Stephen had assumed Kate Ewing was exaggerating the interest in the NIH offices about his purchase of a slave. He was wrong. As he led Miles into the building and to the area his team worked, curious faces peeked at them in thinly veiled fascination. People Stephen barely recognized made a point to come up and tell him how happy they were that he was back. Connor wasn’t fooled. They may have been speaking to him, but their eyes were on Miles – much to the slave’s discomfort. Miles didn’t quite hide behind Stephen, but he didn’t put himself forward either and his eyes remained firmly fixed on the floor.
Even Connor was jumpy by the time they got on the elevator.
“Don’t worry,” Stephen reassured the slave. “This notoriety should settle down in a day or two.”
“You’re obviously a very respected man, Master,” Miles observed in a soft voice.
“I’m not so sure about that,” Stephen’s smile was self-depreciating. “I don’t normally get that type of attention just for walking into the building.”
The elevator brought them to their destination and Stephen started giving Miles a tour. They’d spent the last couple of days going over NIH procedures and slave etiquette, so Miles was well prepared. As Stephen showed him the offices and labs where that served as their headquarters, Connor felt renewed. Seeing the place through Miles’ eyes gave him a fresh perspective. Similarly, as Stephen expounded on the work NIH did, he realized anew how much he loved it. It had been a long time since he’d been comfortable articulating that; Lisa had made him ashamed of how much his work meant to him.
“Here are the labs, where you’ll be beginning your work at NIH,” Stephen ushered Miles into the area. Natalie’s domain. “Before I forget, here’s your pass.” He pulled a small card out of his pocket. It was attached to a lanyard and he solemnly put it over Miles’ head and adjusted it so it lay flat on the slave’s chest. “This indicates that you have my permission to work here. If anyone gives you any trouble, show them this or your collar. They all know my name around here.”
“Miles!”
Eva and Natalie came over to greet them. Eva reached them first and grabbed Miles in a quick hug. Stephen tamped down on his jealousy, telling himself that he was glad the young man had a friend. Natalie was a little more reserved. When her lover released Miles, she took both of his hands and peered intently into his face.
“How are you feeling? Any more headaches?”
Miles glanced briefly at Stephen, who nodded encouragement. “I’m much better, Mistress, thank you. The headaches are almost gone.”
“I thought I told you before to call me Natalie,” Durant chided with a gentle smile. She turned to Connor without missing a beat. “He’s far too thin, Stephen.”
Stephen protested his innocence. “He didn’t think to tell me he was a vegetarian until a few days ago. We’re working on it.”
“Yeah, well, if he has to rely on your cooking, he’s never gonna get fat.” Unnoticed, Frank had joined the group.
Stephen grinned at his friend. “I don’t know about that, I know my way
around a kitchen pretty well. I don’t have many vegetarian recipes, but we’ll
figure something out.” He turned to the slave.
“Miles, do you remember Frank Powell?”
“Yes, sir, it’s good to see you again.”
Frank gave a Miles an odd look, but his smile was friendly enough. “You sure are looking better than when I saw you last.” He slapped Connor on the shoulder. “And any man that can get this workaholic to take a few days off is all right in my book. Welcome to the team.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Miles, you’ll be working with Natalie for the time being, so she’s going to show you the ropes. I’ll be by to collect you for lunch – unless we get a case before then.” Stephen made to go, but turned to look at the young man. It was ridiculous, because his office was only a few steps away, but it was hard leaving him.
“Go on, we’ll be fine,” Natalie assured him. Then, as to prove her point, she launched into a lecture. “All right Miles, we follow basic laboratory procedure here. I took the liberty of requisitioning a lab coat for you . . . . “
Stephen shook himself and headed for his office, Frank in tow. When they got there, Frank plopped himself in a chair while Stephen busied himself with hanging up his coat.
“You know they’re gonna spoil him rotten,” Frank warned.
Stephen shrugged. “That’s okay, Miles could use a little spoiling.”
Frank watched him intently as Connor finished fussing with his jacket before sitting down in the chair behind his desk. “You haven’t taken him yet.”
It wasn’t exactly a question.
The doctor blushed. “The man’s been ill, Frank. Did you expect me to pounce on him while he’s still sick?”
Powell snorted. “I *expect* you to take care of your own damn needs once in a while.”
“That’s not what I bought him for,” Stephen protested.
Frank shook his head in disappointment. “You and that sense of honor of yours. If you’re not careful, this relationship’s gonna end up just like your marriage to Lisa.”
Connor frowned. “How’s that?”
“With someone other than you calling the shots,” Frank answered. “And you in a cold bed.”
“It’s just not in my nature to force someone,” Stephen explained. “It doesn’t matter if I own them or not.”
“C’mon, Stephen,” Powell retorted. “I know you, you’re not going to bend Miles over an exam table and fuck him bloody. Even if you took him every night and twice on Sundays, you’d still be treating him better than any Master the kid’s ever had.”
Stephen tried hard not to think of Miles’ lithe young body or the way the young man had begun to fill out, now that he was getting food that his body would accept. From the first, though, it was Miles’ courage and compassion that had drawn Connor’s interest. It was all too rare a combination. As he’d begun to get to know the slave better, he was equally taken by Miles’ intelligence and thirst for knowledge. To Stephen’s delight, Miles was slowly becoming comfortable enough to let his sense of humor show and Connor already knew he’d do almost anything to prompt one of those shy smiles.
In short, Stephen was smitten and simply ‘taking’ Miles was no long an option. If, indeed, it ever had been.
“Being better than the animals who hurt him before isn’t enough, Frank. Not nearly enough.” Movement caught Connor’s eye and he looked out the glass wall of his office. Another doctor was arriving, his slave in tow. “Or would you rather I act like Aldo?”
Aldo Parravinci was the leader of another NIH emergency
response team, one that consistently came second to Connor’s team in terms of
success rate. Parravinci always had at
least one slave in attendance and there were some grumblings about that. Not that he owned slaves or brought them to
work with him, that was his right as a Master and a Citizen. A lot of people did the same. No, the problem with Parravinci was that he
tended to ‘use’ them at work – roughly.
It was something of a distraction and distressing to the more
tenderhearted of the staff. In fact,
there had been so many complaints that
“You’re missing my point,” Powell responded, frustrated. “On your worst day, you could be nothing like Parravinci. He sees his slaves as possession; you see Miles as a person.”
“Which is why just using him is wrong,” Stephen retorted.
Frank got up, sighing. “Look, do what you want.” He smiled ruefully. “You will anyway. Just… keep what I said in mind, okay?”
“Will do,” Stephen promised. “And, Frank? Thanks.”
Stephen watched as his friend left the office and made his way down the corridor. He wasn’t offended at Frank’s advice; he knew that the other man was just looking out for Connor’s best interests. Still, it was frustrating that Powell couldn’t understand.
Shrugging off the conversation, Connor buried himself in his work. Even with coming in while Miles had his assessment with Irene, Stephen still had a lot to catch up on. Luckily, not every day at NIH included a medical crisis. It was one of those days where a case didn’t come in and Connor put the time to good use. The morning flew by and Stephen treated the whole team to lunch. Miles took some good-natured teasing from the others about his veggie sandwich, but to Stephen’s pleased surprise, it didn’t cause the slave to retreat into his shell. He didn’t tease back, but it was a start and that was all that Connor could ask for.
The afternoon was eaten up by budgetary meetings and, before Stephen knew exactly where the time went, it was over. Miles’ first day at NIH had been almost anticlimactic.
The doctor shrugged his coat on as he walked out of his office and headed off to the labs to collect Miles. Once he got there, though, he stopped. Through the window, he observed for a few moments. Both Eva and Natalie were there, speaking with the slave. Eva must have said something particularly witty, because all three of them starting laughing. It was a bittersweet moment for Stephen. While he was glad to see the young man so at ease, he couldn’t help but wish Miles were more like that with him. Even Irene had won Miles’ trust more quickly than Connor had and she was a formidable woman.
Eva… Natalie… Irene….
Stephen almost saw the light bulb go off over his head. The people he’d seen Miles most comfortable with had been women. It stood to reason that most of Miles’ previous owners had been men and Stephen knew that the scars on Miles body were nothing in comparison to the scars on his soul. No wonder Miles had been reluctant to open up to him, trusting any man at this point must be a huge risk for him. Stephen could only do his best and hope that, some day, it would be enough.
Another burst of laughter came from the lab and Connor looked up from his musings to see the other three chuckling again. Miles was obviously having a good time and was as relaxed as Stephen had ever seen him.
Connor smiled and turned back towards his office. He’d decided to stay and let Miles enjoy himself for a little while longer. He grinned ruefully as he thought about what Frank might say about his actions.
Eva and Natalie, it seemed, weren’t the only ones tempted to spoil Miles.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
What a difference a month made.
Miles could scarcely believe it. Four short weeks ago, he’d been wasting away in an agricultural camp, praying for death. Now, he was clean and well on his way to being healthy; hadn’t been Claimed or raped by anybody the entire time he’d been with Master Stephen; and, miracle of miracles, was actually being encouraged to pursue his medical studies. It was almost too much to take in.
His time at NIH was almost dreamlike. He wasn’t the only slave there and, Stephen had been right, the curiosity about him had died down after a day or two. It wasn’t so much his presence that had caused the attention as much as who he belonged to. Evidently, Stephen Connor had a reputation for being somewhat aloof. Miles couldn’t believe it. Obviously the people Dr. Connor worked with didn’t know him well, because Miles thought his owner was as far from aloof as it was possible to get. There was no doubt that he was intense about his work, but Stephen’s intensity was matched only by his compassion for his patients. Miles knew firsthand about the man’s caring nature and had been surprised to hear Connor referred to as cold.
