Story 22 – A slip of the tongue reveals Stefan’s feelings for Scott, causing him to spiral out. Rowan forces him to face his own prejudices, convincing him to get out of the house and get the know the man.
The Manor was dim and eerily silent. There were no cars outside, nor servants to greet him. There was no music or sounds of pleasure or pain. Yet, everything was open, the lights were on. The place that never slept almost felt like it had been suspended in animation.
Surely someone had to be in. Scott, at least, given that his devotion to Stefan bordered on disturbing. To say he was a masochist hardly did him justice. There was no word for the amount of abuse he happily endured, or the number of years he’d willingly welcomed it.
Rowan abandoned the thought of roaming the many halls and dungeons in favor of checking Stefan’s quarters first. He’d have to pass Scott’s along the way.
He climbed the elegant marble staircase and headed towards the west wing when he heard the sound of glass break and a primal scream shatter the silence. Rowan’s heart quickened as he broke into a run. He knew that voice, but the manner of his expression was unheard of. Stefan was not a man that lost control.
He skidded to a halt in the doorway and took in a scene which offered few clues. A broken bottle by the wall explained the crash, but the state of the man on the bed was beyond comprehension.
Stefan was sitting against the headboard, hunched over in evident pain. His hands were on his head, fingers tearing at his loosely hanging, unkempt long hair. He was emitting a high-pitched scream through clenched teeth, oblivious to the presence of his friend.
His eyes wide with disbelief, Rowan stepped into the room. “Stefan?”
Startled badly, snapping out of trance, Stefan nearly fell over. Furious at the intrusion he rose to his knees, wild eyed and snarling with fury.
Rowan backed up a step, trying to ascertain Stefan’s condition. He was dangerous at the best of times, but right now, could prove deadly. It was obvious the man was drunk. Very drunk. He was struggling to focus and could hardly stay upright.
Rowan lifted his hands and stepped forward with caution, making it evident with his body language that he meant no harm.
Spitting with fury, Stefan reached for a new bottle and threw it hard at his friend, intending to do harm but failing badly, with no strength behind it. Rowan caught it easily and unscrewed the lid. Taking a deep swig, he then sat on the edge of the bed.
“Oh, won’t you just FUCK OFF!” his friend screamed.
Reeling from the stench of liquor on his breath, Rowan had a pretty good idea of how long he’d been at this. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Despite his compromised thinking, Stefan knew Rowan well enough to know the stubborn freak would pester him until he got some sort of answer. Groaning, he collapsed to the sheets, mumbling something in disapproval.
In an effort to get him talking, Rowan broke the ice. “‘What happened to your hair?” It looked as though he’d been pulling apart his trademark spikes thought violent tousling and jerks. It hung well below his shoulders, much of it still matted together with the heavy-duty hair gel he used.
“I don’t WANT IT,” he spat before falling silent again. Apparently, he wasn’t going to elaborate.
“Where is everyone?”
“GONE.”
“What do you mean gone? They left?”
“I kicked them ALL OUT.”
“Why?”
Stefan turned onto his side, desperately wanting to rid himself of this pest too. “Why are YOU here? Why don’t you ever just FUCK OFF?”
“Someone has to look after you.” Rowan replied, eyeing him up and down. “Apparently, for good reason.”
“Oh PLEASE. You’re a LEECH. You come here for the party, the free drinks, the drugs, and to fuck… fucking, fuck, fuck….” Stefan abandoned his rude gesturing, hands falling to his side, “No… you don’t.”
Rowan bit his tongue. It was actually a pretty good summary of what he did.
“You NEVER play the game,” Stefan continued. “An endless stream of people slobbering for my favor and you…?” he said, jabbing a finger into Rowan’s side. “YOU.”
Momentarily unable to find the words, Stefan gave up, his finger still on Rowan’s hip. His brow furrowed with the effort to think.
His face then turned sour as he snarled “You CARE” with great disgust, as if the word equated to being aroused by fecal matter.
Stefan propped himself up on his elbow, making a concerted effort to bring the friend next to him in focus. In a ludicrous parody of a romantic gesture, he reached his hand to Rowan’s chest, attempting to draw him closer.
“Make love to me.”
Rowan stiffened in alarm. Stefan’s need to dominate and abuse transcended gender, but when it came to being the receiver, the man was horrifically homophobic.
Carefully and cautiously, Rowan removed the pawing hand from his chest. Too drunk to acknowledge the rejection, and unable to hold himself up much longer Stefan sunk to the bed in defeat, staring at nothing.
“What happened?”
Stefan murmured “I gotta know…”
“Know what? Stefan, what the hell happened?”
Slurring his words, he belted out “I called Scott ‘Love’!”
Rowan froze, suppressing the urge to laugh. On any other day he’d be mocking him mercilessly for such a gaff, but his condition now suggested that somewhere deep inside, he actually felt something for the slave. The realization must have scared the hell out of him. He wasn’t supposed to have feelings. Most certainly not for a man, and especially not an underling.
“In front of a lot of people…” he concluded miserably.
Stefan then paused, letting the words linger. Hearing them out loud, in his own voice had a sobering effect. He couldn’t run from it now. It had become real. He sat up and propped himself clumsily against the headboard, looking haggard. Rowan remained silent.
Stefan looked at him and grimaced. “I was entertaining. Clients of mine, about eight of them. He brought me a drink. I looked right at him, right in the eyes and smiled. Told him ‘Thanks love’”.
When there was nothing more forthcoming, Rowan questioned the gravity of the situation. Surely such a slip was minor and readily deflected. “And?”
“I just looked at him, he looked at me!” Stefan cried, gesturing wildly. “The both of us turned bright red and for the first time in my life I hadn’t a fucking clue what to say!”
“THEN some of the assholes I was talking to started laughing and that was it, I fucking lost it. Just started swinging. Then I tore through the place and kicked everyone else out!”
With utmost care and even tone Rowan summarized his words to clarify. “You admitted, in front of clients, that you have feelings for your best aide?”
Stefan suddenly jolted back upright, with a vicious snarl, his eyes afire. “FEELINGS!!? WHAT FUCKING FEELINGS!?”
Rowan furrowed his brow in concern.
“He is NOTHING to me! A dispensable THING that I OWN and can UNown!!!”
With the last screeched syllable still ringing in Rowan’s ears, Stefan turned decidedly green.
“I’m going to be sick.”
Rowan cringed at the sounds of his friend clinging to the toilet for dear life, violently expelling a night’s worth of overindulgence. He held his long hair back with care, his other hand resting on a shoulder. Grim-faced he chided the pitiful thing.
“Right. This isn’t bothering you at all. You got blind stinking drunk and kicked everyone out because this isn’t hitting a nerve.”
Groaning in misery, Stefan slid to the floor, finding comfort in the coolness of the tiles. Rowan got to his feet and lifted him over his shoulder.
“I’ve watched you two for a long time. That man knows you better than you know yourself. He hangs on your every word, and he knows what you want before you do.”
“So what? That’s his job,” Stefan gurgled, limp and miserable. Rowan set him down gently on the bed and placed a pillow under his head.
“You talk to him like a friend. You trust him. You probably, actually like him, even though you don’t want to admit it. I’ve seen you smile when he’s around. A real smile, not one of your creepy I’m-going-to-fuck-you-up ones.”
“Fuck you.”
Rowan climbed up onto the bed next to him, taking his own place against the headboard. Stefan may be a depraved little bundle of brutality, but he wasn’t actually a sociopath. He just played one convincingly. He had the capacity to feel, or even love, but just refused to acknowledge it.
“Stefan, whether you like it or not, you two are already in a relationship.”
The pitiful shell of the dom wanted to turn and choke Rowan lifeless for suggesting it, only he sunk further into the pillow instead, losing the fight to stay conscious. “I’m not a fag!” he growled, with poor conviction.
“You fuck an awful lot of guys for a straight man.”
“DOMINATE!!! DOMINATE, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!! I’M NOT SOME FAIRY-ASS GAY!!”
Rowan looked down on him with slight amusement. “Fairy? Not at all. Gay? Good god no. You’re not one to limit yourself to a single gender. Or age, body type, or really anything at all.”
