Inherent Cost

by Alicia Cameron

  “Can you take a little heat elsewhere?” Wren asked, wiggling the fingers that were buried deep in Jere’s ass.

  “Fuck yes,” Jere replied, an excited shudder going through his body. “Please?”

  Wren laughed, working the heat on his other hand as well, and feeling quite proud as Jere squirmed and moaned for him. He loved that sound, and he loved knowing he was the one doing it.

  “That is so amazing,” Jere mumbled, his body rocking almost in time with his words. “Get me all warmed up and then fuck me?”

  Wren fully supported the plan. He toyed with Jere for a few more minutes, working him up and warming him up until Jere was rocking hard and heavy against his hand, begging Wren to fuck him already. Wren drew it out just a little longer, pushing Jere closer to the point of desperation, and then he granted Jere’s wishes, replacing his fingers with his cock and slipping into Jere without missing a beat.

  It was strange, feeling his cock entering a space that he had just warmed above usual body temperature, if only by a few degrees. In theory, Wren could warm any part of his own body, but he hadn’t yet been able to master the trick of making his cock generate heat. At least, not more than it did naturally.

  Still, Jere was quite warmed from Wren’s earlier play, and Wren was filled with excitement as he worked himself completely into Jere, easing out only slightly before pounding back in and making them both gasp at the impact. Wren kept one hand on Jere’s cock, noticing how hard and ready he was, and his other hand was up near Jere’s face, bracing against the mattress so Wren could get a good grip, stabilizing himself as he thrust into Jere faster and faster.

  Without warning, Wren felt a tongue and teeth on his wrist, and he opened his eyes to see that Jere had taken an interest in the hand that he had there. As he continued fucking him, he raised his hand off the mattress, stroking his fingers lightly across Jere’s lips, feeling how soft and wet they were.

  Wren let out a gasp as Jere pulled two fingers into his mouth, biting and sucking and licking them just like he had sucked Wren’s cock earlier. The memory was almost overwhelming, and the fact that Jere was doing it was turning Wren on even more. Jere continued to suck and swallow around Wren’s fingers, tightening his muscles around Wren’s cock at the same time, and pretty soon, Wren felt himself getting ready to come. He kept one hand working Jere’s cock, the other being sucked in Jere’s mouth, and he carefully raised the heat a little more, knowing that the warmth he was feeling in his hand was only a sliver of what Jere would feel on his cock.

  “Come for me,” he growled, his words coming out more as an order than he really intended.

  Not like he minded, and by the way Jere’s body responded, Jere didn’t mind it either.

  In seconds, Wren could feel Jere tensing and coming around him, and Wren threw back his head in ecstasy and let go as well, coming as hard and fast as Jere did. Wren rocked slowly as they came down, and kept up the motion even as he slid out of Jere, pressing a firm hand to Jere’s back to keep him from sliding off of the bed and onto the floor. He rested for a moment against Jere’s back, kissing carefully at his neck until Jere turned his head to kiss him back.

  Jere smiled up at him when the kiss broke off. “I’m glad we’re not at a desk,” he managed. “Because all I want to do is cuddle up with you and sleep.”

  Wren agreed. The bed was far more comfortable than the clinic, especially the front desk. He helped to slide Jere up, noting the wet spot they had made on the blankets. Fortunately, the bed was large enough that the other side would suffice until morning. Jere crawled up to the pillows, leaning back and looking at Wren with a sated expression.

  “Have I mentioned how hot it is when you fuck me while still fully clothed?” Jere asked.

  Wren smiled. He was undressing now, not eager to sleep in his clothes all night. “You’ve mentioned it once or twice, I believe.”

  “So sexy,” Jere reiterated, his eyes half-closed.

  Wren finished stripping and climbed into bed next to him, pulling him close. “You weren’t so bad yourself,” he teased, giving Jere another kiss that left them both shuddering.

