surrounding me, I was curious to find out more. When I took the vocational test, the Trainers sent to Aeria to help us find our way in life told me I should focus my thirst for knowledge on the field of psychology. They told me the world is finite, while the human mind is not. I must say I found the concept rather ... seductive at that time. I became good at it, too; so good that I was invited to be Chief Psychologist here, in Drena."

"How is it like? Your home, I mean?" Cory offered Lucas the refilled glass.

"Aeria is not as beautiful as Drena. If anything, Aerians are mostly dedicated to making machines rather than creating beautiful things."

"Was Aeria created by the Trainers, too?" Cory asked. He was surprised to realize how little he knew of the world he lived in. But, after all, he had been nothing but a factory worker until the age of 18, and then sent to become a servant. Studying the world had not been on the list.

"It is said," Lucas said again, "that all the cities were created by the one before the Trainers. Drena itself seem to be deeply linked to them, though. It is their home city, and from here, they direct the trade that takes place all over the continent."

"The one before the Trainers?" Cory spoke, while sitting at Lucas's feet and placing his head on the man's knees. A warm hand descended on his hair, caressing it slowly.

"She is not often talked about. I think she is nothing but a legend, one to keep weaker minds hopeful of the existence of a higher being. In the golden age of rationale we are currently living in, there is no need for such a thing. I suppose that is why her memory is fading."

"Tell me more about Aeria. Do you have, you know ..." Cory hesitated for a bit, "women there?"

Lucas laughed softly. "Why are you asking that? Are you afraid I left someone behind in Aeria? A woman maybe?"

"It crossed my mind," Cory mumbled. "We rarely see women here in Drena. They are mostly tourists, or they come here from Tresalt, their city. No one is allowed to stare at them, but I must admit I was curious."

"They are flesh and blood, like us. Different in their appearance, but not by much. You should not worry; until meeting you, I wasn't that interested in engaging in sexual congress with anyone, be it male or female. I used to see it as a necessity. In Drena, the customs demand for Masters in particular to be engaged in relationships of sorts, for convenience, and apparently, to keep minds sharp and focused on their tasks at hand. What I had with Xavier seemed to be enough and according to the norm."

"Wow," Cory grinned and rubbed his head against his Master's knee.

"I would like to take you to Aeria with me," Lucas said with something akin to melancholy in his voice. "There are no continuous parties there, but we could be more of ourselves."

"Will you have to return there?" Cory felt his heart growing smaller.

"No, I must serve my purpose here in Drena. But I will ask the Trainers if I could return to my home town and take you with me."

"Do you think they will let us? I've never heard of anyone leaving Drena without approval from the Trainers, except for Masters on their short trips to other cities."

"We'll see when we get to that point. Although I see no reason why they would deny me such a simple request. Now, come here," Lucas's voice dropped to a whisper as he helped Cory get up to straddle him. He slowly captured the servant's lips with his mouth, kissing him gently.

"One for the road?" Cory interrupted the kiss to tease one of Lucas's ears with his teeth and lips.

"You know me, you little naughty one," Lucas grabbed his hips and pushed him down so Cory could feel his erection.

"I guess we should take care of that," Cory giggled in the crook of Lucas's neck. He got up only to take his perfunctory servant clothes off.

He palmed Lucas's engorged shaft through the black silk pants. The man grunted.

"Hurry," the man demanded.

"Why?" Cory smiled naughtily, continuing his explorations without speeding up the pace.

"Because we will be late," Lucas tried to look sternly at him, but failed, his mind already fogged by desire.

Eventually, the servant took pity and freed Lucas's cock from its confines. Looking straight into Lucas's eyes, he slowly pushed the weeping organ into his mouth, moaning softly while tasting it to the fullest. A small flutter of his long lashes was the only sign that he wasn't as much in control as he wanted to be.

"Oh, Cory," Lucas whispered softly. "You know how to drive me crazy."

Cory let the now moist organ slip from his mouth and straightened up to straddle his master again.

"Crazy?" he giggled. "How about the age of rationale, Lucas?" he dropped the honorific on purpose, knowing how much his official owner loved to hear him talk like that when alone

"I don't care about anything else when I have you in my arms," Lucas spoke as his fingers dug into Cory's hips, steadying him and helping him descend slowly into his cock.

