Kellan, PG, Original Fiction
May. 31st, 2009 01:48 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
steins_storiesTitle: Kellan
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
steinsgrrl
Fandom: Original Fiction
Rating: PG
Summary: Slaves don’t get to love. The punishment for loving is loss.
Author's Note: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
key_fic, Round One. The key is the Grunge Key. Thank you so much to my betas, ma_chelle and naruke_chan. I appreciate your help so much!
The world was warm, silent and dark and Kellan held his deep breath, letting his body relax completely. When he opened his eyes, he saw nothing but the wavy ceiling above him. His hair floated around him, slick and white, tickling his shoulders and his face. He opened his mouth and let out a puff of breath, and it rose in a silvery bubble away from him. Finally, as his chest tightened from lack of oxygen, Kellan rose up quickly, breaking the surface and splashing waves over the side of the tub.
He sucked in big gulps of air and floated over to the bench that ran the length of the tub. Seating himself on the chilly marble tile, he rested his back against the side, tensing from the sudden cold against warmed skin, but relaxing again as the tile lost its chill.
The cd had switched to a new song while he was underwater, and a smile curved his lips as the dulcet notes washed over him. With his eyes closed, Kellan felt around the edge of the tub for one of the fluffy towels he’d laid there, and when his hand fell on one, he folded it again and tucked it behind his head. He began to hum quietly, but as the passion in the music intensified, Kellan couldn’t hold back. He sang along loudly; off-key but passionately, eyes closed, his arms rising out of the water, waving and swaying, almost of their own will.
As the man in the tub enjoyed his bath and his music, Sian stood in the shadows of the doorway, watching him, annoyed with his own fear and apprehension.
His new slave was beautiful. Sian had known the man was beautiful when he’d picked him out at the compound. He’d been dressed in the finest clothes he had then, which was only a pair of faded jeans and a black dress shirt, but Sian had quite liked how this slave looked when he was free of all the things that covered him, when he was just naked and himself.
At the compound, Sian had walked up and down row upon row of men, young and old, who were for sale. Many of them were scarred and timid. Some of them glared at him hatefully, as if daring him to pick them. But Sian wasn’t looking for a cause; he wasn’t looking for someone to heal. He was looking for someone to talk to, and hold and well, if the truth were known, looking for someone to touch him. It had been so long. So long.
Toward the back of the compound, his eyes had fallen on this slave. The man before him looked young and couldn’t have been any older than twenty. At nearly twenty-four, Sian didn’t want an older slave, and he certainly didn’t want a child, so twenty would be perfect. The slave’s hair was long, down past his shoulders, and was the whitest he’d ever seen on a man so young. It stood out starkly, brilliantly, against the gloom and desperation of the compound, but just as strikingly, it lay beautifully against the light chocolate color of the slave’s smooth, unblemished skin.
The man’s features were fine, his nose narrow, but his lips were full. However, it was his eyes, ice blue and full of mirth, that caught Sian’s attention and wouldn’t let him go. Those eyes were not only breathtaking, but the intelligence in them was not something he expected, and he found himself having a hard time looking away. When he finally did, it was to sweep his gaze down over the slave’s body. The man wasn’t necessarily short, but he was shorter than Sian, and he rather thought he’d like it that way. The slave was trim, and Sian had decided he had to see more. He’d gestured to the salesman accompanying him on his tour and whispered in his ear. When the salesman told the slave to strip, the slaves brows had risen just a fraction, and his eyes met Sian’s in a silent question.
Sian had to make sure that the man he was buying wasn’t damaged, and though that was the pretense for getting the slave to take his clothes off, he couldn’t help it when his cock twitched at the sight of the nude man in front of him.
His body was lean and he had long, sinewy muscles similar to those Sian had seen on dancers in the ballets he used to attend. He looked delicate for a man, slightly fragile, as if he could be picked up and broken like a china doll. But one look into those eyes that danced above a challenging smirk told Sian that while this man’s body might look fragile, his mind, most definitely, was not.
And that’s when Sian had picked his slave. Kellan, they had told him the name was.
Kellan. He had rolled the name off his tongue several times as his new slave had been packed up with the essentials that went home with every new slave, like taking home a puppy from the pet store. Kellan came with a change of clothes, toiletries and a small bag of personal belongings.
They’d sat across from each other in the limo, but Kellan had looked out the window most of the ride home, and the atmosphere was strained. Not knowing each other, not knowing what to say, Sian hadn’t said anything at all, and so the trip was silent and long. He was glad when they’d reached his home, and he’d greeted the butler that had come to meet their car. After leaving instructions for Rafael to show Kellan to his quarters, Sian had made his way quickly into the main foyer of the house.
Hours later, he’d only just gotten the courage to come and talk to his new possession, and he’d come in the slave’s quarters to find the stereo blaring and the place seemingly empty. Only after he’d checked the living room and the bedroom did Sian think to check the bathroom. And then when he’d found Kellan there, he could only watch him. He felt like he was doing something wrong in his own house, watching Kellan without the man knowing he was there, but he couldn’t bring himself to disturb the peace that he found on Kellan’s face at that moment.
As his new owner watched silently, Kellan smelled all the fragrant soaps that lined the tub, making pleased humming noises with each one, before he came to one that was dark red. The label said ‘raspberry’, and Kellan slowly unscrewed the cap and brought the bottle to his nose. As soon as the scent wafted over him, Kellan’s belly tightened and his chest clenched. He allowed himself to breathe the scent in deeply once more before he sighed and replaced the cap, the soap inside to remain unused.
Snagging the loofah from the silver hook near the taps, he plucked a random soap from the line and squirted it on the sponge. Swallowing hard, Kellan began to wash, the scent of cinnamon and vanilla rising from the bubbles.
When he was done and he’d rinsed his hair, and his fingers had turned pruny, he decided it was time to get out. He flipped the lever to release the drain, stood up and climbed out of the sunken tub. As he turned to pick up the towel he’d rested his head on, another large, warmed towel surrounded him from behind.
Kellan jumped nervously and squeaked in surprise, but the arms that held the towel against him were strong and sure, and Kellan glanced over his shoulder. The muscular arms around him belonged to his new master, and Kellan tried to relax and stop his trembling. Rivulets of water dripped down the sides of his face as he shivered.
“Something wrong, Kellan?” Sian murmured lowly in Kellan’s ear.
Kellan ducked his head and smiled timidly. “No, sir.”
Sian turned Kellan around in his arms. “Then why are you trembling?” He couldn’t resist smiling when Kellan blushed.
“I’m cold.” Kellan raised his chin and his eyes to Sian’s.
But Sian’s eyes were focused on his lips, and the chuckle died in Sian’s throat. They looked soft and moist, inviting, and Sian found himself slowly leaning toward them. Kellan stared up at him, his eyes growing larger as Sian got closer, and it was only when Sian felt Kellan’s hot breath on his lips that he realized what he was doing.
He could take Kellan now; as his new owner, he had every right to do whatever he wished with Kellan. But as much as he wanted to taste those lips, he wanted to give Kellan a chance to get comfortable with him first. He wanted Kellan to enjoy his new home, to want to be here.
He wanted Kellan to like him.
Sian took a step back and rubbed the towel vigorously over Kellan’s shoulders and arms. “I suppose you should dry off, then.” He handed the towel to Kellan and left him staring as Sian walked into the living room.
He turned the stereo down and wandered around the rooms he’d had prepared for Kellan. He’d tried to think of everything Kellan might need, but he’d had no idea of what the man might want.
Sian was going through the cupboards of the small kitchen when Kellan came out of the bathroom, and Kellan stood at the doorway, watching and waiting. He didn’t know what his new master had in store for him yet, and he wasn’t going to offer anything, so that left him the option of waiting.
His master opened and closed each cupboard door softly, as if someone were sleeping, and Kellan watched as he peered into the small refrigerator. He was relieved that this master was young, maybe a little older than he, and looked to be in good shape. He didn’t need another master like his Adrian to worry about.
Kellan winced and shook his head. He refused to think about such things right now; he had a new master, a new place to live and a new set of rules to learn. He was sure it wouldn’t be long before this new dick was in his mouth or his ass, and he’d have to learn what pleased his new master. Kellan couldn’t help but think that it wasn’t going to hurt that this master was pleasing to the eye.
He was taller than Kellan, his skin tanned and his straight hair was shiny and dark brown. It was smoothed back to the nape of the man’s neck, where it was tied together with a plain, black clasp and hung to just below his shoulder blades. Kellan knew that wasn’t a popular hairstyle, especially among the high class, and he wondered why this man chose to thumb his nose at society’s rules.
Sian turned suddenly, as if feeling Kellan’s eyes on him. There was another awkward silence while Kellan waited for his instructions or the rules or just to be taken. His other owners would not have done such a thing, but he’d heard the stories while he was at the compound, and some owners could be brutal.
But while Sian’s eyes slid over Kellan’s body, the master made no move to get closer. Instead, he gestured toward the kitchen. “I asked the help to stock the kitchen with things you might need, but I don’t know what you would like.”
Kellan’s brows knitted quickly before he fixed his face in a stoic mask. No one had ever asked him what he wanted. It wasn’t for him to decide what he wanted; the master usually had something delivered or told Kellan what to make.
“I don’t know, sir.” Kellan spoke quietly, blue eyes cloudy in his confusion.
Sian nodded. “Perhaps when you’ve had more time to think about it.” He moved past Kellan and into the bedroom. “What about in here?” He sat on the bed and bounced on it lightly, his smile turning bashful as Kellan stepped into the room with him.
“The bed seems soft enough, and do you have enough pillows?” He adjusted a small round one that lay in front of many pillows of various sizes. “I think this is very good bedding. It feels quite soft.” Sian’s hand smoothed across the blanket beneath him.
Kellan lips curved in the tiniest smile, and he had to turn his head to keep Sian from seeing the flush that was filling his cheeks.
Sian suddenly seemed to realize what he was saying, talking about the man’s bed and how comfortable he hoped it was. He cleared his throat and stood quickly, striding away from the bed and over to the closet.
“I wanted to…uh,” Sian opened the closet door and gestured vaguely at the space within, “I wanted to get you some clothes, but I didn’t know what size or…”
Kellan cocked his head.
“Well,” Sian closed the closet door and looked at Kellan with an expression that the slave didn’t recognize, “I will send Rafael to help you decide on a wardrobe.”
“Thank you, sir.” Kellan clasped his hands together behind him, waiting.
Sian nodded slowly and he looked around the room again. He couldn’t think of anything that might be missing, anything that Kellan might need, so maybe it was time to lay a few ground rules. He hadn’t really thought of any rules yet, but he didn’t think there should be many. Well, he thought, first things first, maybe.
“Kellan, I think perhaps I should introduce myself.” He held his hand out to his slave, and Kellan took it, his eyes wide. This master was not like any he‘d ever heard of. “I am Sian.” Tugging Kellan to the bed, he sat on the end and patted the space next to him. Turning sideways, one foot on the floor, he held Kellan’s hand in his.
“I would be rather unconventional for a slave to call his master by his first name, would it not?” Sian asked.
“Yes, sir, it would.” Kellan nodded quickly.
“Good,” Sian smirked, “I like unconventional. So you will call me Sian. No ‘sir’, no ‘master’, just Sian. Understand?”
“Yes, sir-” Kellan stuttered when Sian raised an eyebrow at him. “I mean, yes, Sian.” Trying to hide his smile, he looked down at his lap, his hair shielding his face.
Sian grinned. “Good. I’m going to be frank with you, Kellan, because I don’t know any other way to be.” Sian squeezed Kellan’s hand briefly, a gesture for the slave to look up at him. “I didn’t buy you for sex.”
Kellan tried not to react, tried to keep his face blank. It wasn’t for him to make judgments or have an opinion about his new master, but he couldn’t help but wonder what Sian had bought him for, if it wasn’t for sex. Though his eyebrows still rose slightly, he remained silent.