Stefan responded with a pained groan, closing his eyes, trying to ignore Rowan’s words.
Rowan took Stefan’s shoulder, forcing him to make eye contact. What he was about to say needed to be said face to face before he slipped away.
“That man worships the ground you walk on, and you can see yourself with him. You can’t run or pretend this doesn’t exist. Get the hell out of this house and get to know him. One night. One single, solitary night. You got that? ONE NIGHT!”
There was a brief moment of understanding, even through the drunken haze, then Stefan’s face turned sour and he spat “FUCK YOU,” giving in to the beckoning fog.
Rowan, though, was prepared to repeat it in the morning if he had to.
***
Stefan was in the suite’s kitchenette pouring two cups of coffee. He set the pot down, bracing himself against the counter, fighting a wave of nausea. Lost in thought and a splitting headache, he completely missed the sound of Scott approaching the doorway, looking concerned.
“Sir?” he ventured.
Stefan jerked upright, snapping out of his fog, then whipped around to face the audacious slave. What the hell was he doing here?
The vision of Stefan’s meltdown had been concerning. Scott knew he was on thin ice by coming back, but was willing to risk being tossed aside, or worse. “I just wanted to make sure you were OK.”
Stefan grimaced. The impropriety of Scott’s familiarity would have normally incited rage, but the hangover and revelations of the night before gave him pause. In a split second, he considered Rowan’s words, instead of leaping for the whip.
The younger man noticed two cups on the tray and fell silent. Seeing his unsettled reaction, Stefan gave him a curious look. “It’s just Rowan.”
“Right,” Scott stammered, his face turning red. So, it’s true. They really are in a relationship. He puffed out his chest and squared his jaw, but he was obviously rattled, bringing about a smile on the ailing man’s face. His aide had never been able to hide his emotions, but he never gave into them either. It’s why he liked him. He’d cry out, he’d wince, he’d shake with fear, but no matter how many times Stefan would beat him down, the stubborn pudgy thing would get right back up, always refusing to be defeated. It had been an endless source of entertainment trying to break him, that was until he’d done something no one else had. Earned the dom’s respect.
What was it Rowan said? Get out of the house.
“Where do you go when you’re not here?” he queried.
Flustered by the unexpected and odd question, Scott spluttered. “Nowhere. A motel. I just walk around.” After a pause he added, “there’s a bar.”
Stefan picked up the tray and gave him an unprecedented calm and gentle smile. “Let’s go there tonight. Just you and me.”
****
Cleaned up and over the crippling hangover, Stefan was waiting in his private garage, leaning against a black S-Class Mercedes. His hair was tied into a ponytail of notable length. Thinking about the poor boy’s reaction to his invite brought about a smile. Scott’s beet-red face and inability to speak had been quite telling. It’d also been highly amusing. Who knew that being nice to him could result in such a colorful reaction?
“Early of course,” he noted to the approaching servant.
Scott, wary, but intrigued, chanced a retort. “So are you.”
His response earned him a raised eyebrow but no retaliation.
Testing his boundaries, Scott remarked “I didn’t know you owned jeans.”
“I didn’t know you owned clothes,” Stefan snapped back, not missing a beat, then chuckled.
Scott sighed inwardly with relief. Friendly banter had passed the test. This really was to be a casual night.
Stefan pushed himself off the car and faced him. “THIS is going to be a completely and utterly NORMAL night. Two guys going out for a drink. No titles, no roles and absolutely no reference to this place or our little ‘relationship’”.
“You are not to call me ‘Sir’ or ‘Master’. My name is Stefan!”
“You are not to wait on me, tend to my needs or do any other stupid fucking thing that makes you look like my servant. It’s just two guys going out for a drink. Having fun. Getting to know each other. Got that?”
Curiosity was beginning to overwhelm Scott’s nervousness. “May I ask a question?”
“Tonight? Sure. And I’ll even answer it.”
“Is this, a date?”
Stefan’s eyes opened wide in disbelief but quickly changed to amusement. “Yeah, you know what, it is!” He then opened the car door with a wide grin. “And take off that fucking collar!”
As Scott’s heart leapt into his throat, threatening to strangle him from within, he removed the mark of his station, when his trembling fingers were able to function. “I like it…”
****
Past long-neglected houses and strip malls lie Scott’s choice of destination – a lonely bar in the shadow of a burnt-out streetlight. Next to it was a dire, two-story concrete block advertised as simply ‘MOTEL’. It looked abandoned, save for the fact that one window was lit – the office. A jarringly cheerful neon ‘open’ sign hung askew, the lights making up it border dashing round and round in an animated sequence. Below, was a propped-up piece of cardboard, with ‘hourly rates’ handwritten in heavy, block letters.
As if to offer a helpful suggestion as to this hour might be used, a prostitute stood leaning against the building partway down, taking a long, deep drag off a cigarette. She couldn’t have been any younger than thirty, wearing pink lingerie and a tight, high-riding white, leopard skin dress. While her abundant cleavage was impressive, she couldn’t have gotten many takers in this godforsaken wasteland. Still, she soldiered on with her apathetic gaze, dropped the exhausted cigarette butt onto the ground, squishing it out with a pink, patent, knee-high platform boot.
Stefan felt a shudder run through him “Remind me to give you a raise…“ he muttered. Though his voice had been barely audible, the surprised look on Scott’s face indicated that he’d heard every word. Choosing to park where it was best lit, the two came around the corner of the office, heading past the bored looking hooker.
“Hey, Candy.”
“Hey, Scott.”
“You doing all right?”
“Maybe,” she replied, eyeing the wide-eyed Stefan with great interest.
Bursting out a laugh, Scott exclaimed, “Trust me, he isn’t interested!”
“You gonna come see me, then? I got a room this time. 203.”
“I, uh,” Scott stammered, red-faced, glancing at Stefan with unease. “I’m kinda busy tonight.”
Candy shrugged, returning her gaze to the road. “Whatever. You know where I am.”
Taking her sudden disinterest as a clear end to the conversation, Scott cleared his throat, indicating to his companion it was time to move on.
Once a few rooms past, Stefan angrily hissed, “You come here to fuck whores?”
Scott’s head snapped around. “What? No! We never. We’re just friends!”
“Then why the fuck would you give two shits about some skanky cunt? She looks like she’d fuck you for two bucks and a bag of meth!”
“Candy? No, she’s not like that!“ he replied before looking down with an odd, shy little smile. “I’m just not interested, that’s all.”
Certain his words were a bald-faced lie, Stefan eyes fiercely penetrated Scott’s own, but there nothing but truth to be found. He genuinely had no sexual interest in the woman and was now rather confused by Stefan’s aggressive stare. “What?”
Dismissing it for now, Stefan squared his shoulders, conveying the message ‘let’s move on’.
Reaching for the door, Scott exclaimed. “Come on! Maybe we can get a table!”
Stefan eyed the bar through the window. It was virtually deserted. He looked back at Scott, who was now realizing the stupidity of his remark. Wincing, he was toying with the hairs on the back of his neck.
The kid’s nervous, Stefan thought as he followed him in. Nervous was, however, an improvement on ‘paralyzed’. Since mentioning the word ‘date’ Scott had spent his time trying not to hyperventilate his way into unconsciousness. For the entire fifteen-minute drive, Scott had been almost completely silent, even shell-shocked. Though, that could have been due to Stefan’s overly aggressive driving style. He’d calmed quite a bit by the end when it seemed likely they weren’t going to die, chancing the occasional furtive glance in his companion’s direction.
They’d only taken a few steps inside when there was a loud clang and the sound of shattering glass just to their left. Looking away from the boy, Stefan found himself facing an ashen faced, rather plain woman now goggling at the sight of him.
“Can I help you?” he asked, eliciting a jerky jump of fear, hands defensively held before her chest.
“No! No, it’s OK it’s OK” she stammered, dropping to the ground to gather the pieces of her spilled drinks. Her eyes never left his. Those eyes… she shuddered. They’re even colder than Scott said. Fully expecting hell to rain upon her for being in his way, she panicked, gathering up the broken pieces and tray, accidentally slicing through the side of her palm with a shard. Too scared to take time to register the injury, she blurted out an ‘excuse me’ before hurrying off into the back.
