A Good Servant – Ch. 10

By Laura S. Fox

Copyright © 2018 Laura S. Fox

All Rights Reserved

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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"From the start. Again," the trainer's voice sounded even and void of any emotion.


Cory kept his calm facade and began again to retell the story. How he had come back to the apartment, it had been dark, he had been hit and then tied up. No, he had no idea what happened. The slave? He had left him at home when he went shopping, as he had to ready the dinner for that night. No, he had not heard anything. Yes, his master had come home unexpectedly early.


They kept on asking him the same questions, to tire him. He was not stupid. He knew they only hoped for him to make a mistake, to forget or misplace a detail in his story. It was like the Trainers had forgotten he had been trained at the Institution. Molded by it. There, no one could have any secrets. Those who had..., well, he could say fate was not kind to them.


So he continued to retell the story, careful not to miss anything. He knew that they wanted him to say something wrong, to find him guilty. Then, it would have been nothing but a formality to lock him up or worse, start to run an investigation to find Xavier, and close the case. At least as far as Cory was concerned. The guilty one is found, everyone could go back home. After that, there was no way of telling what could happen. Ayn and Xavier had to be very, very far away by now.


His legs were starting to ache, but he continued to keep his cool. He had lost count of how many times he had told the story. Words were starting to lose their meaning, and he had to focus hard on each one.


At some point, one of the trainers got up from the chair and went to the back. There was a short break, during which the remaining two whispered something to one another. Minutes passed until eventually, the First Trainer came back with someone.


Cory's face fell for a split second. Green eyes were measuring him up and down, as Lucas took a seat.


"Lord Lucas, should we listen again so we can reach a verdict?" the trainer asked, turning towards Cory's lover. "You know the servant better than anyone else. And you are the Chief Psychologist."


Was he going to stand there and retell the same story, with Lucas's inquisitive eyes searching for any sign of lying?


"No, I've heard enough," Lucas answered, but he did not look at the Trainer, but continued to keep his eyes glued to Cory. "He's telling the truth. I am afraid this is a dead end. We need to seek for additional information. I've seen the recording from the gate cameras. It appears Lord Xavier left Drena yesterday at 17 hundred hours, accompanied by his slave."


"We need to see the tape, too," the Trainer said, looking a bit offended that he had not been informed.


"We need to analyze the new data," Lucas said, seemingly not impressed with the Trainer's displeasure. "Since there is nothing to gain from this," he gestured towards Cory, "I highly recommend the investigation committee move forward."


"So, the final verdict?" the Trainer turned to his papers to make an annotation.


"Servant Cory tells the truth. He is not involved in Lord Xavier's kidnapping."


"Kidnapping?" the Trainer stopped for a second, his pen in the air as if he had been struck by a sudden, intriguing revelation.


"Yes, I believe this is the right term. Dismiss the servant," Lucas said.


"He will be released into your service, will he not, Lord Lucas?" another trainer spoke, and Lucas turned towards him, vaguely annoyed.


"Yes, Xavier authorized me to take care of his belongings, including servants and slaves, in case of an unfortunate event. Let's hope," Lucas paused for dramatic effect, "that this is only temporary, and the event in itself is nothing but a big misunderstanding. We all hope to bring Lord Xavier back home."


The Trainers rose to leave. They looked like dark gray shadows, moving without a sound, as they left the room. Lucas rose and looked at Cory with something unreadable in his beautiful eyes.


"Am I free to go?" Cory eventually dared to ask.


He had been calm and steady all throughout the interrogation. Now, under Lucas's intense gaze, he felt sweat oozing through all his pores. Lucas didn't answer; he just moved slowly, stopping for a brief moment by Cory's side.


"You're lying," Lucas said curtly, in a cold whisper, and Cory froze.


One full minute passed after Lucas left and until he could move again. He had fooled the Trainers, but he could not fool Lucas.


~A Good Servant~

Xavier had been driving for hours. Vast nothingness was in front of his eyes, with no clue or landmark to show him where they were as they rode through the desert.


"Do you at least have an idea where we are going?" he asked haughtily, although he was hoping for an answer this time around.


No matter how much he had tried to speak to Ayn since they had left Drena, the only replies he had gotten were short grunts and indications to continue to drive.


"Of course I do. I'm not the stupid monkey you thought I was," Ayn commented.


It was not the best answer to hope for, but at least it was something.


"I've never thought you to be a stupid monkey. Merely ... uneducated."


Ayn snorted.


"The road seems long. At least you could offer some conversation," Xavier commented.


"Conversation?" Ayn snickered, obviously amused. "Yeah, no one could say we had that much of that. You were too busy fucking my ass."