  “You’re always sexy,” Jere added, shifting until he found the perfect position before falling quickly asleep.

  Wren smiled, savoring the memory and the feeling of the day. Jere was sexy, too, and sweet, and wonderful to sleep with. Everything was perfect. He never wanted it to end.

  Chapter 4

  Threats

  Another tropical storm had struck; despite being somewhat distant from the coast, the severity of the weather patterns had propelled the storm inland, bringing rain and high winds. The weather kept people inside, where they were far less likely to hurt themselves.

  With everyone avoiding the weather, the clinic was slow. Wren had finished every possible clinic task that he could think of, leaving him with nothing left to do but analyze what happened in the train wreck, and his actions at the veterinarian’s office. He knew he should have done better. He should have been more obedient, better at controlling his gift, but he had gotten so spoiled with Jere. He hated to think of what might have happened, and he actually hoped that a patient would come in unannounced, just to pull him out of his thoughts.

  When a man arrived, looking healthy, Wren was glad to have something to do. He was curious as to why the man was even there. He was dressed in a suit, looking more like he was there on business than in need of a doctor. Wren assumed he was coming in for a wellness check. Those were often required for passage outside of the state, a response to the potential transfer of the few incurable diseases that had cropped up in the past few years. More states were demanding that travelers be in good health; some even demanded documentation.

  “Hello, sir, welcome to our clinic.” Wren smiled genuinely for once. Usually, he wasn’t so happy to interact with random, unscheduled free people, but today was just dull enough that he was interested. “How may I help you?”

  The man gave him a curious look, staring him up and down until Wren had to fight not to squirm away from his gaze. He looked over the clinic waiting room as well, the same evaluating expression on his face.

  “Did you want me to get the doctor for you, sir?” Wren asked, starting to feel somewhat alarmed. Some conditions could cause patients to be confused or disoriented, which put them in the category of things for Jere to deal with. Wren dealt with paperwork, not health problems.

  The man paused for a moment and then shook his head. “That won’t be necessary at the moment,” he revealed. “This is the property of Doctor Jeremy Peters, if I am correct?”

  “Yes, sir.” He considered that perhaps the man was some sort of health official. They came by every few years just to make sure everything was running smoothly.

  “And how long has he been in business?”

  “About two years, sir,” Wren answered, feeling compelled to elaborate. “He started at the end of summer, two years ago. I can get him for you, if you’d like.”

  The man continued on, ignoring Wren’s offer. “You’re his property, I take it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Any other slaves?”

  Wren drew back a little, feeling more and more nervous as the conversation progressed. Was this the same man that Isis had mentioned? If this was a health inspector, he would be asking to see paperwork, showing identification, and not interesting himself in slaves. He wondered who in the hell this man was, and what he wanted with Jere. A few people had visited the clinic since Jere had started treating slaves last year, demanding to know more about Jere’s views and making sure that their facility was still “sanitary.” Jere was open and friendly, offering them health pamphlets and tours of the clinic. They had special exam rooms and equipment reserved for slave use. Most people were appeased by the separation in facilities, but something about this visitor seemed off.

  “Sir, I think I should get my master.”

  “I’m just asking questions about the clinic, boy,” the man said, his tone cal
m and his face perfectly blank. He stared at Wren with a penetrating gaze. “You can answer me.”

  Wren took a step back, looking away. He suddenly wanted to trust the man, to answer his questions, but he didn’t know why. He wanted Jere even more. “I know my master would rather speak to you personally, sir.”

  “Look at me, goddammit!” the man snapped, his composure breaking.

  Wren kept his gaze averted. He had no idea what kind of mind gift this man might have, but the insistence that Wren look at him clued him in to a few different possibilities. There were countless varieties of thought reading, emotional manipulation, and control of free will that could be affected with mind gifts, and Wren wasn’t willing to find out which of these gifts this stranger might have. If he could have used his own mind gift to fight back, he would have, but revealing his mind gift was far more dangerous than anything this man was going to find out about Jere.

