ℕ𝕊𝔽𝕎ℍ𝕌𝕄ℙ

The boy looked at him cautiously. There was too much fear in his posture, in his eyes. It was impossible to tell if he recognized John, too.

John squatted down to be eye level. As he thought it might, this made the frightened pet drop his eyes and flatten his spine as best he could against the nicotine stained paint of the motel wall.

“Hey, now,” John murmured, as if to one of his racehorses. They were spirited, flighty things, nothing like the quarter horses he’d grown up with. He talked to them all the same, though, from the spring colts to the swaybacked veterans.

“I’m not gonna hurt you. I know you’ve seen a lot of people lately, huh? You probably don’t remember me. That’s okay. I remember you. You were at Jack Kinsington’s place before all this.”

The boy did not look back up at him, and his dirty hair gave away his trembling, but he was listening.

“I came by with a couple of horses. Bays, both of them. Soaked in sweat and prancing all around, you remember them? They’re high strung, they don’t like to ride in the trailer. Anyway, I told Jack he ought to let you stretch your legs. He did, but you were so numb you couldn’t stand for a while. You looked right at me.”

The boy turned his head an inch, so he could glance up at John’s face again.

“You remember that day. Sure you do. I thought you were in rough shape then, but I have to say, you look worse now.”

That lost him the eye contact. That was okay. The boy remembered. If not his face, then the incident.

“I thought it was awfully cruel to keep you in a space that small,” he went on. “I don’t know how some people do to a person what they wouldn’t do to an animal. They justify it, I guess. They project things onto these pets they buy and then they punish them for it. Gives them their kicks. Even Jack Kinsington, who I have to admit I respected up until that day.”

He stopped that train of thought.

“Why don’t we get you up off the floor there and let me take care of you, huh? No offense, you look kind of like roadkill.”

The boy made no sound, no indication that he’d even heard except for the way his chest expanded a little faster with his quickening breath. The poor thing's heart must be pounding. John had a knack for fixing things up, be it a business his brother had fucked up or a lame horse, a broken water heater or a vehicle. He spent less time fixing things now and more time delegating what other people needed to fix, but this boy was downright hurting his innermost, rarely expressed tenderness of heart, and he wanted to fix something for him.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he said again. His knees were getting tired in this deep squat, and his boots had no give in the toes for it. “I’m gonna clean you up and look after you. You don’t have to do anything, just don’t fight me too much. Can you do that?”

He reached out and laid a hand over the boy’s. The abused pet flinched but didn’t jerk away. John encircled the boy’s wrist in his hand and pulled it slowly away from his body, towards him. “Can you stand?” he asked, pushing himself to standing and bringing the boy with him.

He made it to his feet, and was nearly as tall as John, but stumbled when he tried to take a step.

“Please,” he whispered reflexively as John moved closer, flinching to protect his battered face.

“Please what, baby?” John muttered, lifting the boy’s arm over the back of his shoulders and wrapping his arm around his slim waist to help him walk. “You’re okay, you’re right here. I’ve got you. Let’s get you in the tub.”

Slowly, they staggered to the motel bathroom a d John flicked on the staggeringly white lights that buzzed and hummed to life. He sat the boy on the lip of the low bathtub as gently as he could.

“I’m going to give you a bath,” he said matter-of-factly, turning the taps so warm water began to fill the tub. “Where did all this blood come from?”

The boy was watching him warily, dark eyes following his every move.

“You hear me? Where’s all this dried blood coming from, huh?”

“I don’t know.”

John nodded, pleased the boy had spoken. Some didn’t, or wouldn’t, he knew, not once they looked like this one did.

“Did they beat you? Is that what all this is from?”

He gave a small nod, blinking in discomfort at John’s bluntness.

“Did they hurt you in any other ways?”

He nodded again.

John felt a tug of adrenaline in the pit of his stomach. “How?”

Jack’s pet looked evasively at the rising bath water.

“If you tell me how you’re hurt, I can help you better.”

Nothing.

“What’s your name?”

“Paulo.”

He put the emphasis on the au, and there was a way he said his L that positioned the tongue differently than he did when saying other words.

“Paulo,” John said, putting the emphasis on the vowels of the first syllable too, but with no attempt at altering his very American L. I’m John. I bought you from that man, the one with the box truck. I take it Jack Kinsington sold you? Or were you stolen?”