"I thought you could not understand anything I was saying," Xavier felt the need to explain. Although, he was ready to admit Ayn was right, in that particular regard.


"What difference would that have made?" Ayn shrugged.


"None, of course," Xavier shrugged, pursing his lips.


"Good. At least, you're honest."


"Don't mind me asking, but where are you taking me? And do you really think I will disappear into thin air, without armies," Xavier paused to make the not so well veiled threat understood, "being sent to find me, and of course, exact the punishment in your case."


Ayn just smiled, and looked ahead, as if the road was his friend, and Xavier was a fool to even speak of them being found, let alone think it to be true.


The young man looked even more beautiful, with the rays of the fading sun playing on his face through the car window. He also looked a bit different. There was an energy radiating from him. Suddenly, Xavier realized, it was something he had never witnessed in his slave. It was happiness. Ayn was happy to be free.


"Technically, you are the one driving, so your question? It's a bit off, don't you think?" Ayn turned a little to stare at him.


For a couple of seconds, they looked at one another. Ayn frowned.


"Keep your fucking eyes on the road."


There was more silence. Xavier continued, looking forward, as Ayn had indicated.


"Are you wondering if I am going to sell you back to your friends in Drena?" Ayn was the first to speak.


"That's one thought. It would be wise of you. Although ... more than a bit risky for you," Xavier admitted.


"It could be done. I suppose you would fetch a nice price. Much higher than what you paid for me."


"If you want to know, I paid quite a lot for you," Xavier commented.


Ayn huffed.


"That's not something I want to know."


"All right. So, are you going to negotiate my release then?"


"I agree that's one thought. I didn't say I would do it."


"What are the other options, then?" Xavier straightened one of his gloves quickly, a bit annoyed at the patch of skin showing just above the sleeve.


"Worried about your safety, Master?" Ayn mocked. "Are you afraid I would kill you and bury you here, in the desert, without all the bells and whistles of a Drena funeral?"


"There are no funerals in Drena," Xavier said curtly.


"You're shitting me, right?" Ayn stretched his legs, placing them on the dashboard. "You're like immortal and shit?"


"Of course not."


"Anyways, what do you think of this little option?" Ayn spoke. "How would you like feeling like the slave for a change? What would you say about that?"


"I hope you don't expect me to say I would like that. Mistreating me would not do you any good. Seeing that you might be able to negotiate my release for a hefty sum, you should actually see to my protection."


"Fair enough," Ayn nodded. "But you are a pretty mean bastard. Which means you should suffer a bit."


"And what is that supposed to mean?" Xavier asked with a bit of trepidation starting to pool in his upper belly while showing none of it.


"It means that I am taking you home. My home. What will happen next, I'll have to think about it. If I haven't thought already," Ayn added enigmatically.


Xavier looked at the other briefly. Ayn looked content, in control. Something Xavier used to be, just several hours prior. Or so he thought.


~A Good Servant~


Dion knocked hesitantly on the door. Hearing no sound of acknowledgment from the other room, he knocked again. Still nothing. Eventually, he turned the knob and entered the room. John was watching TV, a sour expression on his face.


"I knocked," Dion said matter-of-factly.


"I know, I am not deaf," John said, a bit exasperated.


"Why didn't you say anything?"


"Maybe because I didn't want you to come in here. What? Are you displeased with the accommodations? Tough luck, this isn't Drena," John continued without even looking at Dion.


"All right. Who took a piss in your food?" Dion asked, a bit annoyed. He was usually tame, but this John guy was hitting a nerve with his attitude.


"Wow, I didn't know your type knows words like that," John mocked. "Look, princess ..."


"My name is not `princess'. My name is Dion."


"No shit. My house, my rules."


"Like hell," Dion retorted.


It was not like him to talk back. After the beatings he had gotten from Antoine, one would have thought he had learned his lesson well.


But he was not afraid of John. It was strange to think such a thing, but since they had gotten inside John's home and sat together at a table, he had not felt threatened, not even for a second. John looked upset, but not angered. He looked strong, but not violent. Dion could not pinpoint the feeling he got inside when looking at the man.


"All right, enough talking," John rose and grabbed Dion by the arm.


He was not forceful and he was not holding Dion too tightly. But he was determined as he pushed the redhead through the door and closed it behind him, almost slapping Dion's ass in the progress.


Dion felt the sudden need just to turn and tell the guy a thing or two. But he resisted for the moment and went to the bedroom to sleep. Then it hit him, what he had wanted to tell John; that the bed in the bedroom was too large for him, and the couch in the living room could have been better for Dion's smaller frame.


Ah, well, the annoying jerk had just earned himself a bad night's sleep.