“I didn’t.” Sian frowned and hesitated. ‘I bought you for many reasons, and although I expect we will have sex at some point, I want you to know that’s not the main reason you’re here.”
Kellan nodded and Sian blew out a long breath. He stood up and motioned for Kellan to stay sitting while Sian paced the room slowly. Kellan watched him, realizing he was going to have to learn to be patient. His new master, this Sian, was smart, but slow to speak, and Kellan wasn’t used to that. His other masters had been talkers, constantly babbling away at Kellan, and Kellan had learned to babble right back. Now Kellan had a new pace to get used to, and he twined his fingers on his lap.
Sian tucked his fingers into the front pockets of his jeans and half turned to Kellan. “I don’t have a lot of rules because I don’t think we’ll need them, but there are a few. First, please keep your quarters clean. I’ll send in one of the maids once a week or so, just to really clean everything, but I don’t want her to have to tidy up. This is your place; take care of it.”
He stopped his pacing in front of Kellan and held his hand up, ticking off another finger. “Second, be cooperative with the staff. They are here to help you. Third,” Sian set off again, glancing behind him to make sure Kellan was still listening, “You will tell staff or inform me when you are low on food or toiletries. It’s not up to us to keep track of these things.”
Kellan nodded at each rule. None of these were particularly difficult to follow, though the cleaning up might be a bit of a problem. Kellan had never been very keen on picking up, and if his clothes were scattered around the room for a while, he didn’t particularly care. He’d get to them eventually.
He looked up again to find Sian moving toward him until his new master perched on the end of the bed next to him again.
“And last,” Sian wanted to grab Kellan’s hands again, wanted to make him feel some connection with him, wanting him to feel something, but he restrained himself and folded his hands in his lap, “the most important rule, Kellan; you will not try to get away.”
~~~
Kellan thought again of his master’s words, hearing them in his head as if they were just spoken yesterday.
“…you will not try to get away.”
He rolled over and pulled the sheet to his chin. Pointing the remote control toward the stereo on his dresser, Kellan turned the volume down a notch and sighed. What Sian didn’t know is that Kellan would never try to get away. He chose to be a slave. He wasn’t really built for anything else, and this was a hell of a lot better than living on the street.
“Kellan, take this.” His mother whispered, kneeling in front of him and pressed two torn, paper notes into his palm, along with three shiny coins.
He looked up at her face, dirty and streaked with tears and sweat and fear. “What for?” Kellan’s voice was as tiny as he was. At six years old, he had been the smallest in his class at school. At eight years old, he no longer went to school; there was no school now, only ruins where it once stood, but Kellan wasn’t much taller than he was two years before. “What do I do with this?”
She grabbed his arms hard. “You have to leave. You have to leave, Kellan; this place isn’t safe for you any more.” Her eyes were frantic and they darted to the shadows behind them in the alley.
Kellan’s eyes grew wide and tearful. He knew this day would come; he knew they’d leave this place, but he always thought it would be both of them. He’d thought it would be the two of them, as it had been since his father hadn’t come home over a year ago.
“No!” His voice echoed off the buildings and rushed down the alleys. “No, you have to come with me! I have to protect you, Mommy! Come on!” Kellan grabbed at his mother’s hands, trying to tug her down the alley. Where he’d take her, he didn’t know, but he thought if he could only get away from here, if he could only get away from this spot where she‘d said this horrible thing, that they would be alright. She’d forget all about this and--
“No, Kellan--” His mother pulled him back, her blonde hair breaking in thin pieces out of its binding and sticking to her forehead and cheeks, “Kellan--” She wrestled with the boy as he struggled and his tears flowed, until she’d pulled him to her, his face pressed into her neck.
Kellan cried into her salty skin, letting out big, choking sobs and taking in deep breaths of his mother’s scent, diluted with dirt and something sour that smelled like that tall, mean man that often dragged his mother off, bringing her back crying.
“Kellan,” she whispered in his ear until his sobs had turned to hiccups and his eyes felt so swollen that he didn’t know if they would ever open properly again, “Kellan, I’ve arranged for a place for you to go.”
His gut cramped and his jaw clenched and he tried to push the thought of his mother out of his mind. He tried not to think of her, tried not to remember what she smelled like, how her hair felt, how her eyes had looked so tired and scared and sad. But he did. Kellan remembered anyway. That was the last time he had seen her.
She took him to a building, something that looked like a warehouse, just outside of the city proper. Inside, she handed him off to a dour man who had looked Kellan up and down, his lips pursed, his eyes squinted, before he nodded at Kellan’s mother.
Her hand was gentle on his back when she nudged Kellan toward the man in the dim office, and Kellan panicked. He knew she was leaving and he did everything he could to stay with her. He clung, he cried, he wailed, but the man was stronger than Kellan, and he picked the boy up and held him under his arm, Kellan’s feet flailing and kicking.
He strained his neck up, desperate to see his mother. If she could just see him, maybe she would change her mind; maybe she would take him out of this place and they could be a family again. But when he finally was able to crane his neck around far enough to see her, he knew that he wouldn’t be going anywhere with his mother.
Kellan watched her take the money, and he watched her walk out the door.
The Slave Holding Tank, Kellan called it, and it’s where he lived for the next six years. When he came in at eight years old, he was too young to sell. And so he was trained. Trained to cook, clean, make conversation and trained in the art of coitus. Every manner of sex was taught, and Kellan was a good student.
The teachers there told him what life was like on the street. They told him that if he escaped, he might be raped, tortured, murdered. Just look at what had happened to his family, they said. So Kellan grew up believing that this life he was to live, his life as a slave, was the best option for him. He couldn’t imagine doing anything else.
No, Kellan wouldn’t try to get away.
A knock on the quarter's door startled him and he dropped the remote. Grabbing it, he thumbed the button to turn the stereo off.
“Kellan?” Sian called from outside the bedroom before he strode in, glancing around with distaste at the clothes scattered about the floor, but then smirking at Kellan still lying in bed. “It’s two in the afternoon, what are you doing in bed?”
Kellan sat up, the sheets pooling around his waist. “I had no reason to get up,” he shrugged.
Sian pulled the drapes open, first one side then the next, and turned his back to the window, the sun beating through the glass and warming him. “Now you have a reason. Get dressed, we’re going out.”
~~~
Kellan walked slowly, looking around him at all the shops that were bustling with people. Vendors were selling their goods and they surely wanted each and every customer to know it. They stood at their tables, calling out for attention in their loudest voices. Some were selling fine, bright linens, some selling shiny, new kitchen gadgets, some were selling food that smelled so good that it made Kellan‘s stomach rumble, and they all vied for the customer’s last dollar.
Up ahead, Sian stopped and turned. “Kellan, you must keep up. We have a lot to do today.”
“Yes, Sian.” He pulled his eyes from a vendor selling cds just in time to stop himself from bumping into Sian. “I’m sorry.” Looking up at his master, Kellan gave him his best apologetic look.
“Have you never been shopping before?” Sian took two of Kellan’s bags from him, lightening the slave’s load and earning a quizzical look. Sian shrugged. They had a lot to get today and he didn’t want Kellan to be bogged down with so many bags that he couldn’t pick out the things he wanted. It only made sense to carry some of the load for him.
“I have, yes, with a previous master.”
“More than to just carry the bags, I mean.” The wind ruffled strands of Sian’s hair until some came loose from the clip at his nape, and he tucked them behind his ear.
“Yes, more than just to carry the bags.” A small smile touched Kellan's lips and Sian watched his slave go somewhere else behind his eyes.
“Perhaps you will tell me about it some time.” Sian took Kellan’s elbow and urged him forward. “But right now, we have to find you another pair of shoes.”
Kellan found himself propelled through the crowd, Sian at his side, pointing out this shop or that, but Kellan paid only the smallest amount of attention. In his mind, he saw a different time, a different market, and a different man at his side.
“Let’s go! I think the braiding booth is open!” Sunlight glinted off of Gaylen’s black curls as he pulled at Kellan’s hand and dragged him through the throng of people out for their days trading.
Kellan squeezed his master’s hand and laughed, “Gaylen, we’ve been running all morning! Don’t you ever get tired?”
Gaylen stopped short and pulled Kellan close to him, so close that if they took a deep breath, their chests would touch. He held their hands down low and caressed the slave’s knuckles with his thumb.
“I don’t know, Kellan,” Gaylen smiled and tipped his head down, trying to look seductive, “do I?”
Kellan blushed a deep pink, blushed like he hadn’t had years of sex training, and his groin tightened.
He’d been with Gaylen for two amazing years, and just being in the young master‘s presence made Kellan happy to the point of giddiness. And it had been that way almost from the beginning.
Gaylen’s father had bought him right from the Holding Tank, as a plaything for his son. Custom dictated that the slaves who had never been owned before were to be bought by younger masters, and they generally wound up as companions for young teens. There wasn’t much regulation in the slave industry, but there were a few rules set in place to try to reduce abuse, and not letting fourteen year old slaves be bought by forty year old masters was one of them.
So Kellan had gone home with Gaylen and his father. His room was tiny, containing only the most necessary furnishings, but it didn’t matter because Gaylen called for Kellan to sleep in his bed with him from the very first night.
Nothing happened between them that first night, nothing except the cementing of a friendship. They had lain awake all night, giggling and telling secrets. Gaylen told Kellan all about the horrid and boring kids he went to school with, and the pranks that he played on them. Kellan told Gaylen about the Holding Tank and the crazy things he’d been taught. He knew that Gaylen didn’t really believe some of those things and thought Kellan was making it up, but Kellan swore it was true.
Over those couple years, Kellan had proved he wasn’t lying. Gaylen was a quick learner and a masterful teacher of his own when it came to showing Kellan what he liked. They spent many nights in each others sweaty embrace, panting as they came back down from heights they’d have never guessed existed if it weren’t for each other.
Kellan let out a long breath and took a step back. It was inappropriate for them to be affectionate in public. Everyone knew about the slaves and the ownership of one was indulged, but Gaylen didn’t treat Kellan as a slave; they looked like two young boys in love, and that was not indulged. That was a sin.
He looked around frantically, searching for a shop to distract his master. Finally he spotted one and nodded in the direction of the booth in front of a nearby store. “Can we go in there next? I’d like to get more of that soap that we used in our last bath, with the raspberry scent?”
Gaylen grinned and as they walked toward the shop, Kellan thought he must have the perfect life and the perfect master and that he would never leave.
He had been wrong.
~~~
Sian watched Kellan clear the table and pile the supper dishes haphazardly in the sink.
“Kellan, don‘t you think you should rinse those and put them in the dishwasher?” Sian asked when Kellan came out of the kitchen right away, causing the younger man to smirk and shrug before turning around.
“It was worth a shot,” he heard Kellan mutter under his breath as he opened the dishwasher and started stacking the dishes inside it.
Sian smiled indulgently and finished putting the remainder of the condiments in the refrigerator. He’d grown used to Kellan’s tendency toward messiness but that didn’t mean he was going to stop trying to get the man to clean up after himself. Maybe one day the message would actually stick.
As Sian got comfortable on the couch, Kellan finished loading the dishwasher and brought Sian a beer from the refrigerator.
“Thank you, but aren’t you going to join me?” Sian screwed off the bottle top, tossed it on the table and sipped at his ale.
Kellan went back to grab his own beer and then settled himself next to Sian. As he twisted off the cap, it struck him how comfortable he’d become with Sian, and how close they’d gotten in the last few weeks.
Kellan generally spent most of his day in his quarters. He listened to music constantly; it was the one thing he couldn’t seem to live without. He read, played video games occasionally and even watched a little bit of television. Yet, he often found himself bored until it was time for Sian to get home from work.
Evening was when Kellan’s day really began. Sian would come to his quarters and Kellan would cook for him. Many times, Sian would join him in the kitchen and help out by chopping vegetables or just general puttering around while Kellan got their meal ready. When Sian had first come in to help him, Kellan had been more than surprised. Masters just don’t do that. They don’t help.