Tears shimmered in the boy’s dark eyes, swollen and purple still like a raccoon mask. He bit the inside of his cheek to steel himself and keep from letting them fall.

John gentled his voice. “Paulo. I only ask because it’s important. If you legally belong to Jack, I gotta bring you back to him.”

Paulo’s head snapped up. He lost control of the tears, which spilled down his bruised cheeks. He grabbed hold of John’s sleeves, pulling himself closer as if his whole body was not bruised and sore. “No,” he begged urgently. “Please. I’ll do anything. Please. I-I’ll do anything you want, I can’t… please don’t….”

An idea dawned on him and he let go of his latest captor’s sleeve in order to lift his trembling fingers to his own tattered shirt. He pulled it over his head with a barely-suppressed whimper of pain. His torso was bruised like his face and arms, dark black and purple impact points on his warm toned skin like fists or boots, some that looked like electric burns left from a cattle prod and others more reminiscent of the yellow, oozing wounds cigarettes tended to leave. He was ribby, in a dehydrated, sudden sort of way that looked like he hadn’t eaten much of anything in the last few days.

He started on the button of his pants and John reached out to stop him. “Hey. No. What’s this?”

“Do- do you prefer girls? I can be just as good for you.” His glittering eyes were simultaneously like a starving animal and horribly blank. “They all say so.”

Ah. There was an answer to one of his questions. He pulled Paulo’s wrists away from the opening of his pants, held them in his own on the cool edge of the tub between them. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not interested.”

“I could take a bath,” he whispered hopefully.

“You will take a bath. But I’m still not interested. I need to know— were you given to someone by Jack Kinsington rightfully, or were you stolen?”

The fear was back. John didn’t know which was worse on this one, the dead eyes or the fear. “Don’t take me back to him.”

“He hurt you a lot, then? Jack?”

John already figured as much. Despite his admiration for the man’s business sense, he was a cruel and sadistic pet owner. Once he’d seen a boy shoved into a cage fit for a fox, he’d reconciled that much in his mind. It was like that often, when it came to human pets, and never quite who you’d expect.

The boy begged miserably. “Please, Sir. I’ll do anything.”

“You mentioned that. He didn’t sell you, did he?”

Paulo glanced down.

So he’d bought a stolen pet. That’s what he more or less suspected when he’d seen the boy at the rest stop, weeks after he’d seen him in the cage at Jack’s and much worse for wear.

Jack Kinsington would probably be even more open to buying more of John’s racehorses in the near future if he returned his favorite boy-pet to him. Don’t worry what it cost to get him back, Jack. Less than the yearling I’ve got for you to look at this spring, I can tell you that. Call it even.

John turned off the taps and tested the water with his fingers. He’d wondered if the boy would be willing to take those filthy clothes off in front of him, but seeing as he’d just offered himself, he thought it more likely now.

“Take those off,” he said of the boy’s remaining clothing. “You can borrow some of mine when you’re cleaned up.”

Despite his offer less than five minutes ago, Paulo was modest to the point of shyness once he was naked.

“It’s okay. I’m not even looking at you,” John assured him a little gruffly as he helped him into the water. “I just want to get you clean.”

Paulo flinched as he submerged, undoubtedly feeling every burn, cut, and bruise as he did. He was so dirty that tear tracks were now visible on his face from his crying. John wet a rough motel washcloth in the warm water and brought it to his face. He dabbed and nudged the dried blood from Paulo’s mouth and nose. The boy tried very hard not to flinch and shy away, and in return he tried to be very gentle. “Good,” he said quietly, wetting the cloth and returning it to the blood and swollen tissue. “Tell me if I hurt you.”

Paulo made brief eye contact with him at that, probably because it had become a foreign concept that someone would make an effort against hurting him. Just as quickly he slid his gaze away, back to an indeterminate point on the bathroom tile.

“You wanna do this next part?”

Paulo didn’t answer.

John moved as gently and quickly as was prudent over the rest of his body, knowing he was hurting him when he passed over the yellowed cigarette burns on his legs and hips.

“I know. You’re gonna be okay. Almost done. You’re doing really well.”

Paulo let John wash his hair, using some of the hotel shampoo that would likely sting some cuts but was desperately needed. He closed his eyes as John worked his fingers through the blood and dirt, the snarls coming apart slowly with gentle patience. As he rinsed the boy’s dark hair clean, John noticed he had stopped shaking.