An aborted wave still in the air, Scott put on a mighty pout before turning back to his companion, switching to being thrilled. “It’s that great? Tess is here tonight! Might get a free drink out of her!”
Considering the woman’s reaction, Stefan doubted they’d get the drinks they planned on ordering much less free ones. He glanced at Scott as he waved him along to the bar. He was chattering on about her with great enthusiasm, seeming oblivious to the fact that she’d just been scared out of her wits.
“She’s really nice. She’s here almost every night, but not Monday or Tuesday, there’s practically no one here. It’s a shit job you know, but it’s amazing she does it, because she’s got a kid. He’s only two, I’ve seen pictures, but she’s lucky cuz her mother looks after him when she’s working. At least she’s got that, right?”
Stefan wondered why the fuck he should care and also, where the hell all this babble had come from? Scott was now stumbling through a bit of the bar’s history, pointing out something Stefan wasn’t interested in. What did catch his attention was that Scott’s speech was getting shakier. The calm and collected servant he knew was being reduced to a tongue-tied, bumbling teenager.
The now twitchy blond greeted the bartender with awkward wave “Hey! Hey, Joe,” he gushed before briefly freezing, hand still in the air. “Uh- Wait, what are we ordering? Beer? No wait, do you even drink beer? I mean, well, they have other things too. Drinks I mean. Vodka, gin, whiskey, but probably not the one you like. It’s not… it’s not the Ritz,” he concluded with a strained laugh.
Almost missing the fact that he was meant to speak now, Stefan cautiously said “I… prefer whiskey, yes, but I’m not averse to drinking other things.”
“Ah right, right. Oh right!” Scott exclaimed. Of all the stupid things to say. You know damned well he likes other things, you bring it to him. “You were downing shots of tequila with Rowan that once. Boy, were you ever sick that night. Threw up all over me.”
Stefan chuckled. “Yeah, but I won.”
“Your competition to see who’d stay standing? Oh yeah!”
Grumbling, Stefan squared his shoulders. “Asshole didn’t believe it. Said you were a biased witness.”
“You were on your feet for a whole five minutes more at least. Hey! I know. You ordered a case of that exotic stuff last month! I remember it. It was….” he said, trailing off as he perused the offerings on tap. Moving from one to the other with his finger he stopped on one tapping it with great confidence, crying “this one! I mean it’s not the same beer, it’s totally different, BUT if I know you as well as I know you are going to love this one.”
As Scott went ahead and ordered it without permission, Stefan chose not to question his judgement, nor his gall. Tonight, he was leaving his villain cape behind. Time to try a bit of laissez-faire. See where it would take him.
He looked around, wondering what made this place worth visiting. It was small, and a bit run-down. Most surfaces were worn to one degree or another, giving the place a patchwork appearance. The furniture and fixtures looked a few decades old, save for the bar stools. The imitation leather seats looked new, still perfectly formed and blemish-free. There were only four others in there tonight: two somber looking men at a table, one gawping at a TV screen and the last just standing, staring off into space. Some sort of rock music was playing on the loudspeaker, but not anything he was familiar with. All that stood out was a small stage at one end. A microphone stand had been placed front and central, but there was no microphone, nor anything else to suggest there’d be a performance that night.
Scott kept snapping his head back and forth – from the bar to his companion as he waited for the drinks to be served. He seemed to be having trouble deciding which expression to wear – scared, excited, nonchalant, or silently pleading with the bartender to come to his rescue. When drinks were finally in hand, Scott turned, looking around the room for a table. “Hey!” he said, indicating one near the back. “How about that one?”
Shrugging agreeably, Stefan chose once again not to question him. Let the kid lead tonight. “I’ll be over in a minute,” he said, gently cocking his head in the direction of the washroom.
“Oh- Oh yeah…. OK….” Scott said, trailing off. He watched him disappear, still standing stupid when an angry shout from Tess caused him to jump, spilling a few splashes of beer on his shirt.
“WHAT THE HELL DID YOU BRING HIM HERE FOR!?”
“He asked me out!!” he cried back, nearly as panicked as she. Placing the glasses on the counter, he stood, stunned and blinking. “Oh my god he asked me out.” All at once his whole self came alive with great, overflowing excitement. Grabbing Tess by the arm, he cried out, “TESS! HE ASKED ME OUT!! ON A DATE!!!”
Her bitterly sarcastic words hit him like a slap in the face. “REAL HAPPY FOR YOU SCOTT!!!”
As she stormed off, he suddenly realized his error. Tess does not want to meet your crush. Taking the beer back into his hands, he started walking to the table. Worry about it later. She’ll come around. She already knows she’s second best. Right now, you need to calm the hell down. You look like an idiot. “Do you drink beer?” he muttered to himself in a mocking tone. “Better hurry up, there’s only 11 out of 12 tables free.”
Placing the glasses on the table, he slid into a chair and waited, drumming his fingers on the surface’s edge. What are you supposed to say to him? Nice weather? He was still mulling over the question when he spotted Stefan coming back. He seemed, broody.
Stefan took one last look over his shoulder before sitting down. His face was a mix of bother and complete befuddlement. He took a careful look at Scott before stating, “The man by the bar thought I was a girl”.
Scott immediately tensed with alarm before realizing the flaw in his reaction. If Stefan had wanted to throw the man over the counter, bloodied and bruised, he would have done so already. Instead, he was now crossing one leg over the other, placing his hands on his knees with an inscrutable look on his face.
Scott swallowed carefully before asking, “What did he say?”
Stefan’s fiercely neutral look finally broke. “Nice tits!” he exclaimed, breaking into laughter. Looking back over his shoulder he cried “What the fuck was he drinking?”
It took every effort for Scott to not let his jaw drop to the floor. This couldn’t possibly be the same man who only three days ago flung a prospective client halfway across the room for eyeing his bare feet with disapproval. What the hell happened last night anyway?
The last he saw of Stefan, he was tearing through the Manor on a rampage, kicking everyone out. This morning he was uncharacteristically mellow, even agreeable. The only clue to his change of character was that Rowan was there, somewhere in Stefan’s bedroom. How the two were connected was anyone’s guess, but Scott’s mind kept leaping to the worst case scenario. Stefan had finally found love, and it wasn’t him.
He must have staring, dumbfounded for some time when the word “Scott!” broke him out of his stupor.
The young man blinked away the thought. Rowan wasn’t the one Stefan had asked out. Jumping on his date’s out-of-the-blue humor, Scott opted to test how he would react to his goofy charm. “Sorry!” he cried, turning sideways, beer in hand. His eyes firmly fixed on Stefan’s chest he took a swig and growled, “I got distracted by those luscious A. AAAaa. A. AAAA cups.” It was enough to get him a bit of a laugh, but not quite enough. He turned back to goggle, with wide and starry eyes. “I just wanna bury my face in that 1/8th of an inch cleavage, run my hands over those mini-mounds, and, like, really feel your heart pounding as you get ready to bash my head in.”
Stefan let out a good chuckle this time. It was everything Scott needed, to know he had the green light to just be himself. Sitting back into his chair, he tried to come up with another joke, but his mind refused to deliver. The silence grew increasingly awkward.
“Ok. So, now what?” Scott asked, eager to fill the empty air with something other than ‘nice weather’. “I can’t ask you about yourself because I know everything there is.”
“I sincerely doubt that.”
Scott coughed into a balled-up hand, sputtering, “afraid of spiders”.
Stefan froze. The Manor was clean and sterile for a reason, one not related in any way to the disgusting pastimes of the guests. “How the fuck-“
Unwillingly to break his momentum, Scott carried on in a cheery, animated manner. “Do you like sports? No, I already know that. How about new age music? Gardening? CROCHET?” he added wide-eyed, his fingers busily moving, as if flipping through a book to find the answer. “No!” he cried, getting the light-hearted chuckle he was looking for.
“Fine. Who are you?” Stefan asked with genuine curiosity. Up until now, all he knew about Scott was that he was quiet, obedient and could tolerate a great deal of pain. Around the staff he was more open, friendly, and good-natured. This talkative, joking thing before him, however, was a side to Scott he never expected. What else lie beneath the surface?