As for the work itself, it was easily the most rewarding thing Miles had done in the last three years. At first it had been hard to think of himself as capable of doing anything but warming someone’s bed, but the things he had learned in med school came back to him. His session with Dr. Chimienti had started the process and every day he spent at NIH brought back a little more. It was almost as if a corner of his mind had been shut away when he’d become a slave, maybe because thinking of his shattered dreams had become too painful. It was only now with his change in circumstances that it was opening up.
His coworkers were vastly different than the other people Miles had encountered since being Chained. For one thing, they didn’t treat him like a slave. Instead, Miles felt like just another valued member of the team. There were exceptions of course, most notably, Dr. Parravinci. That man made him feel unclean and Miles tried to make sure he didn’t encounter him unless someone else was around. For the most part, though, the rest of the NIH staff treated Miles as they would anyone else. Miles had no doubt their behavior wasn’t out of any deference to his own self, it was most certainly out of respect for Dr. Connor. Despite the way Stephen had shrugged off Miles’ comment that very first day at NIH about Connor being highly respected, it hadn’t taken long for Miles to realize he’d been right. Some people might refer to Stephen as aloof or cold, but they all respected his abilities as a physician. In fact, Connor’s abilities at diagnosis were legendary, as was his tenacity at tracing an outbreak or illness to its source.
Stephen Connor. It all came down to him.
Miles wasn’t exactly sure when he’d started losing his wariness around Stephen. Maybe it was when he discovered that his owner checked on him every night after he went to bed. At first, realizing that Connor came to his door to watch him had freaked Miles out. He figured that the inevitable Claiming was soon to follow. Trying to put it off as long as possible, he’d feigned sleep. To his surprise, the watching remained just that – simple observation. Night after night, Stephen checked in on him and Miles pretended to sleep. Somewhere along the way, Miles had gone from being afraid of those silent, nightly visits to not being able to sleep until they occurred. He didn’t have the faintest idea of how that happened. Stephen Connor was his *owner,* for God’s sake. If there was one thing Miles had learned about the men that purchased him, it was that they only had their own satisfaction in mind.
Seeing Dr. Connor with his patients had been a revelation. Miles soon discovered that his Master’s compassion wasn’t reserved only for the slave that he owned, but for anyone in need. If Stephen seemed aloof at times, it was due to the focus he brought to his work and, maybe, a need to shield that great heart of his. As for his caring, it didn’t seem to follow class lines. Slaves received the same devotion as those that were free, at least, if their owners allowed it.
Miles had been grateful for Eva’s warning, that Connor could be intense while on a case.
Driven was more like it and Miles had yet to find out why. Stephen had Miles sit in on the team’s brainstorming sessions, although he hadn’t asked him to chime in with an opinion. Miles was grateful; he wasn’t sure if he was up to it yet. If Stephen was a stern taskmaster, though, he was hardest on himself. While the doctor made sure that Miles always ate and got enough rest, he often worked through the night himself. Luckily Stephen’s office had a comfortable chair and Miles had often dozed on it while his Master continued to research. Miles favorite part of the day, though, was the ride home. He and Stephen would discuss the case in detail, away from the stress of the office, with Connor explaining the finer points that Miles didn’t understand. It was every bit as informative, and a lot more exhilarating, than anything Miles had learned in medical school. Miles knew *he* benefited a lot from those conversations; he just couldn’t figure what Stephen got out of it.
He still didn’t understand Stephen Connor, but Miles was
beginning to trust him. That was frightening. His owner was his enemy… wasn’t
he?
A beeping noise interrupted his musing. Miles was currently the only one in the lab and was running a test for Natalie while she conducted an autopsy. It was his first time working alone and Miles wanted to live up to the trust Natalie was showing in him. He got up and checked the equipment, pleased to see the first phase of the test was successfully complete.
After making a notation on the paperwork, Miles went back to his seat. The first study set had arrived from Dr. Chimienti and he’d been eagerly devouring it all afternoon. It was easy to see where Connor got his high standards; Miles could tell she was going to be an exacting teacher. He hoped he was up for the challenge, he didn’t want to disappoint Stephen or Dr. Chimienti either. With that in mind, he bent his head to his work.
“Well, if this isn’t a pretty picture.”
Miles looked up at the sound of the greasy voice. It was Aldo Parravinci. The doctor was leaning against the door of the lab, looking Miles up and down as though the slave was already nude. He didn’t need to think twice about it; Miles was up out of seat and on his knees in a heartbeat. He knew men like Parravinci all too well.
“Ah, and obedient too.” Parravinci sauntered into the room. He circled Miles, lips pursed in appreciation.
Miles kept his eyes down, tracking the other man’s movements by watching the expensive Italian shoes pace by. “Please, Sir. I’m doing the work my Master left me.”
“Yes, I’m sure you are,” Parravinci murmured. “Of course the ever-diligent Dr. Stephen Connor would have an equally diligent slave. How very appropriate.”
“Sir, would you like to see my pass?” Miles asked. “It will show that I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing, Sir.”
“I’m sure it will,” the doctor responded. “I don’t know what’s wrong with Connor. If you were my slave, I’d be doing *you*.”
Miles kept his head down. Men like Dr. Parravinci were predators and Miles knew the man was goading him. If Parravinci could get Miles to do something wrong, he could force Stephen to punish him, maybe even participate in the punishment himself.
“Then again, it’s common knowledge that Stephen couldn’t keep his wife,” Parravinci continued. “Perhaps he’s incapable of ‘doing’ anyone.”
Since it wasn’t a question, Miles kept his mouth shut. Parravinci was playing a game of cat and mouse with him, but Miles was used to being the mouse. He wasn’t about to give the other man a reason to say that Miles was anything but the perfect slave.
“Or does he use you when no one is around to see?” The doctor leaned close and whispered in Miles’ ear. He didn’t touch the slave, but puffs of his hot breath ruffled Miles’ hair. “Does he have you suck him off behind that desk of his, hmmm? Maybe he fucks you here in the lab, that would explain why you spend so much entombed down here.”
The words made Miles sick to his stomach, the ugliness of the images they conjured was an insult to the care he’d received since belonging to Stephen. He forced himself not to react, not even to twitch. That was what Parravinci wanted and Miles was determined not to give the asshole any sort of sign that he was having an affect.
The shoes came to a stop directly in front of Miles.
“Really, I can’t say as I blame Connor,” Dr. Parravinci drawled. “You’re attractive enough, if a little skinny for my taste.”
“Thank you, Sir,” Miles said softly. He didn’t dare let the compliment go unacknowledged.
“So obedient… maybe Connor would be willing to lend you to me. What would you say, boy, would you like to spend an afternoon with a real man?”
Miles couldn’t stop a shudder. He flinched, half expecting Parravinci to be offended, but the man chuckled.
“Well, I’ll see what I can do about that. I’ll have to work quickly, though. Who knows when Connor will need to use you to test some serum or other cure.”
That statement was outlandish enough that Miles looked up at him through his lashes. Parravinci smirked at him.
“What’s the matter, boy?” The other man taunted. “Didn’t your blessed Dr. Connor tell you the real reason he bought you? Every NIH team has a guinea pig, a handy slave that we can test things on. I think Connor’s last test rat died a few weeks before he bought you.”
Miles felt the blood drain from his face. “He wouldn’t do that.” He wanted to tell Parravinci about how caring Stephen was; about how concerned he was about Miles’ well being; how he treated Miles as a person, not a possession. He didn’t, though. He didn’t want the other man to mock him for it. “If that was true, why would he do everything he can to get me healthy? Educate me?”
Parravinci shrugged. “Every lab rat starts out healthy, so the doctor knows that the illness induced is the only one present. As for the education, well, there’s no reason you shouldn’t make yourself useful.” He leered. “That is, in addition to the work you do on your back.”
Every instinct Miles had was telling him that Dr. Parravinci was lying to him. Perhaps Miles didn’t understand Stephen Connor the way he wanted to, but he knew the man well enough to know that he would never countenance using a human being as a lab rat. Miles didn’t know why this other doctor was torturing him this way, but he renewed his determination not to let the creep know he was getting to him.
“If you say so, Sir.” He responded meekly, head bent once again.
For some reason, Miles’ response made Parravinci chuckle again. The doctor ran a hand over the slave’s dark hair. “You don’t believe me, but that’s all right. You will, in time.”
Miles breathed a sigh of relief as Dr. Parravinci and his expensive Italian shoes moved away. Even after the man left the lab, though, Miles remained kneeling for a few minutes. Only when Parravinci didn’t come back did he feel safe enough to rise. Moving like an old man, Miles blindly felt for his chair and almost fell into it.
He’d been a fool, lulled into a false sense of security. He might be cleaner on the outside than he’d been in the camp, but his soul felt every bit as dirty. He was still a slave, still a whore. New clothes and medical school hadn’t changed that a damn bit and even an idiot like Parravinci could see it.