~A Good Servant~


Dread was too little a word to describe what Cory felt as he set foot in Lucas's house, this time not as a guest, or a lover, but as property. He had a distinct feeling that Lucas was going to run his own interrogation and it was not going to go down too well.


He went directly to the kitchen to prepare food. He needed something to do with his hands to calm the turmoil in his head. Could he tell Lucas the truth? What was going to happen to him after that? Was Lucas going to give up on him? Just like that? Apparently, there was not much between them anyway. Except for sex. Great sex. The type that felt as if it meant more. Whatever that was supposed to mean.


He was about to dress the table when he heard the front door. He stopped dead in his tracks. Lucas appeared in the door frame and stared at him.


He could not make sense of what Lucas meant with that look. It was not inquisitive, not that much, at least, it was not hurt, although he could feel the tension in the air between them.


"You belong to me now," Lucas eventually spoke, as he moved towards the servant.


Cory nodded. He cast his eyes down. Strong, firm hands, hands he knew well now, cupped his cheeks and made him look up. His lips were captured in a fierce kiss, and Cory felt lost. Could it be that Lucas was not mad with his ruse?


A hot tongue was in his mouth, making him dizzy, as large hands cupped his ass and lifted him from the kitchen floor. He could feel Lucas's strong erection through his thin pants and his own rising to meet the challenge.


Suddenly, he was turned, made to bend over the table, while his pants were forced down, over his bubble butt. He felt the air hitting his ass, and his breath hitched in his chest. Lucas was not usually so assertive in his desire. He always cared about apologizing if he got carried away. It almost made Cory, each and every time, beg for Lucas to lose control a little.


What happened took him by surprise. The slap was short, well placed and it stung like hell. It made Cory yelp in distress.


"So, my little Cory," Lucas spoke, and his voice was now low and dangerous. "How do you dare to lie like that?"


"I didn't ... Ouch!" he yelled again, as his other buttock received the same treatment. "Lucas, please ..."


"No," came the short reply. "What happened actually with Xavier and Ayn?"


"I don't know ..."


Another slap made him lose his breath. Behind him, Lucas's breath was becoming a bit labored, too. At least, he had to put some work into spanking the servant.


"The truth, Cory, or you won't be able to sit down for a while," Lucas warned.


Cory tried to move, but a hand on his back was keeping him in place. "Please, Master," he begged.


"Don't play that card with me," Lucas spat, and this time, the slap felt more vicious.


Cory was on the point of breaking. It was not because it hurt, although it did; it was because it was Lucas punishing him, and it was because he knew Lucas was right. He was lying.


"If you think this is bad, let me give you the heads up on the plans the Trainers had for you, in case I would have told them the truth," Lucas spoke. "They would have cut off your tongue, and then sewn your lips together so you would choke on your own blood."


Cory felt his knees buckling under him, but again, the firm hand on his ass kept him in place.


"Should I continue or will you start talking?" Lucas cooed this time.


He hesitated. He had no idea why he was hesitating. Another slap came, and this time Cory just let the tears flow.


"You do realize what I am risking with this. Not a slap on the wrist. Not my career. But my life. I believe you're smart enough to understand what accessory to a crime means," Lucas continued, as his slaps fell on Cory's ass, making the lovely mounds redder and redder.


"Stop, please, I'll talk," Cory breathed out.


He had not thought about it. He was putting Lucas in danger. How could he have been so stupid? Suddenly, it looked as if it had been better if he could convince Ayn to stay and adjust to being Xavier's toy. It would not have been such a bad life after all. What was he thinking now? Ayn was a free man. He had to be free!


Lucas caressed the red butt cheeks lovingly. "Speak now, Cory," he cooed.


There was a torrent of words as Cory began to speak. He was going to get executed, but at least he was not taking Lucas with him. At least that he could do. The hand caressing his abused ass didn't stop and didn't waver as he talked.


"Good," Lucas commended him when he finished talking.


Cory felt the man move and walking away. He just stood there, bent over, emotionally wasted, his backside hurting like hell. He could not move if he wanted to.


Lucas came back, and he felt something cool and soothing being slowly applied on his ass.


"Are ... are you going to turn me in?" Cory spoke.


"No, what kind of monster do you think I am?" Lucas asked, as he carefully rubbed the salve on Cory's butt.


"Are you going to tell them? Are they going to go after them? Are they going to kill Ayn?" Cory grew more and more agitated.


"No, I am not going to tell them," Lucas said in the same even tone.


He even sounded affectionate. Cory could not understand.


"But ... why? Xavier is your friend ..."


"I believe Xavier is okay where he is. And, if he isn't, it is entirely his choice," Lucas answered.