“No one,” Scott replied with a cryptic smile. There was a certain look in his eyes, as if challenging his companion to say any different. Stefan had nothing to counter the statement with. He knew nothing about the boy at all.
Jumping on the silence as a chance to move on, Scott brightened significantly. “Hey, you haven’t tried the beer yet!”
It took a second for Stefan to respond, still mulling over the mystery before him. Glad for the change of topic, he reached for the glass, taking an absent sip. As he was about to put it down, the full flavor hit him. It was surprisingly good. Taking a bigger mouthful, he then looked at the glass as if trying to figure out how it had ended up in this dive bar. “This is really… very good,” he said with great sincerity, looking over to Scott.
“I knew you’d like it,” he replied with cheeky smugness.
Eyeing him, Stefan carefully set the glass down. “Who are you, really? What’s your story?”
Knowing he had no escape this time, Scott grew serious, picking at a scratch on the table’s edge. “I, uh.. Shit mother. Shit life. Mistress came along and gave me a reward for my suffering,” he said, before looking up with a hint of a smile. “It felt good.”
“You get no reward from me.”
Scott retracted his hand, placing it his lap with the other. “I thought we were leaving work behind.”
“This is personal, not professional curiosity.”
Scott considered him for a moment before answering. “I don’t need a reward from you. My reward comes from me. I look at what I went through, what I survived and say “You did that. You. No one helped you.”
Stefan felt a sobering chill run through him. The kid’s stronger than I am.
Moving on, Scott brightened. “Hey, want to see something?” he said with a big lopsided smile, taking a handful of coins from his pocket. Laying them out, he selected a penny, setting it on end. With a flick of the fingers, he sent it into a spin. “Aaaaand I’m into football, hockey AND water polo,” said with a hint of superiority as if by liking three sports he was somehow better than those only able to devote their few brain cells to one.
“Water polo?”
“Umm,” he said, setting up another penny to follow the first. “It’s like soccer, with your hands… in a pool.”
Stefan snorted with amusement at the ridiculous description.
“And I bet a HUNDRED bucks that I can beat you in any video game!”
A sneer was all that was needed to convey Stefan’s feelings on what he considered to be a juvenile, low-brow pursuit. He spoke anyway, with deadpan disapproval. “Video games.”
Scott nodded enthusiastically, sending a nickel, then a quarter, twirling. “Actually, you’d kick ass. I can totally see you blowing zombies to bits.”
Stefan rolled his eyes, in a good-luck-with-that sort of way. “Maybe you can show me some time.”
“All right, all right, so you’re not impressed, but you gotta admit,” he began, raising a hand to eye level, setting the last coin into a spin on the tip of a knuckle. “I’m really good at spinning coins.”
“Where did you learn this, surely useful skill?” Stefan smirked, good-naturedly.
Scott’s eyes grew great and wide, pointedly avoiding looking at Stefan’s own. “I MAY have kept myself amused in the dungeon with a coin I found.”
Stefan could not keep gut-wrenching laughter at bay this time. “Why won’t you ever stay the fuck down!?” he howled.
“I don’t know,” Scott replied with a sly grin, losing the fight to keep his own giggles under wraps. “I guess you just piss me off!”
****
Stefan laughed aloud. Not the usual howl of triumph, or chuckle of sadistic pleasure, instead these were teary-eyed giggles refusing to be kept at bay. Since they’d arrived Scott hadn’t shut up once, pelting him continuously with ridiculous jokes and observations. They were all stupid, somewhat juvenile, and better suited to a frat house, yet they were having an effect.
“No, wait. THREE. THREE shots, bam, bam, bam, right off her cleavage. TEN BUCKS if you get ‘em all at once. Or five, five for two!”
Absolutely lost in Scott’s overenthusiastic rambling, Stefan wiped his wet eyes and cried “What the hell are you talking about!?”
“Breast pong! Or some other name, I don’t know, but you get drunk, win some money AND get tits shoved in your face at the same time!”
Stefan slapped a hand over his face, his shoulder quaking. He had, in fact, said he wanted no reminders of The Manor or their relationship and well, this was as far from that as it got. The kid was an irrepressible goofball, an unexpectedly hilarious one at that. He might have thought it was the drink, only this was just the second beer.
“I think I liked it better when you didn’t say a word!”
“No, you don’t, because you’re laughing!”
Stefan dropped his hand and furrowed his brow. “I laugh.”
“Not like this.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, tilting his head with mild interest.
“When you laugh, you’re terrifying, but this? This, I’ve never heard… You’re happy.”
Stefan’s smile diminished slightly as he considered the man before him. He was right, of course, but he couldn’t allow himself to admit it out loud.
It had been surprisingly easy to drop his guard. And why not? Scott had been at his side for years. Not for money or power or even a kind word. No begging for his favor or pleading for mercy. He had been given no reward but that which he had earned, nor had he demanded one. Of all the things the boy could have longed for, it was the two of them, sitting in a bar, making each other happy. Stefan had never seen Scott smile like this before or speak with such animation. It was strangely infectious.
There had been a moment when Scott became paralyzed, fearing an abrupt end to the merriment. People had been filtering in, and the place was beginning to look crowded.
Stefan had been perusing the bar’s offerings, hoping to find something to supplement the light meal that he’d had. Settling on peanuts, he was heading back to the table when a large, bearded man got in his way.
“Move it, pipsqueak,” Scott heard him say, bracing for the inevitable violence. Stefan had laughed off being mistaken for female, but any reference to his diminutive size would surely not go unchallenged. If there was one thing Stefan enjoyed, it was proving, through physical force, that his small frame packed a disproportionate punch.
It was to Scott’s utter shock than that Stefan merely smiled, raising a surrendering hand. “My apologies.” He stepped aside, waving the man through before returning to his seat.
Scott’s jaw nearly hit the table. “Who are you and what did you do with my boss!?”
The feisty dom laughed. “Didn’t expect that one, did you?”
“Seriously, did you hit your head or something last night?”
Stefan regarded him for a moment, his smile fading a touch anew. How could he admit to the man that he was the reason he wasn’t feeling too much like himself? From the moment they’d met in the garage something was different. He felt better, more comfortable, and now, of all things, was genuinely enjoying himself.
He had feelings.
The word was as distasteful as a mouthful of rotting fruit, but there it was. The suicidal alcoholic binge had slammed them against the wall, demanding to be acknowledged. Rowan had forced him to face them. And now Scott had drawn them out with the simplest of things. His friendly, exuberant, and outright normalcompanionship.
“So…” he said, tapping a finger on the table. “You’ve got a sense of humor. One of the many things it seems I didn’t know.”
The waitress from earlier passed them again. After disappearing for a while, she’d been finding reason to come closer, a little bit at a time. When Stefan showed no aggression, no sign of his reputed cruelty, she’d taken to studying him in furtive glances and eventually, open astonishment.
The boy was obviously smitten with her. Whenever she drew near enough, he became distracted and sappy, touching her whenever he could.
Stefan raised an eyebrow. “And you like girls.” That one had come as a surprise. He’d always imagined the servant as asexual. He’d never shown any interest in others.
Actually, that wasn’t correct. He had consistently shown interest in one person. Him. Why hadn’t he realized that before?
Scott watched her disappear into the crowd, distracted by her tight jeans.
Stefan coughed into his hand to bring him back. He responded with the same goofy grin he’d shown her.
“Do I know her? She seems to know me.”
“Tess? I, uh, I think you look like her ex.”
He knew the boy was lying and could tell from his face. The woman must have heard of him and he knew who from.
“Are you sleeping with her?”
Scott blushed, but kept his lips sealed.
“Apparently you’re not as asexual as I thought.”
A solitary explosive laugh flew out of the young man. “Asexual? Where did you get that from?”
“I suppose you must have had a life before me.”
“Oh sure. Girls, girls, girls. More than I could possibly count. Gave it all up for lousy hours, a shit boss and all the abuse I could take. I’m still hoping for that employee of the month award though. Keeps me going.”
Stefan grinned anew. “Over my dead body.”
On a sarcastic roll, Scott widened his heavily lashed eyes, hands between his knees, beaming wildly. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that. I mean, can I get my portrait in the front hall? Maybe a picture with you giving me the thumbs up? That would make everything SO worth it.”
