by T. J. Hamel
It’s not a question, but Carter still meekly nods.
“I figured.” Sir huffs a laugh under his breath. “Want to know a secret, sweetheart?”
Carter looks up to meet sir’s eyes. He nods again.
“You confuse me too.”
“I do?”
“Yes.”
Carter frowns, unsure how that’s even possible. “But… how?”
Sir reaches over, his thumb dragging along Carter’s bottom lip to wipe away a bit of whipped cream there. He brings it to his own mouth to suck it clean, eyes never leaving Carter’s. Carter swallows a whimper at the action as he tries to remain focused on the important conversation they’re having. Except, sir is distracting, the man just staring at Carter like he’s a piece of abstract art; beautiful, but complicated.
“Sir?”
“Nathan,” he says softly, his eyes squinting fondly at Carter. “Please call me Nathan, Carter.”
Carter nods dumbly, feeling a bit like this man has pulled him into a trance. “Nathan.”
“Good boy.” Nathan’s lips twitch before he tears his gaze away from Carter. “You make me doubt everything I’ve ever known.”
Feeling as if the air has been knocked out of him, Carter is breathless when he asks, “What do you mean?”
“You-” Nathan stops, shaking his head as he laughs humorlessly. Then he grabs the remote and says, “We should put a movie on. Would you like to pick?”
The topic change is the opposite of subtle, and Carter wants to call Nathan out on that. He's too afraid, though. It's clearly a sore subject if Nathan is acting like this. He should be smart. Leave well enough alone.
Knowing he might not ever get another day like this again, Carter shoves his lingering thoughts and questions aside. "I'd like that. Thank you."
Nathan turns the TV on before handing Carter the remote. It’s one of those huge fancy smart TVs, but it doesn’t take long for Carter to figure it out. He pauses when he sees the assortment of apps, though, unsure if Nathan wants him to purchase a movie or browse one of his subscriptions. Nathan seems to read his mind. “You can go to that app on the left and buy something.”
Carter does so, too giddy to be nervous as he scans the familiar titles he thought he’d never get the chance to see again. His cheeks hurt from how hard he grins when he finds one movie in particular. “Can we watch this, Nathan?”
“Hmmm?” Nathan looks up from his phone, squinting at the TV in a way that Carter does not find endearing. Then he raises an eyebrow at Carter. “Harry Potter?”
"I love Harry Potter. Maison used to read me all the books, and then when they started coming out in theaters he'd bring me. We'd get straws from the concession stand and pretend we were wizards." Carter's eyes meet Nathan’s, his smile dropping a few levels as his reality sinks in. He darts his eyes back to the screen and shakes his head. "We can watch something else."
"No, let's watch Harry Potter."
"Are you sure?" Carter asks, looking up at Nathan through his lashes.
Nathan’s smile is warm and, if Carter isn’t mistaken, fond. “I’m sure. Though I don’t have any straws, so I suppose Maison is better than me in that regard.”
For some reason, this makes Carter laugh. Maybe it's just the easy way Nathan talks about his brother, not making Carter feel guilty or anxious about the subject. Maybe it's just the goofy smile Nathan gives him when he says it. Maybe it's something else. It doesn't matter. What matters is that when Carter laughs, Nathan’s whole face lights up, and then Carter is trapped in this moment of awe as he stares at the man who stole his whole world from him, forgetting for just a second why he hates him so much.
Carter snaps his attention back to the TV and fumbles with the remote until the movie has been purchased. Then he stuffs his mouth with a pancake bite to make sure he doesn't say something stupid.
Within the first few minutes of the movie, Carter learns 3 very devastating facts about Nathan.
One: Nathan has never seen Harry Potter before. None of them! When asked, he also admits to having never read the books either. Carter can’t decide which is a worse offense, the whole sex slave thing, or being a person who has lived a cold, lonely life without the joy of Harry Potter in it.
Okay, obviously that’s dramatic as fuck, but it’s still a pretty bad offense on its own.
Two: Nathan is one of those people who asks questions when watching a movie.
So. Many. Questions.