He drained the now red-brown water and wrapped Paulo in a white hotel towel. He looked better clean, though there was nothing to do for the bruises but wait. He sat on the side of the motel bed as John went through his black duffel bag, pulling out sweatpants, a gray cotton T-shirt, and ibuprofen for him.

Paulo dressed in the bathroom and accepted two of the pills. He came out and sat on the end of the bed afterwards, staring at the pattern on the comforter.

“Does Jack know who had you?” John asked as he set up his phone charger. “The guy with the box truck out there?”

Paulo shook his head. “That man wasn’t the first.”

So he’d been bought and sold multiple times since being stolen—kidnapped— from Jack's property. It was possible Jack knew the original perpetrators, but had no idea where his pet was now. John sighed. His mind was working analytically, trying to understand every facet of the situation before he acted— trying to understand how he could manipulate it most in his favor. But that all felt shallow and cruel when he truly saw the boy in front of him, his damp hair and his bruised face, his narrow chest and the way he was nervously picking at a scab on the inside of his wrist.

“Don’t do that,” John said softly. “I don’t want you getting any infections.”

Paulo stopped immediately but looked intrigued by the care in that statement. Likely no one had said anything like it to him in a long while now.

“Are you hungry?”

Paulo shrugged. John raised his eyebrows and he went with a more committed shake of the head. “No, Sir.”

“…Are you scared?”

The boy swallowed, touched the scab on his wrist without picking it.

He’d said it before, but he knew he’d have to say it a hundred more times, and show it a thousand, before it sunk in. He likely would not end up doing that, but he’d say it as long as the pet was in his possession. “I promise I'm not gonna hurt you.”

“What, then?” Paulo asked, shrugging one shoulder to his ear in what felt like embarrassment at his own question.

“If I’m not going to hurt you? What then?”

He nodded.

“Nothing. I'm gonna take you back to Tennessee.”

“To Jack?”

“For the time being, to my place in Lewisburg. I have a farm.”

“What kind of farm?”

“Horses. You wanna come?”

He said he did. Not that he had much of a choice. John suspected they both knew that killing him on the side of a dirt road in west Texas would be better than what might happen if he took him back to Tennessee and failed to promptly return him to Jack. Jack would take it out on his lost little pet as much as he did John.

“I can’t believe you’re still even sitting up and talking. Come here.” John stood up and pulled the corner of the bedsheets down. “Lie down.”

Paulo did as he asked.

Before John would cover him up he asked, “Can you tell me if anyone kicked you in the back or abdomen, or if you feel any pain when you move or breathe?”

He thought about that. “I don’t know. I’m sore.”

“Any sharp pains, anything feel broken?”

“No?”

“Can I touch your stomach right here? It won’t be for long.”

A little apprehensive, Paulo agreed. John placed his hands on his abdomen and prodded his way along, trying to feel anything amiss or to get a sharp yell from Paulo. None came.

“Does this hurt anywhere more than soreness?”

“No,” his patient said in a small voice.

“Okay,” he said, and covered the boy to his chest with the blankets. “I’m done. Thank you. I was worried you might have internal bleeding, or broken ribs.”

“I don’t think so.”

“We’ll need to get you checked for other things too, soon. Make sure you didn’t contract anything.”

It took a moment for this to register, but when it did, Paulo blushed scarlet.

“It’s okay,” John assured him. His next gesture surprised him. Tenderly, he brushed the back of his knuckles to an unbruised spot on Paulo’s cheek. He was quickly becoming endeared to this unfortunate little pet. “You’re probably alright. And even in the event you did, it’s not your fault.”

“Is that why you didn’t want to?” Paulo asked, leaning his cheek almost imperceptibly into John’s knuckles.

John retracted his hand. “No. I didn’t want to because I am not interested in hurting you.”

“I said you could.”

“You and I both know it would still be hurting.”

Paulo laid his head back on the pillow. “I don’t understand what you want.”

“For starters, I want you to tell me what you want to eat.”

He didn’t eat much, but he did make an effort. John got the impression he was suspicious of every simple kindness, every time there were footsteps outside their door in the breezeway.

When he turned out the light and put a partition of pillows between them to sleep, he felt Paulo start awake every time a car pulled into the parking lot, or the AC beneath the window kicked on with a rattle.

