by Willa Okati
As icing on the cake, he had a dimple in his chin that Martin found positively cute.
A proud man in the eyes of the world, to be sure. Accustomed to being dominant. To being paid attention to. To being respected.
Martin glanced slyly at the selection of floggers, paddles, cuffs, and chains enticingly displayed on his wall. Ooh, it had been ages since he’d gotten to play with a virgin to dominance and submission. And he had a feeling Harrison would absolutely love Martin’s kind of games if the man’d let his hair down. The big man had occasionally given away hints in his e-mails, the sort of things most people would overlook, which betrayed his conflicting fantasies of being mastered yet steadfastly refusing to bow his head to anyone. Martin loved dichotomies, the two sides of every coin.
The challenge of leading Harrison to a place under the lash, a place Martin was certain he’d love in the end, would be a blast. It would be sweet, very sweet, to see him on his knees begging for whatever his Master chose to give. Although Martin might be slight, boyish, and blond; didn’t live the lifestyle twenty-four/seven; and didn’t indulge very often, he was one of the better Doms that Amour Magique could boast. Under Martin’s hands as the Magician took charge, Harrison would find tremendous release. In letting go, the scholar could find peace.
It would have been tempting to lure Harrison in on his own, but that was taken care of. So fortunate that Liam had arranged for Harrison to visit the club. And oh, boy, didn’t Martin know all about Liam, having watched his deal with Silas in secret, then seen and felt the power in the Tear Liam had traded. Martin had been the one to magically affix that Tear over the door to Amour Magique. Not much scared the Magician, but he’d been on pins and needles handling that little baby. Brrr.
Ballsy move on the little guy’s part, though. It would’ve been chancy for all of them if the Tear had rejected Amour Magique, much as a human body would refuse to accept a transplanted organ. Big-time risks, oh, yeah.
But they’d gotten lucky. The Tear had settled right in. Great for business, attracting not only humans but also every paranormal being within spitting distance. Martin chuckled. Lord, if he were the type to feed off sexual energy, his powers would be fatter than a pig ripe for slaughter. He’d gotten a major kick out of watching the men in the club go absolutely ape-shit in their blind lust for one another under the Tear’s influence.
Whether he believed it or believed it not, Harrison would get a big whacking dose of that good old lovin’ feeling when he walked into Amour Magique. Lust, along with the little spell Martin had cast earlier in his e-mail, should have Harrison just about ripe for the plucking.
So far, so good.
Martin glanced across his chamber to his rather nice rococo clock which, although well-aged, still kept perfect time. There were things he was sure Silas -- the current manager, though the man persisted in presenting himself to the club’s patrons as the owner -- would want him doing just then, but who cared about Silas? Martin knew how to do his job, he did it well, and the way he figured things, he still had plenty of time to laze around and enjoy himself.
Speaking of which...
He thought about coins again. One of the tenets by which Martin worked was that every coin had two sides. The path of destiny had innumerable forks and branches. For everything that was, there were a thousand could-have-beens. People never knew until they acted how things could have been different.
Martin, on the other hand, could almost always look forward down any path he cared to and see what lay in store with one choice or another. Chuckling softly, he opened his Third Eye, which lent him magical sight, and selected a trail that would lead to a vision of what he most desired. A happy dream of something that could come to pass if he played his cards right.
Ah. Yes. There.
Martin saw the vision play out:
Harrison had come, as bidden, to Martin’s chambers, obedient as a puppy and just as eager for affection from his Master. He was the bigger of them, far more powerful through the shoulders, but that made it all the more exciting to see him on his knees, head lowered and hands splayed out on his thighs.
“I believe,” he said quietly. “You asked me, sir, what I thought. I’ve decided. I believe.”
Martin indulged himself by running his fingers through Harrison’s curly hair, tousling it into a mess. An adorable mess. “Good, pet. I believe you’ve earned a treat.”
“Master?”