"What would anyone think hearing you speak like that?" Cory teased, while caressing Lucas's face and kissing him softly.

"They would think I should spank the naughty servant daring to question me like that," Lucas's lips widened into a grin.

Cory felt the sting, as Lucas playfully slapped one sexy buttock. He bit his bottom lip and threw his head back. In the same time, his ass was deliciously squeezing Lucas's cock, making the man buck upwards, to get inside the scorching heat deeper and deeper.

"You like this," Lucas spoke heatedly. "You like it when I get a bit rough, don't you?"

"I like it because you like it," Cory said honestly, while impaling himself in the man's hard as steel member.

Lucas's hands moved to grab fistfuls of blond hair. Cory was forced to bend to meet his lover's hungry lips, while he tried to keep his feet on the floor, to allow Lucas to continue his torturous pounding. As always, he was the one to come first, making a mess on Lucas's shirt. When his lover released his pent up desire inside, he was certain he would have a hard time walking normally that day. Lucas was large, but it was just one of the myriads of things he loved about the man. Each time they fucked, he could feel the man, he could still feel him when he was no longer inside, and there was just a receding, dull ache he craved to feel again.

~A Good Servant~

Dion did not see John at all that day. It felt strange to walk alone to work, after having the dark, morose man by his side each day. As he was seeing about his routine tasks, he suddenly felt exhausted. Was it really worth fighting to prove something he was not? John's actions spoke louder than words. He probably did not want anything to have with him, now that he knew how many men had had him back in Drena. Probably, John was thinking Dion was just like Andreas, or worse. Dion was even weaker, as he allowed a creep like Antoine to play with him like he was nothing but a useless toy.

Or maybe John felt pity? Dion didn't want anyone's pity. To think that he had tried to explain to the man why he wasn't so thrilled to have sex. He shook his head, feeling sadness washing over him. What was going to be? John angry all the time, thinking of how Dion used to just bend for everyone like a doormat? Or John walking around like on egg shells, because he was afraid Dion just might break if someone as much as breathed in his presence?

For what it was worth, the man had done for Dion much more than anyone else. He took Dion in, offered him shelter and protection. But the redhead didn't want to abuse anyone's kindness, especially since John showed pretty much that he could not stomach Dion's confession about his past life.

What did he have to offer, really? He was nothing but a reject, someone everybody saw as the means to satisfy their primal needs and nothing else. The foreman had been right. Everything was dictated in his life by his looks; he was pretty, that was all he was. He could not impose on John anymore. He had to leave and see about his life on his own.

At lunch time, instead of going to the cafeteria, he went straight to the foreman's office.

The man looked annoyed when he interrupted.

"I just want to let you know that I will not come again tomorrow," he said simply, without even taking a seat.

"Why?" the man questioned. "You're a good worker and you have a partner."

"I don't belong here," Dion shrugged and the man just shook his head and took a file from a drawer.

He mumbled something, while fiddling with the papers.

"Are you sure? You look like a decent fellow to me," the older man looked at him, a bit upset.

"It is for the best," Dion cast his eyes down.

"All right," the foreman sighed. "But I tell you this. You go straight to Venusville, or any other club. You decide you hate it, you come back. I'm not closing your file. Just this one time. If you come back, you stay here, no more wandering about. Have you talked to John about this?"

Dion shook his head. "We don't get along that well. And I won't come back," he said stubbornly.

"Young people," the foreman seemed to speak mostly to himself. "Get out of my office. I give you three days and you'll come running back."

Dion murmured his thanks and left. That day, he asked his supervisor to leave early, so he could gather the few things he had from John's house and be on his way.

~A Good Servant~

Cory looked over the crowd, searching for Lucas with his eyes. It felt reassuring to seek his lover and almost always seeing the dark eyes looking back at him, like they were linked through some invisible thread that helped them both find each other and communicate without words even in a room full of strangers.

This time, though, Lucas was standing up from the table, being guided by another Master, most probably to a private room they were using at times to discuss more delicate details of the projects they were working on.

He barely saw Lucas's strong back disappearing from his view when his arm was grabbed forcefully and a voice he knew very well whispered menacingly into his ear.

"Long time no see, Cory," the slave spoke and the servant felt a bit of uneasiness hearing the well-known voice.

He took a deep breath and turned to face Antoine, smiling. If he was going to dodge the slave's advances, he had to be really clever about it.