His ass was feeling much, much better. Cory exhaled, as he felt the hand creeping between his ass cheeks and fingers slowly teasing his hole. He bucked his ass up, wanting more, the safety of the act, the safety of being embraced by Lucas again. The hand descended, touching his balls and cock, stirring the organ back to life.


"What do you think of this, Cory?" Lucas teased. "Was your punishment uncalled for? Was it too much? I must warn you that it feels better now, but tomorrow it will still hurt. Quite badly. And the day after tomorrow. Then a bit less."


"No, I guess ... I guess I should not have lied to you," Cory said in all honesty while wiggling his ass to get more of Lucas's fingers.


"Good answer, my Cory," Lucas pressed against his back and turned his head to the side to kiss him. "Now, would you be terribly upset with me if I fucked you?"


"Don't ask. Just take me," Cory whispered, and he was penetrated swiftly, with no other preparation but the little salve that had been pushed inside by Lucas's fingers as he had been teasing him.


Whatever anger Lucas still had inside, it was going away fast. Their coupling was wild, no imposed rhythm, nothing but thrust after thrust, until Cory came all over the kitchen floor, despite feeling his lover stretching him like never before. In turn, Lucas filled him to the brim with his own seed, with a low grunt.


They stood there, both still dressed up, panting.


"Why ... why do you believe Xavier is fine?" Cory eventually spoke, his voice a bit hoarse from all the crying followed by moans of ecstasy as Lucas had fucked him.


"Because he didn't activate the alarm."


"What alarm?" Cory asked.


"See this?" Lucas's arm moved in front of him, and the sleeve was lifted a bit, for the servant to see the small silver band. "It has a small sensor. Easy to activate through a very simple move, which only Masters know. Anyone else could not. From what you're telling me, Xavier could have done it anytime. I am not going to impose on his choice."


"The bracelet ... can he activate it from anywhere he is? Even if he is very, very far?"


"It has quite a large range. Unless they left the continent ... I suppose he can still activate it."


Lucas rose and dragged Cory up. "I am so sorry for this. But I could not allow you to lie to me. Do you understand?"


Cory rested his head against Lucas's large chest. "I do."


He hesitated for a second, then he asked. "Did you ... enjoy it more than usual?"


"Of course, you showed how much you trust me," Lucas said quickly.


Cory knew there was something else, but didn't press the matter. There was something new about his lover he was learning every day.


~A Good Servant~


They reached the gates of the settlement as dawn was breaking. They had driven the entire night; Xavier felt tired, worn to the bone.


"Home, sweet home," Ayn spoke, and Xavier looked around.


It appeared as everything was made of scrap metal. The walls looked tall and grim, nothing like the beautiful design carved into the wooden gates guarding his city.


The gates moved with a loud screech, as Ayn got out of the car and hurried to meet someone coming out.


"Don't you dare try running away," he spat, as he walked away.


Xavier thought for a brief second. He could just turn and leave. Drive away. But there was the small beeping alarm telling him the tank was almost empty, and the sensation in his chest he could not quench that was encouraging him to move forward, to follow Ayn and see what was going to happen next.


Ayn came back and urged him to move the car. Slowly, they were entering Ayn's city.


"What is this place?" Xavier mumbled, mostly to himself, as small buildings, made of the same scrap metal, spread everywhere appeared in front of his eyes. A few men, women and even a few kids, were starting to get out their homes and they were staring at the newcomers.


"Welcome to Haven," Ayn spoke. "My little corner of paradise," he added smugly, as he let the window down and took his head out to speak to the people passing by and laugh with them. "Now, keep that smart mouth of yours shut, ok?"


Xavier stayed in the car after Ayn told him to stop. He watched as Ayn spoke to a few young men, all dressed almost in the same fashion as his former slave. They were all stealing glances in Xavier's direction, and he could bet they were asking what was up with him.


Ayn came to the car and opened the door.


"Come out," he gestured, and Xavier exited the vehicle and into the open air.


He had no idea he could feel so much peace inside to let himself in someone else's hands. Of course, that didn't mean he didn't keep his head high as he got out of the car. Ayn grabbed him by the shoulders and dragged him along.


"So, that's him?" one of the guys asked.


"He's fucking gorgeous," a younger man commented, and they all laughed.


"Hands off, he's mine," Ayn said, and Xavier felt the sensation in his chest growing warmer.


"He'd be good to sell back to those Drena fuckers," an older one spoke this time, seemingly annoyed with the attention the stranger was getting.


"No," Ayn said sternly. "I said he's mine," he added, as he looked at the others with something fierce in his eyes.


Xavier stared at his ex-slave. It all seemed strange, like in a dream.