  “Jere, I need you out here right now. Someone’s giving me a problem.” Despite being told countless times that interrupting Jere in the case of an emergency was acceptable, it still made Wren nervous. It was something that a slave shouldn’t be allowed to do. He should be able to handle this free man, and if not, he should be able to handle the punishment for failing. But Jere had made it exceedingly clear that forcing Wren to handle uncomfortable situations was the last thing he would ever want, and Wren trusted him. He knew Jere would protect him even from the most irate customers. He had made that very clear in the past, and as unusual as it was, Wren was grateful for it.

  Wren pressed himself back against the wall that divided the waiting area from the rest of the clinic and looked in the free man’s direction, over his shoulder more than anything. He was afraid of what he might be capable of.

  “I’m sorry, sir, my master has given me strict orders. He’ll be out shortly.”

  The man didn’t push the issue further. Wren was grateful, but that fact worried him as well. Had he overreacted? An irate patient wouldn’t have backed down so quickly, and someone who was angry with Jere wouldn’t be so well put-together and calm. Something was off about this man.

  They waited, a silent, disjointed stare-down, as Wren refused to meet the man’s gaze. He tried to focus on the sound of rain beating against the front door, the wind whistling through the trees, anything but his urge to engage with the stranger. Finally, Wren felt Jere coming out to join them. It had been less than a minute, but to Wren it felt like ages.

  Jere had clearly been in the middle of something; he looked disheveled and irritated. Wren could see the faint, powdery residue from the exam gloves that still graced his hands.

  “Is there a problem out here?” Jere demanded.

  Wren couldn’t stop himself from flinching at the tone, even though he knew it wasn’t directed at him. Jere was usually so calm and gentle; it was unsettling when he was this forceful and demanding. Jere wasn’t even looking at him; he was too busy glaring at the strange man who had invaded their clinic with his cryptic demands.

  “Did your slave tell you there was a problem?” the man asked, his smile bright and friendly. It was clearly false.

  “Watch his eyes,” Wren warned. “He tried to make me look at him.”

  Even as he spoke, he could feel Jere tightening his psychic shields, preventing casual use of a psychic gift on himself and Wren. Wren was thankful for it, but the feeling of that much power wrapping around him made his skin tingle, like it did during a severe thunderstorm. It was easy to underestimate Jere, but he had a frightening amount of psychic power.

  “Anyone who’s not a complete idiot can feel when their slave is being terrified and intimidated,” Jere said coldly. “There’s no need for him to feel that way unless there is a problem.”

  “It seems the only problem here is that your slave has difficulty following orders,” the man said, his expression as dark as Jere’s.

  Wren moved closer to his master, hiding behind him. He trusted Jere to handle this, but he didn’t trust the man in front of them. Everything he heard was setting off alarms in his head, and he wanted nothing more than to escape. A crack of thunder made him jump, and he hoped that the weather would excuse some of his bizarre behavior.

  “What order did he not follow?” Jere asked.

  “I simply told him to look at me and answer a question,” the man said, his face looking so innocent that Wren almost believed it. “He refused to do either.”

  “My orders take precedence over the orders of a complete stranger,” Jere said bluntly. “My slave knows better than to answer questions about my personal life. I’m assuming you didn’t ask him a question about the clinic hours, or a medical treatment, or anything of the sort. He also has very clear orders to protect himself from anyone who might be trying to use a psychic gift on him, which you’ve been doing since I walked out to the reception area, and if you don’t cease using it immediately, I’ll be contacting the Hojer police department and having you removed from my premises.”

  The man looked surprised, and Wren sensed that he was backing off with his gift. The nervousness and compelling need to disclose information dissipated quickly from Wren’s mind.

  “You’re very prepared,” the man admitted. “I didn’t expect you to have such strict rules for your slaves, nor did I expect such a distinct separation between your work and personal life; after all, your home and clinic are combined.”