Oddly enough, it wasn’t the threat of being a lab rat that bothered Miles. The very idea of Stephen Connor doing something like that was so patently untrue that it was almost funny. It was the other threat that Parravinci had mentioned that had him sick to his stomach. Just the thought that Connor might share him with that sleaze, not to mention anyone else, shook Miles to his core. He tried to tell himself that it wasn’t true either, that Stephen had shown him nothing but kindness and would never let anyone hurt him. It was a harder notion to dismiss than the lab rat idea, though. It had happened too often in Miles’ past and experience was a bitter teacher.
Miles started to shake. He tried to put it out of his mind as a complete fabrication of Parravinci’s sick imagination. No matter how he tried, though, the thoughts coiled in his mind like a snake. He was still trembling when Natalie came back.
“That’s all done,” Durant said as she strode into the lab. She pulled up short when she caught sight of Miles. “Are you all right?”
He shrugged, hiding his hands below the table. If only he could stop shaking. “I’m fine,” he lied.
Natalie looked closer and put a hand under Miles’ chin, tilting his face up to look at her. “Are you sure about that?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
Miles flinched. He hadn’t slipped up and called her that since his second day at NIH. His hope that Natalie hadn’t noticed was dashed when he saw her lift one eyebrow skeptically. He sighed deeply and tried again. “I do have a headache,” he admitted.
Natalie reached over and felt of his forehead. The likelihood of a reoccurrence of the meningitis was slight, but Miles had soon learned that the NIH doctors didn’t leave anything to chance.
“Well, you don’t have a fever,” she stated. “Where’s your medication?”
“In Stephen’s office.”
“You’d better go get it,” Natalie instructed. Miles had obediently gotten up and was already moving to obey when she changed her mind. “On second thought, why don’t you lie down for a while? I can type up my autopsy report in here and keep my eye on the test too. You’re pale, I think you could do with some rest.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Miles left the lab with a sense of relief. He felt tainted and was afraid Natalie would be able to see it. He’d briefly considered telling her about Parravinci’s visit, but ultimately decided against it. The man had only talked to him and not touched, except for that one stroke to his hair. Besides, he didn’t want his own doubts about Connor discovered.
When the slave reached his Master’s office, he was disappointed to find it occupied. He wasn’t sure he was up to facing Connor any more than Natalie. Stephen was sitting behind his desk, working at the computer. He looked up as Miles hovered around the door. “Miles, are you okay?”
“I have a headache,” the slave answered simply.
“Ah,” the doctor opened his desk door and took out a familiar bottle. Getting up, he walked over to Miles and reached to feel his forehead. “No fever.”
Miles could have told him that Natalie had already done that, but he didn’t. In spite of the shame that Parravinci had inspired, Stephen’s hand on him felt good.
“Here, take two of these and then I want you to lie down for a while,” Stephen ordered. “You’re white as a sheet.”
Stephen let the young man use his own water bottle to take the pills and then walked Miles over to the leather chair that took up the corner of his office. The slave curled up on it, like he had already done several times since his Master had been bringing him to NIH. There was something almost magical about Stephen’s office; in its cozy walls, Parravinci’s words seemed less harsh. Somehow, further away and more clearly falsehoods. Miles felt the tight knot in his belly loosen a bit. Stephen spread his lab coat over the slave and Miles snuggled under it. By way of his coat, his Master surrounded him and his scent wafting off the garment enveloped him.
He watched as Connor returned to his desk and his work. The doctor looked over at him and, seeing Miles was watching, smiled in reassurance. “Go to sleep,” he instructed gently.
And to his profound disbelief, Miles found he had no trouble obeying. Curling around Stephen’s coat like it was a security blanket, he let the safety of his Master’s presence seep into his soul and carry him off to sweet dreams.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Miles, I cannot believe you were that irresponsible. I gave you explicit instructions about the quarantine – instructions which you didn’t follow.”
“But….-” the slave tried to defend his actions, but Connor wouldn’t let him get a word in edgewise.
“No, Miles. No excuses.” Stephen was relentless. “If that child dies because of your negligence, you’ll just have to live with that knowledge.” He ignored the way Miles’ face blanched and how those brown eyes of his filled up with tears. “You need to analyze that blanket you so foolishly let her have and pray it offers some answers.” When the young man just stood there, gaping at him, he snapped again. “Now, Miles.”
Miles turned and fled, pink blanket clutched in his hand. The slave was headed towards the makeshift lab they’d set up.
Natalie was the only other member of the team present.
“Oh, Stephen,” she murmured softly. With a shake of her head and a disappointed look on her face, Durant walked away. Stephen noticed she didn’t take *quite* the same direction as Miles had, but he had no doubt they would end up in the same place.
Connor wiped a hand across his face. When had this case taken such a wrong turn?
When the call first came in, Stephen had enjoyed Miles’
initial excitement about going to the
He’d been right.
He put Miles out of his mind as he and Frank continued to track the source down. Natalie did triage on the patients and Eva verbally sparred with the resort’s press agent. Luckily, the rest of the investigation went more smoothly than the snafu with the quarantine did. Miles’ analysis of the girl’s blanket was important to their success; the debris he found turned out to be a vital clue. Once they knew about the marijuana, the source of the epidemic had almost fallen into their laps. With the cause came the cure and, before long, they were wrapping up in preparation to heading home.
Stephen told himself that it didn’t matter that Miles wouldn’t look at him when he’d reported his results, a discovery he had every right to be proud of. Connor was able to hold on to that delusion only for a short while. Just long enough, in fact, for Eva to get hold of him.
Connor was packing away some of the equipment they’d brought when he felt eyes on him. Lifting his head, he saw Eve Rossi standing a few feet away.
“Don’t give me that look,” Stephen made a preemptive strike. “It was for his own good. When Miles makes a mistake, he needs to know about it, just like anyone else. Otherwise, he won’t learn from it.”
Eva didn’t respond directly.
“Have you ever visited a slave pen, Stephen? And I don’t mean the
sanitized selling floor, I mean the real, behind the scenes pens?”
“Once or twice,” Stephen admitted. He’d tracked contagions to slave pens before and had found it to be a most unpleasant experience.
“And were you there when a new shipment came in?” Eva pressed.
Stephen shook his head. “No.”
“Lucky you,” Eva responded shortly. “That means you’ve never heard the children crying for their mothers or seen the agonized faces of the women who’ve had their sons or daughters sold right out of their arms.”
Connor winced.
“But I have,” Eva declared. “And you can bet your bottom dollar that Miles has. *Every* slave has. Seeing that little girl’s confusion over being separated from her mother, the mother’s anguish over not being able to reach her child, it probably triggered all sorts of memories for Miles. Did you ever think of that?”
In fact, he hadn’t, but Stephen wasn’t going to admit that to Eva.
“It doesn’t matter,” Connor stated. “The fact remains that he broke the quarantine, even though he’d been warned against it, and that a child got sick as a result. I can’t afford to pamper him, Eva.”
“Pamper him?” Eva repeated in disbelief. Throwing her hands up in disgust, the young woman headed for the door. “There’s a big difference between pampering someone and shredding them, Stephen.”
Stephen stared at the door long after she left. “Damn.”
What had he been thinking? Irene called Miles tentative. He himself considered the slave wounded, maybe no longer in body, but definitely in soul. Of course Miles would have a hard time enforcing a quarantine, even if a child wasn’t involved. Connor felt like an idiot.
As much as he wanted to talk to Miles, it was obvious the slave was doing his best to avoid him, aided and abetted by the female members of the team. Stephen decided to allow that for the time being. He didn’t want an audience anyway and, from the glares that Natalie and Eva were still shooting his way, there was no way that that particular audience would be a friendly one.
All the victims had been connected to the same company, the
Connor leaned his head back and closed his eyes, not looking up as a warm body took the seat next to him.
“You look almost as wiped out as Miles.”
Stephen cracked one eye open and glared at Powell. “Not you too, Frank.”
“What?” His friend feigned innocence.
“Are you going to chastise me for yelling at Miles too?” Stephen asked. “Everyone else has.”.”
“Hell, no.” Frank responded. “In fact, if I’d heard about it earlier, I would have offered to let you use my belt to whup him with. It’s a little wider than yours and would have given you more bang for your buck.”
Connor winced. “I think I prefer Natalie’s sighs of disappointment and Eva’s lectures to your sarcasm, Frank.” He sighed. “I feel like a drowned a whole sack full of kittens.”
“That’s going a little far,” Powell temporized. “Not a whole sack, just one kitten. A tall, skinny one.”
“He’s got to learn, Frank,” Stephen defended his actions in much the same way as he had with Eva. “I’m not doing him any favors if I don’t point out mistakes.” Something occurred to Connor and he turned to look at Frank with narrowed eyes. “Aren’t you the one who was encouraging me to have sex with Miles, whether he wanted to or not? Why are you giving me a hard time for scolding him? That doesn’t seem very consistent.”
Frank lifted both hands and mimicked using them as a scale. “Hmmm. . . sex with you or being flayed alive.” One hand went up higher than the other. “I know which one I’d pick.”
Stephen snorted. “I admit I went a little too far, but I’d hardly say I flayed Miles alive.”
“That’s the problem, Stephen, you don’t see it.” Frank pointed out. “You go off on me, Natalie or Eva and we can snap back. Maybe, if you go too far, we could even quit. Miles, he doesn’t have that option.”
“Does it happen that often?” Stephen asked, dismayed that he might be that difficult to work with. He didn’t even know why he’d bothered to argue with Frank about it, he’d already felt guilty enough about what had happened.