It didn’t take long to find out that Sian wasn’t like any master he‘d ever heard of, but quite a bit like his two previous masters. Sian talked to Kellan, really talked to him. He talked to him like Gaylen had, or like Adrian had, and while Kellan very much enjoyed that, it also scared him a little.
Because Sian not only talked to Kellan, treating Kellan almost like his equal, almost like his friend, but he also did little things for Kellan to make the slave feel like his master actually cared about him. Not just for the well-being of a piece of property, but for a man’s body and soul.
Kellan couldn’t help but care for Sian in return, and that was dangerous. When Kellan thought about it during the day, he decided he had better keep a tight leash on his heart or this could turn out badly, too. Yet every night when Sian walked through that front door, Kellan’s caution flew out of his mind, and he found himself opening up to his master. He found himself letting another man in.
“What should we do tonight?” Sian set his bottle on the coffee table and took Kellan’s hand, brushing his thumb over Kellan’s knuckles. The gesture made Kellan’s chest ache, made Kellan think of Gaylen and his beautiful smile, his beautiful face and how much in love they were. Yet besides the ache, or maybe because of it, this smallest of gestures made Kellan warm and relaxed. This small gesture made him smile.
“You choose.” Kellan took a sip of his beer and brought the bottle down too quickly, making the beer splash up his nose and the ale to foam in the bottle. Sian chuckled but when Kellan sucked the bubbles out of the neck and licked around the lip of the bottle, trying to keep the foam from flowing down the side, Sian went quiet. When Kellan looked back at his master, Sian’s eyes had grown dark.
Sian leaned toward him slowly, giving Kellan time to move if he wished, without considering that Kellan couldn’t move. When it came right down to it, this was his job; this is what Kellan had been trained to do. Kellan waited as Sian moved toward him, and Sian watched the man’s eyes, watched for any indication that he didn’t want this. He wouldn’t want to force anything and maybe Kellan wasn’t comfortable enough to be with Sian like this, but it had been too long since Sian was with a lover and now he wanted this. He could only hope that Kellan did, too.
Kellan closed his eyes just before Sian’s lips brushed against his, so lightly, so sweetly, and the clenching in Kellan’s chest grew almost painful. He knew that this wasn’t going to help his growing feelings toward his master. He knew it, but he couldn’t do anything about it. It wasn’t like he could refuse Sian, even if he wanted to. But if he was honest with himself, he’d have to admit that he didn’t really want to refuse him. He wanted to do this for Sian, but more than that, as much as this might turn out bad for him, he wanted to do this for himself.
He opened his lips then, giving Sian the invitation, and Sian didn’t have to be asked twice. He tilted his head and deepened the kiss, kissing him slowly, kissing him thoroughly, his tongue teasing the slave’s lips lightly.
It wasn’t as if Sian didn’t know that this would happen with Kellan, but knowing it would happen, and actually tasting this man, feeling his soft flesh beneath caressing fingers was completely different.
Sian’s fingers threaded through Kellan’s straight, silky locks and cupped the back of his slave’s head in his palm before gathering Kellan gently into his arms. As his lips moved, brushing across Kellan’s jaw and down the side of his neck, opening, tasting, his teeth nipping, Sian realized that even though he went to work every day, his world had narrowed down to everything that he held in his arms.
He’d fallen in love with a man again. And this time, he would do whatever it took to keep him.
“Go home, Sian.” Finn stuffed another shirt into his bag and punched it down. “Go home and marry Brigid.” He pulled another shirt from the rickety drawer and shoved it in with the rest, his movements harsh and quick.
Sian stared at him from the bed they’d shared for the last two weeks, the bed they’d shared in the room they’d rented when they’d ran. He watched Finn pack his things, wanting to close his eyes, not wanting to see this but afraid if he did, he might miss the last moment he had with Finn. His eyes swept over each part of him, from the curly, blond hair that curled over his ears to the toned, brown arms that continued packing up every thing that Finn had brought with him. As Finn packed up the life that they had started together.
“I don’t want to go back and marry Brigid.” Sian crawled up on his knees, making his way to his love, reaching out for him. “Stay with me, Finn. I don’t know why you just won’t stay with me.”
Finn stepped back from Sian’s outstretched hand and something like hurt flashed in his lover’s eyes before they were blank again. Sian wanted to reach out, wanted to pull Finn to him and hold him and tell him that it was okay, that whatever was wrong, they would get through it together. But Finn shook his head slowly and Sian knew that it was over.
Finn turned his back on Sian and went to the bathroom to gather his toiletries. He jammed his toothbrush and razor into the side pocket of his bag and zipped it shut.
“Why are you doing this?” Sian could do little more than whisper, strength draining from his body along with every hope he’d had for their love, along with every belief he’d had in everything Finn had ever said to him. Perhaps Finn had never really loved him, after all.
Finn paused at the door. Sian felt him look back, felt him watching him, but he couldn‘t bring himself to say more; there wasn’t really a point, because Finn wouldn’t hear anything Sian had to say now, anyway.
Sian sat back on his knees and his arms wrapped around himself. He was confused and scared and wanted nothing more but to curl up into himself and block everything out.
“It’s for the best, Sian; the best for you and the best for me.” Finn ground lowly from the door. “You’ll make a wonderful husband to Brigid.”
Sian looked up just as Finn faced the door and turned the handle. “Don’t try to find me.”
And then he was gone.
The love of his life had walked out the door, without so much as a kiss goodbye. Not a touch, not a word of compassion to make his leaving easier to take. It was like cutting off a limb, and Sian could do nothing but sit numbly in shock.
Even hours later, when the sharp rap had come on his door, he hadn’t moved. Nor had he moved when his father came in, empty suitcase in hand and started packing the remainder of the items in the room. Everything that Sian had brought with him when they’d left in the middle of the night, all their arrangements made. Everything he thought a couple on the run could manage to carry.
“Let’s go.” His father’s gruff voice cut into him and he winced.
Sian had looked up then, surprised, though he shouldn‘t have been. “How did you do it? How did you finally get to him?” There was no question of how he’d found them, of course. When you had as much money as Astor McNabb, you could buy whatever information you wanted, whenever you wanted. Sian expected that. What he didn’t expect was what else his father could buy.
“You know the adage that the pen is mightier than the sword? It was also apparently mightier than whatever affection he had for you. Especially when that pen is applied to my checkbook.” Astor grabbed Sian by the elbow and dragged him off the bed. “Now let’s go.”
Sian had gone.
He had gone back with his father and resumed his place at the family corporation. His mother had insisted on it, even though just Sian’s presence in the office caused a stir and whispers and gossip. Astor put up with his son there, just barely, but at home, Sian was no longer his son.
Astor refused to acknowledge him, and Sian had found himself relieved. Brigid had paid a call shortly after Sian had returned and officially broken off their engagement, and Sian had found himself relieved. He’d been in love with a man, run away with a man, and no respectable woman would touch him. He was considered permanently off the market, and Sian had found himself relieved.
He’d found himself relieved but after six years, he’d also found himself lonely…until the day Sian realized that money took away his companion and it could also buy him a companion.
~~~
“They sold you back. They just sold you back? Just like that?” Sian tightened his arms around Kellan’s shoulders, pressing the slave’s face into his neck until Kellan breathed a muffled protest against Sian’s damp skin.
“I was keeping Gaylen from marrying; they had no choice but to sell me. He’d turned down several good prospects because of me and …” Kellan trailed off and leaned up to press wet kisses against Sian’s smooth, brown chest. “I had to go.”
After all these years, it still hurt to think about, still caused an ache in his heart and Kellan changed the subject. “I was at the Holding Tank for only two weeks when I was bought again.”
“And which master was that?” Sian pulled Kellan’s head back down and smoothed his palm down the slave’s tangled hair.
“Adrian. He was my only other master besides you and Gaylen.” Kellan smiled. “At the Holding Tank, he made sure to look me over very closely before deciding I should go home with him.”
“Well, I should imagine. It’s a big step, buying a slave.”
“No, Sian. Very closely. As in, Adrian didn’t see very well, and when he was checking me out, he was,” Kellan leaned up and put his face mere centimeters from Sian’s, “very, very close.” Kellan dropped a kiss on Sian’s smiling lips and lay back down on his master’s shoulder.
“How long were you with him?” Sian’s smooth fingertips played over Kellan’s skin, up his arm, down his side, and Kellan closed his eyes.
“Three years. I was his companion for three years, until he died.” Sian’s fingers stopped moving and his arms tightened around his slave.
“He was old and he died. It happens, I hear,” he said wryly, “though it broke my heart at the time. We had become quite close. Anyway, his sister was a--” Kellan grimaced, his voice rough, but he stopped himself short. “Never mind. Martina didn’t like that Adrian had me, she didn’t like that he had a slave. She thought it was a disgrace to the family, so since the estate was left to her, and I was part of the estate, she could do with me as she pleased. She sold me back to the Holding Tank.”
Sian didn’t speak, caught up in thoughts of how difficult that must have been for Kellan. Of course, he knew that some slaves had a much tougher life than what Kellan’s had been, but Sian didn’t love other slaves; he loved Kellan. He resolved at that moment that he would do anything he could to spare Kellan further heartache in his life.
He kissed Kellan then, as he had done hundreds of times in the past few months, but this kiss was different, deeper. This kiss meant more, and he hoped Kellan could feel it. When they were together, it was no longer just sex to Sian, now it was making love. Sian was extra gentle with him, extra sweet.
And when Sian came inside Kellan that night, the slave held close to him, strong arms wrapped around him, Sian couldn’t hold back the whisper he breathed into Kellan’s ear.
“I love you.”
~~~
The CD changer clicked and whirred and a new song blared out of the speakers in the living room. The bass thumped and the windows shook and Kellan couldn’t hear himself think, let alone hear anything else.
He scrubbed at the tiles in the bathtub, cleaning each grout line thoroughly until it gleamed before moving on to the next one.
Kellan cleaned because he didn’t want to think. And he didn’t want to think because lately, the only thing he could think about was Sian. Sian and those three words that had kept Kellan awake at night for a week. He’d lain in his bed and stared at the ceiling, his stomach aching and his chest hurting. He’d tossed and turned and ripped the sheets half off the bed with his restlessness.
Sian couldn’t be in love with him, he just couldn’t, and Kellan scrubbed harder at the tiles, as if to scrub Sian’s words out of his head. Kellan had come to terms some time ago that what he felt for his master was more than slight affection, but Kellan wouldn’t dare to call it love.
Everyone Kellan loved had left him. That’s just the way it was and Kellan figured that was the way it was meant to be. Slaves weren’t allowed to love, he’d determined, and the punishment for loving was loss.
Those three words, whispered softly by adoring lips, had been answered in kind before Kellan could stop them. He’d said it back, told Sian he loved him and Kellan was sick about it.
He turned the tap on, washing soapy residue down the drain, and he swished it along swiftly with his hand as he came to a decision.
He had to fix this. He couldn’t be in love with Sian, and maybe the only way to fall out of love was to make Sian fall out of love with him.
The idea cramped his stomach until he thought he would empty its contents all over the newly washed tiles, but he could think of no other way. He’d rather lose Sian’s love than lose Sian completely.
~~~
Sian didn’t understand it. He didn’t understand what was going on with Kellan. All he knew was that Kellan just simply wasn’t Kellan anymore.
The first clue that something was wrong was the cleaning. Kellan had never been one to pick up his clothes without being reminded, to do his dishes without being nudged or to clean the bathroom without a hint from Sian that perhaps it was time to do so. But lately, when Sian had visited his slave, Kellan’s quarters were clean. Not just clean, but spotless. No clothes lying around, no dishes in the living room with pasta hardening like cement on them.
Then there was the politeness. Of course, Kellan had always been polite. Slaves are trained to be polite, and Kellan would certainly be courteous to Sian, given their relationship. No, this was different; this had turned into an impersonal politeness. For weeks, when he’d ask for an opinion, he’d get, “Whatever you think, Sian.” When he’d ask what Kellan wanted for supper, the slave would respond, “Whatever you’d like, Sian.” and it was starting to drive Sian a bit mad.