The stupid kid had him laughing again. “You’re quite the chatter box when not under my thumb. You haven’t shut up once since we got here, with your stupid jokes and prattle.”
“Are you complaining?”
“You’re not what I expected.”
“What, a mute, scared little thing trembling in your presence? There’s more to me than that. Besides, have you looked at yourself lately?”
“Point taken.” He certainly wasn’t himself. Since when was he so taken by a fool, so happy to drop his guard and giggle like some smitten schoolgirl?
“What other surprises have you got for me?” Stefan asked with genuine curiosity.
The loudspeaker crackled to life. “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!! What you’ve all been waiting for – KARAOKE!!!”
Stefan’s eyes flew open in terror, his mouth hanging just as wide. “KARAOKE!??”
Scott leaned forward with a wide open, massive grin. He’d set a trap, thrilled to watch Stefan squirm for a change.
“Oh,” he howled. “You’re going to sing too!”
Horrified, Stefan shouted back “Not on your life!”
Scott eagerly waved down the waitress indicating an order. “Oh, yes you will! You’re just not drunk enough yet!”
***
Two hours later, the two found themselves leaning against the wall outside, doing their best to prop each other up. The roar of hysterical laughter filled the night air, drowning out the sounds of drunken singing from within.
“You are the WORST singer I’ve ever heard!” Scott belted out between gasping breaths.
Stefan wiped a tear from his eye. “I can’t ever show my face in there again!”
He then grabbed Scott by the shoulder and shook it. “That’s the most fun I’ve had since… Ah screw it, I have that much fun all the time!” breaking out in another round of howls.
Scott elbowed him in the side. “When you went up the third time, I thought that guy was going to kill you!”
Stefan punched the air, shadow boxing his imaginary foe, bleary eyed and giggling. “I could’ve taken him.” He then extracted himself from the wall and headed for the car, stumbling, totally intoxicated.
Scott trotted up next to him, alarmed. “You are NOT driving!”
“Fft. That’s what servants are for.” Stefan took out his phone and dialed.
“GET MY CAR!!!” he screamed at the unfortunate recipient before hanging up and starting to giggle again.
Scott stared at him incredulously. “Aren’t you going to tell her where it is?”
Stefan grinned. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Scott considered him with a wry smile but held his tongue. A moment later, the phone in his pocket started ringing.
“Yes? No sorry, I don’t know where it is. Have you tried the GPS tracker?”
Stefan’s eyes nearly rolled out of his head, mouthing the words ‘GPS tracker??’ Scott didn’t even try to mask his triumphant glee.
“Yeah, the one that looks like a target. Password? Try ‘ASSHOLE’, all uppercase. Good. See you tomorrow.”
He hung up with a pointed gesture, looking smug. Stefan was drunkenly eyeing the car, speechless for once. Seeing nothing obvious, he looked at Scott with suspicion.
“I didn’t get where I am by not knowing you.”
Stefan pointed a finger at the devious blond. “I underestimated you.”
Scott feigned innocence, pointing at himself with a grin. He then extended a hand, waving Stefan forward, saying “Come on, I’ve got somewhere to show you.”
***
Stefan was struggling his way up the steep, grassy hill, baffled at how his flabby companion could be so much lighter on his feet.
“Isn’t there a bus or something?” he grumbled.
Scott laughed. “Yeah, I’d like to see you on a bus.” He puffed out his chest with a swagger, doing his best to imitate the dom’s raspy voice and vicious snarl. “OH GOD. PEASANTS. What the fuck do you people roll around in? It smells like SHIT in here.”
Stefan grinned, rolling his eyes.
“You want me to PAY? For this motorized cesspool!?”
“All right all right.”
“Look you fucking CUNT, if you don’t speed the fuck up, I’m going tear out that gear shift and RAM IT UP YOUR FUCKING ASS!”
Laughing, Stefan propelled himself up the hill to give his tormenter a good-natured pummeling. Scott made a dash for the summit but his pursuer, far quicker, grabbed him by the back of his shirt and yanked him into his clutches, intent on throwing him down the hill. Unwilling to give in without a fight, Scott managed to grab one of Stefan’s legs and pulled hard, causing them both to fall to the ground in hysterics.
Landing hard, wracked with laughter, Stefan wound up partially pinned by the bright-eyed blond. His first instinct was to tell the fat fuck to get off of him, but his mouth was reluctant to move. There was something strangely welcoming about Scott’s body heat melding with his own. When the boy turned over, his great green eyes looking right into his, Stefan recoiled. They were far, far too close for comfort.
Scott popped back to his feet with youthful energy, extending a helpful hand to his stunned companion. Seeing the offer, Stefan slapped his hand into Scott’s and let the boy heave him upwards. He made it all the way upright when his head went into a spin. Scott grabbed him before he could take another tumble.
Stefan giggled lightly before resting his forehead on Scott’s chest. How far he had fallen in one night to be reduced to this undignified position. The whole situation was absurd. Lifting a finger, he quietly declared. “I am drunk.”
Scott let out a breathless “Yeah”, abruptly flung into overload. Hands still on Stefan’s shoulders, he softened his trembling grasp, praying the man wouldn’t hear the wild pounding of his heart. When his inebriated comrade showed no signs of moving, Scott relaxed his grip further, carefully moving his hands onto Stefan’s back.
“You smell like a girl,” came a gurgle from below. That being stated, Stefan lifted his head, taking a half step back. Scott let him go with some reluctance.
Stefan screwed his face up, as if unsure whether to disapprove or compliment. “Why do you always smell like lavender?”
Scott held his breath as he said, “Because you like it.”
Stefan looked at him blankly, caught in those emerald eyes. “Yeah… I do.”
Calling on every shred of courage, every confidence he’d gained over the years, Scott took Stefan by the shoulder and kissed him, slow and careful. Stefan’s eyes grew wide, lifting his hands as if to fend him off before giving in to the unfamiliar sensation.
Scott broke the embrace, searching for a reaction. Stefan merely stood dazed. “That was disgusting,” he finally said.
Scott nodded gravely, then put on his lopsided smile. “We’re almost there, come on!”
Stefan watched him scramble up the rest of the hill, wondering what the hell had just happened. He tried to forget the surprise kiss by closing his eyes, but doing so just made the image more vivid. In the end he chose to go with Scott’s strategy; to pretend it didn’t happen. He followed his footsteps soon after.
They eventually crested the hill to find the city glistening before them. Miles of unimpeded view, capped by millions of stars.
Stefan stopped astonished. “I never knew this was here.”
“You need to get out more,” Scott replied, climbing onto a wooden fence.
Stefan regarded him carefully then climbed up next to him. For a while, nothing was said as they both enjoyed the view.
“No one comes up here this late,” Scott remarked, still looking off into the distance.
Stefan took his eyes from the sight and looked carefully at the younger man, not wanting his glance to be noticed. He was just sitting there with a stupid, blissful grin, like a simpleton. The more he considered him, the more he realized what had been in front of him all along.
“How long have you been in love with me?”
The abruptness of the question hit Scott hard, but there was way to run from it. His secret had become evident. “A year and a half,” he quietly answered.
Stefan’s expressionless gaze never wavered. “Is that why you stick around? Why you put up with it all?”
Scott smiled, somewhat pained, refocusing his attention to the ground. Stefan turned his head to stare blankly into the distance. Seconds passed with nothing more said, Scott feeling dread creeping in. “I was… I was hoping the feeling was mutual,” he said with trepidation, chancing a look in Stefan’s direction.
Stefan looked back at him with an odd, wary expression, slowing shaking his head. As the movement slowed further, then came to a stop, he looked confused, quietly saying “I don’t know.”
Scott gained control over his anxiety, latching on to Stefan’s uncertainty. It wasn’t a no. “You’re still on the fence.”
Stefan gave him a questioning look.
“Literally. On the fence. Right in front of me. You haven’t moved, haven’t stormed away. Not one ‘fuck you’ or a beating. You haven’t once acted like yourself tonight, and despite everything, you’re still sitting right here, right near me.”