“It happens to all of us,” Frank reassured him. “I even heard Natalie snap at Eva once. It’s the work. That much pressure, people are bound to snap once in a while. You’re maybe a little more intense about it than the rest of us, but you’re the leader, you’re supposed to be. Miles’ll learn not to take it personally, he just doesn’t have a thick enough skin yet. You need to be a little more careful is all.”
Stephen nodded. “I’d pretty much come to that conclusion myself. Thanks, Frank.”
Powell gave his friend a sideways glance. “Since you’re in the mood to listen to advice, care to discuss taking Miles to bed?”
“Don’t push your luck,” Connor answered, grinning. “I’m not *that* grateful.”
Frank made a ‘hmph-ing’ sound, but an answering smile twitched his lips. In any case, the rest of the flight passed with a lighter heart for Stephen. He went back at one point to check on the patients and the rest of his team. Miles hold folded his lanky form into an airplane seat and was sound asleep, despite the awkward angle. Natalie and Eve were in the row behind, curled up together and were also sleeping. Connor looked through the overhead bins until he found a blanket. Natalie woke while he was spreading it over Miles and her smile let Stephen know she’d forgiven his earlier outburst.
By the time the plane landed, they were all exhausted. The good news was that the patients were doing better, although many of them had a long recovery ahead of them. Connor made the decision that reports and the like could wait until his team was more rested.
“Go home, “he instructed them. “Rest; you deserve it. I’ll see you back in the office on Monday.”
The doctor obeyed his own orders. Miles was too tired to flinch away from him and trudged behind Stephen on the way to the SUV. The ride back to the apartment was awkwardly silent. When he spared a glance at the slave, Stephen saw that the young man was studiously staring down at his hands, which were folded in his lap. It was obvious they needed to talk. Well, Stephen needed to talk and Miles needed to listen. That could wait until they got home, though. Connor was too tired to drive and have this particular conversation at the same time.
After Stephen had yelled at him, Miles had avoided the older man by keeping busy with tasks that always seemed to take him out of Connor’s immediate vicinity. Once they got to the apartment it was no different. No sooner had they come through the door, than had Miles grabbed both bags and disappeared. Stephen sighed and stretched, tempted to let the conversation wait until morning. Then he thought of the hurt look in Miles’ eyes and decided to get it over with sooner rather than later.
“Miles, come in here a minute, please,” he called.
The slave obeyed more quickly than Stephen expected, or maybe he’d already been on his way. When he heard Miles’ soft footsteps, Connor turned to speak, but stopped short at the sight that greeted him. Miles was nude and was carrying one of Stephen’s belts in his hand. The young man walked across to Stephen and gave the belt to him. Then he sank down in deep obeisance, all the way on the floor and with his face pushed into the carpet.
“I’m so sorry, Master.” Miles said in a hoarse whisper. “I disobeyed your order. It’s my fault that little girl got sick. I shamed you and endangered her; I beg you to punish me.”
Stephen swallowed. “Miles, please. This isn’t necessary.”
The slave made a choked sound. “I disobeyed. I proved myself unworthy of your trust and not fit for service with NIH.”
Connor reached down and put a hand underneath Miles’ elbow. “Come on, Miles, stand up.”
“I should be punished,” the young man repeated.
“I’m your Master, that’s for me to decide,” Stephen pointed out. Then he firmed his voice. “Let’s get you up off the floor.”
“Yes, Sir.”
With Stephen’s aid, Miles rose. Connor kept a hand on the young man’s arm and led him to the couch. Once there, Stephen put Miles on one side and himself on the other. He was too caught up in the slave’s misery to be distracted by the fact that Miles was naked.
“All right, now we can talk this out like civilized people,” Connor started. “Yes, you disobeyed me.”
“I should be punished,” Miles interrupted his owner. Then, realizing what he’d done, he blushed and ducked his head.
Stephen reached over and put one hand underneath the young man’s chin. After raising Miles’ face, he gently brushed away the tears running down the slave’s cheeks. “I think you’re already punishing yourself quite enough, my own.”
“I – I don’t understand.”
“You’re a compassionate man,” Connor explained. “The fact that a patient became ill because of your actions is all the punishment you need. That alone is worse for you than if I whipped you.” He was aware that Miles would probably feel better if he did beat him, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. The welts on the slave’s body had faded, but the scars remained. Miles had been beaten far too often, in Stephen’s opinion. “Besides, I’m equally to blame.”
Miles continued to look confused. “Master?”
“You’re not a full doctor yet, Miles, and you don’t have the experience necessary to enforce a quarantine,” Stephen stated. “I failed to take that into account and, since I was in charge of both the situation and you, it’s ultimately my fault.”
The slave frowned. “That’s not fair. I disobeyed.”
“Out of the best intentions,” Connor qualified. “And because of inexperience. Let me ask you this, the next time I tell you there’s a quarantine, would you allow someone to breach it?”
“No, Master,” Miles responded emphatically.
“Good,” Stephen smiled. “You learned a valuable lesson. . . and so did I.”
“I’m sorry, Master,” Miles said, eyes again cast down.
“And so am I, Miles,” Connor stated. “I shouldn’t have been so harsh with you. That’s a failing of mine, I’m afraid. You’ll have to learn not to take it personally. The cases we work on are often life-and-death situations, that’s a lot of pressure and people under such stress often lash out.”
“I shouldn’t have disobeyed.”
“No, you shouldn’t have,” Stephen agreed. “But, next time you’ll know better, right?” Miles nodded and then suddenly yawned. He looked abashed, but Connor merely chuckled. “My thoughts exactly. We can talk about this more tomorrow if you like, but right now we both need to get some rest.”
He got up and the slave followed suit. Miles let Stephen go in front of him, but the doctor turned and put a hand on his shoulder. “I almost forgot, you did good work with that blanket. It was the key we needed to solve the case.”
“Thank you, Stephen,” Miles responded, his pleasure about the praise shining beyond the exhaustion in his eyes.
With that, Connor knew they were going to be all right. Miles had lapsed into the more formal “Master” after Stephen’s outburst and it was relief to have him back on a first name basis. He sent the slave ahead of him and they both headed for a well-deserved rest.
He would have to be more careful, Connor thought as he made his way into his bedroom and started shedding his clothes. Someday, Miles would be more comfortable and they’d work past that tentativeness that had Irene so worried; until then Stephen would have to be more careful with his tongue. Frank was right, a harsh word from his owner was devastating for Miles. Stephen had no intention of changing his high standards, but he’d have to be a little more mellow on how he expressed them. For the time being, anyway.
With a groan of relief, Stephen crawled into bed without bothering to put his pajamas on. The soft touch of the sheets against his bare skin reminded him of the bare skin that had just been on display. He’d been too focused on the conversation to appreciate it at the time, but now as he drifted off to sleep, Stephen thought of Miles’ nude body. He’d especially appreciated the working of the slave’s taught buttocks as Miles walked ahead of him down the hallway…
Stephen’s dreams that night were very pleasant indeed.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Miles was worried about Stephen. Not ‘worried about’ as in afraid of the man, but truly concerned for his owner’s well being.
In the week since the incident on the
Miles couldn’t help himself from flinching the first couple of days after Stephen had yelled at him. He’d finally stopped when he realized that Connor wasn’t going to beat him – and because of the sad look that the cringes would cause in his owner’s eyes.
Everything had been going smoothly until yesterday. Something had happened, but the slave didn’t know what. All he knew was that Stephen had been unusually quiet. With Miles, anyway. With some of the others, he’d been a bit more snarly. While Miles was happy he wasn’t on the receiving end of Stephen’s temper, he was still worried. The ride from work the evening before had been silent, as was return trip this morning. True, they hadn’t had a case in a couple of days to talk about, but in the past, if they didn’t have something work-related to discuss, Stephen usually would spend the time chatting about the materials that Dr. Chimienti had assigned. Miles wracked his brain about his own behavior, but he couldn’t think of anything that would have caused his Master to act so oddly.
“What crawled up his butt and died?”
Miles looked up at Eva’s vocal entrance. Natalie was already in the lab, as was Frank. Only Natalie and Miles were really needed in order to conduct the tests for the drug trial, but the young man got the impression that the others were hiding out from Stephen.
“What happened?” Durant went over to her lover and put an arm around her shoulders, guiding Eva to a lab stool.
“I don’t know,” the young woman claimed. “He wasn’t satisfied with my report, I guess.”
“That report was fine. I proof-read it for you last night.” Natalie’s eyes narrowed. “I think I need to go have a talk with that man.”
“Whoa there, ladies,” Frank cautioned. “Did Stephen tell you that Lisa called him
yesterday? It seems she wants to stay in
Natalie deflated. “Oh, damn.” Her hands rested on Eva’s shoulders.
Stephen had mentioned his wife and son, of course, but Miles didn’t know what to think of the situation. He’d had married Masters before, but they’d all kept tight reins on their wives. Even his own father had been strict with his mother, insisting that she quit teaching to raise their children and, later, that she only work on volunteer projects that he’d approved. Miles had no experience with wives who could tell their husbands to move out and make it stick, or that felt free to gallivant around the continent.
“Stephen loves his son,” Miles stated quietly.
“Damn straight he does,” Frank responded.
“Then why?” Miles normally wouldn’t have dared to ask the toxicologist. Frank was friendly enough, but he still intimidated Miles.
Powell shrugged. “Guilt, I suppose. Stephen’s marriage to Lisa was an arranged one. Something to do about trade alliances and shipping lines.”
“Arranged marriages aren’t that common anymore, are they?” Miles asked tentatively.
