Paid to Kneel

by Romilly King

"Don't go," Richard mumbled, pawing at Ash's arms because they weren't around him anymore. He wasn't ready for Ash to leave. Not yet.

  "The session's over, Ricky," Ash whispered. "Don't you want to clean up and get ready for bed?"

  "No." He kept tugging until Ash was back where he was supposed to be. "Want to stay."

  He heard Ash laugh quietly and then a moment later the arms were back around him and he snuggled into them, aware that Ash had taken his shirt off and now it was glorious skin against his own. He sighed happily and luxuriated in it.

  When Richard woke up the second time, it was morning and sometime during the night he and Ash had drifted away from each other so they were no longer entwined, but they were still close and Ash held one of Richard's hands close to his bare chest.

  He remembered waking up, remembered demanding Ash be with him, and it was a good thing that Ash was still asleep because Richard wouldn't have been able to face him otherwise.

  They'd spent the night together. Richard had made Ash spend the night with him. He blushed furiously.

  Why had Ash humored him? Why hadn't he insisted Richard go to his room?

  Careful not to move too much Richard maneuvered himself to look at Ash. It wasn't something he got the chance to do often, at least not when he was calm enough to take him in properly.

  Ash was so very handsome, beautiful almost, which wasn't a word Richard would use to describe many men but it was appropriate for Ash. This close up, he was breathtaking, and Richard had to stifle the urge to touch Ash's face, to run his fingers over his eyebrows and down his cheeks, to trace Ash's sensuously curved lips. It was much harder than he would have imagined, and even though he kept his hands to himself, the temptation was still there. He wanted to lean in and press their lips together, not for sex, he thought with growing dismay, but just because he wanted to. He wanted to see Ash's eyes open and have him say, "Good morning," have him smile because he was happy to see him.

  With sudden clarity, Richard realized he wanted the privileges of a lover with Ash, not a Venditor.

  He barely knew anything about Ash. Except that he was kind. That he tried to put Richard at ease. That he always made sure Richard knew what to expect and had his safeword ready. That he got pleasure from teasing Richard until it was almost torture, but then he would always hold him afterward when Richard needed him most. He knew that Ash had stayed in bed with him because Richard had asked him to and Ash hadn't even seemed irritated by his inappropriate cuddle hunger.

  Maybe the surprise wasn't that Richard had feelings for Ash but that he hadn't recognized them sooner.

  Richard was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't catch Ash's eyelids start to flutter, and he only noticed Ash was awake when Ash jerked back with a loud, "Argh!"

  He blinked as Ash held a hand to his chest and said, "Shit, Ricky, you trying to give a guy a heart attack?"

  "I'm sorry, Ash," he said, sitting up and turning his head to the side as he composed himself.

  "Yeah, well, it's not that big a deal," Ash said, and there was a hint of concern in his voice that Richard didn't want to acknowledge.

  "I'm sorry for falling asleep last night after the session," Richard said as he quickly climbed out of bed. It hadn't mattered that he was naked when Ash was asleep but it mattered now and he scrambled to put on his clothes.

  "Don't worry about it. I fell asleep too."

  Yes, but Richard had been the one to pressurize Ash into staying in bed with him and he should probably apologize for that too. Richard suspected that if he tried to apologize for that when the realization of how he felt for Ash was so new and close to the surface Ash would sense something. Ash didn't miss much and Richard needed more time to lock his feelings away. Ash didn't want a lover, that's why he had a Venditor.

  "Excuse me, I'm going to go shower," he said and fled back to his room.

  Chapter Twelve

  Richard expected breakfast to be a strained affair, but it wasn't. Ash, rumpled soft and still sleepy, acted the same as always, and eventually, Richard began to follow suit. Nothing had changed really. Yes, he wanted more from Ash than Ash was prepared to give, but it wasn't the first time Richard had had a crush, for lack of a better word, and it likely wouldn't be the last. That they had sex did complicate things, but now that Richard knew there was a potential issue, he could regulate his feelings and responses and not let them get in the way of his duty as a Venditor.

  He would be fine. He would get past this.