The worst part, perhaps the most painful part, was that the new behavior followed them into the bedroom.
Kellan responded to Sian as he always had, but only physically. Sian was beginning to feel like he just couldn’t connect with Kellan anymore. Kellan’s kisses were nonchalant, as if he really was doing a job. Kellan wouldn’t even look at Sian when they were making love and Sian held him close.
He didn’t understand it, and Kellan’s sudden coldness made his chest ache. It hurt more than Sian thought he possibly could hurt again. It reminded him too much of those last days with Finn.
As uncomfortable as it might be, as scared as he was, he had to talk to Kellan. He had to do something, because he couldn’t live like this.
At least when Finn had left him, he’d actually left.
~~~
Kellan closed the sliding screen to the terrace and looked around. The day was beautiful, the sky bright blue and the sun beat down warm on his shoulders. He handed Sian his bottle of water and sat next to him on the bench swing, and Sian stared down at the space between them. It was only a matter of thirty centimeters, but it might have well been three thousand centimeters, as close as they‘d been lately.
Kellan looked so stiff sitting there, as if he was tensed against something and Sian felt that, for the first time in weeks, they connected on something. The muscles in Sian’s shoulders were rock hard and his back hurt from the muscle tension there. He had worried too long, procrastinated too long, and now he needed to do this and get it over with.
“Kellan, can we talk?” Sian looked down at his water bottle and ran his thumbnail around the edge of the cap out of sheer nervousness.
“If you wish.” Kellan said mildly, looking straight ahead, his fingers holding tightly to his own bottle.
Sian sighed and just stopped himself from voicing his frustration at Kellan’s disinterest. Losing control would get them nowhere, and Sian took a couple deep breaths. He looked out across the expanse of lawn behind the mansion, the sudden cool breeze raising goose bumps on his arms.
“What happened?” Sian asked softly, his voice low and gritty, close to breaking.
Kellan’s knuckles turned white on his bottle and he held his breath. He knew that Sian was upset, had known it for a while, and while it hurt Kellan so much that he physically ached from it, he’d stuck to his plan. He had to, if he was going to make Sian fall out of love with him.
“What happened, Kellan? Things were so good.” Sian turned to his lover then, dropping his bottle between then and reaching for Kellan’s hand, prying it from the bottle it was gripped around. He rubbed his fingertips across Kellan’s palm and over the top, desperately needing to feel him, to touch him and not have Kellan turn to stone beneath his fingers.
“I-” Kellan looked at their hands. Sian’s soft touch burned, and he wanted nothing more than to feel that burn everywhere. He took a breath and stared out across the lawn. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Kellan barely got the whole sentence out before Sian was scoffing, “Don’t lie to me.” He squeezed Kellan’s fingers too tightly. “Tell me what’s wrong. Why are you acting this way?” he asked hoarsely.
The pain in Sian’s voice could be his undoing and Kellan knew it. His vision grew blurry, his eyes stinging, and he blinked hard, willing the tears away. He opened his mouth to speak but he didn’t know what to say and closed it again. He couldn’t tell Sian the truth, and he couldn’t lie, so he couldn’t say anything at all.
Sian stood quickly and paced the terrace, his hands thrust into his pockets, as if he didn’t know what to do with them. “Didn’t I give you everything?”
Kellan bowed his head and nervous fingers picked pieces of the label from his bottle. Yes, Sian had given him everything, and that was the problem.
Sian continued to pace, sparing a glance at Kellan every few moments, but Kellan refused to look up. This was killing him and he wanted to run, but a slave wasn’t allowed to leave until the master dismissed him. And even if he had to remind himself again and again, even if he had to remind himself of that when Sian was touching him with such love in his eyes, or when Sian hovered over him, his eyes burning with desire, that’s what Kellan wanted to be again, merely Sian’s slave.
“Kellan.” Sian stopped in the middle of the terrace, his back to his slave.
“Yes?” he croaked.
Sian was silent for a moment, and Kellan could see how hard his shoulders were from where he sat. Finally, he asked, “Do you want to be here?”
Kellan stopped breathing. He knew what he desperately wanted to say, but he couldn’t say it. A slave has no wants. The only want they are allowed is what their master wants. Hadn’t he been told that day after day, year after year? And if Kellan was to be Sian’s slave, and only Sian’s slave, he had to follow the rules. “It’s not up to me.”
Sian’s shoulders relaxed and he could hear the whoosh of breath that left his master’s lungs. The birds sang around them as if all was right with the world and Kellan hated them. He wanted them to hurt and ache and need as much as he did. He wanted them to shut up already, because he had just broken Sian’s heart and how dare they sing so beautifully.
Sian turned suddenly and went to the door, not looking at Kellan. “You’re right. It’s not.”
When the door closed behind his master, Kellan dropped his head in his hands and finally allowed his tears.
~~~
Sian hadn’t visited him for a week.
Every evening, Kellan waited. He’d kept his quarters clean and even cooked Sian’s favorites, only to dump them down the disposal in the small hours of the morning when Sian failed to show, yet again. And really, Kellan reminded himself, what else should he have expected? His plan had backfired. Sian had not only fallen out of love with him but obviously didn’t want him at all now.
Kellan didn’t know what to do with himself. He couldn’t concentrate on video games and when he tried to read, he found himself reading the same sentences over and over before he gave up and threw the book in disgust. Kellan hadn’t turned the stereo on in a week. Music had always calmed him before. The notes spoke to his soul, they soothed him, even when they riled him, and he thought he could never live without them. But every CD he had now had been given to him by Sian, and Kellan just couldn’t listen to them without thinking of Sian.
That lasted until Rafael arrived at his door, suitcases in hand, trailing several large men with empty boxes.
They packed Kellan’s things quickly and efficiently, wrapping each delicate thing he owned in newspaper, folding each article of clothing. Kellan watched from the middle of the living room, his breath stuck in his chest where it burned and built up until his head hurt. With every kind look from the head butler, he wrapped his arms tighter around himself and struggled not to break down completely.
Rafael dropped a travel bag at Kellan’s feet, the same bag he’d come here with, and handed a suitcase off to the last of the men walking out the door with everything that Sian had given to Kellan, except the most important one of all. That one, Kellan had thrown away.
“Master Sian has provided a car. If you would please come with me.” Rafael opened the door for him and waited.
Kellan only had a moment to look around at the bare rooms. They looked pretty much as they had when Kellan had arrived, but now there were memories living in every corner and lurking in every room and Kellan couldn’t stand to see it like this.
He strode quickly to the door and past Rafael, waiting for the butler to lock the door behind him before following him down to the car running outside. He gave the butler an odd look when Rafael held the door of the car for him but shrugged it off as he slid over the smooth leather. Kellan didn’t ask where he was going; he already knew.
He leaned into the corner of the back seat and closed his eyes. Kellan didn’t want to see the countryside until they got to the city and he didn’t want to see the Holding Tank as they drove up on it, so he closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of leather and tried not to think of everything he’d just left behind.
When the car rolled smoothly to a stop, Kellan had to be shaken awake. Rafael stood over the top of him, nudging his elbow and calling his name. “Master Kellan!”
Kellan blinked himself awake and sat up straight in the seat, flexing his arms and legs. He didn’t know how long the ride had been, but his muscles ached and he got out of the car slowly.
It didn’t register to him until he turned around that he wasn’t at the Holding Tank. In front of him, on the other side of the car, was a house. It was an older house, stucco on the outside, with dark blue window frames and a red tile roof. The lawn wasn’t huge, but it had gardens, with flowers blooming, their scent light on the breeze.
Kellan turned to Rafael, who was removing Kellan’s bags from the trunk. “What is this? Where am I?”
Rafael left the trunk open and walked, tilting his grey head a couple of times towards the house. “We should go in now, sir.”
Confused, Kellan followed the butler, rushing around him to open the door so Rafael wouldn’t have to put down the bags. When he was inside, he closed the door behind him and turned, his confusion growing.
The house wasn’t big, but it was beautiful. The kitchen to his left was full of modern appliances and gadgets, and Kellan trailed his hand along the stone counter tiles as he walked through the room. The dining room through the other side was tiny, with purple lilies in a vase in the center of the thick wooden table just big enough for two.
Kellan toured the house slowly as Rafael brought more bags into the house. The boxes that were packed up in his quarters at Sian’s were stacked out of the way in the living room, out of the way of the plush, burgundy couch that sat in front of the fireplace.
By the time he got to the bedroom, Kellan wasn’t sure what to make of any of this. Rafael buzzed around him, unpacking Kellan’s clothes and hanging them in the closet, and Kellan watched him, dumbfounded. “Rafael, what-”
“I believe there is a note, sir,” the butler gestured toward the bed, “on the pillow.”
There, on the dark blue, satin pillowcase, lay a simple cream envelope. Kellan picked it up with shaky fingers and ran the tips over his name written on the front in thin, black lines. The paper inside was thin, almost delicate, and Kellan unfolded it carefully.
Dearest Kellan,
There are so many things I want to say to you, and just as many things that I’m afraid to say to you. I’m a coward and so there is this.
This house, and everything in it, is yours. Not just for you to live in but for you to keep. Your name is on the title.
But wait, slaves can’t own houses, you say? That’s right, they can’t. But you can.
You belong to no one but yourself.
That said, I’m hoping that since you are no longer obligated to tolerate my advances and you can choose who you want to love, that you will choose to be with me again. It’s a chance I’m willing to take.
I will come at noon tomorrow.
All my love,
Sian
Kellan’s arm fell to his side and the note fluttered to the floor.
He was free.
He’d never wanted to be free. Kellan had wanted to be a slave because it was better to be a slave than to wander the streets, to have to search for food by night and sleep in the day, hoping to make it through each day without being robbed or raped.
Now he didn’t have to worry about any of those. He didn’t have to be a slave. He wasn’t a slave.
“Master Kellan, would you care for supper now?” Rafael had finished putting away the clothes and his suitcases and stood before him.
“Master…what?” Kellan thought he must not have heard the butler right.
Rafael smiled and inclined his head. “Master Sian sent me to work for you.”
Kellan could only gape and continued to do so until the butler chuckled, “Supper now, it is then,” and he left Kellan standing alone by the bed.
~~~
Kellan lay awake long into the night, reveling in the feeling of his new bed with his new sheets, in the house that was his. He smoothed his hands over the comforter and up to his pillow, grabbing it and plumping it up under his head when he turned over.
At some point between the stuffed pork and cheesecake, something had hit him. Slaves don’t get to love. The punishment for loving was loss.
Kellan was no longer a slave.
Kellan’s eyes drifted closed and he dreamed of tomorrow.
Author:
steinsgrrlFandom: Original Fiction
Rating: PG
Summary: Slaves don’t get to love. The punishment for loving is loss.
Author's Note: Written for
key_fic, Round One. The key is the Grunge Key. Thank you so much to my betas, ma_chelle and naruke_chan. I appreciate your help so much!The world was warm, silent and dark and Kellan held his deep breath, letting his body relax completely. When he opened his eyes, he saw nothing but the wavy ceiling above him. His hair floated around him, slick and white, tickling his shoulders and his face. He opened his mouth and let out a puff of breath, and it rose in a silvery bubble away from him. Finally, as his chest tightened from lack of oxygen, Kellan rose up quickly, breaking the surface and splashing waves over the side of the tub.
He sucked in big gulps of air and floated over to the bench that ran the length of the tub. Seating himself on the chilly marble tile, he rested his back against the side, tensing from the sudden cold against warmed skin, but relaxing again as the tile lost its chill.
The cd had switched to a new song while he was underwater, and a smile curved his lips as the dulcet notes washed over him. With his eyes closed, Kellan felt around the edge of the tub for one of the fluffy towels he’d laid there, and when his hand fell on one, he folded it again and tucked it behind his head. He began to hum quietly, but as the passion in the music intensified, Kellan couldn’t hold back. He sang along loudly; off-key but passionately, eyes closed, his arms rising out of the water, waving and swaying, almost of their own will.