“Service me.” Martin’s hands went to the fastenings of the black jeans he favored. His cock was hard, pressing against the zipper. “Take my dick in your mouth and suck me off. If you please me -- if -- I’ll give you something else. A tight ring to prevent you from coming while I lash your back with the suede flogger. I’ll drive you until you break, and if I feel you’ve earned it, I’ll let you climax. There. How does that sound?”
Harrison, deliciously humbled, quivered with anticipation. “Yes, sir. Please, sir, let me taste your cock.”
“Since you ask so nicely.” Martin freed his prick and regarded it with pride. He rather enjoyed being well-hung. Could Harrison take the whole organ into his mouth? It would be interesting to find out. He thrust his dick at Harrison’s eagerly parting lips. “Go on, pet. Suck.”
Wet heat closed around his cock, and a tongue remembering long-unused skills began to lick, to taste, to please...
Martin shut his Third Eye with a contented sigh. Then, he laughed. Anyone who knew Harrison would call Martin insane for thinking such a scenario was even remotely possible. Ah, but they couldn’t See what might be, could they?
Harrison had a sub’s heart, just waiting to be uncovered, to go there and even further, and Martin was looking forward to a good evening’s worth of exploration.
After they got the annoying wrangling over real and not real over with, that is. Pity he couldn’t just throw the man down and get started. Maybe he would. Either way, bending Harrison until he broke his self-imposed chains would be worth the trouble.
This would be fucking great.
“Guess I’d better get on with things before Silas strokes out,” Martin said aloud as he rolled his eyes. “Work, work, work.”
He slipped out of bed and picked up his cast-aside black jeans and selected a black T-shirt out of a pile of clothes that he’d washed but never gotten around to putting away. So he was a bit of a slob. Anyone who objected could sue him or bite him. He really didn’t care which.
The simple outfit should have been enough, but Silas insisted on an extra bit of frippery when Martin went out into the public eye: a long purple cloak with a high Dracula collar. As if any self-respecting magician with an ounce of dress sense would wear such a thing of their own free will. Still, Silas had given the order, and it didn’t make Martin look too silly.
He hoped.
Martin exited his chamber. One of Amour Magique’s portals waited obediently for him, but he waved it aside. “No thanks, friend,” he said, careful to be kind. The portals were intelligent beings in their own way. “Maybe next time. You know I like to walk.”
He got a sense of drooping disappointment from the portal before it shrank to a tiny black dot and vanished. Poor thing. All it wanted to do was please. Ah, well, he’d make it up to the portal later.
For those who walked, the way into the Heart of Amour Magique could be a nightmarish tangle. However, Martin had had two hundred plus years to get familiar with the twisting paths and found his way with ease.
Duck under this set of pipes, go through the fake wall there, twist the bronze duck on this set of bookcases, up a flight of marble stairs, and voila.
The living, breathing Heart of Amour Magique. The “soul,” for lack of a better word, belonging to its ever-changing body.
Right then the room it inhabited resembled the inside of a submarine, all dull gray paint and rivets, with a swampy, salty stench. Hmm. A bit cranky, was it? Usually the Heart liked hanging out in a nice, restful place with soft colors and cushy seats.
“Hello, old
boy,” Martin greeted the club’s intelligence, a little concerned. With the Magician, at least, the Heart liked to be addressed as male. “How’s it hanging? Anything wrong?”
“There you are,” Silas blurted, popping through a door on the opposite side. The mook tripped on his way in and staggered like a drunken man until he regained balance.
“Silas,” Martin said wryly.
“Martin, jeez, you’ve got to stop farting around like the whole world’s gonna wait for you. God, you nearly gave me a heart attack, sitting here. There’s already guys lined up two deep around the block -- twice, man, the line frigging wraps around twice -- and more coming, and you just stroll in here now?”
Damn. Silas, who thought he was far more important than he really happened to be, looked like he was just about ready to rip Martin a new hole.
Not exactly a new look on him.
One of these days, Martin decided -- not for the first time -- he’d get rid of some steam, have a little fun, and scare the literal shit out of Silas. The little prick deserved a spanking, and not the good kind.