  “I find that boundaries are remarkably important in a situation like this,” Jere pointed out, glaring. “I didn’t choose the structure of my property, but then, you wouldn’t know that because you’re not from around here, are you? Why are you in my clinic taking time away from legitimately ill people?”

  The man pulled out a business card, handing it to Jere. “I’m with the State Slave Inspection Agency, a division of the Slave Control, Regulation, and Enforcement. There was a concern submitted about one of your slaves, as well as your abilities as a slaveowner, and the agency is doing a pre-screening to determine whether we will consider a full audit or not.”

  Their last encounter with the Slave Control, Regulation, and Enforcement Agency had not gone well. During one of Isis’s more impulsive moments, she had decided to wander around the town, getting caught by a Hojer police officer and fighting when the officer attempted to take her in to the police station. Despite Jere’s best efforts to save her, Nicolette Arnsdale—the head of the agency and main enforcer of slave codes in Hojer—had decided to make an example out of them, sentencing Isis to public whipping. In turn, Jere had publicly insulted Arnsdale, making a spectacle of himself and the agency. Wren knew better than to think that such an offense would go unpunished.

  Wren felt his temperature starting to rise, and he forced it to stay stable. The red in his face could be excused as fear or embarrassment, but he could heat a room with his gift. Compared to the damp chill that the storm brought into the clinic, a noticeable increase in temperature would surely give this man something to investigate. He focused on Jere, who seemed remarkably calm. He clung to that calm through the mind connection as tightly as he wanted to cling to Jere for real.

  “Did that bitch who runs the agency not have enough fun wasting my time last winter? Was forcing me to publicly beat a teenage girl half to death not enough for her?” Jere snapped. “And just who the hell has been making complaints about me?”

  The man shook his head. “Ms. Arnsdale has been specifically excluded from any proceedings regarding this case, given your... adversarial history. This pre-screening is based a complaint lodged by a concerned Arona citizen, based on your recent actions and events that the person claimed to have noticed in everyday life.”

  Wren went tense. Was this his fault? Had his outburst at the vet clinic been so inappropriate as to call attention to them?

  Jere scowled at the investigator. “If you’re going to pry into my life, I’d like a better answer.”

  The man seemed to consider that for a moment. “Your slave recently attacked a veterinarian, sir. An
d the veterinarian stated that there was something unusual about both of you. We know you’re from a free state, but such noncompliance is worthy of investigation.”

  Wren bit down on his tongue, trying to steady himself. He was terrified of all the things that could be done to them.

  Jere, on the other hand, seemed to be growing angrier by the minute. “Actually, as a far more qualified provider of healing to the slave population, I am absolutely certain that any sort of attacks against medical staff by slaves are excused as part of medical treatment. After all, you can’t blame a wounded animal from lashing out, can you? So what is this really about?”

  The comparison was apt, but hurtful. Wren knew that his lover didn’t really mean it, but it still stung to hear it spelled out so clearly.

  The investigator shrugged. “While rules for healers are different, our department still felt that the veterinarian’s concerns were worth following up on. Your public disapproval of the Agency’s policies last winter added to the case, and the fact that you pushed so hard to treat slaves in a human clinic is unusual. Such an action makes you more visible and a target for attention. Our department feels that it is in the state’s best interest to investigate the complaint more thoroughly.”

  Wren felt a cold shock of fear run through his body. Would they investigate today? Ask questions? Take him or Isis somewhere? They had prepared for this, but it seemed inadequate. There was an investigator standing in front of him, and he felt fear he hadn’t suffered in years.

  “You’re interrupting my business. How is this town’s only doctor supposed to keep up with new disease threats if he’s being hassled over someone else’s petty complaints?” Jere pointed out. “There should be a law against these sorts of searches.”

  “Under current regulations, we are able to search with or without reason. We aren’t staging a formal audit yet, but we are evaluating the best use of our resources,” the man reminded him.