As the man in the tub enjoyed his bath and his music, Sian stood in the shadows of the doorway, watching him, annoyed with his own fear and apprehension.
His new slave was beautiful. Sian had known the man was beautiful when he’d picked him out at the compound. He’d been dressed in the finest clothes he had then, which was only a pair of faded jeans and a black dress shirt, but Sian had quite liked how this slave looked when he was free of all the things that covered him, when he was just naked and himself.
At the compound, Sian had walked up and down row upon row of men, young and old, who were for sale. Many of them were scarred and timid. Some of them glared at him hatefully, as if daring him to pick them. But Sian wasn’t looking for a cause; he wasn’t looking for someone to heal. He was looking for someone to talk to, and hold and well, if the truth were known, looking for someone to touch him. It had been so long. So long.
Toward the back of the compound, his eyes had fallen on this slave. The man before him looked young and couldn’t have been any older than twenty. At nearly twenty-four, Sian didn’t want an older slave, and he certainly didn’t want a child, so twenty would be perfect. The slave’s hair was long, down past his shoulders, and was the whitest he’d ever seen on a man so young. It stood out starkly, brilliantly, against the gloom and desperation of the compound, but just as strikingly, it lay beautifully against the light chocolate color of the slave’s smooth, unblemished skin.
The man’s features were fine, his nose narrow, but his lips were full. However, it was his eyes, ice blue and full of mirth, that caught Sian’s attention and wouldn’t let him go. Those eyes were not only breathtaking, but the intelligence in them was not something he expected, and he found himself having a hard time looking away. When he finally did, it was to sweep his gaze down over the slave’s body. The man wasn’t necessarily short, but he was shorter than Sian, and he rather thought he’d like it that way. The slave was trim, and Sian had decided he had to see more. He’d gestured to the salesman accompanying him on his tour and whispered in his ear. When the salesman told the slave to strip, the slaves brows had risen just a fraction, and his eyes met Sian’s in a silent question.
Sian had to make sure that the man he was buying wasn’t damaged, and though that was the pretense for getting the slave to take his clothes off, he couldn’t help it when his cock twitched at the sight of the nude man in front of him.
His body was lean and he had long, sinewy muscles similar to those Sian had seen on dancers in the ballets he used to attend. He looked delicate for a man, slightly fragile, as if he could be picked up and broken like a china doll. But one look into those eyes that danced above a challenging smirk told Sian that while this man’s body might look fragile, his mind, most definitely, was not.
And that’s when Sian had picked his slave. Kellan, they had told him the name was.
Kellan. He had rolled the name off his tongue several times as his new slave had been packed up with the essentials that went home with every new slave, like taking home a puppy from the pet store. Kellan came with a change of clothes, toiletries and a small bag of personal belongings.
They’d sat across from each other in the limo, but Kellan had looked out the window most of the ride home, and the atmosphere was strained. Not knowing each other, not knowing what to say, Sian hadn’t said anything at all, and so the trip was silent and long. He was glad when they’d reached his home, and he’d greeted the butler that had come to meet their car. After leaving instructions for Rafael to show Kellan to his quarters, Sian had made his way quickly into the main foyer of the house.
Hours later, he’d only just gotten the courage to come and talk to his new possession, and he’d come in the slave’s quarters to find the stereo blaring and the place seemingly empty. Only after he’d checked the living room and the bedroom did Sian think to check the bathroom. And then when he’d found Kellan there, he could only watch him. He felt like he was doing something wrong in his own house, watching Kellan without the man knowing he was there, but he couldn’t bring himself to disturb the peace that he found on Kellan’s face at that moment.
As his new owner watched silently, Kellan smelled all the fragrant soaps that lined the tub, making pleased humming noises with each one, before he came to one that was dark red. The label said ‘raspberry’, and Kellan slowly unscrewed the cap and brought the bottle to his nose. As soon as the scent wafted over him, Kellan’s belly tightened and his chest clenched. He allowed himself to breathe the scent in deeply once more before he sighed and replaced the cap, the soap inside to remain unused.
Snagging the loofah from the silver hook near the taps, he plucked a random soap from the line and squirted it on the sponge. Swallowing hard, Kellan began to wash, the scent of cinnamon and vanilla rising from the bubbles.
When he was done and he’d rinsed his hair, and his fingers had turned pruny, he decided it was time to get out. He flipped the lever to release the drain, stood up and climbed out of the sunken tub. As he turned to pick up the towel he’d rested his head on, another large, warmed towel surrounded him from behind.
Kellan jumped nervously and squeaked in surprise, but the arms that held the towel against him were strong and sure, and Kellan glanced over his shoulder. The muscular arms around him belonged to his new master, and Kellan tried to relax and stop his trembling. Rivulets of water dripped down the sides of his face as he shivered.
“Something wrong, Kellan?” Sian murmured lowly in Kellan’s ear.
Kellan ducked his head and smiled timidly. “No, sir.”
Sian turned Kellan around in his arms. “Then why are you trembling?” He couldn’t resist smiling when Kellan blushed.
“I’m cold.” Kellan raised his chin and his eyes to Sian’s.
But Sian’s eyes were focused on his lips, and the chuckle died in Sian’s throat. They looked soft and moist, inviting, and Sian found himself slowly leaning toward them. Kellan stared up at him, his eyes growing larger as Sian got closer, and it was only when Sian felt Kellan’s hot breath on his lips that he realized what he was doing.
He could take Kellan now; as his new owner, he had every right to do whatever he wished with Kellan. But as much as he wanted to taste those lips, he wanted to give Kellan a chance to get comfortable with him first. He wanted Kellan to enjoy his new home, to want to be here.
He wanted Kellan to like him.
Sian took a step back and rubbed the towel vigorously over Kellan’s shoulders and arms. “I suppose you should dry off, then.” He handed the towel to Kellan and left him staring as Sian walked into the living room.
He turned the stereo down and wandered around the rooms he’d had prepared for Kellan. He’d tried to think of everything Kellan might need, but he’d had no idea of what the man might want.
Sian was going through the cupboards of the small kitchen when Kellan came out of the bathroom, and Kellan stood at the doorway, watching and waiting. He didn’t know what his new master had in store for him yet, and he wasn’t going to offer anything, so that left him the option of waiting.
His master opened and closed each cupboard door softly, as if someone were sleeping, and Kellan watched as he peered into the small refrigerator. He was relieved that this master was young, maybe a little older than he, and looked to be in good shape. He didn’t need another master like his Adrian to worry about.
Kellan winced and shook his head. He refused to think about such things right now; he had a new master, a new place to live and a new set of rules to learn. He was sure it wouldn’t be long before this new dick was in his mouth or his ass, and he’d have to learn what pleased his new master. Kellan couldn’t help but think that it wasn’t going to hurt that this master was pleasing to the eye.
He was taller than Kellan, his skin tanned and his straight hair was shiny and dark brown. It was smoothed back to the nape of the man’s neck, where it was tied together with a plain, black clasp and hung to just below his shoulder blades. Kellan knew that wasn’t a popular hairstyle, especially among the high class, and he wondered why this man chose to thumb his nose at society’s rules.
Sian turned suddenly, as if feeling Kellan’s eyes on him. There was another awkward silence while Kellan waited for his instructions or the rules or just to be taken. His other owners would not have done such a thing, but he’d heard the stories while he was at the compound, and some owners could be brutal.
But while Sian’s eyes slid over Kellan’s body, the master made no move to get closer. Instead, he gestured toward the kitchen. “I asked the help to stock the kitchen with things you might need, but I don’t know what you would like.”
Kellan’s brows knitted quickly before he fixed his face in a stoic mask. No one had ever asked him what he wanted. It wasn’t for him to decide what he wanted; the master usually had something delivered or told Kellan what to make.
“I don’t know, sir.” Kellan spoke quietly, blue eyes cloudy in his confusion.
Sian nodded. “Perhaps when you’ve had more time to think about it.” He moved past Kellan and into the bedroom. “What about in here?” He sat on the bed and bounced on it lightly, his smile turning bashful as Kellan stepped into the room with him.
“The bed seems soft enough, and do you have enough pillows?” He adjusted a small round one that lay in front of many pillows of various sizes. “I think this is very good bedding. It feels quite soft.” Sian’s hand smoothed across the blanket beneath him.
Kellan lips curved in the tiniest smile, and he had to turn his head to keep Sian from seeing the flush that was filling his cheeks.
Sian suddenly seemed to realize what he was saying, talking about the man’s bed and how comfortable he hoped it was. He cleared his throat and stood quickly, striding away from the bed and over to the closet.
“I wanted to…uh,” Sian opened the closet door and gestured vaguely at the space within, “I wanted to get you some clothes, but I didn’t know what size or…”
Kellan cocked his head.
“Well,” Sian closed the closet door and looked at Kellan with an expression that the slave didn’t recognize, “I will send Rafael to help you decide on a wardrobe.”
“Thank you, sir.” Kellan clasped his hands together behind him, waiting.
Sian nodded slowly and he looked around the room again. He couldn’t think of anything that might be missing, anything that Kellan might need, so maybe it was time to lay a few ground rules. He hadn’t really thought of any rules yet, but he didn’t think there should be many. Well, he thought, first things first, maybe.
“Kellan, I think perhaps I should introduce myself.” He held his hand out to his slave, and Kellan took it, his eyes wide. This master was not like any he‘d ever heard of. “I am Sian.” Tugging Kellan to the bed, he sat on the end and patted the space next to him. Turning sideways, one foot on the floor, he held Kellan’s hand in his.
“I would be rather unconventional for a slave to call his master by his first name, would it not?” Sian asked.
“Yes, sir, it would.” Kellan nodded quickly.
“Good,” Sian smirked, “I like unconventional. So you will call me Sian. No ‘sir’, no ‘master’, just Sian. Understand?”
“Yes, sir-” Kellan stuttered when Sian raised an eyebrow at him. “I mean, yes, Sian.” Trying to hide his smile, he looked down at his lap, his hair shielding his face.
Sian grinned. “Good. I’m going to be frank with you, Kellan, because I don’t know any other way to be.” Sian squeezed Kellan’s hand briefly, a gesture for the slave to look up at him. “I didn’t buy you for sex.”
Kellan tried not to react, tried to keep his face blank. It wasn’t for him to make judgments or have an opinion about his new master, but he couldn’t help but wonder what Sian had bought him for, if it wasn’t for sex. Though his eyebrows still rose slightly, he remained silent.
“I didn’t.” Sian frowned and hesitated. ‘I bought you for many reasons, and although I expect we will have sex at some point, I want you to know that’s not the main reason you’re here.”
Kellan nodded and Sian blew out a long breath. He stood up and motioned for Kellan to stay sitting while Sian paced the room slowly. Kellan watched him, realizing he was going to have to learn to be patient. His new master, this Sian, was smart, but slow to speak, and Kellan wasn’t used to that. His other masters had been talkers, constantly babbling away at Kellan, and Kellan had learned to babble right back. Now Kellan had a new pace to get used to, and he twined his fingers on his lap.
Sian tucked his fingers into the front pockets of his jeans and half turned to Kellan. “I don’t have a lot of rules because I don’t think we’ll need them, but there are a few. First, please keep your quarters clean. I’ll send in one of the maids once a week or so, just to really clean everything, but I don’t want her to have to tidy up. This is your place; take care of it.”
He stopped his pacing in front of Kellan and held his hand up, ticking off another finger. “Second, be cooperative with the staff. They are here to help you. Third,” Sian set off again, glancing behind him to make sure Kellan was still listening, “You will tell staff or inform me when you are low on food or toiletries. It’s not up to us to keep track of these things.”
Kellan nodded at each rule. None of these were particularly difficult to follow, though the cleaning up might be a bit of a problem. Kellan had never been very keen on picking up, and if his clothes were scattered around the room for a while, he didn’t particularly care. He’d get to them eventually.