“You still find them among the upper classes,” Natalie explained. “They’re often more business arrangements than anything else, but Stephen fell in love with Lisa.”
“And she resents how much time he spends working,” Eva added. “As if any doctor works a 9-5 type of job.”
Miles felt like an idiot. It was obvious that the others were familiar with Connor’s marital woes, but Miles himself was clueless. And he’d lived with the man for over a month.
“Well, I guess if that’s the case, I forgive him for being such a bear,” Eva sighed. “He really misses his little boy.”
“Yeah,” Frank said with feeling. “And if that isn’t bad enough, the man hasn’t had the comfort of a physical relationship for a long time.” He shot a glance at Miles. “A really long time.”
The conversation stuck with Miles long after Frank and Eva had left the lab. He felt awful. The ass-chewing he’d received on the island aside, Stephen had been nothing but kind to him. In fact, Miles’ nightmares still disrupted Connor’s sleep a couple of times a week. Thank God the dream about that horrific public first Claiming hadn’t returned, but it was far from the only nightmare that haunted Miles. He was often trapped in a dream, not waking until his cries woke Stephen, who’d then come into Miles’ room to check on him. With their NIH work, sleep was a precious commodity, but Stephen had yet to punish Miles or even try to make him feel guilty about it.
As the afternoon wore on, a seed of an idea started in Miles’ head. For once, he wanted to do something nice for Stephen. Not a chore, like the laundry or taking a turn at cooking dinner, but something personal. He thought about it some more before gathering his courage to speak to Dr. Durant.
“Natalie,” Miles eventually approached the doctor. “I was wondering….”
Durant looked up, an expectant expression on her face. It was still rare for Miles to start a conversation. “Yes?”
“Would it be all right….?” He tried again. “If you could spare me from the lab for a few minutes, could I go get some coffee?”
Natalie looked over at the equipment running the tests and then back to Miles’ hope-filled face. For a minute, he thought she was going to say no, but instead she smiled at him. “You’ve been stuck in here all day. Go, you deserve a break.”
“Thank you,” Miles gave her a grateful grin. Before he could change his mind, he headed for the elevators.
Coffee was everywhere at the NIH offices, but quantity didn’t always mean quality. Since Miles had pretty much been without it since becoming a slave, he’d at first thought the black goo that came out of the pots in their area was pure heaven. As his palate had again become more discriminating, though, he understood why the others considered it to be a necessary evil. Bad coffee, Stephen had even told him once, was one of the hazards of becoming a doctor. The coffee in the cafeteria was marginally better, but for a decent cup, the gourmet coffee shop across the street was where everyone flocked.
Miles hadn’t been to the coffee shop. In fact, he’d never been off their floor by himself before. Stephen always made sure he had money for food and anything else he’d need during the day, but Miles had always managed to tag along with someone else when they went to lunch or on another errand. It felt very… odd… to be out on his own. With his other owners, he’d usually spent his time in a bedroom or other space prepared for his Master’s pleasure, often shackled to a bed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been out in public by himself. It was a heady experience, but a little nerve-wracking as well.
Getting to the elevator, going down, and making his way through the building lobby was no problem. Miles had traveled that way often enough that he could easily navigate even with his eyes cast down as was proper for a slave. He stopped at the door, though, looking through its glass surface to the coffee shop that was across the street. It was as if it was across the ocean, from Miles’ perspective.
“This is ridiculous,” he muttered to himself, not even aware that he was fingering his Chain. “Quit being a coward.”
Miles took a deep breath and opened the door, taking a step out before he lost his nerve. Oddly enough, the world didn’t stop spinning, lightening bolts didn’t streak down from the sky, and there was no general outcry about a slave going outside his bounds. Emboldened, Miles walked carefully to the corner and pressed the button on the stoplight pole that would get him a ‘walk’ symbol.
With every step, Miles’ confidence grew. In fact, he got across the street, all the way to the shop and inside it without any problems. Once there, however, there was a whole new set of issues. With dismay, the slave studied the menu, eyes widening as he realized how extensive it was. It hadn’t been too long ago that simple coffee had been out of Miles’ reach; he’d forgotten how complicated the drink could be.
“Can I get you something, honey?”
Miles startled at the voice, but settled down a little when he got a look at the woman speaking to him. She was on the far side of middle-aged and had a kind look in her eye.
“I’m supposed to get coffee for my Master,” Miles explained shyly. “But I don’t know what he likes.”
The woman behind the counter eyed Miles’ Chain. It was such a part of him now that he tended to forget how unusual it was. “Your Master work across the street?”
Miles turned around, belatedly realizing that the NIH building was as easily seen from the coffee shop as the coffee shop was from the office. She must have watched him come out and cross the street. “Yes, ma’am.”
The woman smiled at him. “Well, chances are he’s been here before. What’s he look like?”
“He’s a little taller than me and athletic looking,” Miles knew his words weren’t doing Stephen justice. “Short blond hair and blue eyes. *Really* blue eyes.”
“Ah, you mean Dr. Connor,” the woman immediately identified Miles’ owner. “He likes the Hawaiian Royal Kona blend. No syrup, no milk, just straight java.”
“I’ll take one of those, then. A large one,” Miles said gratefully. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Don’t mention it, sweetie,” the woman winked at him. “Didn’t realize Dr. C had a slave.”
“I’m kind of new,” Miles admitted sheepishly.
“Yeah, I can tell,” she winked at him as she poured Stephen’s coffee and rang it up.
Miles dug in his pocket for the money and even had enough for a tip, which he self-consciously put in the jar. “Thank you again, ma’am. I appreciate your help.”
“Anytime, sugar,” she said kindly. “Now, you take care of Dr. C. He helped clear up my bursitis once. He’s a real keeper, that man is.”
“Yes, ma’am, he is.” Miles surprised himself by agreeing with her. “I mean, yes, ma’am, I will.”
The short trip back across the street to the NIH offices was much more relaxed. Perhaps because holding the Styrofoam cup of coffee felt like he was holding a shield or maybe he’d just won back a smidgeon of his self confidence. In any case, in a few moments, Miles was back in the building and on the elevator, headed back up to his floor. When the elevator stopped to let a new passenger on, Miles just shifted to the side, keeping his eyes down as was proper. He noticed the newcomer’s shoes first, but it had barely registered that they were Italian before Miles found himself backed into a corner.
“Mmm… smells good,” Parravinci said. He pressed close, not quite touching, but definitely in Miles’ personal space.
The slave had a feeling that the man wasn’t referring to the coffee. “It’s for my Master.”
“Oh, I’m sure it is,” Parravinci purred.
When Parravinci had imposed himself on Miles before, it had left the slave an emotional wreck. The man still intimidated Miles, especially alone in such cramped corners. Underlying Miles’ trepidation, however, anger, began to simmer. Miles belonged Stephen and was trying to do something nice for his Master. Who was this creep to interfere? His options, unfortunately, were severely limited. He couldn’t risk sassing back to the man or punishment would surely follow.
Miles lifted the hand not occupied with holding the coffee cup to his neck. He fingered his Chain in an unsubtle attempt to flaunt his favored slave status. Stephen Connor was a formidable man and Parravinci didn’t strike Miles as particularly brave. Hopefully, reminding the NIH doctor of how Connor valued him would get the creep to leave him alone. It worked. At least, Parravinci backed off a little. It was enough that, when the elevator arrived at his floor, Miles was able to inch past the man and get out.
“I’ll see you later, Miles,” Parravinci called out as the doors closed.
“Not if I see you first,” Miles muttered under his breath.
Shaking himself mentally, the slave hurried to finish his task. Coffee was best hot and he wanted to get the treat to Stephen while it was still steaming. First, though, he needed to let Dr. Durant know he was back.
“Natalie,” Miles called as he briefly entered the lab. “I’m just going to drop this off for Stephen and then I’ll be right back.”
He wasn’t surprised to see Eva there. She tended to hang out with Natalie whenever they had a break in the action. It wasn’t as if they all didn’t work insane hours during a case, so it wasn’t exactly goofing off. At the moment, the press liaison was standing behind Natalie, gently kneading the doctor’s shoulders. Both women looked over when Miles came in.
Natalie glanced down at the coffee and back up at Miles. “Sure, that’s fine.” A smile played around her lips as she added a suggestion. “Why don’t you just take your study materials and finish the day out in Stephen’s office? We’re about all wrapped up here anyway.”
Miles knew when he wasn’t needed. With a nod of thanks, the young man grabbed his pile of notes and related texts. Shoving them under his arm, he headed toward Stephen’s office. Once there, however, he had a hard time making himself knock. Peering in the blinds that hung in the glass walls of his Master’s office, he could clearly see Stephen sitting at his desk. The man was staring intently at his computer, but it wasn’t a report or other official document that had grabbed his attention. It was a photo, of a woman and a boy. The look on his Master’s face was infinitely sad and Miles instantly knew that his owner was looking at a picture of his wife and son. Suddenly, a cup of coffee seemed like a pretty meager offering.
Miles moved to turn away, but he was too late. Connor had already seen him.
“Miles, is everything all right?” Stephen asked. “You don’t have another headache, do you?”
The slave blushed. “No.” After taking a deep breath to settle his nerves, he walked forward. “I thought you might like a cup of coffee.” He held it out, looking at Stephen from underneath lowered eyelashes.
Connor smiled.
“That’s thoughtful, thank you.” He took it from the young man, noticing
the logo on the cup. “And you got the
good stuff. That’s very thoughtful
indeed.” Stephen took a sip, face alight
with satisfaction as he got a good taste.