"Come on, Ayn, it's not like you swing that way," the young one teased. "Give him to me. Just one time."


"No way, fucker," Ayn flipped the bird at him.


"You're letting all this nice ass go to waste?" another asked and shamelessly slapped Xavier's ass.


Ayn pushed him with his free hand.


"What the hell dude? I told you hands off!"


"Wow, chill, man, you sure got freaky," the man raised his hands in surrender.


"My house, still everything there?" Ayn questioned. "No one touched my stuff?"


"No one would be crazy enough. Although you were gone like half a year or something," one reproached.



Ayn shrugged. "Good to know you're not forgetting who I am. Scrap the car."


"But it's a nice car," the young one complained.


"Too nice. You don't want anyone on your ass for that. Scrap it. Also, here is a small souvenir," he threw the gun he had used to threaten Xavier. "Sell it at the market in Aeria. You'll get enough to buy yourself a stiff drink. Or charm a girl," he joked.


"Wow, this is for me, Ayn?" the youngster's eyes were shining.


"Yeah, kiddo," Ayn ruffled his hair in passing, while he dragged Xavier after him.


"Why did you give him the gun?" Xavier asked.


"It's useless. No bullets. Ammo for that kind of shit is hard to come by. But it's flashy, and it can get the girls all wet and ready."


"No bullets?" Xavier asked, dumbfounded.


"Yeah. I was lucky enough to steal that, though. It surely made you piss your pants," Ayn commented gleefully, as he pushed Xavier through the door to a house that didn't look any worse or better than the others. "Here it is, my home," he spoke, and Xavier looked around.


It was basically just a room with a bed and a small kitchenette next to it. Another door was probably leading to the bathroom. That was all. It looked barren and dismal.


"Am I supposed to say anything?" Xavier asked. "About ... this?" he waved his right hand, derisively.


His irony was not lost on Ayn.


"Feeling high and mighty all of a sudden?" Ayn pushed him down to take a seat on the bed. "I could always let the guys have a bit of fun with you, you know?" he said, a dark expression on his face.


"You told them I'm yours," gray eyes rose to meet the dark pools of Ayn's eyes .


"That you are," Ayn agreed.


"And what is that supposed to mean?" Xavier asked while crossing his legs and looking at Ayn with no sign of feeling intimidated.


"It means that," Ayn closed the distance and pushed Xavier onto the bed, "I will be top dog now."


Xavier didn't back down and pushed back on his elbows to get up. "In your dreams."


"Really?" Ayn challenged. "Wanna bet?"


"Bet on what? You have nothing," Xavier threw a look around, to make his insinuation clearer.


"You're so full of it," Ayn huffed. "I can do what I want with you."


"What? Kill me? You had the chance and you didn't," Xavier pointed out the obvious.


"I still can. Whenever I want," Ayn took a step back and let his eyes linger on Xavier's body with intent.


"Then why don't you?" Xavier looked him dead in the eyes.


"Because I don't think fucking a corpse would be any fun," Ayn grinned wildly, making that thing growing inside Xavier make summersaults.


~A Good Servant~


Dion was sure more and more he liked John's small home. The bathroom was sparkling clean, clinical even, given the outside conditions, and, although small, it had everything. He decided for a quick shower. There was a long day ahead, so he let the hot stream hit his body and started to wash.


He did not hear the door opening. Only when someone climbed into the small bathtub next to him, he realized he was not alone.


He was not so ceremoniously pushed a bit aside, as John started to wash next to him.


"Hot water is a luxury around here, princess," he commented, and Dion felt a bit guilty.


He grabbed a few hands full of water to rinse whatever parts were still covered in soap and got out quickly, avoiding brushing against John but failing a few times. He took a towel to dry and wrap around his waist; then he began brushing his teeth while stealing glances at the man in the shower. John's body was hard, muscles everywhere, but the kind obtained through hard work, not running a treadmill. He could not help look at the man's organ as he turned.


Dion gulped unconsciously. The man was big in every department, including that. One could not tell without seeing that cock in its aroused state, but even half asleep, it looked pretty impressive. Antoine was truly gifted, and it had always hurt when he had fucked Dion, but this guy looked even bigger. He continued to stare, the toothbrush still in his mouth. Was that thing growing?


"Hey, quit staring," he heard John speaking, and he shook his head quickly. "If you wanted cock, you should have taken the guys up on their offer."


He pretended not to hear. He finished his grooming and got out. After getting dressed, he waited for John. It was to be expected for them to go to work together. He doubted they had more time than for eating a sandwich and grab a cup of coffee, which he had already prepared.