He looked up again to find Sian moving toward him until his new master perched on the end of the bed next to him again.
“And last,” Sian wanted to grab Kellan’s hands again, wanted to make him feel some connection with him, wanting him to feel something, but he restrained himself and folded his hands in his lap, “the most important rule, Kellan; you will not try to get away.”
~~~
Kellan thought again of his master’s words, hearing them in his head as if they were just spoken yesterday.
“…you will not try to get away.”
He rolled over and pulled the sheet to his chin. Pointing the remote control toward the stereo on his dresser, Kellan turned the volume down a notch and sighed. What Sian didn’t know is that Kellan would never try to get away. He chose to be a slave. He wasn’t really built for anything else, and this was a hell of a lot better than living on the street.
“Kellan, take this.” His mother whispered, kneeling in front of him and pressed two torn, paper notes into his palm, along with three shiny coins.
He looked up at her face, dirty and streaked with tears and sweat and fear. “What for?” Kellan’s voice was as tiny as he was. At six years old, he had been the smallest in his class at school. At eight years old, he no longer went to school; there was no school now, only ruins where it once stood, but Kellan wasn’t much taller than he was two years before. “What do I do with this?”
She grabbed his arms hard. “You have to leave. You have to leave, Kellan; this place isn’t safe for you any more.” Her eyes were frantic and they darted to the shadows behind them in the alley.
Kellan’s eyes grew wide and tearful. He knew this day would come; he knew they’d leave this place, but he always thought it would be both of them. He’d thought it would be the two of them, as it had been since his father hadn’t come home over a year ago.
“No!” His voice echoed off the buildings and rushed down the alleys. “No, you have to come with me! I have to protect you, Mommy! Come on!” Kellan grabbed at his mother’s hands, trying to tug her down the alley. Where he’d take her, he didn’t know, but he thought if he could only get away from here, if he could only get away from this spot where she‘d said this horrible thing, that they would be alright. She’d forget all about this and--
“No, Kellan--” His mother pulled him back, her blonde hair breaking in thin pieces out of its binding and sticking to her forehead and cheeks, “Kellan--” She wrestled with the boy as he struggled and his tears flowed, until she’d pulled him to her, his face pressed into her neck.
Kellan cried into her salty skin, letting out big, choking sobs and taking in deep breaths of his mother’s scent, diluted with dirt and something sour that smelled like that tall, mean man that often dragged his mother off, bringing her back crying.
“Kellan,” she whispered in his ear until his sobs had turned to hiccups and his eyes felt so swollen that he didn’t know if they would ever open properly again, “Kellan, I’ve arranged for a place for you to go.”
His gut cramped and his jaw clenched and he tried to push the thought of his mother out of his mind. He tried not to think of her, tried not to remember what she smelled like, how her hair felt, how her eyes had looked so tired and scared and sad. But he did. Kellan remembered anyway. That was the last time he had seen her.
She took him to a building, something that looked like a warehouse, just outside of the city proper. Inside, she handed him off to a dour man who had looked Kellan up and down, his lips pursed, his eyes squinted, before he nodded at Kellan’s mother.
Her hand was gentle on his back when she nudged Kellan toward the man in the dim office, and Kellan panicked. He knew she was leaving and he did everything he could to stay with her. He clung, he cried, he wailed, but the man was stronger than Kellan, and he picked the boy up and held him under his arm, Kellan’s feet flailing and kicking.
He strained his neck up, desperate to see his mother. If she could just see him, maybe she would change her mind; maybe she would take him out of this place and they could be a family again. But when he finally was able to crane his neck around far enough to see her, he knew that he wouldn’t be going anywhere with his mother.
Kellan watched her take the money, and he watched her walk out the door.
The Slave Holding Tank, Kellan called it, and it’s where he lived for the next six years. When he came in at eight years old, he was too young to sell. And so he was trained. Trained to cook, clean, make conversation and trained in the art of coitus. Every manner of sex was taught, and Kellan was a good student.
The teachers there told him what life was like on the street. They told him that if he escaped, he might be raped, tortured, murdered. Just look at what had happened to his family, they said. So Kellan grew up believing that this life he was to live, his life as a slave, was the best option for him. He couldn’t imagine doing anything else.
No, Kellan wouldn’t try to get away.
A knock on the quarter's door startled him and he dropped the remote. Grabbing it, he thumbed the button to turn the stereo off.
“Kellan?” Sian called from outside the bedroom before he strode in, glancing around with distaste at the clothes scattered about the floor, but then smirking at Kellan still lying in bed. “It’s two in the afternoon, what are you doing in bed?”
Kellan sat up, the sheets pooling around his waist. “I had no reason to get up,” he shrugged.
Sian pulled the drapes open, first one side then the next, and turned his back to the window, the sun beating through the glass and warming him. “Now you have a reason. Get dressed, we’re going out.”
~~~
Kellan walked slowly, looking around him at all the shops that were bustling with people. Vendors were selling their goods and they surely wanted each and every customer to know it. They stood at their tables, calling out for attention in their loudest voices. Some were selling fine, bright linens, some selling shiny, new kitchen gadgets, some were selling food that smelled so good that it made Kellan‘s stomach rumble, and they all vied for the customer’s last dollar.
Up ahead, Sian stopped and turned. “Kellan, you must keep up. We have a lot to do today.”
“Yes, Sian.” He pulled his eyes from a vendor selling cds just in time to stop himself from bumping into Sian. “I’m sorry.” Looking up at his master, Kellan gave him his best apologetic look.
“Have you never been shopping before?” Sian took two of Kellan’s bags from him, lightening the slave’s load and earning a quizzical look. Sian shrugged. They had a lot to get today and he didn’t want Kellan to be bogged down with so many bags that he couldn’t pick out the things he wanted. It only made sense to carry some of the load for him.
“I have, yes, with a previous master.”
“More than to just carry the bags, I mean.” The wind ruffled strands of Sian’s hair until some came loose from the clip at his nape, and he tucked them behind his ear.
“Yes, more than just to carry the bags.” A small smile touched Kellan's lips and Sian watched his slave go somewhere else behind his eyes.
“Perhaps you will tell me about it some time.” Sian took Kellan’s elbow and urged him forward. “But right now, we have to find you another pair of shoes.”
Kellan found himself propelled through the crowd, Sian at his side, pointing out this shop or that, but Kellan paid only the smallest amount of attention. In his mind, he saw a different time, a different market, and a different man at his side.
“Let’s go! I think the braiding booth is open!” Sunlight glinted off of Gaylen’s black curls as he pulled at Kellan’s hand and dragged him through the throng of people out for their days trading.
Kellan squeezed his master’s hand and laughed, “Gaylen, we’ve been running all morning! Don’t you ever get tired?”
Gaylen stopped short and pulled Kellan close to him, so close that if they took a deep breath, their chests would touch. He held their hands down low and caressed the slave’s knuckles with his thumb.
“I don’t know, Kellan,” Gaylen smiled and tipped his head down, trying to look seductive, “do I?”
Kellan blushed a deep pink, blushed like he hadn’t had years of sex training, and his groin tightened.
He’d been with Gaylen for two amazing years, and just being in the young master‘s presence made Kellan happy to the point of giddiness. And it had been that way almost from the beginning.
Gaylen’s father had bought him right from the Holding Tank, as a plaything for his son. Custom dictated that the slaves who had never been owned before were to be bought by younger masters, and they generally wound up as companions for young teens. There wasn’t much regulation in the slave industry, but there were a few rules set in place to try to reduce abuse, and not letting fourteen year old slaves be bought by forty year old masters was one of them.
So Kellan had gone home with Gaylen and his father. His room was tiny, containing only the most necessary furnishings, but it didn’t matter because Gaylen called for Kellan to sleep in his bed with him from the very first night.
Nothing happened between them that first night, nothing except the cementing of a friendship. They had lain awake all night, giggling and telling secrets. Gaylen told Kellan all about the horrid and boring kids he went to school with, and the pranks that he played on them. Kellan told Gaylen about the Holding Tank and the crazy things he’d been taught. He knew that Gaylen didn’t really believe some of those things and thought Kellan was making it up, but Kellan swore it was true.
Over those couple years, Kellan had proved he wasn’t lying. Gaylen was a quick learner and a masterful teacher of his own when it came to showing Kellan what he liked. They spent many nights in each others sweaty embrace, panting as they came back down from heights they’d have never guessed existed if it weren’t for each other.
Kellan let out a long breath and took a step back. It was inappropriate for them to be affectionate in public. Everyone knew about the slaves and the ownership of one was indulged, but Gaylen didn’t treat Kellan as a slave; they looked like two young boys in love, and that was not indulged. That was a sin.
He looked around frantically, searching for a shop to distract his master. Finally he spotted one and nodded in the direction of the booth in front of a nearby store. “Can we go in there next? I’d like to get more of that soap that we used in our last bath, with the raspberry scent?”
Gaylen grinned and as they walked toward the shop, Kellan thought he must have the perfect life and the perfect master and that he would never leave.
He had been wrong.
~~~
Sian watched Kellan clear the table and pile the supper dishes haphazardly in the sink.
“Kellan, don‘t you think you should rinse those and put them in the dishwasher?” Sian asked when Kellan came out of the kitchen right away, causing the younger man to smirk and shrug before turning around.
“It was worth a shot,” he heard Kellan mutter under his breath as he opened the dishwasher and started stacking the dishes inside it.
Sian smiled indulgently and finished putting the remainder of the condiments in the refrigerator. He’d grown used to Kellan’s tendency toward messiness but that didn’t mean he was going to stop trying to get the man to clean up after himself. Maybe one day the message would actually stick.
As Sian got comfortable on the couch, Kellan finished loading the dishwasher and brought Sian a beer from the refrigerator.
“Thank you, but aren’t you going to join me?” Sian screwed off the bottle top, tossed it on the table and sipped at his ale.
Kellan went back to grab his own beer and then settled himself next to Sian. As he twisted off the cap, it struck him how comfortable he’d become with Sian, and how close they’d gotten in the last few weeks.
Kellan generally spent most of his day in his quarters. He listened to music constantly; it was the one thing he couldn’t seem to live without. He read, played video games occasionally and even watched a little bit of television. Yet, he often found himself bored until it was time for Sian to get home from work.
Evening was when Kellan’s day really began. Sian would come to his quarters and Kellan would cook for him. Many times, Sian would join him in the kitchen and help out by chopping vegetables or just general puttering around while Kellan got their meal ready. When Sian had first come in to help him, Kellan had been more than surprised. Masters just don’t do that. They don’t help.
It didn’t take long to find out that Sian wasn’t like any master he‘d ever heard of, but quite a bit like his two previous masters. Sian talked to Kellan, really talked to him. He talked to him like Gaylen had, or like Adrian had, and while Kellan very much enjoyed that, it also scared him a little.
Because Sian not only talked to Kellan, treating Kellan almost like his equal, almost like his friend, but he also did little things for Kellan to make the slave feel like his master actually cared about him. Not just for the well-being of a piece of property, but for a man’s body and soul.
Kellan couldn’t help but care for Sian in return, and that was dangerous. When Kellan thought about it during the day, he decided he had better keep a tight leash on his heart or this could turn out badly, too. Yet every night when Sian walked through that front door, Kellan’s caution flew out of his mind, and he found himself opening up to his master. He found himself letting another man in.
“What should we do tonight?” Sian set his bottle on the coffee table and took Kellan’s hand, brushing his thumb over Kellan’s knuckles. The gesture made Kellan’s chest ache, made Kellan think of Gaylen and his beautiful smile, his beautiful face and how much in love they were. Yet besides the ache, or maybe because of it, this smallest of gestures made Kellan warm and relaxed. This small gesture made him smile.
“You choose.” Kellan took a sip of his beer and brought the bottle down too quickly, making the beer splash up his nose and the ale to foam in the bottle. Sian chuckled but when Kellan sucked the bubbles out of the neck and licked around the lip of the bottle, trying to keep the foam from flowing down the side, Sian went quiet. When Kellan looked back at his master, Sian’s eyes had grown dark.
