by T. J. Hamel
Carter looks off to the side, blinking rapidly. He opens his mouth twice, but he never says anything, seeming to be speechless.
“So,” Nathan says carefully, releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “You think on that. Let me know what you decide.
The boy nods, once, the movement sharp. His teeth are clamped down on his bottom lip.
“Let’s get you in the bath now.” Nathan puts a hand on Carter’s back and walks him toward the tub, surprised when the boy allows it without even flinching at his touch. He helps Carter up the marble steps, holding his hand as the boy climbs into the deep basin. Carter sits on the curved bench beneath the water’s surface before looking up at Nathan, the water gently lapping at his collarbone as it settles around him.
Nathan climbs in next, choosing a spot on the bench with a little distance from Carter. He suddenly feels like he’s back in high school, naked in the showers with his high school crush after gym class, trying his best not to get hard while the dude talks about fucking chicks.
Closing his eyes, Nathan shoves those memories down – shoves Travis down – and sinks further into his Nathan persona. Just because they’re alone doesn’t mean he can stop being Nathan. He can be gentle, yes, relaxed, sure, but not Travis. Not human. It hurts too much when he lets himself be human.
“Sir?”
Nathan opens his eyes, notching his chin to look over at Carter. The boy is staring down at the water, his hands gently playing with the bubbles, gathering them in a pile and dispersing them before doing it all over again. “Yes?”
“Sorry, I – am I allowed to do that?” Carter peeks at him through his lashes before returning his gaze to the water. “Am I allowed to talk to you first like that? I’m… not sure of the rules.”
“You may talk to me, yes. Do exactly as you just did. If I ignore you, don’t pester me, but most of the time I’ll be happy to see what’s on your mind.”
Carter nods. He parts his lips twice before closing his mouth for good, his lips curling into a frown. It’s clear that he has something to say but doesn’t have the courage to say it.
Nathan pulls it from him. “Did you want to say something? Or maybe ask me something?”
“I – well – yes, sir.” Carter releases a shaky breath, eyes firmly on the pile of bubbles now in his hands. “Are you going to let them have sex with me?”
“My men?” Carter nods. Nathan’s chest goes tight. “No. Not anal sex, at least. You will perform oral on them when I deem it appropriate.”
“D-do I have to?”
Somehow – he has no fucking idea how, but somehow – Nathan manages to make his voice cold and angry when he answers. “Yes, you have to. I own you. You’ll do as I say. Isn’t that a rule?”
“Yes, sir,” Carter whispers, sinking further down in the water. “Sorry for asking, sir.”
“Don’t ask if you have to do something again, understood? I do not enjoy you questioning my judgement.”
“Yes, sir.”
The tension in the room is overwhelming. Nathan can feel it building in his chest, threatening to crush him. He leans back and rests his head on the edge of the tub, closing his eyes, pretending to be relaxed and uncaring despite being anything but. “Tell me about yourself, sweetheart.”
There’s a drawn-out silence. Then, “Like what, sir?”
“You’re a college student, correct?”
“I… was, sir.”
The grief in the words is nearly enough to choke Nathan. He wishes he could tell Carter that he will be again, if he wants to be. He wants to grab Carter’s face and look him in the eyes, promising that he’ll have a future when this is all over. Carter can’t give up hope. He can’t forget about what he wanted before. “Tell me about that.”
“About… college, sir?”
“Yes.”
Carter laughs incredulously, drawing Nathan’s attention to him. He looks over to find the boy glaring down at the bubbles, his fingers curling around them like he’s trying to strangle the suds. “Well, I was a Global Studies major with a Human Rights minor, so, ya know… that fucking blew up in my face.”
Nathan’s eyebrows raise. Before he has time to comment, Carter is backtracking in a panic. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t – that was rude. I’m sorry. Really. So sorry, sir.”
“Stop,” Nathan says quietly, looking Carter in the eye. “You’re right. It’s fucking ironic that you studied things like that, and are now a human slave. I can appreciate the sick humor.”
“I was still really disrespectful, sir…”
“Do you want me to punish you?”