“You’re okay,” he said drowsily from across the pillow divide, which made it feel more like bunking together and less like sharing a bed. “Nobody knows you’re here. Nobody knows where you are at all. That door is deadbolted. And I’m here between the rest of the world and you. You can sleep tonight. Nothing can hurt you.”

He doubted words would actually help, since the boy's nerves were probably completely shot, and who knows when was the last time he’d had a good nights sleep, and felt safe enough to do so? Still, he thought it should be nice to hear. It was the least he could do. He didn’t make any undue promises. Just tonight.

Whumpee cries for help as Whumper brutally jackhammers into them, but no one is around to hear. Not that Whumper ever makes any effort to silence them. Whumpees screaming and begging for him to stop is one of his favourite parts, knowing it’s him they’re afraid of as they shake and cry helplessly beneath him.

He cruelly takes his time, edging himself inside Whumpee - it’s only fair he gets his efforts worth after all. Whumper is the one in control, who holds all the power, and he will force Whumpee to endure taking him for hours if he wants. Maybe he’ll even keep this one? He does need a new toy after the last one wore out…

Mid-thrust Whumper spots someone watching them from the backyard. Whumpee desperately looks to the window to see another man staring at them in shock. Whumpee screams and begs them for help with renewed hope while the other man just stands there. Whumper laughs as he notices the mans pants tightening. He taunts Whumpee and picks up his pace, every intrusion feeling like they are being split in two, before Whumper invites the other man in.

Whumpee begins to sob at the sound of the second mans belt clinking as he releases himself from his trousers. He holds down Whumpees arms as he buries himself in their throat, restricting their breathing as he relentlessly fucks into Whumpees face.

The threat of what will happen if Whumpee even considers biting goes unsaid, but is heavy in the air. All Whumpee can do is hope it ends soon

(Spoiler: it doesnt)

1.

Eldwin's jaw ached. His knees dug into the hard floor, and his whole body was sore from being crammed under the desk with his hands tied behind his back and his mouth… kept busy.

Pierce reached under and ruffled Eldwin's hair like a dog, chuckling when he squirmed and made an indignant, though muffled, noise. "If you're going to act like a bitch, I'll treat you like one," he had said, when he'd ordered Eldwin to crawl under the desk. As utterly humiliating and degrading as it was, it was better than, in Pierce's words, 'bending you over the desk and inviting the whole office." So Eldwin, begrudgingly, obeyed. Meanwhile that fucker continued with his paperwork like Eldwin wasn't even there. The audacity, to drag him in here when he was just going about his business, only to practically ignore him the entire time. Eldwin felt like he shouldn't be annoyed about that, but fucking damn it, he was. At least then he might have something to think about other than Pierce's disgusting cock down his throat.

He nearly choked when someone knocked on the door - and Pierce said to come in. They talked for awhile, while Eldwin stayed there, trying to stay silent, desperate to go unnoticed.

Relax. Breathe. Don't make a sound.

Even if he was discovered, it wouldn't matter. He knew, by now, that he was on his own.

2.

"Oh dear. Your master is not going to be happy about this, is he?"

Eldwin scowled, glaring up at the warden who smirked, with her hand on her hip. "He's going to fucking kill me. Why don't you do something about that instead, huh?"

She chuckled, tilting his chin up. His eyes flickered to the mirror behind her - how many people were watching? "You don't want him to know, do you?"

Is she stupid? "Of course not."

"Then I think we can make a deal," she purred, in that tone. That tone that told Eldwin exactly what was about to happen.

He leaned back away from her touch, his arms handcuffed behind his chair.

She straddled him, draping her arms around his shoulders. "I'm not going to force you. It's your choice. You can walk away, this little secret kept between us. Or your master can collect you. What do you say?"

Always the same.

His silence was taken for an answer. Her soft lips pressed against his, and he leaned into it. As she reached around and his handcuffs fell away, he cupped her face in his hands, while hers tangled in his hair. It was fine. Go through the motions. Play the role. Shut it out.

He stood, supporting her with her legs wrapped around his waist, and set her on the table where they broke apart, a gleam in her eyes, an ache in his chest. She kept eye contact with him as she slowly drew up her long skirt. Taunting.

Do what you have to do, warlock.

He knelt down between her thighs, careful to avoid the mirrors gaze, and shut himself away.

3.

Each movement brought with it a pulsating agony. His back against the wall painfully chafed recent scars.