Scott slid closer. “You meant what you said last night, didn’t you? When you called me ‘Love’. You meant every word when you were high on ecstasy, too. You kicked everyone out because you knew it was the truth, you just couldn’t face it.” He lifted a hand to Stefan’s cheek. “You really are in love with me, aren’t you?”
“I really am drunk,” Stefan replied, giving in completely when Scott leaned forward to kiss him again, deeper, with long pent-up passion. With all barriers now dismantled by the drink, soon Stefan was responding in earnest.
They broke off, gasping, Stefan reeling. His whole world was flipping upside down. He’d always been the tyrant, the ruthless tormentor. This submission was so unnatural. When Scott leaned in again to continue, Stefan brought an insistent hand onto his head, directing him downward towards an act more familiar. Scott understood right away, hastily dismounting from the fence.
As Stefan felt himself unzipped and handled, he closed his eyes, bracing himself. Scott had done this countless times before. It was fine, it was far less personal than locking lips. He could live with this.
All at once the kid’s mouth was all around him, with an eagerness that had not been permitted before. Slaves were meant to be fearful, submissive, not this. Far from the usual ‘nonconsensual’ heavily dominated servitude, his fingers roamed freely all over Stefan’s body, smoothing hands between Stefan’s thighs, caressing with unbridled enthusiasm. Stefan snapped open his eyes to see Scott wrap his hands around his hips, pulling him further down his throat. It was then that he looked up, leaving Stefan staggered by his blazing, wanting eyes. “Jesus FUCKING Christ.”
Head bobbing up and down with zealous effort, Scott busied himself bringing Stefan to quick climax when the air was split by “WWHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!! GIVE ‘ER THE HIGH HARD ONE!!!”
Red-faced, Stefan jumped off the fence, stuffing himself back into his jeans. Snapping around, he turned to face whoever spoke. Three men stood on the path of indeterminate age. Thirties, forties perhaps. It was difficult to tell in the dim light. One was taking a swig off a whiskey bottle while the other two laughed at his little joke.
The one in the middle abruptly froze. “Shit they’re two guys!” he yelled, to the horror of his mates. Scott had just stood up, wiping his lip.
The one on the left stepped forward lifting a beer bottle. “HEY FAGGOTS! WHY DON’T YOU SUCK ON THIS?” He tossed it hard, but it fell short.
Stefan shook his head violently. What the fuck had he been thinking?
“FUCKING HOMOS!”
“You took advantage of me!” Stefan cried, pointing an accusing finger at the younger man.
“Now’s not the time!” Scott hissed.
The largest of them yelled “HEY YOU FAT FAIRY, WHERE THE FUCK D’YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING?”
Stefan visibly snarled.
“AWW. YOU MADE THE LITTLE ONE MAD!”
“Little one?”
At 5 foot 5 inches, with an unusually small build, Stefan wasn’t exactly imposing. He was, however, stronger than he looked, fast, and had been winning fights since he was six.
Unable to allow this comment to go unchallenged, he yelled “WHY DON’T YOU SAY THAT TO MY FACE?” The men were happy to oblige, quickly coming nearer.
Scott grabbed him by the shoulder and implored “Stefan! Let it go!” but the man wouldn’t listen and balled his fists, making to meet the three head on.
Scott felt his stomach wrench. This would not end well. He had to do something and fast. In a desperate attempt to stop Stefan’s certain advance, he darted in front of him, eyes pleading.
“WALK AWAY! This is not The Manor! You hurt them, you go to jail!”
“Get the hell out of my-“ Stefan began, but his words were lost by the sudden sound of glass breaking and Scott’s lurching to the side.
For a moment there was silence. Scott recovered his footing and brought his hand to the side of his head, feeling a warm wetness. Confused, he took his hand away to examine it, finding it covered in blood. All at once, Scott disappeared, yanked backwards by an unknown assailant.
Stefan blinked. It had all happened so fast. He saw the man pull Scott off his feet and saw the other two start to punch him. His face, and stomach were battered rapidly, one even kneed him hard in the groin. Stefan just stood there impotent. It was too unreal. Scott’s cries of pain snapped him back to reality.
“GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF OF HIM!!” he roared, with a voice drawn from deep within. Two laughed in response while the third grabbed Scott by the collar and threw him to the rocky ground.
A sickening crack cut through the air, as a pool of blood rapidly expanded from where his head lay. Scott fell limp.
Blinding rage overcame Stefan, blocking out all thought. An ungodly snarl rose from deep inside, summoning with it a fury unlike any he’d unleashed before.
Leaping forward with astonishing speed, he grabbed the man who’d thrown Scott to the ground by the arm with both hands, twisting violently until it snapped with a resounding crack. He then flung him to the side, knowing the bone was broken without needing to look. The man’s screams confirmed it.
Sensing the proximity of the second, he spun and kicked out hard and fast, hitting another firmly in the groin with all his strength. A cry of exquisite pain bellowed from his lips as he fell.
Finished with him, Stefan turned to face the remaining member. After seeing how easily he’d dispatched the strongest amongst them, he turned tail and fled.
Stefan turned around slowly, fearing the worst. “…Scott?”
***
Rowan walked briskly down the hospital corridor, worry turning to panic. He’d received a brief and cryptic call from Stefan that had left him cold. “Get over here. Hospital. It’s Scott,” then nothing more. When his inquiries had turned up empty, he’d slipped past security and began searching the emergency ward. It was there that he found his friend.
Stefan stood with his back against the wall staring into space. As Rowan neared, he could hear him muttering under his breath.
“Stefan. Stefan!” he called. “What the hell happened?”
“All I had to do was walk away,” he repeated, showing no sign of recognition.
Rowan grabbed him by the shoulders and forced his eyes to meet his. He was limp and cold, his dull gaze unfocused.
“Stefan for god’s sake,” he said, shaking him gently. “Where the hell is Scott?”
He looked confused at first, then turned towards a nearby room, lifting his hand with excruciating slowness, his finger trying, but failing to point.
Stefan was breathing and unhurt, but possibly in shock. Rowan let him go gently and quickly checked his pulse. It seemed good enough for now. His needs would have to wait. He turned his attention to the neighboring room.
Scott lay on the hospital bed, unconscious. Bruises and welts colored his face and body. His head was wrapped in layers of bandages. A monitor pulsed a steady beep. It offered no clues to his untrained eye. Scott was clearly in bad shape, but to what extent?
He heard a shuffle behind him and turned to see Stefan in the doorway, shakily grasping the frame. “He told me to walk away.”
Rowan’s anger began to rise. He stepped toward Stefan, fists clenched “Did you do this to him?”
Stefan once again looked at him with confusion. “It was my fault.”
Rowan’s hand shot out and took him by the collar. With rising fury, he snarled “If you did this to him, I’m going to break every bone in your body!”
Stefan lifted his hand, staring blankly at his own fingers, a hint of consciousness sparking. “No. I didn’t. They did this. Those men.” He looked up at Rowan, brow furrowed. “I think I hurt one of them.”
Rowan loosened his grip and inwardly sighed with relief. Stefan may have had difficulty reconciling his feelings for the man on the bed, but even he wouldn’t have hurt him so severely.
His chance at getting to the truth was cut short by the arrival of the doctor and two police officers.
“Mr. Ackermann?” the doctor began, as Stefan began to awake from his daze. “Mr. Ackermann. These officers would like to speak to you about your partner’s injuries.”
“What did you call him?” Stefan snarled.
“I’m sorry, your…?”
“Employee!” Stefan spat in deflection. “An idiot employee who nearly got himself killed!”
If the officers were fazed by the outburst it didn’t show. The first asked “Could you tell me what happened?”
“He saved me,” said a weak voice.
All turned to find Scott awake and trying to sit up. A wave of dizziness and nausea overcame him as he dropped back to the bed, haggard and spent.
Stefan took a cautious step forward, watching the young man close his eyes and slip back into unconsciousness. He swallowed his vulnerability, snapping back to the doctor.
“I have my own medical staff! As soon as he is stable, I want him transferred to my care!”
“Sir I really don’t think…”
“I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU THINK!” Stefan screamed, as Rowan grabbed his arm, pulling him back.
“You need to calm the fuck down!”