Sian leaned toward him slowly, giving Kellan time to move if he wished, without considering that Kellan couldn’t move. When it came right down to it, this was his job; this is what Kellan had been trained to do. Kellan waited as Sian moved toward him, and Sian watched the man’s eyes, watched for any indication that he didn’t want this. He wouldn’t want to force anything and maybe Kellan wasn’t comfortable enough to be with Sian like this, but it had been too long since Sian was with a lover and now he wanted this. He could only hope that Kellan did, too.
Kellan closed his eyes just before Sian’s lips brushed against his, so lightly, so sweetly, and the clenching in Kellan’s chest grew almost painful. He knew that this wasn’t going to help his growing feelings toward his master. He knew it, but he couldn’t do anything about it. It wasn’t like he could refuse Sian, even if he wanted to. But if he was honest with himself, he’d have to admit that he didn’t really want to refuse him. He wanted to do this for Sian, but more than that, as much as this might turn out bad for him, he wanted to do this for himself.
He opened his lips then, giving Sian the invitation, and Sian didn’t have to be asked twice. He tilted his head and deepened the kiss, kissing him slowly, kissing him thoroughly, his tongue teasing the slave’s lips lightly.
It wasn’t as if Sian didn’t know that this would happen with Kellan, but knowing it would happen, and actually tasting this man, feeling his soft flesh beneath caressing fingers was completely different.
Sian’s fingers threaded through Kellan’s straight, silky locks and cupped the back of his slave’s head in his palm before gathering Kellan gently into his arms. As his lips moved, brushing across Kellan’s jaw and down the side of his neck, opening, tasting, his teeth nipping, Sian realized that even though he went to work every day, his world had narrowed down to everything that he held in his arms.
He’d fallen in love with a man again. And this time, he would do whatever it took to keep him.
“Go home, Sian.” Finn stuffed another shirt into his bag and punched it down. “Go home and marry Brigid.” He pulled another shirt from the rickety drawer and shoved it in with the rest, his movements harsh and quick.
Sian stared at him from the bed they’d shared for the last two weeks, the bed they’d shared in the room they’d rented when they’d ran. He watched Finn pack his things, wanting to close his eyes, not wanting to see this but afraid if he did, he might miss the last moment he had with Finn. His eyes swept over each part of him, from the curly, blond hair that curled over his ears to the toned, brown arms that continued packing up every thing that Finn had brought with him. As Finn packed up the life that they had started together.
“I don’t want to go back and marry Brigid.” Sian crawled up on his knees, making his way to his love, reaching out for him. “Stay with me, Finn. I don’t know why you just won’t stay with me.”
Finn stepped back from Sian’s outstretched hand and something like hurt flashed in his lover’s eyes before they were blank again. Sian wanted to reach out, wanted to pull Finn to him and hold him and tell him that it was okay, that whatever was wrong, they would get through it together. But Finn shook his head slowly and Sian knew that it was over.
Finn turned his back on Sian and went to the bathroom to gather his toiletries. He jammed his toothbrush and razor into the side pocket of his bag and zipped it shut.
“Why are you doing this?” Sian could do little more than whisper, strength draining from his body along with every hope he’d had for their love, along with every belief he’d had in everything Finn had ever said to him. Perhaps Finn had never really loved him, after all.
Finn paused at the door. Sian felt him look back, felt him watching him, but he couldn‘t bring himself to say more; there wasn’t really a point, because Finn wouldn’t hear anything Sian had to say now, anyway.
Sian sat back on his knees and his arms wrapped around himself. He was confused and scared and wanted nothing more but to curl up into himself and block everything out.
“It’s for the best, Sian; the best for you and the best for me.” Finn ground lowly from the door. “You’ll make a wonderful husband to Brigid.”
Sian looked up just as Finn faced the door and turned the handle. “Don’t try to find me.”
And then he was gone.
The love of his life had walked out the door, without so much as a kiss goodbye. Not a touch, not a word of compassion to make his leaving easier to take. It was like cutting off a limb, and Sian could do nothing but sit numbly in shock.
Even hours later, when the sharp rap had come on his door, he hadn’t moved. Nor had he moved when his father came in, empty suitcase in hand and started packing the remainder of the items in the room. Everything that Sian had brought with him when they’d left in the middle of the night, all their arrangements made. Everything he thought a couple on the run could manage to carry.
“Let’s go.” His father’s gruff voice cut into him and he winced.
Sian had looked up then, surprised, though he shouldn‘t have been. “How did you do it? How did you finally get to him?” There was no question of how he’d found them, of course. When you had as much money as Astor McNabb, you could buy whatever information you wanted, whenever you wanted. Sian expected that. What he didn’t expect was what else his father could buy.
“You know the adage that the pen is mightier than the sword? It was also apparently mightier than whatever affection he had for you. Especially when that pen is applied to my checkbook.” Astor grabbed Sian by the elbow and dragged him off the bed. “Now let’s go.”
Sian had gone.
He had gone back with his father and resumed his place at the family corporation. His mother had insisted on it, even though just Sian’s presence in the office caused a stir and whispers and gossip. Astor put up with his son there, just barely, but at home, Sian was no longer his son.
Astor refused to acknowledge him, and Sian had found himself relieved. Brigid had paid a call shortly after Sian had returned and officially broken off their engagement, and Sian had found himself relieved. He’d been in love with a man, run away with a man, and no respectable woman would touch him. He was considered permanently off the market, and Sian had found himself relieved.
He’d found himself relieved but after six years, he’d also found himself lonely…until the day Sian realized that money took away his companion and it could also buy him a companion.
~~~
“They sold you back. They just sold you back? Just like that?” Sian tightened his arms around Kellan’s shoulders, pressing the slave’s face into his neck until Kellan breathed a muffled protest against Sian’s damp skin.
“I was keeping Gaylen from marrying; they had no choice but to sell me. He’d turned down several good prospects because of me and …” Kellan trailed off and leaned up to press wet kisses against Sian’s smooth, brown chest. “I had to go.”
After all these years, it still hurt to think about, still caused an ache in his heart and Kellan changed the subject. “I was at the Holding Tank for only two weeks when I was bought again.”
“And which master was that?” Sian pulled Kellan’s head back down and smoothed his palm down the slave’s tangled hair.
“Adrian. He was my only other master besides you and Gaylen.” Kellan smiled. “At the Holding Tank, he made sure to look me over very closely before deciding I should go home with him.”
“Well, I should imagine. It’s a big step, buying a slave.”
“No, Sian. Very closely. As in, Adrian didn’t see very well, and when he was checking me out, he was,” Kellan leaned up and put his face mere centimeters from Sian’s, “very, very close.” Kellan dropped a kiss on Sian’s smiling lips and lay back down on his master’s shoulder.
“How long were you with him?” Sian’s smooth fingertips played over Kellan’s skin, up his arm, down his side, and Kellan closed his eyes.
“Three years. I was his companion for three years, until he died.” Sian’s fingers stopped moving and his arms tightened around his slave.
“He was old and he died. It happens, I hear,” he said wryly, “though it broke my heart at the time. We had become quite close. Anyway, his sister was a--” Kellan grimaced, his voice rough, but he stopped himself short. “Never mind. Martina didn’t like that Adrian had me, she didn’t like that he had a slave. She thought it was a disgrace to the family, so since the estate was left to her, and I was part of the estate, she could do with me as she pleased. She sold me back to the Holding Tank.”
Sian didn’t speak, caught up in thoughts of how difficult that must have been for Kellan. Of course, he knew that some slaves had a much tougher life than what Kellan’s had been, but Sian didn’t love other slaves; he loved Kellan. He resolved at that moment that he would do anything he could to spare Kellan further heartache in his life.
He kissed Kellan then, as he had done hundreds of times in the past few months, but this kiss was different, deeper. This kiss meant more, and he hoped Kellan could feel it. When they were together, it was no longer just sex to Sian, now it was making love. Sian was extra gentle with him, extra sweet.
And when Sian came inside Kellan that night, the slave held close to him, strong arms wrapped around him, Sian couldn’t hold back the whisper he breathed into Kellan’s ear.
“I love you.”
~~~
The CD changer clicked and whirred and a new song blared out of the speakers in the living room. The bass thumped and the windows shook and Kellan couldn’t hear himself think, let alone hear anything else.
He scrubbed at the tiles in the bathtub, cleaning each grout line thoroughly until it gleamed before moving on to the next one.
Kellan cleaned because he didn’t want to think. And he didn’t want to think because lately, the only thing he could think about was Sian. Sian and those three words that had kept Kellan awake at night for a week. He’d lain in his bed and stared at the ceiling, his stomach aching and his chest hurting. He’d tossed and turned and ripped the sheets half off the bed with his restlessness.
Sian couldn’t be in love with him, he just couldn’t, and Kellan scrubbed harder at the tiles, as if to scrub Sian’s words out of his head. Kellan had come to terms some time ago that what he felt for his master was more than slight affection, but Kellan wouldn’t dare to call it love.
Everyone Kellan loved had left him. That’s just the way it was and Kellan figured that was the way it was meant to be. Slaves weren’t allowed to love, he’d determined, and the punishment for loving was loss.
Those three words, whispered softly by adoring lips, had been answered in kind before Kellan could stop them. He’d said it back, told Sian he loved him and Kellan was sick about it.
He turned the tap on, washing soapy residue down the drain, and he swished it along swiftly with his hand as he came to a decision.
He had to fix this. He couldn’t be in love with Sian, and maybe the only way to fall out of love was to make Sian fall out of love with him.
The idea cramped his stomach until he thought he would empty its contents all over the newly washed tiles, but he could think of no other way. He’d rather lose Sian’s love than lose Sian completely.
~~~
Sian didn’t understand it. He didn’t understand what was going on with Kellan. All he knew was that Kellan just simply wasn’t Kellan anymore.
The first clue that something was wrong was the cleaning. Kellan had never been one to pick up his clothes without being reminded, to do his dishes without being nudged or to clean the bathroom without a hint from Sian that perhaps it was time to do so. But lately, when Sian had visited his slave, Kellan’s quarters were clean. Not just clean, but spotless. No clothes lying around, no dishes in the living room with pasta hardening like cement on them.
Then there was the politeness. Of course, Kellan had always been polite. Slaves are trained to be polite, and Kellan would certainly be courteous to Sian, given their relationship. No, this was different; this had turned into an impersonal politeness. For weeks, when he’d ask for an opinion, he’d get, “Whatever you think, Sian.” When he’d ask what Kellan wanted for supper, the slave would respond, “Whatever you’d like, Sian.” and it was starting to drive Sian a bit mad.
The worst part, perhaps the most painful part, was that the new behavior followed them into the bedroom.
Kellan responded to Sian as he always had, but only physically. Sian was beginning to feel like he just couldn’t connect with Kellan anymore. Kellan’s kisses were nonchalant, as if he really was doing a job. Kellan wouldn’t even look at Sian when they were making love and Sian held him close.
He didn’t understand it, and Kellan’s sudden coldness made his chest ache. It hurt more than Sian thought he possibly could hurt again. It reminded him too much of those last days with Finn.
As uncomfortable as it might be, as scared as he was, he had to talk to Kellan. He had to do something, because he couldn’t live like this.
At least when Finn had left him, he’d actually left.
~~~
Kellan closed the sliding screen to the terrace and looked around. The day was beautiful, the sky bright blue and the sun beat down warm on his shoulders. He handed Sian his bottle of water and sat next to him on the bench swing, and Sian stared down at the space between them. It was only a matter of thirty centimeters, but it might have well been three thousand centimeters, as close as they‘d been lately.
Kellan looked so stiff sitting there, as if he was tensed against something and Sian felt that, for the first time in weeks, they connected on something. The muscles in Sian’s shoulders were rock hard and his back hurt from the muscle tension there. He had worried too long, procrastinated too long, and now he needed to do this and get it over with.