"Hi Antoine," he faked pleasure upon seeing the slave.

A hand moved to cup his jaw, tightening its grip a bit too much.

"I missed you," Antoine spoke again, but his eyes were cold, and Cory felt uneasiness turning into something akin to fear.

"I know, I did, too," Cory lied.

"I don't see your Master anywhere," Antoine pretended to search the room for Lucas, although Cory's senses were screaming at him that the blue eyed slave had known exactly when to time his entrance.

"You're not supposed to be here," Cory said softly.

"I could not help it," Antoine answered. "I had to see you. Come with me, no one will notice," he dragged Cory along, and the servant followed, his heart smaller and smaller.

He was pushed through a side door, and his eyes blinked in the darkness. Antoine closed the door behind them and only then turned on the light.

Cory froze. He was in one of those rooms reserved for preparing the slaves, and there were at least a dozen of them present. As usual, they were all naked and they were all looking at him. He could taste danger floating in the air. No one was smiling; they were just staring.

Cory's eyes felt drawn to the fireplace. The atmosphere was hot, too hot; and he could see something burning there. A metal cane?

"What's this?" he tried to force a smile while turning towards Antoine.

The slave didn't answer. He just circled Cory with slow, predatory moves.

"Tell me, Cory, how much you missed me?" he eventually spoke.

Cory forced himself to remain unmoved. "You know how much," he angled his head slightly.

"No, no, no, I don't," Antoine raised an accusatory finger. "Rumor has it you're thinking you're better than the rest of us because Lord Lucas chose you to warm his bed."

Cory shook his head gently. "It's nothing like that. I've always had eyes only for you," he stared Antoine in the eyes and he could see the slave's resolve faltering.

"Antoine," he heard another slave talking, "stick to the plan."

Antoine's eyes turned to steel and he sneered. "Don't worry about it, guys. I know what I have to do."

He grabbed Cory by one arm and twisted it painfully.

"Antoine," Cory breathed out, "why?"

"Because no one takes me for a fool, servant," the slave whispered in his ear and pushed him down.

Others came around them, and started to tear Cory's clothes from his body. He tried to shake them off, but they were too strong and too many.

He didn't want others to touch him. He knew he should just go slack and let them, to minimize the damage, but he couldn't. Not after Lucas had held him in his arms and made love to him, making him feel like he really mattered. He thrashed against the hands holding him down, and a kick in the ribs made him recoil from the pain.

"Stay still, you fucking whore," Antoine hissed, when Cory managed to free one leg and kick blindly at one of his assailants.

He was soon completely naked, his limbs stretched painfully. There was a short moment of silence during which nothing but his labored breath could be heard.

"Guys, do you think Lord Lucas would like Cory more if we mess him up a little? Or less?"

The others laughed. His head pressed into the carpet, he could not see what Antoine was up to. When he felt the first sting against his naked back, his stomach clenched so badly that acid rushed upwards, burning his throat. He had no idea what Antoine was using to hit him with.

"Nice, Antoine," he heard another slave speaking. "You managed to break skin. But I think he's enjoying it. Make him scream."

White hot pain shot through his brain, as another blow came. He wanted to keep it in, but, at the third, he had to scream. It was like all his nerve endings were raw, exposed.

"Can we, like, fuck him?" one of the slaves spoke.

"No time," Antoine said grimly. "Just ... fuck him up."

Cory tried to recoil when he felt the first kick, right in the ribs. And then another followed. And another. He could feel bitterness cloying his tongue, and he began retching.

Antoine crouched next to him, while he was still kept there, on the floor. He could feel the man's breath, hot on his face.

"I wish I had time to fuck you properly one last time," Antoine whispered in his ear. "But, after this, no one will, anyway."

He said nothing. Antoine raked his fingers through Cory's damp hair. "He won't keep you. Even if he wants to. Now let me give you my farewell present. Bring it!" he yelled at the others.

His arm was stretched painfully, and his eyes grew wide when he saw the reddened piece of metal contorted in some kind of intricate design getting close to his skin. He tried to move, but the slaves were keeping him down. Antoine's eyes were burning with madness, as he pressed the heated iron against his shoulder.

He doubted he had ever felt something as painful as that. His eyes rolled in his head and he almost fainted.