“No, sir.”
“Then drop it.” Nathan relaxes against the tub, eyes closing again. He thinks Carter might feel more comfortable with him in that position, and Nathan would do anything to keep Carter talking. Even if the conversation is upsetting him. Maybe especially because it’s upsetting him. This kind of upset is healthy for Carter. It keeps him human. Keeps him from breaking. Nathan has to stoke that fire inside of him – carefully, of course – until Carter gets his freedom back. He can’t allow that light to go out.
“Tell me more, sweetheart. Mind your tone this time.”
There’s the soft sound of water sloshing as Carter shifts in the tub, followed by a tense silence. Nathan opens his eyes to find the boy staring out the window that makes up the tub’s backdrop. The glass isn’t frosted, something Nathan is surprised he hadn’t noticed. He’ll need to be more careful in the future. Anyone could have seen him kissing Carter. Coddling him. Even taking a goddamn bath with him like this, doing nothing sexual during it.
A panic in Nathan’s chest has him itching to frost the glass immediately, but then he catches sight of the way Carter is looking at the night sky outside. There’s so much longing in his gaze. A somber grief. It’ll be a cold day in hell before Nathan takes something so simple away from the poor boy. He can look all he wants right now.
Enough time passes that Nathan believes the conversation has been dropped. He’s just starting to consider if he should scold Carter for it when the boy surprises him by speaking. “It’s a pretty intense major and minor combination. There’s a lot that goes into it.”
“How so?”
“Well, they have you pick a concentration and a region. There’s so much that can be done under that umbrella of global studies and human rights. It’d be impossible to be useful at all in the real world if you don’t narrow it down.”
“And what concentration and region did you choose?”
“I was studying Global Peace and Conflict within the European and Russian region.”
Surprised by this, Nathan asks, “Why choose those?”
This gets Carter to perk up a bit, something bright flashing in the boy’s eyes. “Russia and some areas of Europe are awful as far as human rights go, especially in issues of gender and sexuality. I want to-” Carter stops then, his eyes fluttering closed. The grief from before is nothing compared to the emotion that twists his expression now. Nathan feels it echoing inside of himself just from looking at the boy. “I just – um – I wanted to do stuff for the lgbtq+ communities in those areas.”
“That’s very honorable.”
Carter looks out the window again. He touches his fingertips to the glass, water droplets falling slowly down from the point of contact. “It’s a great program. It ties in so many different disciplines to teach you how to pull things together to make the best possible impact. I took a law class and a journalism class, and I’m signed – I-” Carter pauses, his hand flexing against the window. A tear falls down his cheek to match the water dripping down the glass. His voice is nothing but a whisper when he speaks again. “I was signed up for a psychology class in the fall.”
Nathan’s so caught up with Carter’s passion simmering beneath his sadness that he doesn’t realize how hard his following question will be for Carter until he hears it out loud. “What did you plan on doing after graduation?”
All it ta
kes is one look at Carter’s face for Nathan to be backtracking. “Never mind. Tell me something else about you. Something I can’t take away.”
Carter looks at him incredulously. “Sir, you’ve – you’ve taken everything away…”
Anger ignites at the words. Nathan refuses to let Carter think that. That’s not a fighter’s attitude at all.
“Don’t be dramatic. You have memories. You have tastes. You have a favorite color. A favorite type of music. A favorite food. You enjoy certain things and dislike others. I haven’t taken your mind from you.” Nathan leans forward, lowering his voice. “Be grateful for that, sweetheart. Some men like me drug their slaves so far out of their minds they forget they’re human. Some men beat and rape their slaves until they’re nothing but a fucking empty shell. One man I know cut his slave’s tongue out. Another man hit his slave so hard, his left ear went deaf. I can take more from you if you’d like.”
The look on Carter’s face is a mixture of shock and terror. It’s good. Nathan needs him to realize where he stands. Sure, this situation is fucked up, but Carter is lucky to have Nathan as his owner. It’s important that Carter knows that. For Carter to survive this, he has to have some sore of solace, some sort of silver lining. Nathan is a monster, but he’s not the worst one out there.