“Kellan, can we talk?” Sian looked down at his water bottle and ran his thumbnail around the edge of the cap out of sheer nervousness.
“If you wish.” Kellan said mildly, looking straight ahead, his fingers holding tightly to his own bottle.
Sian sighed and just stopped himself from voicing his frustration at Kellan’s disinterest. Losing control would get them nowhere, and Sian took a couple deep breaths. He looked out across the expanse of lawn behind the mansion, the sudden cool breeze raising goose bumps on his arms.
“What happened?” Sian asked softly, his voice low and gritty, close to breaking.
Kellan’s knuckles turned white on his bottle and he held his breath. He knew that Sian was upset, had known it for a while, and while it hurt Kellan so much that he physically ached from it, he’d stuck to his plan. He had to, if he was going to make Sian fall out of love with him.
“What happened, Kellan? Things were so good.” Sian turned to his lover then, dropping his bottle between then and reaching for Kellan’s hand, prying it from the bottle it was gripped around. He rubbed his fingertips across Kellan’s palm and over the top, desperately needing to feel him, to touch him and not have Kellan turn to stone beneath his fingers.
“I-” Kellan looked at their hands. Sian’s soft touch burned, and he wanted nothing more than to feel that burn everywhere. He took a breath and stared out across the lawn. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Kellan barely got the whole sentence out before Sian was scoffing, “Don’t lie to me.” He squeezed Kellan’s fingers too tightly. “Tell me what’s wrong. Why are you acting this way?” he asked hoarsely.
The pain in Sian’s voice could be his undoing and Kellan knew it. His vision grew blurry, his eyes stinging, and he blinked hard, willing the tears away. He opened his mouth to speak but he didn’t know what to say and closed it again. He couldn’t tell Sian the truth, and he couldn’t lie, so he couldn’t say anything at all.
Sian stood quickly and paced the terrace, his hands thrust into his pockets, as if he didn’t know what to do with them. “Didn’t I give you everything?”
Kellan bowed his head and nervous fingers picked pieces of the label from his bottle. Yes, Sian had given him everything, and that was the problem.
Sian continued to pace, sparing a glance at Kellan every few moments, but Kellan refused to look up. This was killing him and he wanted to run, but a slave wasn’t allowed to leave until the master dismissed him. And even if he had to remind himself again and again, even if he had to remind himself of that when Sian was touching him with such love in his eyes, or when Sian hovered over him, his eyes burning with desire, that’s what Kellan wanted to be again, merely Sian’s slave.
“Kellan.” Sian stopped in the middle of the terrace, his back to his slave.
“Yes?” he croaked.
Sian was silent for a moment, and Kellan could see how hard his shoulders were from where he sat. Finally, he asked, “Do you want to be here?”
Kellan stopped breathing. He knew what he desperately wanted to say, but he couldn’t say it. A slave has no wants. The only want they are allowed is what their master wants. Hadn’t he been told that day after day, year after year? And if Kellan was to be Sian’s slave, and only Sian’s slave, he had to follow the rules. “It’s not up to me.”
Sian’s shoulders relaxed and he could hear the whoosh of breath that left his master’s lungs. The birds sang around them as if all was right with the world and Kellan hated them. He wanted them to hurt and ache and need as much as he did. He wanted them to shut up already, because he had just broken Sian’s heart and how dare they sing so beautifully.
Sian turned suddenly and went to the door, not looking at Kellan. “You’re right. It’s not.”
When the door closed behind his master, Kellan dropped his head in his hands and finally allowed his tears.
~~~
Sian hadn’t visited him for a week.
Every evening, Kellan waited. He’d kept his quarters clean and even cooked Sian’s favorites, only to dump them down the disposal in the small hours of the morning when Sian failed to show, yet again. And really, Kellan reminded himself, what else should he have expected? His plan had backfired. Sian had not only fallen out of love with him but obviously didn’t want him at all now.
Kellan didn’t know what to do with himself. He couldn’t concentrate on video games and when he tried to read, he found himself reading the same sentences over and over before he gave up and threw the book in disgust. Kellan hadn’t turned the stereo on in a week. Music had always calmed him before. The notes spoke to his soul, they soothed him, even when they riled him, and he thought he could never live without them. But every CD he had now had been given to him by Sian, and Kellan just couldn’t listen to them without thinking of Sian.
That lasted until Rafael arrived at his door, suitcases in hand, trailing several large men with empty boxes.
They packed Kellan’s things quickly and efficiently, wrapping each delicate thing he owned in newspaper, folding each article of clothing. Kellan watched from the middle of the living room, his breath stuck in his chest where it burned and built up until his head hurt. With every kind look from the head butler, he wrapped his arms tighter around himself and struggled not to break down completely.
Rafael dropped a travel bag at Kellan’s feet, the same bag he’d come here with, and handed a suitcase off to the last of the men walking out the door with everything that Sian had given to Kellan, except the most important one of all. That one, Kellan had thrown away.
“Master Sian has provided a car. If you would please come with me.” Rafael opened the door for him and waited.
Kellan only had a moment to look around at the bare rooms. They looked pretty much as they had when Kellan had arrived, but now there were memories living in every corner and lurking in every room and Kellan couldn’t stand to see it like this.
He strode quickly to the door and past Rafael, waiting for the butler to lock the door behind him before following him down to the car running outside. He gave the butler an odd look when Rafael held the door of the car for him but shrugged it off as he slid over the smooth leather. Kellan didn’t ask where he was going; he already knew.
He leaned into the corner of the back seat and closed his eyes. Kellan didn’t want to see the countryside until they got to the city and he didn’t want to see the Holding Tank as they drove up on it, so he closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of leather and tried not to think of everything he’d just left behind.
When the car rolled smoothly to a stop, Kellan had to be shaken awake. Rafael stood over the top of him, nudging his elbow and calling his name. “Master Kellan!”
Kellan blinked himself awake and sat up straight in the seat, flexing his arms and legs. He didn’t know how long the ride had been, but his muscles ached and he got out of the car slowly.
It didn’t register to him until he turned around that he wasn’t at the Holding Tank. In front of him, on the other side of the car, was a house. It was an older house, stucco on the outside, with dark blue window frames and a red tile roof. The lawn wasn’t huge, but it had gardens, with flowers blooming, their scent light on the breeze.
Kellan turned to Rafael, who was removing Kellan’s bags from the trunk. “What is this? Where am I?”
Rafael left the trunk open and walked, tilting his grey head a couple of times towards the house. “We should go in now, sir.”
Confused, Kellan followed the butler, rushing around him to open the door so Rafael wouldn’t have to put down the bags. When he was inside, he closed the door behind him and turned, his confusion growing.
The house wasn’t big, but it was beautiful. The kitchen to his left was full of modern appliances and gadgets, and Kellan trailed his hand along the stone counter tiles as he walked through the room. The dining room through the other side was tiny, with purple lilies in a vase in the center of the thick wooden table just big enough for two.
Kellan toured the house slowly as Rafael brought more bags into the house. The boxes that were packed up in his quarters at Sian’s were stacked out of the way in the living room, out of the way of the plush, burgundy couch that sat in front of the fireplace.
By the time he got to the bedroom, Kellan wasn’t sure what to make of any of this. Rafael buzzed around him, unpacking Kellan’s clothes and hanging them in the closet, and Kellan watched him, dumbfounded. “Rafael, what-”
“I believe there is a note, sir,” the butler gestured toward the bed, “on the pillow.”
There, on the dark blue, satin pillowcase, lay a simple cream envelope. Kellan picked it up with shaky fingers and ran the tips over his name written on the front in thin, black lines. The paper inside was thin, almost delicate, and Kellan unfolded it carefully.
Dearest Kellan,
There are so many things I want to say to you, and just as many things that I’m afraid to say to you. I’m a coward and so there is this.
This house, and everything in it, is yours. Not just for you to live in but for you to keep. Your name is on the title.
But wait, slaves can’t own houses, you say? That’s right, they can’t. But you can.
You belong to no one but yourself.
That said, I’m hoping that since you are no longer obligated to tolerate my advances and you can choose who you want to love, that you will choose to be with me again. It’s a chance I’m willing to take.
I will come at noon tomorrow.
All my love,
Sian
Kellan’s arm fell to his side and the note fluttered to the floor.
He was free.
He’d never wanted to be free. Kellan had wanted to be a slave because it was better to be a slave than to wander the streets, to have to search for food by night and sleep in the day, hoping to make it through each day without being robbed or raped.
Now he didn’t have to worry about any of those. He didn’t have to be a slave. He wasn’t a slave.
“Master Kellan, would you care for supper now?” Rafael had finished putting away the clothes and his suitcases and stood before him.
“Master…what?” Kellan thought he must not have heard the butler right.
Rafael smiled and inclined his head. “Master Sian sent me to work for you.”
Kellan could only gape and continued to do so until the butler chuckled, “Supper now, it is then,” and he left Kellan standing alone by the bed.
~~~
Kellan lay awake long into the night, reveling in the feeling of his new bed with his new sheets, in the house that was his. He smoothed his hands over the comforter and up to his pillow, grabbing it and plumping it up under his head when he turned over.
At some point between the stuffed pork and cheesecake, something had hit him. Slaves don’t get to love. The punishment for loving was loss.
Kellan was no longer a slave.
Kellan’s eyes drifted closed and he dreamed of tomorrow.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2009-05-31 02:53 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-05-31 07:12 pm (UTC)I don't know that Sian really knew why Kellan had pulled away, he just still loved him and wanted to give him everything he could; whatever Kellan might want. It seemed right that he would want freedom first. I love the idea that he's now going to have this opportunity to have a different life.
Thanks for reading it, honey. <3
(no subject)
Date: 2009-05-31 08:25 pm (UTC)In the end though I think it'll be worth it...
(no subject)
Date: 2009-05-31 05:21 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-05-31 07:15 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-05-31 05:36 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-05-31 07:17 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-05-31 08:34 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-05-31 08:52 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-05-31 09:33 pm (UTC)kind of gives new meaning to the phrase, if you love something let it go, if it was really yours it'll come back to you.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-05-31 09:49 pm (UTC)I'm so happy you liked this. I worried a little bit, it being original fiction and not everyone is into that, but I'm so glad that you liked it that much. Thank you! <333
(no subject)
Date: 2009-05-31 11:05 pm (UTC)I belive Ive joined that community, but Ive yet to go and have a look around, so I dont really know how all the *key* stuff works.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-01 07:06 am (UTC)You should go and have a look. It's an amazing idea, and it's bringing out the most beautiful fic and artwork.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-01 06:30 am (UTC)You did a wonderful job creating this universe and your characters felt like a true product of this society. Does that make sense? Even though this society didn't seem to encourage love (it felt cold and clinical to me), both characters had managed to experience it previously in their lives, so they recognized it with each other. When Sian realized (or hoped he knew) what Kellan's whole problem was, and released him from slavery, well I came undone.
Sorry, my big girl words have escaped me tonight. In a nutshell, this story made me melty and weepy and the raspberry soap made my heart clench and OH!!! FINN OMG. Beautiful
(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-01 07:05 am (UTC)Thank you so much for letting me use Finn's name. The character wasn't a sweet fella, but I he wasn't horrible; he just had his own needs. And don't we all? Finn is an amazing name, and I appreciate your generosity.
<333
(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-01 10:52 pm (UTC)I swear key_fic owns my soul.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-02 12:04 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-27 11:18 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-28 12:03 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-12 05:51 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-12 10:01 pm (UTC)I'm glad that Kellan really made you feel for him. That's something we really strive for, as authors, making our characters so real that they can make you laugh or make you hurt. Thank you so much for reading and for your comment. :)
(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-05 04:59 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-06 03:10 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-11 04:19 pm (UTC)Also, I absolutely adore Sian. You made me love him so much. WELL DONE!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-08-11 04:30 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-12-27 07:06 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-12-27 07:17 pm (UTC)