"We should take a hike, Antoine," one of the slaves hurried him. "Do you think he'll tell on us?"

"And if he does, what?" Antoine snapped. "He's nothing but a servant. He'll be out of Drena in a heartbeat."

"Hey, Antoine, why don't you cut his face, too?" another encouraged him.

Antoine grabbed Cory's chin and turned the limp head towards him. "And leave nothing for the trash outside of Drena that will want to fuck him? No, just like Dion, he has to learn his lesson."

The servant's ravaged body was left there, bleeding. Antoine spared him a last glance with an unreadable expression on his face. He grimaced; a glass of wine would have to do, to wash the unpleasant taste in his mouth.

~A Good Servant~

The bouncer at the door was looking sleepy as he finally decided to go in.

"John's pretty thing," the man smiled and looked Dion over appreciatively.

"I'm looking for work," Dion fiddled nervously with his duffel bag.

"Seriously?" the man's eyes grew wide.

Dion nodded.

"Well, there is plenty of work for you here, sugar," the bouncer moved out of the way and Dion walked in.

A rough hand fondled his ass. "Put me on your list, honey," the man whispered and Dion shuddered. "The boss's office is at the end of the hall, to the right. He'll be more than happy to see you."

Dion let out a breath, noticing the club to be empty at that hour. He knocked softly on the door, but no one answered. Eventually, he started to knock louder and louder, until someone yelled at him to come in.

He looked at the disheveled man behind the desk, and could barely refrain pursing his lips in disgust. But who was he to judge?

"I would like to work here," he offered an explanation and the man's expression turned from annoyance to delight.

"Take off your clothes, then," he said with a sneer, and Dion let the bag fall on the floor, and undressed with efficient, short moves.

The man leaned back and looked appreciatively at Dion up and down.

"I think you'll be our next sensation, sweetie," the man nodded. "Now, how about coming over here on your knees and showing me a bit of gratitude?"

Dion stared him in the eyes. He was not going to be a victim anymore. "I heard I am only supposed to strip, and nothing else," he said calmly, and the man's smile froze on his lips. "And I heard no one can force me to do something I do not want."

The man frowned and then laughed, throwing his head back. Yet Dion knew he played his card right this time.

"Oh, cutie, you really think that, don't you? Well, you're gorgeous, so I won't let you run to the competition. But I'll give you a bit of time; you'll adjust. Soon you will be like anyone else. Plus, nobody likes a whore who doesn't put out. How long are you going to resist here with no friends?"

You have no idea, Dion thought and remained standing straight, looking the man square in the eyes. The other laughed again.

"I have to give it to you. You're a bit fiery, like your hair, aren't you? I bet they'll be raining credits on your ass tonight. I'll show you to your room. Get enough rest, you'll need it."

~A Good Servant~

The grey ghosts remained unmoved as Lord Lucas spoke.

"Servants are replaceable," the Head Trainer spoke. "Why is this one so important?"

"I thought Masters were respected in Drena," Lucas spoke sharply. "My property," he emphasized the word, "was treated as if he didn't belong to one of the most powerful Rulers in the city. It is an insult, and I demand proper retribution."

"Maybe Lord Arnaud should offer one of his servants in return? Maybe even the slave in question?"

Lord Arnaud moved to protest, but Lucas intervened again.

"I do not want that despicable thing. I want the rabid dog to be put to sleep!" he could no longer contain his anger in.

His voice echoed against the tall ceiling. It seemed like for one second, everyone in the room forgot how to breathe. Eventually, Lord Arnaud gathered his wits to speak.

"I know Antoine can be difficult at times. But slaves are more valuable than servants. And Lord Lucas's demand is simply ludicrous. It's not like the servant was killed. He was just ... damaged," he pursed his lips in slight disgust.

"And branded," Lucas hissed. "Trainers, you do realize this Antoine is a menace to everyone with his mad dog behavior. It is in our society's best interest if such elements were not kept around, to cause distress and damage."

"Your demand is impossible to satisfy, Lord Lucas," the Head Trainer spoke again. "If you do not wish for Lord Arnaud to replace the damaged servant, there is nothing we can do. You should consider, nonetheless, getting another servant. The current one will take a long time to recover. We will take good care of him."

"No, he will recover at my house. I hope you are not imposing on me to simply abandon what belongs to me," Lucas's lips almost trembled as he spoke.