Not that night, though. Martin had bigger fish to fry, as it were, and Silas would just have to be swatted aside like the annoying gnat he was. “Calm down, Si, or you’ll blow a blood vessel. I had a few things to take care of, and it’s not like I’m actually late.”
“Burst a blood vessel?” Silas snapped. “I should be so lucky, if that’s all that would happen to me! But, no, I have to deal with you crackpot wizards and portals and elves and trolls and vampires and werewolves and now a friggin’ incubus, of all God’s creatures.”
“Mmm. I don’t think God had much to do with Liam’s creation. Besides, you were pretty eager to do business with him when it came to the Tear, weren’t you?”
Silas went brick red and grumbled something about “expanding profit margins.”
Martin snickered silently. If you cut Silas, he would bleed greenbacks.
“Okay!” Martin clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Time to do that old black magic I do so well.”
“You said it wasn’t black magic,” Silas accused. “Shit. You mean this is black magic? Sweet Mary Moses, mother of pearl.” He rubbed his balding scalp. “I got black magic running my club? You know how much trouble I could get into?”
“Calm down,” Martin said, mentally adding you twit. “It’s just an expression. My magic’s pure as the driven snow. Good old Himself wouldn’t put up with me otherwise, would he?” He patted one wall.
The purr that filled the room made Silas shudder. “I hate it when the Heart does that,” he said, mopping his forehead. “Look, just get on with the show, huh?”
“Two steps ahead of you.” If you’d just shut up and let me work.
Martin bowed at the waist, raised his hands in the symbol of the Sun King in honor of Amour Magique’s origins, and let magic gather in his palms in the form of a ball of white fire.
The Heart purred again. He liked Martin. Always had. Martin knew how to treat the old fellow right.
“I come as your servant, your master, your slave, your commander,” he crooned. “Let me refresh your energies so you may fill us with the joy of the dance, the pleasure of the hunt, the thrill of mating. Take what you need, freely given by your vassal.”
Juicing up Amour Magique’s batteries took serious skill -- and the willingness to put your life on the line. The club had picked Martin a few centuries ago while he was waiting to be executed. Knowing that, even if he escaped, returning to his lover Hal would have destroyed the man’s life, Martin had been determined to go -- to save both of them-- no matter the cost.
The cost... well, therein lay the rub. Amour Magique had wanted to tap his wellsprings of magical energy in exchange for Martin’s freedom, which had seemed like a much better deal than meeting the executioner. The Heart had warned Martin that the transfer of power could be dangerously draining, but Martin had kept his word and stuck to his guns.
Lucky them, they’d discovered that all Martin needed to recharge himself was a little sleep, a little food, possibly some sex, and boom! Ready to roll again.
A tiny glitter was the first sign of Amour Magique’s response. Martin patiently fed the twinkle a steady stream of his magic as the glow grew to the size of two fists and then ballooned, ever so slowly forming roughly into the shape of a heart floating in midair. The Heart. Not a Valentine’s Day cartoon, mind. More like the organ that pumped blood through human bodies, but different enough to clearly come from another manner of beast altogether.
Silas swore up and down; the sight of the Heart always gave him the creeps.
Martin, however, found the Heart rather beautiful. He laid both palms against the Heart’s sides as it solidified into a perfect, glittering diamond. “Hi, there,” he said softly. “Thank you for joining us.”
The Heart spoke directly into Martin’s mind.
Good to see you, son. So here we go again, huh? Since it’s you, okay. But you know, after thousands of years, I’m just about tired of this game. Moving from place to place, changing to fit the date and location, I swear it’s a drag sometimes. As long as you’re around, though, Martin, I’ll keep on keeping on.
Martin grinned broadly. Probably to entertain itself while staying in Charleston, the voice of Amour Magique’s Heart had developed a heavy Southern accent. Long, drawled-out vowels and dropped consonants. One would expect an entity so ancient to speak in weighty, ponderous proclamations, but the Heart liked to chat with what he now called a “good ol’ boy’s” voice.
His threats were nothing but idle words. The Heart loved his life and what he did with it.