His nails clawed at Vivruh's shirt, tightly grasping the fabric. He stifled a whine, leaning his head against Vivruh's shoulder. Stay quiet. Don't make a sound. It shouldn't be so hard, but he was already so sore and exhausted. One day out of the house and he was still dragged into an empty room during the show interval because this freak of nature couldn't go five minutes without putting his dick in something.

Vivruh didn't care if they got caught - saints, he'd probably like it - but Eldwin froze every time he heard voices. Footsteps stopped nearby and Eldwin stiffened, his heart skipping several beats. Vivruh quietly laughed, slamming his hips to elicit a pained gasp Eldwin only just managed to catch. As the footsteps retreated, Eldwin closed his eyes.

Please, he silently begged, knowing Vivruh would hear. Let's just go home.

"You're the only one who cares," Vivruh said in amusement. Eldwin's distress was nothing but entertainment. "You have no idea what these people get up to behind closed doors." He leaned in, with a breathy whisper, "I'll show you one day. You'll see, darling, how good I am to you."

4.

"Get the fuck away from me."

"Aw, come on doll, don't be like that," he -boss, superior, he's in charge- jeered, pressing Eldwin against the wall. Gorireu Milddack. One of Pierce's trusted friends. "We're just trying to have some fun. The girls here are so uptight, but you…" He smirked, looking to his friends who all snickered. "Well, it's not like you've got anything left to save."

Eldwin bristled, his aether pulsing in his veins. If he could take those damn suppressants off… but no, there was a harvest soon. It wouldn't be worth it. Would it? His eyes darted around him, willing someone to walk around the corner.

"No one will save you," Gorireu whispered, pinning his wrists beside his head, savouring his racing pulse. "Come on, you spread your legs so easily for us last time."

Heat rose in Eldwin's cheeks. "I need to leave." He tried to wrench himself free, aiming a kick at his legs before he could think better of it. Gorireu yelped, but then his eyes hardened, a smirk creeping up his lips.

"You like to fight, don't you?" He leaned in close. "Go on, fight harder. Let's see where it gets you."

Don't fight a superior, a voice in his head warned, but in the moment Eldwin didn't care. As Gorireu crept closer Eldwin slammed his knee into his crotch. Gorireu let loose a string of expletives, and released his hold. Eldwin took his chance. He shoved him away and bolted down the hall, hearing the shouts of the others chasing after him. His mind was screaming at him, foolish, stupid, they're going to punish you - and he didn't know where to go. That wouldn't be a problem, though, for he was roughly caught by the arm and yanked back.

"What is going on here?" Clyde's cold voice rang through the commotion. Everyone froze, Eldwin included.

"Sir," Gorireu said with a respectful bow of his head. "Your warlock attacked me. Unprovoked."

"Is that so?"

"They wouldn't get off me!" Eldwin protested hotly. Clyde pulled Eldwin to face him, and let go.

Then Eldwin was sent stumbling, a sharp pain in his cheek. His eyes watered from the sudden impact but before he could even think, he was harshly forced to his knees, Clyde's hand in his hair holding his head down. Eldwin's body trembled, fire burning through him like the aether itself. But he kept his voice steady.

"I'm sorry sir," he said automatically, knowing what was expected of him. "It won't happen again." No excuses. You were in the wrong, always. It won't happen again.

"It should never have happened in the first place."

Gorireu scoffed. "Is that it? I think he should make a better apology than that."

Clyde met Gorireu's eyes, then looked down at Eldwin. "I have work to do." He threw Eldwin to the floor, towards Gorireu and his crew. "Bring him home afterwards. And go easy on him; there's a harvest soon."

Shit. "Sir, wait, please-"

Several hands grabbed him before he could get to his feet. Eldwin watched Clyde's retreating form with horror. The bastard didn't even look back once, as Eldwin was dragged into an empty office, the door closed behind them.

Gorireu grinned. "No one to save you," he reminded, as Eldwin shot him a glare all while shrinking back from his advancements. "You're on your own. Always will be."

BONUS

"What did you say it does to people again?" Eldwin held up the crystal box to the light, examining the bleeding ruby.

"It turns them inside out. They survive for a few minutes, with their face on the inside and their organs outside." Lord Efferis went dangerously pale. "I don't know why my mother insisted on keeping hold of it. Always frightened me to death just having it in the house."

"Malenthian's curses are always hard to come by. And even harder to break." Eldwin eyed it in total fascination. "How much do you want for it?"