“My blend, how did you know?”
“The lady at the shop helped me,” Miles said shyly. “I think she likes you. She mentioned you helped her once.”
“Let that be a lesson for you, Miles,” Stephen said with a smile. “Always place a high value someone who can make a good cup of coffee.” His smile turned to a frown. “But you didn’t get yourself any?”
Miles shrugged. “No. I wasn’t thirsty.” The excuse sounded lame to his own ears. The honest truth was that he simply hadn’t thought about it.
“Well, you look thirsty now.” Stephen uncovered an empty ceramic mug on his desk. He blew the dust out of it, before wiping it out with his shirt tail. That done, he took off the lid of the cup Miles had brought him and poured some of it into the mug. “Here.”
“Thanks,” Miles took it. He sipped, smiling as the rich taste exploded in his mouth. “That *is* good.”
“Ah, another convert,” Connor grinned. He nodded at the schoolwork that Miles had brought with him. “Did you get kicked out of the lab?”
“Kind of,” Miles admitted. “I think Natalie and Eva wanted a little alone time.” He mentally kicked himself when he saw a shadow flit over Stephen’s face. He’d inadvertently brought up something relationship-oriented, the last thing Connor needed at the moment. “Natalie thought maybe I could study in here with you?”
“That’d be fine,” Stephen responded. “We should actually get out of here on time tonight, unless an outbreak starts somewhere.”
Miles juggled his books and the coffee as he settled himself on the chair he’d begun to think of as his. He could hear the siren call of the medical materials he was supposed to study, but his mind wouldn’t focus. He was distracted by the way he felt. Here in Stephen’s office, having the opportunity to study the medicine that had been his life’s dream, basking in the quiet company of the man who’d purchased him, Miles felt… happy? Safe? Content?
What was wrong with him?
He’d met slaves before that were thrilled to be Chained and he hadn’t known
whether to be disgusted by them or pity them.
One man had tried to explain, about how having a Master to take care of
him made him feel secure and loved. At the time, Miles had thought he was
crazy, but now he wasn’t so sure. Maybe,
just maybe, the difference was in having the right Master. His fingers strayed up to his Chain again and
Miles remembered that awful night he’d tried to get Connor to beat him. Stephen had called him “my own.” Back when he was free, Miles would have
assumed such an endearment was patronizing, at best, and downright demeaning at
worst. It hadn’t felt that way at all,
though. Instead, it had made Miles feel… protected… cared for.
The young man frowned. He’d never felt so confused.
“What’s the matter?” Stephen’s voice sounded curious rather than concerned. “One of the subjects Irene assigned giving you trouble?”
Miles didn’t like the idea of lying to Stephen, but there was no way he was going to admit what he’d really been thinking of. “Yes. I just don’t quite get the stuff about endocrine regulation.”
Stephen got up from his chair and moved around to the front of the desk, perching on the edge. “Okay, what’s giving you a problem? Maybe I can help.”
Since he did have questions about that particular subject area, Miles launched into detailed explanation. Worries about his own feelings could be put aside; every single chance to talk medicine with Stephen was too precious to waste. Besides, his internal philosophical debate could wait. It wasn’t like his Master had moved to Claim him, after all. Despite his early misgivings, it was obvious Miles had been wrong about his owner.
Early on, Stephen had discussed sex with Miles and, even though the subject had not been raised again, the young man had certainly not forgotten. Connor had promised that nothing they did sexually would hurt him, but after so many weeks in Stephen’s possession and not a single sexual advance or comment having been made, Miles had begun to believe it had been an unnecessary promise. He’d thought about it, of course. Part of getting to know Stephen had been pure self-interest; the better he knew his Master, the better he could please him in bed and that was usually necessary for Miles’ continued well being. Sometimes, he looked at Stephen and thought it wouldn’t be so bad. The man was attractive and athletic. Given how considerate he’d been of Miles so far, it probably wouldn’t be an overly unpleasant task. Other times, he thanked God for his owner’s abstinence. It had been years since anyone had looked at Miles as something other than a convenient fuck and he found he treasured that sensation most of all in this new life as Connor’s slave.
Dr. Stephen Connor was different than anyone who’d owned Miles before. Stephen, Miles had come to believe, could be trusted. If he Claimed Miles, he wouldn’t hurt him, but Miles would just as soon that never happen. He liked the life he had now too much to relish any change that might risk it.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Miles watched from across the corridor as Eva did her best to comfort Stephen through the loss of a patient. He knew that it was his place to be where Eva was, doing what she was doing, but he couldn’t quite make himself cross that distance to go to his Master. They weren’t even sure, yet, what had killed the girl, but Stephen had taken it hard. That didn’t surprise Miles, even though it was the first time it had happened since he’d been bought. So was the straightening of the other man’s spine as he clearly took something Eva said the wrong way.
Pulling back behind the corner when Stephen started looking in his direction, Miles hesitated only a moment before heading for the elevator. It wasn’t that he thought Stephen would take out the bad mood on him, not really. Ever since the first time he’d screwed up, when Miles had demanded a beating, Stephen had taken pains to remain calm.
Truth be told, he wasn’t really sure why he was running.
He reached the elevators and hit the call button, wanting to get to the lab as quickly as he could. Natalie was there with Frank, going over samples and it would be safe there. Even if Stephen showed up, he wouldn’t do anything with them around. He stepped inside the elevator and hit the button for the floor where the labs were located.
The doors were closing when he heard, “Miles, wait!”
He looked up to find Stephen jogging down the hall and even though he moved to keep the doors ajar, they closed anyhow.
Great. Now he had to worry about Stephen thinking that he had disobeyed him, on top of the normal bad mood, Miles thought with a sigh. This just wasn’t his day.
It hadn’t been, from the start. The last couple of weeks had been bad, really. There had been some kind of budgetary and staff meetings going on with Mistress Ewing and other high-level department heads. That, combined with no intellectual challenge in the form of new cases, had contrived to keep Miles’ gaze on the floor, just in case. Being cooped up all day apparently did not agree with his Master. Stephen had been sour and uncommunicative, though he hadn’t come down on Miles about anything.
Then this morning, they’d been woken far too early, at about three thirty, to come down to a case consisting of four young girls with seizures and no family history of them. Add to that the four girls being on the same cheerleading squad and they knew something was going on, but not what.
The elevator doors pinged open and Miles stepped off, then wondered if maybe he should stay there and wait for Stephen. Shaking the idea off as stupid, Stephen might not even come after him, Miles walked towards the lab where he knew Frank and Natalie waited.
“Miles! Just the person I need,” Natalie greeted him, smiling. “Do me a favor and keep an eye on these specimens for me, will you? Take them out the instant they’re done, and mark them according to this chart.”
Miles nodded and took her spot by the centrifuge, asking, “Where’s Frank?”
Moving to a microscope, she answered, “Oh, he had an idea that he wanted to follow up on. He was on his way up to get Stephen and investigate, so you must have just missed him.”
Which meant that Stephen wouldn’t be coming downstairs any time soon.
“Natalie?”
But Eva, apparently, would.
Miles glanced sideways to find the diminutive woman standing in the doorway.
Natalie looked up in surprise and asked, “Eva? What’s wrong?”
“That girl,
Miles returned his attention to the centrifuge as it came to a stop and began pulling the beakers from it before picking up a pen.
Natalie’s face fell. “Oh damn. And we still don’t know what the problem is.”
“Are you close to something?”
“Unfortunately not.”
“Do you mind if I speak to Miles alone for a minute, then?”
Miles stiffened, but didn’t move as Natalie murmured an assent and left the room. It wasn’t until Eva touched his arm that he looked up from his writing. Even though there was nothing but kindness and understanding on her face, Miles didn’t relax as he stopped what he was doing.
“So what happened back there?” Eva questioned, leaning against the lab counter.
Shrugging, Miles answered, “Nothing.”
“Miles.”
“Nothing!” he insisted, dropping her gaze, then muttered, “Nothing you can fix, anyhow.”
“Well, that’s a start at least,” she said dryly.
With a sigh, Miles said, “I don’t even know why I left like that.”
Rubbing his shoulder, Eva offered, “You don’t think that maybe you were a little intimidated at facing Stephen in a mood? The last time you did, after all, you got your head bit off.”
“No, I deserved that. I’d made a mistake.”
“No one deserves that, Miles, and we all made sure Stephen knew it.”
That startled him, but there wasn’t really anything to be said about it, either. How could he admit to anyone that after all the abuse and torture he’d suffered in the past few years, after only a couple of months with Stephen, he’d begun to…
“Miles, you can’t keep everything inside, or you’ll explode one day,” Eva cautioned softly.
Uncomfortable, Miles said, “I’m not trying to, Eva, honest. It’s just, I can’t, I can’t figure things out.”
“What things? Stephen?”
“Maybe.”
Eva smiled and pointed out, “No one’s been able to figure him out, Miles, and we’ve known him a lot longer than you have. But you must know that he would never hurt you.”
“Not physically, maybe.”
The smile faded at his words and she rubbed his shoulder again. “Stephen cares about you so much, Miles, you haven’t even begun to realize just how much. You have to let the past go and start fresh with him. If he could set you free, I know that he would. You are truly unjustly enslaved and you’ve suffered horrors that no free person can imagine, I know. Believe me, I know. To let go of the walls that have kept you sane and safe inside, for so long, seems crazy in itself, but Miles, if you don’t, you’ll never be able to trust Stephen for real, or to have a happy life.”