In a tiny, regretful voice, Carter admits, “I – I like a bit of everything, as far as music goes. It depends on my mood.”
Nathan waves a hand through the air. “Elaborate.”
“Well, like… sometimes I just want to listen to really mellow music and relax. Or if I’m having a bad day or I’m sad, I’ll listen to depressing stuff and just sort of let myself wallow. If I’m driving in the car and it’s a nice day and the windows are down, I’m definitely belting out some Taylor Swift.” Carter smiles to himself, the air around them getting lighter. The difference makes Nathan giddy. “And then there’s the times where I get a shit grade on an exam, or I get into a fight with my brother and-” he stops then, eyes darting over to Nathan before returning to the window.
“Maison,” Nathan specifies, unnecessarily.
“Yes, sir.” Carter shrugs. “He’s my only sibling.”
Nathan knew that, but he doesn’t bother saying so. “You may talk about him.”
“I’d prefer not to, sir.”
“Why?”
“I’m – I’m mad at him.”
That isn’t at all what Nathan had expected. He thought maybe it was just an uncomfortable topic considering the circumstances, or maybe Carter protecting Maison by refusing to give Nathan information about him, or maybe even Carter just being too sad to think about his family.
Nathan never thought it’d be because Carter is mad at Maison.
“Were the two of you fighting before this?”
“No, sir.”
“Then why are you upset with him?”
Carter looks at Nathan like he must be playing a joke on him. “He’s why I’m here.”
“Ahh. Yes. I suppose he is, isn’t he?” It takes everything in Nathan not to blurt out that Maison is a goddamn hero. That Maison is saving him as they speak. That Maison would do anything he could to get Carter out of this. Instead, he pours disdain into his voice. “Perhaps your brother shouldn’t have stuck his nose in places it didn’t belong.”
“Perhaps he shouldn’t have,” Carter says bitterly, his face screwed up in anger.
Nathan shuts that shit down immediately, partly for Maison, and partly because the man Nathan is supposed to be would. “Get that pouty look off your face before I fuck it off.”
Carter stares at him for a second, letting the words register. Then he ducks his head and whispers, “Sorry, sir.”
Scoffing like he’s annoyed, Nathan reaches over and snatches Carter’s bicep. He pulls until the boy is straddling his lap, their stomachs pressed together. His cock reacts on its own, starting to harden. He hears Carter swallow a whimper. Nathan doesn’t call him out on it.
“Earlier, I wanted to get you off on riding me.” Nathan cocks his head, eyes narrowing. “Do you have any idea how rare it is for men like me to let their slaves feel pleasure? Do you have any idea how many of us keep our slave’s cocks locked in cages for the rest of their lives? Some men even castrate their slaves. Is that what you want?”
Carter’s breath hitches as he shakes his head furiously. “No, sir. No. Please. I’m so lucky to have you, sir. I’m s – sorry I couldn’t g – get hard, sir.”
The panic is sending tremors through the boy, making his body jerk uncontrollably. Nathan can see that Carter is fighting to stop it. Fighting to relax and be good. There’s terror in his expression as he waits to be yelled at.
“Breathe,” Nathan murmurs, running a wet hand through Carter’s hair. “Just breathe, sweetheart. You’re not in trouble. I just need you to understand. I want you to be good for me, sweetheart, and then I want to reward you by making you feel good. Okay?”
Carter nods quickly. “Yes, sir. Th – thank you, sir.”
“Breathe, sweetheart. Just breathe.” He pulls Carter to him, putting him in the same position as earlier in the entertainment room, minus the cock pressing into his ass. Nathan squeezes his eyes shut since Carter can’t see him, taking his own turn at trying to get himself under control.
“Just breathe,” Nathan says again. This time, he’s not sure if he’s telling himself or Carter. He’s not sure it matters anymore. “Just breathe.”