Lord Efferis waved his hands. "Nothing! Please, just take it off my hands, you're doing me a favour." He glances at the box and shudders.

Eldwin placed it carefully in his deceptively small leather bag. "Thank you for contacting me. It will be safe with me."

Lord Efferis looked like he wanted to cry. "Thank you, thank you!"

As Lord Efferis walked away, Eldwin looked around. He couldn't see his friends anywhere. He weaved through the crowd, muttering excuse me as he brushed past.

"Well, look who it is."

Everything came to a halt. At that voice, that voice Eldwin had hoped he would never hear again. His feet were rooted to the ground, could hear his heartbeat in his ears as the room narrowed. He opened his mouth to speak, but came up empty.

Pierce held a cigar between his lips, a sickening smirk on his face. He clamped a hand down on Eldwin's shoulder, who flinched violently. He remained firmly in place.

"It's been awhile, hasn't it? What is someone like you doing in a place like this?" Pierce's voice dripped with disgust.

Eldwin's eyes darted around desperately. He would not turn around to look at Pierce, he would not. "I'm… here for work."

"Oh, I bet." As he said this he reached down to grope Eldwin through his clothes. Eldwin stiffened, instinctively squeezing his thighs together. The fabric rubbed against his scars.

"It's not like that," Eldwin defended. He didn't know why he felt the need to, or why he thought it would matter.

Heat radiated from the cigar dangerously close to his face. "Really? Isn't it? You don't think all of these people here would take you, if they only had an opening?" Pierce gave a pitying chuckle. "You've been playing at being human for too long. You're forgetting what you really are."

Eldwin flinched. His mouth ran dry. "Not here…"

For a moment he wasn't in that hall anymore, wasn't at that fancy event with his friends somewhere in the crowd. No, he was back somewhere long ago, pinned down and surrounded with cackling laughter, jeering, this is all you're good for…

Pierce burst into laughter. "I'm not going to fuck you," he said loudly, his glee evident in his tone. "I'm not going to touch you. Unless you want me to?"

"Stop it," Eldwin whispered. People were staring, he knew it. They were staring and muttering and everything he'd tried to escape, all that he'd thought he'd left behind-

"You do, don't you?" Pierce wouldn't stop. "Begging me to fix you, put you back where you belong. On your back, on your knees, over the desk for anyone who asks. You love it. Being that filthy fucking whore is all you're good for, all you wanted."

A pin drop would be heard in the suffocating silence. Eldwin couldn't breathe, couldn't think, with the dozens of eyes staring at him, snickering and whispering, muttering words he'd heard many times before, and no, not again, not again please!

He was roughly pulled back, pushed behind someone and he opened his mouth to yell, or cry, or beg or plead or something, when-

"It's okay, Eldwin," A gentle voice drifted through to him. "Come on, let's get out of here."

Numbly he followed, half-pulled along by this person and where were they going, his body knew what to do as he obeyed without thinking all while his mind begged no no no no it's been so long please no-

"Hey, breathe," that sweet sound said again, a little more distant. "I'm sorry for touching you, but you were really panicking in there. Can you hear me?" Eldwin nodded. The fresh air was pleasantly cool, and his head began to clear.

"Are you okay?" Desmeirth said, standing a few feet away with their hands held up in clear view.

"I- you- I'm fine. I don't- I'm sorry-" he didn't even know what he was saying.

"It's okay. That bastard deliberately upset you." Desmeirth tentatively lowered her hands. "I don't think he actually wanted to follow through, he was trying to gloat. Jokes on him though, he's made a complete fool of himself."

Eldwin wrapped his arms around himself, his face flushed. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

Desmeirth sighed, not angrily. She spoke in a firm manner, "You have nothing to be sorry for. He was the one taunting you."

"But I should have been better." That was always the way, wasn't it? He always should have been better. "I should have reacted better. I'll be better."

"You don't need to be better. It's okay." They'd said this a hundred times before. They were so patient with him, far more than he deserved.

He fell silent, staring down at the ground. "Did you do what you needed?"

He could hear Desmeirth's sad smile in her voice. "Yes. We will be meeting again sometime to discuss further. But I think she will cooperate."

Eldwin nodded, downcast. Pierce's words echoed through his head. His skin crawled with the eyes of the crowd and he hugged himself tighter, his shoulders hunched and tense.

"Everyone's on your side, you know. He was out of line."