Stefan, now shaking, glared at Rowan, but didn’t ignore his words.
“Mr. Ackermann?” the second officer inquired.
Stefan closed his eyes briefly and took a few deep breaths, encouraged by Rowan’s vice-like grip of warning. “Yes. I’m sorry.”
The report was eventually completed, but Scott didn’t reawake that night, nor did Stefan return to the room. The next morning, he was transferred back to The Manor where he could be cared for by Stefan’s own medical team, no expenses spared.
***
Rowan seethed with rage, hearing from staff members that Stefan had been avoiding the injured servant. The little prick’s callousness was barely tolerable on most days, but this crossed a line. He found him not far from Scott’s room and gave him one more chance.
“Hey, how’s Scott?”
Stefan bristled with annoyance, storming past without even a look in his direction. “How the fuck should I know?”
Rowan grabbed him and looked him hard in the eyes. “You haven’t seen him?”
Stefan ripped his hand away. “Why should I care??”
With speed and unexpected violence, Rowan grabbed his repulsive friend and shoved him hard against the wall.
“THAT’S IT!! I have seen you beat, break, and demean that man and for a reason I can’t fathom he keeps coming back!”
“Get your hands off me!’
“SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!” Rowan bellowed, then took out a knife and sliced him across his upper arm.
Rowan held the blade to his throat, leaning in closer with a threatening snarl.
“You are going to listen to me. You’re not going to like it, but you are going to listen.”
“You are going in there and you’re going to be a decent human being for once in your life. He got hurt saving YOUR ass and YOU need to make this right!”
Stefan stood dumbstruck, stunned by both the blood running down his arm and Rowan’s unhinged rage.
“I’m no faggot!” he said weakly.
“I have had enough of you and your ridiculous prejudices! You’ve been in a relationship for months and you don’t even see it!”
“I feel nothing for him!”
“Nothing?” Rowan challenged. “Name one other servant or slave who has held your attention for more than a week. ONE person you’ve trusted with even a fraction of the tasks you give him. A single person you spend even half the time with!”
“And what!? You want me to write him a good letter of recommendation?” Stefan spat.
“Oh, I’m just warming up. He’s not just an employee.”
“You do feel something for him. Appreciation, comfort, companionship, whatever the hell you want to call it. And you know it’s there. And I know you know it because you nearly drank yourself to death trying to block it out.”
“You trust him, you rely on him, and you like his company. Tell me, when was the last time you really abused him? How long has it been since you violated him? Used any part of his sex to amuse you? How long have you cared for him enough that he stopped being your plaything?”
Stefan stood frozen in stunned silence.
“What made you shed your fierce exterior and go out with him that night – as equals? What possessed you to kiss him back on the hilltop? What made you stop and go back for him when he was being beaten within an inch of life? Break a guy’s arm with your bare hands? Why the hell did you care?”
“I…”
“Stefan, I am not your enemy” Rowan said gently lowering the knife.
With renewed vigor, Stefan shouted “I don’t want this!”
Rowan grabbed him harder, speaking mere inches from his face. “YES, YOU DO!!!”
He yanked the man roughly and dragged his struggling form to Scott’s room, knife at his throat again. Throwing open the door, he launched the combative figure into the room with great force. Stefan landed hard on the floor then scrambled to his feet, desperately trying to regain composure, his face a mix of fury, confusion, and panic.
“DEAL WITH IT!!” Rowan screamed then slammed the door.
Scott was sitting up in bed, wide eyed, mouth agape. Seeing the blood running down his master’s arm, he moved to get off the bed and help him.
“YOU DON’T FUCKING MOVE!!” Stefan screeched, causing him to freeze.
Desperate to save face, he looked at his arm, buried his vulnerabilities deep inside and brought forth pure seething rage.
“SON OF A BITCH!!”
With his free hand, the infuriated man heaved objects off the nearby stand, grabbing the cloth they rested on. Bunching it up, he pressed it hard against his bleeding arm, trying to stem the flow.
With the immediate problem resolved he froze, not knowing what to do next. Stefan was left vulnerable, his emotions bare. There was no rage for the man on the bed, but he had little experience of how to just talk. Swimming with confusion, he stood in the middle of the room, feeling like he was surrounded. Now what?
Scott carefully and slowly removed the bandage from his head, holding it out with hesitation. “Let me wrap that” he said quietly.
Defeated, Stefan’s shoulders dropped. He’d been provided with an out. It was just Scott, doing what he always does. Tending to his needs. Uncharacteristically quiet and introspective, Stefan sat on the bed within easy reach.
The silence remained while the dutiful servant cleaned his wound, sacrificing a pillowcase in the process. He’d guessed it was Rowan who did it, and why, but wasn’t fond of the method. It would likely leave a scar.
As he wrapped his own bandage around it, he advised “You’re going to need a couple of stitches.”
Stefan remained silent, wrestling with his thoughts. He’d been avoiding Scott’s eyes since he entered. He couldn’t avoid it any longer, and slowly looked over, his gaze immediately drawn to the uncovered head wound. Angry colors surrounded the jagged stitches and his hair had been shaven.
His focus had not gone unnoticed. Neither had the guilt etched on his face.
“It’s getting better.” Scott assured. “The concussion is mostly worn off.”
“Are you in pain?”
“Nothing I can’t handle,” he said with a smile.
Stefan nodded, returning to his averted gaze, conflicted. It was Scott who broke the silence.
“You knew you couldn’t sing, and you went up there anyway.”
Stefan tensed at the unexpected statement. “So?”
“You didn’t do it for yourself. You did it for me.”
He was right, yet the dom refused to acknowledge it. “I was drunk.”
“You did it for me.”
Stefan’s face softened. There was no sense fighting this. “Yes,” he admitted, much to Scott’s surprise. “I had fun that night. In a way that’s apparently reserved only for you.”
Stefan turned his head to give him a pained look. “I’m never going to be what you want. I’m not kind or caring. I’ll never get butterflies over the sight of you or put your needs above mine. You want my heart, but I haven’t got one to give.”
“I know,” Scott replied softly, with a wistful smile.
“But I am fond of you,” Stefan admitted.
He thought for a moment then grumbled “move over”, taking his place against the headboard next to the stunned servant.
“I-“ Scott began before Stefan raised a hand to cut him off.
“Shut up.”
The only sound remaining was the wild pounding of Scott’s heart. Everything that he’d been through seemed worth it for this moment. The heat from Stefan’s body, pressed up against his, was given freely. No drink or intoxicant impelled him this time.
Slowly, the young man crept his fingers over to wrap around Stefan’s own, elated when it became clear the man was letting him. Happy to push his luck, Scott shuffled downwards a bit to lean his head on Stefan’s shoulder.
Stefan seemed both appalled and amused. “Cheeky little shit.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
His companion had no words.
“That’s right” Scott grinned. “There isn’t a thing you can do to me that I won’t enjoy,” he boldly stated, earning a hearty chuckle.
Resigned to his fate, Stefan made himself more comfortable. “I could get used to this” he mused.
“This?”
“You, me. Sitting closer than I’m used to. Just, enjoying each other’s company.”
Scott settled further into Stefan’s chest and shoulder with a smile of contentment. Pushing his luck once again, he turned a bit and placed his right hand on Stefan’s taut belly.
Stefan curled his lip, his eyes popping open wide, before deciding he could live with this repulsive turn of events. He let out a sigh of resignation, thought for a moment, then lifted his hand around the young man’s neck, gingerly letting it rest on his shoulder with a wince.
“How the fuck did I end up in this situation? You’re supposed to be trembling at my feet, not snugglingup against me.”
“You’re the one letting me do it.”
“You’ve got an annoying habit of not giving up.”
Scott turned to smile up at him. “It’s gotten me this far.”
In saying the words, Scott had also managed to slide his free hand onto Stefan’s chest, running it along the curve of his pectorals. Stefan picked each finger off, like they were especially repugnant leeches. “You’re testing my patience,” he said with a warning.
The young man was disappointed, but grateful Stefan hadn’t shooed him off his shoulder as well. They sat in silence for a minute before Scott’s voice broke the moment.
“You’re going to end up with a scar. That perfect arm of yours is ruined.”