“You just have to watch!” Carter says with a laugh for what must be the 5th time in as many minutes. “It’ll explain.”
Three: Nathan is a pouter. The tall, muscular, dark and dangerous man fucking pouts when he does not get his way.
By the time the second movie is over, Nathan has come to two very important conclusions: Snape is obviously a bad guy, and everyone who doesn’t see that is an idiot.
“If this kid can see it, the grown-ups should be able to,” Nathan argues, shaking his head like he just can’t believe the stupidity of it all.
“Looks can be deceiving.”
“But his aren’t! Look at the damn guy. He’s a classic case of villain. Black clothing. Dark cloak. Creepy looking. And the way he treats Harry, openly treats him. I mean, Harry saved the fucking world, and here this asshole is, treating him like a pile of shit he stepped in.”
Carter bites back a smile. “Exactly. His looks could be deceiving you. Maybe they’re making him seem like the villain when he’s not. He could really just be misunderstood.”
“He’s clearly the villain.”
“Not every villain is a creepy looking guy in all black. Some villains are attractive rich men in fancy suits,” Carter tells him without thinking. Then his gut clenches as he realizes what he just said to the man. He ducks his head and holds his breath, waiting to see what will happen. Best case, Nathan just ends their evening and leaves Carter alone. Worst case, Nathan teaches Carter a lesson about attitude.
After a longer pause than Carter would prefer, Nathan finally releases a sigh and agrees. “You’re right. Looks can be deceiving.” Before Carter can figure out what to say to that, Nathan pulls him in close and presses a kiss to the crown of his head. “I think it’s a good time for us to take a little nap. Don’t you agree?”
Carter nods carefully.
“Excellent.” Nathan shifts the pillows around before lying back with Carter still in his arms, guiding Carter’s head to rest on his chest. He tucks Carter’s moose beneath Carter’s chin before pulling the large comforter up to cover them. “Get some rest, sweetheart. We have 6 more movies to watch.”
Nodding, Carter closes his eyes and tries to force himself to relax. It takes a while before he can finally let down his guard enough to sink into Nathan’s warmth. Nathan releases a satisfied sigh the moment Carter’s body melts into his own.
As Carter drifts to sleep, Nathan’s steady heartbeat his own personal lullaby, he thinks that maybe looks can be deceiving, but maybe actions can be too.
Benny had reminded sir that Carter is a sex slave.
Nathan had reminded him that Carter is human.
When they’re around Nathan’s men, Nathan says and does terrible things to him.
When they’re alone in his office or in the bedroom, Nathan pampers him and cares for him.
Nathan shared him with Todd Henley.
He told Todd to stop when he tried to piss in Carter’s mouth.
Nathan said he only did that to keep from dealing with a sick slave.
He had sounded so broken when whispering his scotch-soaked apologies to Carter last night.
Nathan could be a villain that’s attractive and rich, wearing a fancy suit.
Or maybe, just maybe, Nathan is misunderstood too.
Chapter Seventeen
Bodies are pressed against Carter.
Too. Many. Bodies.
They’re wet. Frigid. They must have gotten the hose recently.
Though… Carter doesn’t remember that happening. No
t that he remembers much lately. Time in the cell is a blur, which he thinks is probably for the best.
There’s an ache in him. A need. He… god, he misses someone.
Severely misses someone.
But who?
He smells scotch and spice. He knows that smell. That’s – who is that?
Sir.
Carter has a sir. He shouldn’t be in the cell. He should be in sir’s manor. In sir’s bed. He should be with sir.
It’s his day off. They watched a movie. Cuddled.
Sir gave him his consent.
Sir snapped his teeth at him, growling as he called him little red. Carter had giggled.
Why is Carter in the cell if he has a sir who makes him giggle?
“It was all a dream,” someone whispers. Carter whips around, but nobody is there. It’s just black. A dark, empty, nothingness. “You were dreaming, Carter.”
Carter turns again. “Who’s there?”
Nobody.
Nothing.
Carter blinks rapidly, trying to get his vision to form something. Anything. A shadow. A vague shape. A shade of grey.