  That belief lasted up until Ash absently said, "Thanks, Ricky," in response to him refilling his coffee, and Richard faltered, the coffee splashing over the rim of Ash's cup.

  "What's up?" Ash asked licking a drip of coffee off his thumb.

  "You called me 'Ricky,'" Richard said. Being 'Ricky' was only for scenes, Ash had never called him that outside of the bedroom.

  Richard saw Ash's tongue dart over his lips, a red flush spread across his cheeks and he blinked slowly at Richard. "I am so sorry," he said, "I didn't mean anything by it, we aren't in a scene now."

  "It's alright. I don't mind," Richard said quietly, although that wasn't true, he liked the way Ash had said his nickname. More than that it was the name Ash used when was being the truest version of himself around Richard, when he wasn't maintaining the distance between them and when he was at his most affectionate. Was it any wonder Richard enjoyed hearing it?

  "I shouldn't use it outside of a scene," Ash insisted, "I don't want you to think every time you bring me a coffee that I want servicing!"

  Richard smiled weakly and tried to go along with Ash's feeble joke, "Hey at least I can succeed at bringing you coffee. I'm actually good at that!"

  "You are good at everything Richard,"

  "It's nice of you to say that but I think we both know that's not true," Richard slid back into his seat and tried to be casual.

  "Hey," Ash reached out and gripped Richard's forearm. "You have been nothing but good," he wasn't joking now, "You do everything I ask of you, even if it's humiliating for you."

  "That is not exactly a ringing endorsement of my character," Richard said. He paused for a moment then looked up at Ash, his voice worried "I didn't realize I was like this, this pathetic, it's hardly attractive is it."

  "Would it help if I told you that the more humiliation you are willing to take for me the more fascinating I find you?" Ash looked at him across the breakfast table, his expression honest and open, even a little bashful.

  "Yeah it does actually," Richard said quietly.

  He wasn't going to get over this crush, Richard realized, not while he was in Ash's home and his bed. If something as simple as a nickname and a fleeting endorsement of his submission breached the flimsy walls he had been trying to construct around his heart then Richard was in deeper than he thought. Ash hadn't intended to call him Ricky but Richard couldn't help but think that maybe he wasn't the only one who had become more emotionally invested than he was meant to.

  That wasn't a helpful avenue to go down. He tried to ignore it because a slip of the tongue didn't mean anything, especially when Ash was used to calling him "Ricky". He probably called him that more frequently than "Richard".

  They finished their breakfast in silence but Richard couldn't help the swell of incipient loneliness when Ash said, "Well, I've got some stuff I'm working on, so I'm going to get going, Richard,"

  He only said, "Of course, Ash," and stood to clear the table.

  Ash paused momentarily before turning to leave. He hesitated at the door to his wing of the house and turned back. "Look, so I've got some meaningless sorting to do this morning, would you maybe want to help a bit, if you haven't got anything else planned."

  "God, yes!" Richard said, his fingers tightening on the plates in his hand.

  "Oh." Ash paused again, looking uncertain. "It's not going to be super intellectual, not like you're probably used to, but if you don't mind..."

  "I don't mind," Richard said quickly, He collected their utensils an
d glasses and haphazardly stacked them on top of the plate before Ash had a chance to change his mind. He put everything in the sink for clean-up later, and perhaps he was being too obvious in his actions, but he wasn't going to miss the opportunity to do something useful or to be with Ash. "I'm ready."

  Ash's office surprised Richard. It was small and positioned at the far end of his wing with only one small window that looked out onto a wall of dark forest. "If I had to face the valley view when I worked I would never get anything done," Ash said when he noticed the expression on Richard's face.

  "Fair point," said Richard.

  An "L" shaped desk took up one whole wall and half of the floor space. One side of the L was held a triple screen computer array currently flashing a mesmerizing pattern of blue and purple nodes. Behind the desk was a gigantic ergonomic computer chair with a headset slung over one arm and a VR visor flipped up on the headrest. A remote Waldo glove lay to the right of the screen, palm up, metal fingers curled like a dead spider.