When John came back, they ate in silence. He waited for the man to get up from his chair and head to the door then followed.


As soon as they were out the door, John grabbed him by the shoulders, taking him by surprise. Startled, he looked up. John didn't even grace him with as much as a glance.


"To the outside world, we're supposed to be all lovey-dovey," the morose guy offered an explanation.


Dion looked ahead. It felt good to have that large, heavy and warm hand on his shoulder. It almost made him feel wanted.


As they met others, John waved at them, and Dion politely exchanged a few words. Most guys were congratulating John for landing such a beauty to be his partner. Dion could tell his cheeks were red from embarrassment. Even if some of the comments were a bit racy, they were genuine, and he did not feel humiliated.


When they were supposed to part ways, to go about their work, John dragged him into a warm embrace and kissed him on the lips.


"Take care, darling," he drawled out the words, making Dion feel a bit strange in the pit of the stomach.


There had been just a small brush of their lips, but it made Dion want to suddenly grab the man by the neck and show him a real kiss. A real kiss? What did Dion know about that? Antoine had taught him everything. Including that. He suddenly felt ill.


John frowned. "Well, I'm afraid you will have to put up with these little things when in public, princess," he whispered in Dion's ear so that no one could hear them. "Otherwise, you know I would not touch you with a stick."


He walked away, and Dion felt deserted. He didn't want John to think like this about him. John's kiss had felt nice, it had felt as Dion was sure a kiss was supposed to feel, but he had just stood there, with a stricken expression on his face as the man walked away.


He had to put some things in order. For some reason, he wanted John to really appreciate him, to ... what? Want him?


It was not until the afternoon when they had to have lunch when he saw John again. He took his tray and sat next to the man and started talking. He talked about what had happened at work so far, about some gossip he heard, anything, just to prevent the silence that was bothering him so much to creep between them.


"What are you? A chatterbox?" John stopped him, obviously annoyed.


"I thought ... maybe you wanted a little conversation?" Dion spoke.


"I only want to eat," the man gestured towards his plate.


"All right," Dion agreed and focused on eating, too.


"Hey, John," he heard someone talking and saw a worker approaching.


John just nodded.


"Heard you got yourself another cutie," the man commented, and Dion suddenly became all ears.




"Yeah, what do you know," John offered an ambiguous answer.


"Andreas is a big hit down at Venusville," the man commented. "He's like the biggest earner and stuff."


"No doubt," John spoke.


Dion was looking at the man who had taken a seat across from them.


"How could you let that sweet piece of ass go, John?"


"None of your business," came another quick reply.


"Well, at least, you got another. Just keep this one on a tighter leash," the man joked and walked away, obviously dissatisfied with John's lack of interest in any conversation.


"Who's Andreas?" Dion commented.


"My ex," John answered, and offered nothing else more.


"Ex? Aren't partnerships supposed to be ... forever?"


"Guys change their mind. It's not unusual. Did you hear me saying any vows? Did you? Don't get your hopes high with me. I know I don't. Eventually you'll leave, at some point."


"Why would I?" Dion demanded, a bit exasperated and, admittedly, a bit afraid, too. "Will you kick me out?"


For a brief second, John turned to look into Dion's beautiful hazel eyes. "No. But know that the door is open. And the sooner you go, the better. For both of us."


"I won't go," Dion said, determined.


"We'll see. In the meantime, stop getting on my nerves. Be grateful I took you in."


"I am grateful," Dion protested.


"Just throwing me a `thank you' like you would throw a bone to a dog is not enough, princess," John continued, his voice becoming frostier and frostier. "You stay in my house, eat my food, steal my hot water, and no one bothers you. So I'm afraid a little `thank you' is too small a pay. Even for a guy like me, coming from a guy like you."


Dion gulped, feeling nervous. All in all, John was right. Sort of. "What do you mean? How are you and me different?"


John stopped again and frowned, while their eyes clashed again. "I've lived here all my life. I'll die here, too. You came here down from cloud number nine and expected the fairytale to continue. If you want it to keep up, though, you'll have to offer something in return. It's a small price, and you have plenty."


Dion grabbed his temples, feeling them throbbing. "Plenty of what? What are you saying?"


John suddenly reached for him, grabbing a handful of red strands. What he said afterward made Dion gasp. "You're fucking beautiful. Out of my league. Like you are out of anyone's league around here. But a bunch of guys to worship your every step you take ... offering you everything you want, that may work. And you only need to be willing to take some cocks in your mouth and ass. Seeing where you're coming from, I suppose you are used to it, so what's the problem?"


The former servant felt the world spinning around them. John had just managed to compliment him and insult him in just a few phrases. He blushed, mostly because he felt angered.