"This wish is granted," the Head Trainer rose, signaling that the meeting was over.

~A Good Servant~

Dion sat on the narrow bed, his fingers linked together, staring at the ceiling, contemplating his life and what it had become. Could he survive in this harsh place that didn't seem to agree with him? He had never been a whore on his own accord. It had always been forced; now he was basically choosing a line of work that was telling him he was going to be exactly that: a whore. Yet, in a twisted, unnatural way, it seemed the only possibility, since the foreman had been clear about not allowing him to tease the other guys at work, without choosing one. He had chosen one, and it had been a mistake.

No, Dion pondered. John had not been a mistake. He had not been a bad choice. But Dion could not stand looking into the man's deep black eyes and see nothing but pity or disgust there. That was something he really did not want to live with. And it had been right to choose so, if he wanted what was best for John. After all, the man had the right to be free and go after another. Being trapped in a relationship he did not want, or preferring to wander the night clubs in search of release, was not something Dion wanted to picture for John.

The door opened and Dion stood up to see who the intruder was.

"I'll be damned ..." Andreas placed his hands on his hips while looking down at Dion.

In natural light, Andreas looked a bit different and, unfortunately for him, it wasn't exactly a flattering look. There was a bit of bitterness hanging from the corners of his beautiful lips, and the large blue eyes were marred by dark circles. Dion would bet he looked older than his actual age.

The redhead chose to say nothing. He had no unpaid dues to John's ex.

"Did John kick you out? Or did you leave?" Andreas tried to fake indifference, while climbing on his own bed, placed on the opposite wall.

"None of your business," Dion said icily.

It was against his nature to be impolite to others, but he was in no mood for idle conversation, especially about such a delicate subject.

"Oh, kitty has claws ..." Andreas commented and yawned. "Get some sleep," he turned to one side while embracing his pillow. "They will be all over you tonight. Just don't touch my regulars and I'll stay out of your hair," the blond commented.

"I won't touch anyone," Dion murmured.

"No shit. Boss told me you acted almighty and shit while asking him for a job. Of course, the pervert won't turn down a piece of ass, regardless. Take this little advice from me, sugar queen; give in fast, or you won't last long."

The threat was left hanging in the air. It made Dion feel restless, all of a sudden. The foreman had been clear about any crimes being punished severely, but what if ...? He shuddered. He was going to be cautious. There were no fairy tales, and even in Drena, where everything looked beautiful, there was nothing but vanity and ugliness beneath. At least here no one was pretending to be something he was not.

~A Good Servant~

"You're next," Andreas pushed by him, throwing him a sideway glance.

The applauses that had praised Andreas for his performance just earlier were dying out. Dion took a deep breath. If he was just going to stick to the routine Andreas had showed him, he was going to be fine.

He heard the announcer's voice introducing him like through a haze and stepped on the stage. For some reason, the music wasn't starting yet, and he could hear the sound of his heels against the glossy floor too clearly.

He was wearing high leather boots that were going up to mid-thigh, and a glitzy thong he was certain it wasn't covering much. There was certainly something they had lied to him about it. This wasn't stripping; he was already as good as naked. He hoped at least the part about no one touching him was real.

For several moments, during which Dion stood there, all the lights on him, almost blinding him, there was silence. Then someone whistled and suddenly catcalls could be heard from everywhere. To his relief, the music started playing and he began moving his hips slowly.

It wasn't hard at all, he mused, as he kneeled on the stage and began undulating to the music, making sure everyone was getting an eyeful. He stretched lazily, running his long fingers through his hair, then letting them roam over his naked body. He knew that the climax of his show was to take off the boots and then the thong, but he was not there yet.

The music was suddenly cut and he blinked, confused. He rose, unsure of what that was supposed to mean. The announcer appeared on the stage next to him again. He grabbed Dion's waist and started speaking into his mike.

"Should we give Dion a warm welcome party to Venusville?" he asked the audience.

Dion froze. He knew what a welcome party meant, at least inside Drena.

The crowd roared. The commentator waited for the noise to die out, then continued.

"Then place your bets, gents. Whoever wins, gets a private show from our beautiful redhead here, and the privilege to see him completely naked before anyone else. And, of course, if you are smooth enough," the man sneered, "you may convince lovely Dion here to offer you something on top of everything for your effort."