  The remainder of the desk was covered in papers and assorted small electrical devices, some of them connected by wires that trailed haphazardly from their innards. Behind Ash's desk, ripped at the corners and well worn, a huge poster of the human brain was pinned to the wall. Someone had scrawled across it in black sharpie "The truth is in here!"

  Richard smothered a grin. This was nothing like he had expected. He glanced at Ash who was glowering at him, "Laugh it up! I work here."

  "Could be worse, doesn't smell too bad," Ash snarked as he picked up an empty Mountain Dew bottle and dropped it into a convenient waste paper basket, "Though it does rather live up to the cliché of computer guys living in pits and surviving on chocolate bars and soda. Are we cleaning?"

  "Nope," said Ash, "We're sorting," He picked up a stack of A4 pages. "I knocked these over yesterday and I need to resort them."

  The only other chair in the room was stacked with Science magazines so Richard sat down on the floor and made grabby hands to Ash. Ash lowered himself to the floor opposite Richard, holding the stack of papers on his lap. "Some of the printouts have a written notation – S, D, or K – a lot don't but some do, I need them sorted into groups."

  Richard squinted at the page Ash held up. A bright-colored scatter graph with no legend filled the center of the sheet and a serial number ran along the bottom, a DA followed by six figures and a date format. A small K with a question mark had been written in the top right corner.

  The task seemed simple enough. "No probs," said Richard, and Ash handed him half the stack, "Shouldn't take too long."

  "It wouldn't take long," said Ash and leaned back to snag a box from under the desk, "But then we have to put them back into their folders." He lifted out a pile of pale pink folders, "Serial number on the folder corresponds with the one on the sheet. You'll have to slip them in, don't open them, there's stuff in there you aren't allowed to look at," he shrugged, "Data protection shit. These are already in order, D then S then K then the blanks." He riffled through the folders, "I thought I was being clever until I knocked them off the bloody desk."

  "Why are you dealing with paper anyway?" asked Richard, "I thought paper was dead to you guys,"

  "It is to me," said Ash, "But the client likes hard copy and my partner works better with things he can touch."

  It was a weird comment but Richard ignored it and bent to his task. It was mindless work and along with Ash's easy presence beside him, it calmed him. They worked steadily and Richard quickly finished sorting his stack into piles and reached for the pink folders.

  "Hey, you're ahead," said Ash, "Not fair, I must have given you less than me,"

  "Or maybe I'm just not as clumsy as you," Richard teased.

  "Rude!"

  "I'm not the clumsy fucker who knocked them over!"

  "Always knew there was a S.A.M. in you," Ash said.

  "A SAM?"

  "Smart arsed masochist" Ash deadpanned and then dissolved into laughter when Richard stared at him with his mouth open, "Your face man, did you think I was going to bend you over the desk and spank you?"

  Richard couldn't help the sudden tightness in his jeans and the way his breath hitched.

  Ash smirked at him and raised an eyebrow and Richard hastily got on with his work.

  A few minutes later, feeling brave due to the circumstances, Richard asked the question that had been swirling in his brain since their first encounter. "Why do you think you're like this Ash?"

  "Like what?" Ash glanced up at him, "Oh, you mean, "this" like the way I want you in the bedroom,"

  Richard nodded, "Did you always want it like this?"

  Ash leaned back on his hands, the folders were forgotten on his lap, "You think something made me this way? Something gave me a need for sexual control?"

  "It crossed my mind."

  "Did it cross your mind because you are wondering why you like it too?" As always Ash's fast mind saw straight through him.

  "I guess so, my response to it has been," he searched for the right word, "Unexpected,"

  Ash pinned him with his clear silver-eyed gaze, "You can guess at all the reasons you like, past trauma, grief, loss, but basically this is just the way I am wired." His expression was open and honest, "Nothing made me gay and nothing made me a dominant. I just am. You can put it down to brain chemistry, neural plasticity, the genetic lottery, whatever, but I'm just this way and I don't have a problem with it.

  "My problem has never been me; my problem is the same as anyone looking for a relationship, finding a match. It is really that clear and simple."

  "God I wish I had your confidence," Richard said.