“You haven’t been sold yet,” the voice explains. “Nathan Roarke wasn’t real. None of it was real.”
That voice… Carter knows that voice, but he can’t place it.
“Who are you?” Carter demands. “Fucking show yourself!”
“I can’t. They won’t let me see you. They took you away.”
They took Carter away?
He’s right. They did. They took Carter away.
They put him in the dark.
Oh god, the dark. That awful cell. Is Carter really still in there? Starving? Thirsty? Lonely beyond belief? Did Carter conjure sir as a way to cope?
No.
No way.
Sir bought Carter. He knows he did. Carter remembers. Sir bought him, and sir is keeping him. He promised. Sir doesn’t get rid of the things that belong to him, and Carter belongs to him.
That wasn’t a dream.
He isn’t supposed to be here.
He isn’t supposed to be here.
He isn’t supposed to be here.
Carter isn’t supposed to be here.
Looking around the darkness, Carter tries to search again. This time for the man he knows should really be here. “Sir? Where are you, sir?”
Nothing.
“Stop it.” That voice.
Casey.
It’s Casey.
“Don’t call for him, Carter. Stop.”
Carter ignores Casey. He’s a liar. He’s trying to trick Carter.
Sir is real.
Carter knows it.
“Sir?”
“You’re letting the bad guys win,” Casey accuses. “Why are you letting them win?”
“Shut up!”
“We said it’d be okay. We promised Elliot. But it was a lie.”
“We had to,” Carter argues, ending his search just in case this is real. Just in case he’s really gone crazy, and sir was never a man who existed. “Casey, we had to. Don’t you understand? We had to tell Elliot that. He needed to relax. He deserved to relax for just a fucking minute.”
There’s a low voice then. Dark. Dangerous.
It’s not Casey.
“Sweetheart, what are you doing?”
“Don’t answer him,” Casey hisses. Carter jumps at how close the boy suddenly is. He still can’t see him, but he can hear him right in his ear now. He can feel Casey’s breath on his skin. The heat coming off him in waves is the only source of warmth in the darkness. “Don’t, Carter.”
“He’ll be mad if I don’t,” Carter growls.
Casey scoffs. “You just don’t want to disappoint him. You fucking like pleasing him, don’t you?”
Carter doesn’t answer that.
He doesn’t want to talk about sir anymore. He doesn’t want to admit to Casey that every fiber of his being wants to run to the man right now. He doesn’t want to admit that the moment he heard sir’s voice, he felt like he could fucking breathe again.
He doesn’t want to admit that Casey is fucking right.
“You’re with the bad guys. You’re helping them win now.”
This makes the low voice from before chuckle. “Damn right he is. That’s because he’s a good boy, aren’t you, sweetheart?”
Conflict and chaos roar inside Carter’s mind. He wants to be good for sir, but he doesn’t want to let the bad guys win. They promised Elliot that the bad guys won’t win. That was supposed to be true. They were supposed to hold onto that hope. To fucking cling to it. Until their moment.
Keep calm.
Breathe.
Pay attention.
Wait for your moment.
“I’m not helping the bad guys,” Carter whispers.
Casey laughs cruelly. “You’re not fighting either, are you, Carter?”
“I -” Carter has to stop, swallowing the words down as he realizes they’d be a lie. He’s not fighting. Of course he’s not. He’s being good.
“He’s nice if I’m good.” Carter turns, trying desperately to find Casey in the dark. He needs him to understand. Casey has to understand. “I can’t be bad, or he hurts me.”
“Sounds like a dog with a shock collar.” Casey scoffs. “He has fucking weapons in the bedroom. You were in a fucking McDonald’s parking lot and you didn’t even try to escape. You were just by a door and all you did was stare outside like a fucking idiot!”
“You’re the one who fucking told me to wait until the right moment!” Carter growls. “I’m just waiting!”
“No, Carter. You’re not just waiting. You’re enjoying. You’re forgetting. Do you even want to leave him? Do you want to be free?”
“Of course I do! I – I’m just trying to survive.”