"I'm not like that."


John let go of his hair. "Yes, you are. You just don't know it yet."


"What happened with Andreas that made you so mean?" Dion blurted out.


"None of your business," John turned to see about his food.


"Well, it is. Because I am your partner and I need to know," the redhead said stubbornly.


John laughed. "Really? My partner? We sleep in different beds. We only touch in public. That's not much of a partnership."


"Then come sleep with me at night," Dion found himself talking.


"Darling," John suddenly got dangerously close and grabbed Dion's waist. Their lips got so close, Dion hoped for a kiss. "I am not talking about sleeping," he added, and then, just like that, he was back at what he was doing before, leaving Dion to stand there, mouth slightly parted, feeling like a fool.


The alarm blared.


"Now you'll have to go hungry," John gestured towards Dion's almost untouched plate. "That will teach you to run your mouth while you're supposed to eat."


Dion said nothing back. He was in no mood for eating, anyway.


~A Good Servant~


In several days, he started to become more confident to walk outside, without John. There was little to no conversation between them, and Dion wanted, needed that to stop. He had thought about what John had said about him not being grateful. So he was trying his best to tidy up the house and cook, but it didn't look like John was impressed with his efforts.


With his first paycheck in his pocket, he went shopping.


The small stores located in the main area didn't look like much, but they had all the necessities. He counted the money in his pocket mentally. He purchased general stuff he knew they were missing or starting to deplete, and then he walked around, in search of something special. He had to say a proper `thank you'. John was right.


"What are looking for, sugar?" the shopkeeper asked him.


"Alcohol," Dion said, after a short moment of hesitation. "But something ... a bit better."


The shopkeeper nodded, all knowingly. He stole a quick glance towards the door, and then he took something from under his desk.


Dion took the small bottle. He recognized the brand.


"Drena stuff. Top shelf. 500 credits, it's all yours, hun," the man rubbed his hands.


500? Dion shook his head. That was half of what he got. And he hadn't dared to ask, but most probably he was not going to get any more money until next month. Whatever, he had to. He placed the money on the table, and the man grinned. It was strange to think about money when back in Drena, he could spend it on anything he wanted – or actually, his master wanted – without worrying about it.


Together with the rest of the groceries, he ended up without much in his pocket. He was going to have to think this through better next time.


He entered the house and started to cook. He even made dessert, and he began feeling happy. The kitchen had always been a happy place for him. Antoine hadn't cared about coming there to torment him; a brief thought touched him.


He heard John coming in, and he blushed a little. Was he going to enjoy Dion's small gift?


John nodded at him in passing, while going to the bathroom to wash. Dion just nodded back. It was their way of greeting. Without words, since John was seemingly allergic to hearing Dion talking.


John came back from changing into his house clothes and sat at the table.


"What's the occasion?" he asked, eyeing the exquisite food on the plate.


"My first pay," Dion explained as he took a seat, as well.


"Congratulations," John said and started eating.


Dion was looking at him from time to time to gauge the man's reactions. Eventually, John raised his eyes to look at him.


"What?" he snapped.


"How do you like the food?" Dion asked, counting to three in his mind to avoid getting snappy, too.


"It's good," John said shortly, and Dion's face fell. "All right, it's great. You're a great cook," John added. "Better now?"


"Yes, thank you," Dion got back to his food, trying to hide a small smile.


The look in John's eyes when he brought the dessert, though, was better than words. The man practically devoured the éclair and smacked his lips in satisfaction. When they looked at one another again, Dion could not help feeling a bit smug.


"All right, princess, as far as cooking skills are concerned, you're a keeper," John winked at him and rose.


Dion took care of the dishes, while John went to his room. Although the man had insisted against Dion always taking care of the chores, the former servant had been so fierce about it, that John had finally given up.


He took the bottle from the place he kept it hidden and then took a deep breath. He knocked softly, waiting for John's sullen `come in' to enter the room.


As always, John didn't spare him a glance. Dion placed himself between John and the TV and quietly handed him the bottle.


John looked up, annoyed. His eyes grew wide when he saw the gift. He took it slowly and stared at it. "Brandy, huh?"


"I thought you'd like it," Dion spoke.


"I do. Thanks," the man looked a bit embarrassed. "You spent a fortune on this, didn't you?"


"Don't bother," Dion shook his head.


There was a moment of silence, and John looked up at him while putting the bottle aside. The light in the room was growing dim.


Dion suddenly knelt next to the couch, to be on eye level with John. The man didn't move, as Dion hesitantly placed a hand on John's chest that was now rising and falling more rapidly.