“Well?” Silas demanded. “Is the club going to play nice tonight?” He dragged a limp hankie from his pocket and swabbed his forehead. “It doesn’t get recharged or doesn’t cooperate, we’re dead in the water. No profit; and I don’t even want to think about what would happen to this club if it isn’t juiced. Er, ‘kept alive.’ Freaky-ass sentient building, my God. I should have taken that job as head accountant...”
Can I zap him? Or better yet, will you zap him? A right nice bolt of lightning directly between the eyes could possibly make him a mite easier to tolerate.
“You were the one who chose him as manager,” Martin replied, too softly for the pacing, sweating Silas to hear. “What were you thinking, by the way?”
I was probably drunk. Let’s you and me figure out a way to ditch that sumbitch when we move on, huh?
“Moving? I like Charleston, but where we stay and go has always been your choice. How soon?” Martin kept his voice low.
Tomorrow, more than likely. The Heart sounded thoughtful.
Martin pressed delicately. “Any particular reason?”
Liam. Now, don’t get me wrong, that Tear is a nice little trinket. Kind of fills me up between meals, ya know? But every time Liam himself turns up, sweet as he is, things go all catawampus on my ass. And I’ve got a buzz in the force. I think his Big Bad Momma is going to stick her fingers in the pie at some point. Gah. Thanks, but no thanks. I can’t keep her out no more than I can keep Liam out, but when Lilith shows up it is definitely time to hit the road. Maybe we’ll visit California for a spell next. Beach boys. Yum.
“I’ll enjoy the change in scenery. But--” Martin hesitated.
Oh, no.
“No, what?”No, you didn’t. Damn it all, you did! You’re supposed to be a buddy, Martin, but you’ve gone and fallen for one of Liam’s pals. I can see it clear as day now I’m looking for the signs. This spells trouble, pal, but I guess I don’t have to tell you that.
Martin shrugged. “Harrison has attracted my attention and is one of Liam’s group, yes. I don’t plan on him being more than a night’s entertainment.”
Bubba, that’s pure balls and bullshit.
“Pardon?”
A night’s entertainment? Hoity-toity, and not too damn likely. You’ve gone and tangled yourself up in a good, sticky web. Once you two meet...
Martin got
the feeling that if Amour Magique had possessed a human head, he would be shaking it.
Let’s just say that when you get together, it’s not gonna be a song and dance to let him go. Or for him to let you go. And that gets me worried, Martin. You’re not gonna want to leave him. He’s not gonna want to say good-bye. Kind of a shame. After two-hundred-whatever years, I’ve gotten to like your style.
“What are you saying?”
Use the brain in your big head. Once you and Harrison make a connection, dumbass, you’ll either have to go or convince him to stay. I’ve read his books. Jeez, you know how to pick ’em, don’t you? Ever hear about not rising to the bait? Try it sometime. Anyway, you meet this guy, and you’ll end up with the choice to remain with him or leave. Them’s the facts, plain and simple.
If anyone else had been making such prophecies, Martin would have laughed in their face. The Heart of Amour Magique didn’t lie, though. It couldn’t. “I would never leave you.”
Son, a man will do anything for love.
“And if I should, by some bizarre chance, decide to go?”
Hmm. Ever hear about what happens to humans when they spend some time with the elves? They’re young while they stay there, but stick ’em back in the mortal world, and--
“They grow old in an instant and die,” Martin whispered.
Might happen. Might not, what with your mojo to keep you going.
“I don’t think I’ll take the chance, thanks.”
Yeah, well, we’ll see. The Heart glittered like a disco ball. Okay, son. Get this show on the road. And by the way, if you want a sneak preview, scry the outside of the club, right by the entrance ropes. Liam and his boys are early. Harrison’s with them. The Heart paused as if in thought. From what I’ve read, he’s a prick, but from what I see, he’s a tasty prick.
“Never met one that wasn’t,” Martin murmured. “Thank you, old friend.” He bowed again.
Any time, kid. And, hey, if we don’t meet again, good luck. I really did -- do -- like you a hell of a lot.