Dion closed his eyes. He had to endure this. It was, after all, part of what he had signed for. Suddenly, he sensed a change in the room. When he opened his eyes, he saw John jumping on the stage and walking towards him with a terrifying look in his eyes. He was grabbed forcefully and shaken by strong hands.

"What the hell do you think you're doing here, Dion?" John said through his teeth.

"Hey, hey," the announcer tried to push him back. "Place your bet like everyone else if you want to cup a feel, man!"

John ignored him, too focused on searching Dion's eyes with his.

"Answer me," he said menacingly.

Dion tried to shake him off. "I'm doing the only thing I'm good at."

"You're mine," John said ferociously. "And I am telling you you're not good at this. You're good with me. Come home now," he took Dion by the hand and tried to drag him along.

Apparently, John's act had quickly awakened the bouncer at the door from his stupor, and the giant was now trying to get through the crowd to settle the situation happening on stage.

"John," the bouncer called. "Take a hike, man. He chose to come here to work."

"He is my partner," John said through his teeth, not backing down and dragging Dion closer to him, almost making him stumble. "I am not letting anyone touch him!"

There was yelling from all sides and Dion felt fear growing inside him. John wasn't realizing he was putting himself in danger! He tried to disentangle his hand from John's, but the man's grip was hard as steel.

"What is going on?"

Even the owner of the place had been summoned, Dion noticed.

"John here doesn't understand his sweetheart doesn't want him and wants to strip for cash instead," the announcer explained.

"Get him out of here," the boss demanded in a high pitched voice.

The bouncer moved to separate John from Dion, but the dark tall man didn't budge.

"If anyone touches my lover, he'll have to go through me," John said menacingly and pushed Dion just slightly back so he could assume a fighting stance.

The bouncer moved to hit him, but, for his height, John proved to be quite light on his feet, as he dodged the man's heavy punch with ease. Without waiting for another opportunity, John hit the giant square in the face, making him grab his nose while screaming. Blood started pouring through his fingers, and the bouncer took the hands from his face and stared at his own blood like he could not believe it. He launched as a mad man at John and this time he managed to hit the other. The element of surprise was soon gone, though, and the worker easily dodged again and executed the bouncer with a short elbow between his shoulder blades.

The entire room felt like caught on fire. Dion was shaking, he could not understand a word he was hearing. The announcer grabbed his arm and whispered in his ear.

"Get your demented boyfriend and get out of here," he hissed and pushed Dion towards John.

Behind the announcer, the club owner tried to maintain some resemblance of control:

"Yeah, get the fuck out of here, both of you! And never come back or I'll take this higher! I'll talk to your foreman, John, don't you think I won't! And take your fucking tramp with you!"

John turned with murder in his eyes. Dion hurried by his side and pushed him to move.

"Let's go, please, John," he said quickly. The bouncer showed signs that he was going to get up from the floor, and Dion didn't want to see another round in the boxing match between the guy and John.

Dark eyes stared into his angrily. He didn't cower though; anything John had to say, he was going to say it and Dion was going to listen. Right now, all that mattered was for both of them to get out of the club unscathed.

"Hey, John, why don't you let your boyfriend show us the goods?" one man from the audience spoke loudly and everyone laughed.

"Yeah, man, he wants to, what the hell?" another commented.

"He has no idea what he wants," John said loud and clear, without taking his eyes off Dion.

"Yeah, you be the man," another voice encouraged him.

John grabbed Dion's waist and for a second, the redhead thought the man was going to kiss him right there in front of everyone. Instead, he was lifted almost effortlessly off the floor and thrown over a taut shoulder.

He could hear everyone laughing and pointing fingers at them from all directions. He tried to move and punched John's back with all his might, yelling at him to put him down. John seemed to have lost his sense of hearing all of a sudden, as he ignored him, while walking in long strides towards the door. Apparently, everyone was cheering John, from what he could gather from all the yelling.

~A Good Servant~

At some point, he gave up on trying to get John to release him from his hold. The man seemed both deaf and immune to his punching and shouting and was continuing his walk towards his house, without making as much as a sound.

Only when they were inside, Dion was unceremoniously dropped on the sofa. He felt overly conscious about his state of undress. The reproach in John's eyes was clear. Embarrassed, he reached for the blanket to cover himself. A strong hand stopped him.