It had been so long since a happy life had been even the vaguest of hopes, that Miles almost couldn’t grasp what she was telling him. That Eva felt it possible to be Chained and happy seemed more a testament to the bond between she and Natalie, than the likelihood that it could happen with others as well. With himself and Stephen, if he was being truthful. Looking away from those earnest hazel eyes, Miles finally said, “I don’t know if I can.”
Can let down the walls. Can trust Stephen. Can live a happy life. Can let go of the past…it was so open ended that not even Miles really knew what he meant.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Aaaah! Son of a bitch!”
Stephen slammed the pot down, an instinctive reaction to having been burned. The doctor had been so lost in his thoughts that he’d forgotten to use a potholder, resulting in a painful burn. It was the ‘perfect’ ending to a ‘perfect’ day. He’d lost a patient, a teenage girl, and it rankled. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it, obviously distracting him from what he was doing. Unfortunately, what he was doing was making pasta. Cooking and inattentiveness were never a good combination.
“Here, let me see.”
Connor let Miles take his hand and walk him to the sink. Once there, the young man ran cold water over the burn.
“I don’t think it’s too serious,” Miles reassured him. “It’s not your fault, you know.”
“What?” Stephen asked. He pulled his hand from the water. Miles was right, it wasn’t badly burned. “What isn’t my fault?”
“Sandy, that girl that died,” the slave explained. “You can’t save everyone, Stephen, no matter how hard you try.”
Stephen looked at his companion. Miles was gazing calmly back, not even a hint of a flinch evident in his pose. Connor could trace the change in the slave back to a simple cup of coffee. Ever since Miles had brought him one to comfort him over his wife and son’s continued absence, Connor had sensed a shift in Miles. The young man didn’t just obey Stephen’s instructions; he actively sought out ways to help the doctor. In his shy, deferential way, he’d even become something of a mother hen.
In the wake of Miles’ concern, the day came crashing down on Stephen. The girl who’d died because Connor hadn’t figured out the cause of her illness in time to save her life. The hole in his heart that represented the absence of his son. The ache of loneliness that plagued his body, making it thrum with need.
Miles, right in front of him. Warm and sweet and caring.
The slave’s smile faltered as he watched Stephen’s smile become predatory. “M-master?”
“Shhh, Miles,” Connor crooned, stepping closer to his companion. He hooked one finger in the waist of Miles’ pants and pulled him closer, wrapping his hands around Miles’ hips as soon as he could. Stephen bent his head to Miles’, stopping just short of kissing him to smile reassuringly. Miles’ eyes were wide and he was breathing in short, choppy pants. In short, he looked good enough to eat.
And then Stephen touched his lips to his slave’s, groaning as he felt their moist length slide against his own. He tightened his grip on the young man’s hips and pulled him closer, sliding his knee between Miles’ legs. At the same time, he thrust his tongue against Miles’ closed lips, silently insisting they open for him. When Miles hesitated, Connor shifted his grip to the slave’s ass. A tight squeeze made the other man gasp and Stephen took that opportunity to slide his tongue inside.
Heat surrounded him. Stephen groaned as he plundered Miles’ mouth, exploring every inch of the wet cavern. His hands were still on the slave’s ass as they kissed, squeezing rhythmically. Only when Miles began to struggle for air did he let the younger man’s lips go. Even then, he kept a tight grip on the slave, not letting Miles retreat.
“Master….”
Stephen eased his hold a bit, making his grip on Miles more of an embrace as he felt trembling start to shake the young man’s body. He cupped the slave’s ass with one hand and used the other to force Miles to look at him. “What did I promise you, Miles? That very first morning here in the apartment?”
Miles tried his best to look away. “That nothing we do together sexually will cause me pain.”
“That’s right, Miles.” Stephen agreed. “I’m going to make you feel good, not hurt you.”
“Yes, Master.” The response was scarcely loud enough to be called a whisper.
Stephen let go of Miles only long enough to turn off the stove. Dinner could wait; he had another hunger to appease. The doctor took Miles by the hand and led him to the bedroom. Once inside, he pulled the young man into his arms and kissed him again. By this time, Miles’ shaking was a lot more noticeable. “Miles?”
“Mm-master, I don’t know if I can-can do this.”
“It’s Stephen, Miles, not Master. Not in this.” Connor put a finger over Miles’ lips, already swollen from kissing. “What did I promise you?”
“Nothing we do together sexually will cause me pain,” Miles faithfully repeated.
“And in the two months I’ve owned you, have I ever broken a promise to you?” Stephen demanded. “Lied to you?”
Miles silently shook his head.
“This isn’t about pain, Miles,” Connor pledged. “This is about pleasure.”
He took Miles’ mouth again before the young man could reply. He plunged into that pliant mouth over and over, until his body was aching with need. Breaking off from Miles’ lips with a moan, Connor moved his mouth to Miles’ neck, devouring it with hungry nips as his hands moved to strip the slave of his shirt.
Miles whimpered.
Stephen stopped himself. Fast was the pace that his body was demanding, but this wasn’t just about him. He didn’t have a true Claiming in mind, Miles wasn’t ready for that. Instead, this was a lesson, that Miles re-learn that his body could provide him pleasure.
“Miles,” he instructed hoarsely. “Take my shirt off.”
The slave moved to obey with trembling hands, not looking at Stephen’s face. Connor allowed that until the shirt was off, then he grabbed Miles’ wrists. Looking at Miles lovingly, he turned the other man’s hands over and kissed each palm. His partner shivered and, for the first time, Stephen doubted it was in fear.
He let Miles’ hands drop and reached for his lover. Miles had regained some weight since becoming Stephen’s slave, but was still a little underweight. The doctor stroked the slim torso gently, keeping his touch light. Miles shivered again.
“You are so beautiful,” Stephen whispered as he bent to kiss a bare shoulder. Miles just shook his head silently, denying the claim. Connor deliberately ran his hand across Miles’ back, which was covered in scars, some faint and some relatively fresh. “You survived, Miles. That took strength and strength is beautiful.”
Miles wrapped his arms around himself, as though to hide his form from his owner. That didn’t meet with Stephen’s approval. “Nah-uh, none of that,” the doctor chided him. “You’re beautiful.”
He encouraged Miles onto the bed and lay down next to him, trying to let his admiration for the young man show through his eyes. He stroked the soft skin of Miles’ chest, softly kissing each mark. In a way, they were obscene, reminders of past violence on the slave’s body. In another way, they were tangible proof of his strength and will to survive. Stephen went on to lave gentle kisses on each of Miles’ nipples, being tender as he caressed them. As he went on to suck each hardened little nub, Miles gave a strangled cry and made an aborted motion to reach for Connor. Stephen was disappointed when the slave instead clutched the bedspread. Miles had yet to willingly touch him and, while Connor was satisfied at bringing the slave pleasure, he longed for the time when Miles was comfortable enough to reciprocate.
When Miles started making breathy, needy noises, Stephen brushed a hand across the younger man’s groin. There was a noticeable bulge, indisputable evidence that the slave was finding pleasure in his actions.
With a final lick, Connor left off teasing Miles’ nipples. He kissed his way down the lean stomach, stopping only long enough to dart briefly into his lover’s tempting bellybutton. He left off when he felt Miles twitch. He didn’t want to bring the festivities to their conclusion too soon, but he cataloged the response for future exploration. Instead, he moved to nuzzle the waistband of Miles’ jeans.
“Stephen?”
Connor looked up. Miles’ eyes were wide, but his lips were red and swollen from their kisses, his nipples hard and pink from Stephen’s attentions. His breathing was in quick pants and a light sheen of sweat made his skin glisten. The slave was a bewitching combination of innocence and debauchery.
“What did I promise you?” He asked his slave.
Miles licked his lips. “N-nothing we do together sexually will cause me pain.”
“Good boy,” Stephen praised him. “Now lift your hips.”
Connor made short work of unzipping his lover and then, when Miles obediently raised his ass off the bed, slipped the jeans off the slender hips. The briefs soon followed and he saw the slave in all of his glory. He’d seen Miles nude before, but never when he was half hard and gasping for control.
“I don’t think you’ll find *this* painful at all,” Connor promised him and then lowered his head.
Miles cried out sharply as his owner’s mouth engulfed him. Stephen paused only long enough to hold Miles’ hips down then slid the other man’s penis into his mouth again. Miles tasted like need and Connor savored it. He circled the swollen head before sliding the shaft down his throat, loving the moans and cries the sensation caused. He didn’t want to torture Miles, though. As he continued to slurp, Stephen used one hand to roll Miles’ balls before reaching back and tickling the sensitive skin of his perineum.
The slave convulsed as he came, the strangled cry accompanying his orgasm was garbled, but could have been Stephen’s name. Connor was too busy swallowing to try and figure it out. As Miles subsided, he released the young man’s cock and kissed his way back up Miles’ body. When he got all the way to Miles’ mouth, the slave wrapped his arms around Connor, hiding his face in Stephen’s neck as shudders racked his body.
“Shhh, Miles,” Stephen crooned. “That’s what it’s like to feel good.”
“Yes, M-m-aster,” he stammered, not letting go of Connor.
Stephen shifted Miles in his arms, keeping up a continual patter of reassuring words. It tore at him, that it had been so long since Miles had experienced touch that was designed to pleasure instead of inflict pain. As Miles moved in his embrace, however, the young man brushed against Stephen and the erection that was tenting the doctor’s pants. Gulping, the young man looked at Connor.