  Ash laughed, "You should, you're perfect," he picked up the folders again and looked at Richard under his thick lashes, "When you let yourself go you are exactly as you are meant to be. You can't fake it, baby." His smile grew cryptic, "I could prove it to you but that's top secret and if he found out my business partner would throw a fit of epic proportions, which he is very good at!"

  Richard raised an eyebrow enquiringly.

  "Forget I said that," Ash rolled his eyes at himself, "You make me careless,"

  #

  "How are you doing, Richard?" Ms. Maisie asked, a notepad perched on her pencil skirt clad lap.

  "I'm doing well," Richard said shifting on his perch on the edge of his bed. It was a nervous gesture, but he felt a little nervous, so perhaps that shouldn't be a surprise. This was his mandatory check-in as a Venditor and he hadn't interacted with anyone other than Ash in a week.

  Ms. Maisie had for some reason of her own insisted on their interview taking place in Richard's room and he felt uncomfortable with his space being invaded. She was on the only chair and her relentless cheerleader smile and bouncy demeanor were getting on Richard's nerves.

  The morning with Ash had been fun, they had finished sorting the files and then had enjoyed a casual lunch before Ash reminded him of the check-in meeting and Richard had rushed to get properly dressed. His hair was still wet from the shower and he felt his formal shirt sticking to his poorly dried back.

  "That's good to hear," said Ms. Maisie, "Now, tell me, how has your first week been?"

  "Fine," he said, not sure how he was supposed to describe his time with Ash. Intense. Eye-opening. Simultaneously extremely pleasurable and incredibly frustrating.

  "Fine?" Ms. Maisie asked, arching an eyebrow, clearly looking for more detail.

  "Yes." He opened his mouth to say more but he found he didn't want to. He didn't want to share what he and Ash had done. "it's been fine."

  "I see." Ms. Maisie made a notation on her pad. "How is the Emptor treating you?"

  "Very well."

  Both eyebrows came up this time, and Richard could tell Ms. Maisie was waiting for a lengthier answer, but he had nothing else to say. Everything else was private.

  Ms. Maisie appeared to be at a loss. She and Richard had spent some hours together, hell she had been in the same room when he had masturbated for Ash that fi
rst day and now he was being monosyllabic with her.

  "Are you satisfied with the accommodations the Emptor is providing?"

  Richard nodded. "As you can see, Ash has been very generous."

  "Is there anything you are having difficulty with?"

  "No."

  "Is there anything you want to raise with me at all?"

  "No, thank you."

  Ms. Maisie narrowed her eyes in suspicion, her open face easy for Richard to read.

  "Would you say the physical demands of the contract are as you expected, or are they more or less strenuous than you thought they would be?"

  Richard gave a long, slow blink. "I would say . . . that I was . . . as well-prepared as possible for the physical demands."

  "You sound uncertain."

  "Well. There is always a period of adjustment when starting anything new, but Ash--the Emptor--has been very understanding."

  Richard knew he was fucking this up in some way but he couldn't bring himself to say more.

  "And emotionally? Mentally? Would you say that you're in good health?" Ms. Maisie asked and this time her voice was gentler, coaxing.

  "Yes," Richard said. His mental health was as good as could be expected for someone with large debts, a dying father, and who had just discovered he was harboring feelings for the man he was being paid to have kinky sex with.

  "Do you find yourself unduly attached to the Emptor?" The question came out of the left field.

  Richard cleared his throat. "Not unduly, no."

  Ms. Maisie gave him a look. "But you do feel attachment for him?

  "I think the Emptor is a good man who has been very considerate and fair with me, and I do feel a certain connection to him, but as I said, I don't feel unduly attached," Richard said levelly.

  Ms. Maisie wrote something down. "And you feel capable of completing the next week of the contract?"

  "Yes," Richard said. Shit, he only had another week with Ash. Where had the time gone?

  He answered the rest of Ms. Maisie's questions as best as he could but it was obvious she was concerned.

  As she stood to leave and Richard slid off the bed she put her hand on his forearm, "You know you can tell me if anything is bothering you, Richard," he nodded dumbly, "You are our Venditor above and beyond being his, we want you to flourish in your role."