"No," John almost growled.

Dion gulped. Was John going to hit him?

"Stay like this. Show me. I earned your fucking private show," John spoke slowly.

The redhead could swear the air in the room was vibrating with the man's pain.

"You already saw me. You know how I look," Dion spoke, while grabbing his knees with his palms. The leather felt cheap beneath his fingers.

John shook his head slowly. "You said this is the only thing you're good at. Show me," he demanded again. "Show me how you were planning to reward the guy who was going to place the highest bet on your ass tonight."

"I was only going to undress, that's all," Dion said in his defense.

"Really?" John sneered. "And after that? A blow job? Letting him have you? How? On your fours, you on top, spread eagle ... Tell me, enlighten me," he pressed.

He was not moving. He was standing there, towering over Dion, with that expression of deep hurt on his face that was making the redhead wanting nothing but to take John in his arms and tell him to stop saying those horrible things.

He shook his head and buried his face into his hands. "I wasn't going to ..."

"Yes, you were," John spoke again bitterly. "But I'm not letting you. I'm not letting you become Andreas. I don't care if you hate me for taking you away from there. You'll stay here, and I will take care of you, whether you like it or not. I don't know what fucked up games you guys like playing up there, in Drena. Here, things are simple. You are mine. From the moment you grabbed my arm and told the guys at work you chose me, you were mine. And nothing is going to change."

Dion was staring at John wide eyed. That was one hell of a confession. He rose slowly and ran his fingers through his hair. He smiled and looked John in the eyes.

"What are you doing?" John demanded.

"I am showing you," Dion said simply.

John averted his eyes. "Don't take everything literally. I don't want you to behave like a slut and show me what you would have done for money. I don't have that much money, anyway."

Dion came closer and grabbed John's shirt, slowly opening it button by button. He reached inside and touched the man's hairy chest, caressing it slowly. The man didn't move away. His breath just became raspier.

"I am not showing you that. I am showing you what I would like to do with you and no one else."

He leaned onto John's hard body and used his both hands to struggle with the belt. He took the man's erect cock from his pants and started stroking it.

"Would you fuck me John?" he slowly raised his beautiful amber eyes to look into John's black ones. "I want you to fuck me."

He barely refrained a gasp, as impatient fingers pulled at the small thong and made the string snap. He was pushed on the floor, his legs parted, with the man on top of him. John buried his head in the crook of Dion's neck, groaning. Dion wet two fingers in his mouth and used them to lubricate himself. John's cock was hovering near his entrance, and he could hear the man now whimpering softly.

"It's ok now," he encouraged him, and John pushed inside, making him exclaim a small short scream.

John stopped, but Dion used his legs to wrap them around the man's midsection and keep him there. "No, John. I want you to fuck me," he said bravely and this time the man moved, although a bit uneasy, burying himself little by little in Dion's body.

The redhead grabbed his partner's head in his hands and kissed him. John's mouth was hot on his, and their tongues started the dance they knew from past encounters only to now discover something new that both of them had craved for so long.

John felt huge inside him, to the point Dion was afraid he would just break, but the way the man moved was compensating for the discomfort. There was something there, deep inside him, that resonated with John's slow thrusts like it had never happened before with anyone else. He freed his mouth so he could moan freely.

"How is it, baby? Is it good?" John said almost pleading, and Dion realized the man was barely restraining himself from fucking him into the carpet.

"Fuck me harder," he urged his lover and John's satisfied groan as he sped the rhythm confirmed his suspicion.

He felt his pleasure growing, the small bud inside his ass sending short bursts of pleasure through his spine, into his brain. It felt so great to come. Only this man could make him feel this way. John praised him clumsily and poured himself fully into Dion's body.

As he withdrew, Dion felt a bit empty and deserted. He wanted to hold John close some more. The man moved and Dion's anxiety grew. Maybe that was all what John wanted from him.

But the man bent and grabbed him by his back and legs and lifted him in his arms.

"What are you doing?" Dion mumbled.

"I am taking you to bed, love," John whispered, and kissed his damp forehead. "I hope you don't intend to have us sleep in the floor."

Dion nestled his head in John's shoulder. Never in his life, had he felt so protected.

TBC

Author's note:

I will be off the grid for almost the entire month of August, so for a few weeks there won't be updates. Regular posting will be resumed when I get back.

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