"He was right." Eldwin hadn't meant that to be heard, but Desmeirth did.

"He was not right. You had no choice." Then, softened, "You did what you had to do to survive. No one can begrudge you that."

"I still- I still should've-" he froze, his mind drawing a blank. No, no not again. Despite himself he scowled, his fist clenched tightly at his side.

"Do you want to go home?"

"Yes," he answered immediately. "I want to leave. Please."

"Okay. We can leave." It was as easy as that. Somehow, it never failed to surprise him.

"Thank you," Eldwin said quietly.

"You don't need to thank me," Desmeirth reminded, as they had a thousand times before. "You know there's a new cat cafe opened in town? We should go there sometime. What do you think?"

A smile tugged at his lips. "I think I'd like that."

“Look at the mess you made on the floor.” “I'm gonna finish. You can lick that up when we're done.”

“It hurts!” “Shhh, quit screaming. Bite down on my shoulder.”

“Do it.” “But. You’re bleeding.” “Just do it anyway.”

“Whumpee…” “Haha. You see that? Every time I say your name you tighten up.”

“If this is your way of begging for my attention, it’s working.”

“Stop! I taste blood.”

“If you suck me off, maybe we can take the gag out for a little while.”

“Can’t you keep still for one second?”

“Don’t cry, Whumps. I hate seeing you cry…”

“I can’t do this, I can’t do this...”

“Lick my dick clean.” “Haa. It’s dripping out of your mouth. No, no, don’t spit it out. Swallow.”

“You closed your eyes.” “Don’t do that. Don’t fucking imagine someone else. It’s just you and me here, I’m the only one you’ve got.”

“Did he touch you? Did he fuck you?”

“It gushes out every time I thrust into you. Fuck. You’re so full that it’s spilling out...”

“Nono, stay awake. You’re the one who got me started, don’t pass out on me now.”

"Oh? So what have you taken up instead, hm? Smoking weed now? Maybe you're selling your body to get your rocks off, huh?"

Whumpee subconsciously grabbed the sleeve of his sweatshirt, keeping his eyes on the floor. "Whumper, I'm not —"

"Ohhh, don't tell me," Whumper broke out in laughter, grabbing Whumpee's arm. "You're cutting? Really? What are you, a thirteen year-old girl?" He rolled the sleeve back, revealing the barely-scabbing cuts. He ran a finger over them, looking smug. "Christ, what a charity case you are."

"Listen, I–"

"Pfft, that's just pathetic. God, I don't know why I bother wasting time on you." Whumper rolled his eyes, reaching to pull off Whumpee's shirt. "At least you're a good fuck, huh?"

"Can you stop interrupting me?" Whumpee bit back, getting frustrated.

"Oh, could you just shut the fuck up? Jesus Christ." Whumper slipped his t-shirt off, grabbing Whumpee and pulling him to the bedroom. "All you do is talk."

Whumpee bit down on his lip, following Whumper into the bedroom. He sat back on the bed, looking up at Whumper. At least the sex was usually good.

Whumper pulled Whumpee's pants off, looking down at his thighs. "Seriously? Here too?" He mocked Whumpee's cuts, pushing his legs apart as he took his own pants off.

Whumpee said nothing, shame burning his face. He fought back tears, watching Whumper approach.

The taller man reached down and kissed Whumpee in his rough, dominant way. His hand threaded into Whumpee's hair, tugging him into place as Whumper's tongue dominated his mouth.

Whumpee sunk into the kiss, relaxing and wrapping his arms around Whumper's shoulders. He was lowered onto his back as Whumper straddled his hips, pinching at his injured thighs.

Whumpee squirmed, wincing. "S- stop that, it hurts..."

"Well, you obviously like pain if you're willing to do this to yourself."

"I don't like it!"

"Tell me you do." Whumper pushed into Whumpee, stretching him out.

Whumpee cried out, biting his lip, "I don't!"

Whumper smacked Whumpee across the face. "Tell me you do, or I'll hit you harder."

Whumpee pressed his face into Whumper's shoulder, trying to cover up his tears. He clung to Whumper, losing himself in the rhythm of his thrusts. "I like it," he murmured against the man's sweaty neck.

Whumper pulled out his phone, the flash shining in Whumpee's eyes.

"Say it again."

"Whumper—?"

"Again."

"...I like it."

"Good boy," Whumper purred. "I'll save that for later, baby."

Baby.