◆◆◆
Carter is relaxed and sleepy by the time sir has washed and dried him. Sir sets him on the edge of the bed and steps back, running a towel along himself now. Unable to help it, Carter watches the show. He’s entranced by all of the curves and dips of the man’s body. The scattered scars. The tattoos. There’s a broken birdcage over his heart, birds scrambling out of it across his torso down to the opposite hip. Carter wants to touch each one. He wants to whisper to them, go, fly, be free, hurry, hurry, hurry.
The man is gorgeous. In fact, gorgeous doesn’t even begin to describe him. But he’s also dark and dangerous. A man who cages little birds. Carter can’t let himself forget that.
When sir catches him looking, he lifts a corner of his mouth and asks Carter, “Like what you see?”
Not willing to risk lying – or insulting the man, for that matter – Carter is honest. “Yes, sir.”
“Good.” Sir tosses the towel off to the side somewhere, seeming not to care about it anymore. He stalks towards Carter with hooded eyes, his cock growing by the second. “I like what I see, too.”
Carter blushes and shrugs. “I’m not much.”
“That’s certainly not true. You cost me 2 million dollars. You’re beautiful.”
“I cost 2 million dollars because of my brother, sir,” Carter says quietly, aware he’s once again wading into dangerous territory. “He’s the only thing that makes me special.”
“Are you calling me a liar, sweetheart?”
This startles Carter. He jumps straight into a frantic backpedal. “No, sir! No. Not at all, sir!”
“You sure? Because I’m saying you’re beautiful and that I enjoy looking at you, and you seem to be arguing with me.”
“I – I didn’t mean to, sir. You’re right. You’re always right. I’m sorry, sir.”
Sir gently pushes Carter until he’s lying on his back, then grabs Carter’s bare hips and shifts him to exactly where sir wants him to be.
“I’m right about what?” sir asks in a low voice that sends chills up Carter’s spine.
“I’m… beautiful, sir.”
Slowly crawling up Carter’s body, dragging his lips along his damp skin as he goes, sir murmurs, “Say that again for me, sweetheart.”
Carter shivers, the heat of sir’s breath tantalizing against the dip of his pelvis. “I’m beautiful, sir.”
“Again.”
“I’m beautiful, sir.”
Sir licks a circle around Carter’s nipple before nibbling at it. Carter’s back bows off the bed as he gasp
s out in half-surprise, half-pleasure. He’s more prepared when sir does the same thing to his other nipple, but being prepared only makes it feel better. Carter can feel his cock hardening, his face going red in shame.
Of course, sir decides to point it out, clearly wanting to make Carter even more miserable. “There we go. That’s my beautiful good boy.”
Squirming, Carter mumbles, “Thank you, sir.”
Sir reaches down, running the back of his hand along Carter’s length. Carter shivers at the sensation of the knuckles bumping against his cock, then moans when sir nudges just beneath the crown, right where Carter has always been most sensitive.
Chuckling, sir pushes two fingers into Carter’s mouth and goes back to nibbling and licking his nipples. Carter doesn’t have to be told what to do. He immediately starts to suck on the fingers, acting as if they’re dirty and he’s determined to get them clean. He doesn’t even consider where the fingers will be heading until they’re pulled from his mouth and pressed between his ass cheeks.
Sir doesn’t give Carter time to react. He just pushes past Carter’s loose rim and buries both fingers deep inside him. The man sucks bruises into Carter’s neck as his fingers twist and turn, searching. Carter tries to prepare himself, but there’s truly no way to prepare for the moment sir’s fingers brush along the most sensitive part of him.
“Oooh, god!” Carter cries, his hips bucking.
“Not God, just sir.” Sir chuckles at his own cheesy joke, then nips at Carter’s earlobe. Carter’s ears have always been sensitive, just sir breathing on them gets him going, so the bite has him moaning like a damn whore. Which, he supposes, he is one. He feels like one at least, getting hard for the man who bought him like an animal. The man who turned him into a slave. The man who raped him – multiple times now.
“Get out of your head, sweetheart.” Sir brings a hand up to Carter’s throat, pressing down enough to show his strength but not so much that Carter can’t breathe. Their eyes lock. There’s something impossibly powerful about seeing the man like he is, flushed and panting, coming apart because of Carter.