“He was willing to give you the day alone, and you begged him to fucking stay with you instead. You rode him like a whore in his bed, and you got off on it. You moaned and came and loved every second of it when he fucked you over a desk. You feel comfortable and at peace when you have his cock in your mouth to warm. You begged him to use you even after he had beat you until you pissed yourself.”
Carter shakes his head furiously, eyes watering. “Stop it.”
“You love it when he holds you, don’t you? When he kisses you. When he calls you sweetheart.”
“Stop.”
“You like him, don’t you, Carter? You’re probably falling in love with the sick fuck.”
That’s not true.
It’s not.
But… isn’t it?
He was just willingly in bed with the man, cuddling him as they fell asleep after watching a movie together. He didn’t cry or try to fight sir any of the recent times sir tried to use him. He even got off on the things sir did to him, just like Casey said.
Carter squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head. He pants under his breath, “No, no, no-”
“Admit it, Carter. Be a fucking man and admit it.”
“No!”
“Sweetheart?”
Carter sobs, trying so damn hard to ignore sir. To not go to him. He wants to prove Casey wrong. He wants to show him that he doesn’t want to be with sir. He’d rather stay here in the dark with Casey.
But that’s a lie. It’s such a goddamn lie. Things have been better since sir. Sir saved him, in a way.
“Saved you?!” Casey nearly screeches. “Better since him? Are you fucking kidding me? He raped you, Carter! More than once! He let that man piss in your mouth! He let him hurt you!”
“He – he made him stop. And he said he was sorry!”
Casey steps away from him, the cold seeping back into Carter’s bones with the loss of his presence. “You’re not special. You’re just a hole to him.”
“No.” Carter tries to step toward Casey, but he can’t see him in the dark. He reaches out, waving his hand, but there’s nothing there. “He said I’m special. He said I’m the only one he wants.”
When Casey speaks, his
voice is soft. Far away. Carter’s heart pounds as he realizes he’s losing Casey again. “I can’t believe you love him.”
“I don’t.” Carter swallows a sob. “Casey, come back. Where are you going? Come back.”
“Sweetheart?” Sir hums softly, the sound he makes when he’s contemplating. Then he whispers right in Carter’s ear. “Come back to me. You’re safe. I’ve got you. Come back.”
“Stay,” Casey begs.
“Come, sweetheart. Come to sir.”
“Please, Carter!”
“Sweetheart.”
Casey shrieks, the sound sharp and violent. Carter quickly brings his hands to his ears to check if they’re bleeding. “They’ll kill me, Carter! They’ll kill me! Please! Don’t leave me! Please don’t leave me!”
Sir sighs in annoyance. “If you want to stay, then fucking stay. But I’m not coming back for you. This will be your life now. The dark. The loneliness. The hunger and thirst. Is that what you want? Don’t I treat you so much better than that, sweetheart? I don’t ask that much of you, and I take such good care of you when you’re good, don’t I?”
Yes.
Yes, he does.
Being with sir has been so much better than the dark.
Carter won’t survive the dark. He can’t be left here. Not again.
Never again.
“Last chance, sweetheart.”
“Please don’t leave me, Carter!” Casey rasps. “Please don’t leave me again.”
Carter grabs at his hair, yanking it. “I don’t know what to do! I don’t know what to do!”
“Alright.” Sir sighs. When he speaks again, his voice is too far away. He’s leaving. “Goodbye, sweetheart.”
“Wait, no!” Panic seizes Carter’s body. “Sir, please. I don’t want to be in the dark anymore. I don’t want to be alone. Please! I’ll come with you. Please!”
“Shhh.” A hand touches Carter’s face. Gentle. Comforting. He reaches for it, wanting to hold it there, but it vanishes. Carter sobs at the loss. “Shhh. You’re okay, sweetheart. Just follow my voice. Be a good boy and follow my voice.”
Carter can do that. He can be a good boy.
He stumbles through the dark, blind, falling twice, once right on his damn face, but then there’s a light ahead, and he’s fucking running. His lungs ache. His body begs him to stop. He needs water. Food. He’s hurt.