Dion felt lost, too. He was no good at this. He wasn't even sure he wanted it. He had seen the man naked. It was going to hurt. But at least he was not going to be humiliated. That he knew.


Antoine had always taken everything from him. So, now, being the one to initiate the act, he felt awkward. He half closed his eyes and placed his lips on John's. Feeling no resistance, he grew a bit bolder and started to kiss the man. He tasted the man's lips, a bit sweet and salty; he swiped his tongue over them, making them part to gain access inside and tentatively he pushed.


Suddenly, strong hands were grabbing him, and he was manipulated like a doll, as John managed in record time to turn the tables and have Dion placed on the couch, with the other on top of him.


Dion could feel the man's erection, pushing at the inside of his thigh.


It will hurt; don't think about it. He thought in his head. But no matter what he tried to say in his mind didn't work. He froze and unconsciously pushed against the hard body on top of him.


John interrupted the kiss, and they looked into each other's eyes. Dion's eyes were moist. John pushed himself up.


"What a fucking cocktease," he spat as he went to a nearby drawer to pull some clothes out.


"Where are you going?" Dion rose.


"Out," John said curtly and, dressed in record time, he walked out the door, not forgetting, of course, to slam it behind him.


Dion circled his knees with his long arms and buried his head in them. He could feel John's smell everywhere in that room. It was comforting, but Dion felt pain burrowing deep inside his chest telling him it was not going to last. Not if he wasn't willing to let go of his demons.




Author's note:

If you like this story and you want to know what happens next, here is my Patreon account:


My patrons receive early access to chapters, complete books, and other nice extras.

Here are the three complete books I offer all my patrons:

No Complications


There are many things in life people regret and there are things they just cannot let go. Blake Everton wants to cut all the ties with his past, but there is just one thing he cannot seem to forget about so he can have a clean slate and start the life his family wants for him. Getting a male escort to satisfy his needs sounds like a good idea and the key to letting go, but things do not always go as planned.

Trey smiles all the time and that truly gets on Blake's nerves. Nonetheless, intrigued with the rent boy's seemingly happy countenance, he wants Trey and no one else.

When Trey teaches him he could smile again, Blake is faced with a tough decision. Should he let go and walk forward, in a stranger's shoes, or should he understand who he really is and what he truly wants?


The Challenge


Karl Thorne's life is comfortably dull. Secretly in love with his straight boss, he prefers working as Dick Chamberlain's personal assistant, despite his otherwise impressive educational background. What he doesn't expect is his life being turned upside down by Dick's brother, Gordon, who walks one day into the air conditioned office, and causes the temperature in the room to rise above one hundred degrees Fahrenheit. Karl realizes that he is the one getting hot under the collar, and even his unrequited, yet enduring love for his boss is wavering under the man's sexy scrutiny.

Much to his surprise, Dick decides to lend Karl and his PA skills to his brother for one month. Devastated by his boss's decision to send him away with no regrets whatsoever, Karl sees Gordon as just another straight guy meant to give him wet dreams and nothing more. What he doesn't expect is for Gordon to be so direct in telling Karl to his face about what he thinks of the assistant's sexual orientation and secret love for his boss.

Bewildered, Karl tries to reason with Gordon, but he finds himself caught in a web of sensuality, family secrets, and games in which he feels as nothing more but a pawn. Is Gordon's interest in him genuine? What will happen if he gives his heart away? And most of all, should he forget about the game rule that says that whoever walks away first, wins?


Born under a Blue Moon


Ay'len and Ma'ki have been in love since they were children, but, as they grow up, they realize that their love can never be. Ay'len, although a boy, was raised together with his sisters, to learn women's ways, far away from all the dangers boys to become men had to face. Destined to become the tribe's next healer, his gentle soul is also destined to protect the village. Being born under a blue moon, he is considered lucky, but his luck and happiness are not his, as he must belong to the entire tribe. He needs to remain pure, away from temptations of the flesh, so he must quash the love he feels for Ma'ki and dedicate himself to a selfless existence.

Ma'ki is a hunter and the tribe chieftain's first born. His purpose is to carry his bloodline, by marrying and fathering children. Yet, as years go by, his love for Ay'len grows stronger. To his family's distress, he refuses to take a wife, despite knowing that Ay'len could never be his.

But not all tribesmen see Ay'len with good eyes and danger has a way of finding him. His androgynous appearance provokes confusion and lust, and a moment arrives when a man decides to challenge the tribe's rules and make Ay'len his wife. Without protection, the healer is left to be devoured by a beast of a man and his lewd desires. When Ma'ki discovers that his one true love is bound to another, he realizes his entire life has been a lie.

When rules are broken, and gods are scorned, will true love survive?


Thank you so much for reading!