Amused, Stefan replied “Perfect, huh?”
“I can’t help it, you’re hot.”
Stefan smirked. “Shame I can’t say the same about you.”
Scott turned his head, batting his thick lashes. “I am the perfect amount of cute and cuddly to make you look hotter and meaner,” he said, getting the laugh he was hoping for.
Nestling deeper into the warmth of Stefan’s shoulder and chest, Scott idly brushed his fingers along the man’s other arm.
“Can I tell you a story?”
Stefan groaned. “Not this idiocy again.”
“It’s not that kind of story,” Scott replied, removing his wandering hand. “It’s about this all-around great guy that everyone likes. He’s funny, and nice, and would never hurt anyone.”
“It’s you,” Stefan muttered with dry, deadpan tone.
Scott ignored his words. “He started off a total loser. Just kinda existed, and that’s about it. Felt sorry for himself all the time. Let his boozy mom tell him he was crap, and just became that. Got kicked out of the house when she found his dominatrix porn. So, he dropped out of college, he wasn’t doing great anyway, and mooched off his friends.”
“One day he met a real, live mistress. Mistress put him through shit but gave him a happy ending. He really liked it. Made misery worth it and he got hooked. Every time he got whipped, he felt like a million bucks after. Confident, strong, but it never lasted. It just wasn’t real and wasn’t ever enough.”
“Then, one day, he went to this wonderful place, and saw this guy named Stefan absolutely brutalize this guy named Pig and thought, this guy is the path to my salvation. He never knew, not until now, that I’d been there that day, even though he looked me right in the eye when he passed. I thought, if I can survive him, I’ll be the greatest person I can ever be.”
Stefan noted the switch to first person but remained silent, searching his memory for the moment referenced, finding nothing. He’d been out of his mind on coke every time he dragged that pricey rent-a-masochist, Pig, up on stage.
“So, I worked my ass off to make sure I ended up in his hands. And I did. It was horrible and it was great. I thought I was going to die so many times, but I didn’t. I turned misery into the best thing that ever happened to me. I worked harder, stopped feeling sorry myself and I even taught myself a ton of new skills. There was nothing I couldn’t do.”
Scott extracted himself from his comfortable place curled up on Stefan’s shoulder, sitting up. “Thing is, after a while, I also turned into one sick, sick, puppy,” he concluded, a depraved flash in his eyes.
To Stefan’s alarm, Scott swung his leg over the man, straddling his hips. Stefan braced himself, but there was no advance, no attempt to seduce. Scott merely raised his left hand, with a little waggle of his fingers. All but one. His middle moved but would not bend in the way the others had. He looked at that one with fondness.
“I like being just a little bit crippled,” he said. “It reminds me of how it happened.”
Reluctant to drop his guard, Stefan remained wary, and rigid.
“It was the first time you seriously hurt me. Well, one of the times. You broke three of these little feelers, then sent me on my way with them all splinted up. I was supposed to take painkillers, but I didn’t. Sorry,” he said with a sheepish shrug. “I don’t normally disobey you, but I liked how much they hurt.”
“The next day when I heard you in the other room, I got the biggest, hardest erection I’d ever had. I thought my balls were going to twist into knots. I knew you’d see it under that loincloth, so I hid in a closet. You were so mad,” he chuckled. “You kept shouting, looking for me.”
“I kept thinking about what you were going to do to me, and I couldn’t help myself. I took off the splint and started jerking myself off. My fingers were just this BLAM!” he exclaimed, spreading the fingers of both hands wide in illustration. “An explosion of pain. I had to bite down on my other arm so I wouldn’t scream. I came so so so hard, it just kept coming until there was nothing left in me.”
Scott’s budding erection had become evident, straining against the light fabric of his boxers. His body aflame from the memories, he pressed himself against Stefan’s groin, with a slow grind.
“That was the first time what you did to me got me off. I fucked up my finger doing it, but what can you do, right? I’ve been jerking myself raw to you ever since.”
His own arousal becoming plain, Stefan slipped his hands onto Scott’s hips, angling himself into him. Scott’s lips curled into a hungry smile as he placed a hand on the headboard, boring fiery eyes into his.
“I am the only person who can take the worst you’ve got and beg for more. You can burn my flesh, cut off my limbs and I will still be there to kiss your feet.”
Slipping his free hand down, Scott undid Stefan’s leathers to fondle his raging hard-on, quivering at the light gasp it elicited.
“I love every time you throw some rich idiot against the wall. I imagine it’s me when you sodomize some slave. Every time a client disappointed you it was me that found you someone better. You have no idea some of the lies I told, to get them on your table. All to see you happy.”
Scott leaned in until his breath could tickle Stefan’s ear. “I will bring you anything you ask for. I will cook, clean and run any errand at the snap of your fingers.”
Stefan grabbed him by the front of his white, generic shirt, squeezing hard. “I’m feeling something stronger than ‘I’m fond of you’”.
Brushing his heated lips against Stefan’s trembling own, Scott replied, “I would do absolutely anythingfor you.”
“You’re perfect,” Stefan whispered, pulling him into a passionate kiss. Unbridled want drove his hands to seize and caress, every wall built around him crumbling to dust. His wildest dreams now being realized, Scott flung his arms around his neck, giving himself completely to Stefan’s will.
Unable to hold back any longer, Stefan shoved him hard down onto his back, pulling off his lightweight shorts then ridding himself of his leathers. Bringing Scott’s legs up, he spat out a thick wad of saliva into his hand, spreading it on the tip of his own cock. Positioning himself, he pressed it into, but refused to fully penetrate the eagerly squirming servant’s ass.
With a wicked grin, he wrapped the fingers of one hand around Scott’s index. “How about another memento?” he purred, reveling in the boy’s excited whimper.
Scott threw his other hand over Stefan’s own, chest heaving with wild anticipation. “Yes, Master!”
The piercing sound of agony and ecstasy filled the air as Stefan snapped the finger with considerable force while giving Scott the driving thrust he so desperately wanted.
For anyone unfortunate enough to have heard it, or anything that followed, no doubt would remain in their minds. The man thought to be incapable of love had found his match.
****
Morning found the couple fast asleep, with Scott curled against him, his arm wrapped around his new lover’s waist. A makeshift splint bound the four fingers of his hand, three gleefully dislocated, one broken in the couple’s sick, so-called ‘lovemaking’. A loud knock at the door startled them awake. Scott bolted upright with a look of panic, crying out at the painful reminder to be more careful about what he propped himself up with. “OW! Shit! Yes?” he shouted.
“Your breakfast sir.”
Stefan rolled over, pulling the pillow over his head, clenching his teeth in irritation. “Fucking servants!” he snarled.
Scott shot him a look as he tried to gently shake out his now throbbing hand. Turning back to the door he called, “Just leave it! I’ll get it when I’m ready!”
Stefan removed the pillow, still annoyed. Seeing Scott, he softened and said, “I’ll get it.”
He returned with the trolley, looking a bit bemused. Leaving it by the bed, he fell against the wall and started to laugh. Scott was gobsmacked.
Curious, he looked at what the servant had brought. Two full meals.
“So much for secrets” he muttered with a grin.
Once both their injuries had been discreetly addressed, Stefan was walking down the hall absently twirling a crop. He was so lost in thought, he never even noticed Rowan leaning against a wall. He’d been waiting some time for the man to emerge.
“You’re in a good mood this morning,” he remarked to his friend’s back, causing him to jump.
Caught by surprise, Stefan whipped around, ready to repay him for his mangled arm, then stopped. Momentarily lost for words, he simply pointed at the slender irritant. After a few seconds, he relaxed completely, offering Rowan a contented and genuine smile. “Thanks.”
Remembering the breakfast for two Stefan muttered “Does everyone know?”
Rowan could hardly hide his gleefully guilty grin. “The general consensus is ‘It’s about time’”.
Stefan lifted his hands in defeat.
“What are you going to do now?”
Stefan kneed him with moderate force in the groin. “That’s for my arm!”
He then grabbed the agonized man by the shoulders and kissed him hard and long.
“That’s for everything else!” Stefan cried as he walked off laughing.
Flickering Lights 
Leave a comment