“We’re not done yet, Miles,” Stephen confirmed. “But what was that promise?”
“Nothing we do together sexually will cause me pain,” Miles repeated.
“No pain,” Stephen vowed, kissing the young man deeply.
Connor didn’t ask for Miles’ help in taking his pants off; he figured it would be a little too much for the slave to handle. Instead, after a final kiss, he slid off the bed and made short work of jeans and underwear both, hissing under his breath as the cooler air hit his throbbing cock. He tossed the garments aside and, after grabbing some supplies from the nightstand, rejoined Miles on the bed.
The slave had turned shy again, hiding his face from Stephen. “Hey, none of that,” Connor chided. “This is about feeling good.”
“It never has before,” Miles protested.
“You’ve never made love with me before,” Stephen pointed out. “In fact, I doubt you’ve had sex in the last three years. Claimed? Yes. Fucked, nailed into the mattress, banged within an inch of your life? Yes, yes, and yes. But this?” Connor stroked the back of his hand across Miles’ cheek. “This is different, Miles. Trust me?”
Miles swallowed heavily. “I’ll try, M-master.”
“Not Master, Miles. Stephen.”
The slave opened his mouth to reply and Connor covered it with his own, swallowing Miles’ words. He kept up the deep, lingering kisses, distracting the young man from the fact that, one-handed, he’d popped the top off the lube and was awkwardly slicking up his fingers.
On a particularly deep kiss, he slid his hand in-between Miles’ cheeks, gently massaging the puckered opening they guarded. Miles gasped and another kiss swallowed the small sound. Stephen rolled so that Miles was on top of him. He used the leverage to slide their cocks together, groaning deep in his chest as he realized that Miles was again getting hard, although the younger man had a long way to go until he was fully erect. Stephen slid his hands behind Miles again, this time not just massaging Miles’ hole, but slipping his finger inside.
Miles’ body stiffened.
“Shhhhh, my own,” Connor encouraged. “No pain, only pleasure.”
He carefully thrust his finger in and out, acclimating Miles to the penetration. The opening relaxed, even if the rest of Miles body didn’t. Judging that a success, Stephen withdrew long enough to lube up another finger and then coaxed Miles body into accepting both of them.
Miles still had his face hidden in Stephen’s neck and Connor could feel the slave’s breath quicken.
“Calmly, my own,” he instructed, worried about the young man hyperventilating. “This is going to feel good. I promise… and I never break my promises.”
Stephen kept up the anal massage, scissoring and thrusting his fingers as he encouraged his lover’s body open. When he judged the slave was loose enough, he lubed and added a third finger, prompting Miles to cry out softly. Knowing that three fingers was the limit, Stephen went slowly, taking his time thrusting and penetrating as deeply as he could. He’d meant it when he promised no pain. Truthfully, there would have to be a little, Miles hadn’t been taken in months and was tight, but Connor wanted to keep it to a minimum. Certainly, it would be less than anything Miles had experienced before.
Finally, he judged Miles ready and withdrew his fingers.
“All right, my own,” Stephen instructed after one last kiss. “Let’s get you on your back.”
He scooted Miles off of him and settled the younger man on his back. Miles watched silently as Stephen unrolled a condom onto his cock and slicked it up liberally with lube. When he was done, the doctor knelt in front of the slave and pulled Miles across his knees. Miles’ penis wasn’t completely erect and Connor wrapped a hand around it, pumping it a few times. The slave’s hips came up off the mattress and Stephen grinned. Miles wasn’t nearly as reluctant as he’d started out.
“No pain, my own, only pleasure,” he vowed. Miles nodded, but didn’t reply. Technically, Stephen didn’t need permission to take his slave, but that nod meant a lot to Connor.
Stephen lined his cock up to Miles’ opening and gently slid in. Miles gasped as the hard cock breached his body and bit his lip to keep from crying out. Connor rubbed his hip. “Good boy. Feel good?”
“Burns.”
“You’re awfully tight,” Stephen said by way of an explanation, then thrust in another inch more. Miles gasped again and arched his hips a little, driving Stephen further in. Connor grabbed Miles’ cock and pumped it, using the distraction to thrust steadily until his was fully sheathed in his lover.
As his balls settled against the taut globes of Miles’ ass, he reassured the young man. “That’s it, Miles. All the way in. This will only get better from here.”
“Yes, Master.”
Stephen didn’t have the breath to remind Miles to use his first name. Instead, as he felt the body throbbing all around his own start to relax, he leisurely slid most of the way out before reversing to carefully thrust back in. Miles gasped and Stephen groaned, loving the way the walls of the slave’s ass clutched him. Connor kept his first series of thrusts slow and deep, but his body’s needs began to take over. His thrusts became harder and faster, causing him to grunt each time he plunged all the way in.
As the coupling continued, Miles’ cock began to fill. Connor smiled savagely. Supporting himself with one hand, he wrapped the other around his lover’s penis, jacking Miles off to the rhythm he was using to shove his way deep inside.
“Come for me, my own,” Stephen crooned. “Give it to me.” He tickled the tip of Miles’ now fully erect cock, teasing the sensitive tip as he banged against the slave’s prostate.
“Ahh…” Miles cried out as a second orgasm ripped through him. He clutched the bedspread as he came a second time, the fountain of his release liberally coating both his and Stephen’s chests.
Connor felt himself lose control as Miles’ body clamped down on his own. He released the other man’s spasming cock and gripped his lover’s hips, pushing his own down hard on Miles as he thrust in as deeply as he could. “Miles!” His own orgasm, as he came, was almost painful in its intensity. He felt his warmth flooding the slaves’ body, only the thin membrane of the condom keeping it in check.
With a groan of triumph, he collapsed on top of Miles, kissing the young man’s tears away as weariness overtook him. It was all Stephen could do to pull gently out of the slave and take care of the post-coital condom mess. When that was finished, he gathered Miles into his arms and drifted off to sleep.
He woke a short time later as Miles was stealthily climbing out of the bed.
“Hey, where are you going?” He asked the slave.
“I… I just thought I would go to my room,” came the tentative reply. The bedroom had grown dark and Stephen wished he could clearly see Miles’ face.
“Miles.”
He heard the young man sigh and saw him turn towards the bed, reluctance in every movement. “I can stay if you want me to, Master. Especially if you expect you’ll need me to s-service you again.”
‘Service.’ It was an ugly word for what had been one of the most intense sexual experiences of Stephen’s life.
“No, you can go if you want,” he sighed as he gave Miles permission to leave. Keeping the young man in bed with him now would not be beneficial.
Stephen watched the slave slip from the room. After Miles left, he lay staring at the ceiling for hours. He thought he’d made progress with Miles, taught the slave to trust him. He thought the young man had come to care for him, as Stephen certainly had come to care for Miles.
Had one night’s passion ruined all of that?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Miles didn’t run as he made his way to his room, but it was close. Once inside, he closed the door and locked it. That used up just about all the energy he had left. He leaned his back against the wall and found himself sliding down, finally ended up in an unhappy huddle on the floor.
“Idiot, idiot, idiot,” Miles chanted to himself in a whisper that was barely more than an exhaled breath. He didn’t want to chance Stephen hearing him. Tears ran down his face and he angrily wiped them away.
Stephen.
Miles had thought Connor was different, but it turned out he was like all the rest. All he’d wanted was Miles’ body.
The slave wrapped his arms around himself and rocked, ignoring the pain the movement caused in his ass. What he couldn’t ignore was the satisfied ache in his nipples or the sensitive flesh of his cock. His mind flashed back to the act itself, but try as he might, he couldn’t remember being used. Instead he remembered himself clutching on to Stephen’s larger body, arching up into his Master’s touch, coming with the man’s name on his lips…
Aghast, Miles had a revelation. Had he wanted it?
Miles shook his head. No, he wasn’t a slut, he hadn’t wanted the sex. Hadn’t wanted Stephen’s healing hands all over his body, hadn’t wanted Connor to look at him with such loving eyes, hadn’t wanted to orgasm simply from the man calling him ‘my own’ and telling him to come.
Stephen hadn’t lied to him. He’d told him almost from the beginning that sex was a possibility and that he wouldn’t hurt Miles. Even Miles couldn’t say the ache in his ass constituted a broken promise, Connor had been gentle and thorough in preparing him.
So why did Miles feel so betrayed? And was it Stephen he felt betrayed by or his own body, that it had felt such pleasure from being taken? His mind was telling him that he’d been used and that the kindness he’d been shown over the last couple of months had been a sham. His body was telling him that it was very satisfied with the coupling. Was satiated, in fact. His heart didn’t know what to tell him; it was torn in two.
There was a part of Miles that wanted to go back to his Master’s bedroom and crawl under the covers with his owner. He was sure that Stephen could help him work through his confusion. He couldn’t make himself do it, though. He’d only been a slave for three years, but he’d had close to a dozen owners in that time and hundreds of sexual encounters with them. The mass of those unbearable experiences created a barrier that he just couldn’t cross. Not by himself.
Miles curled up on the floor. There was no way in Hell that he was going to lay on the bed. He couldn’t help the tears and, eventually, fell into an exhausted slumber, still huddled on the floor.
The slave didn’t realize, in the pained confusion he was feeling, that one of his hands clutched onto his Chain while he slept, as though it were a lifeline that he dare not release.
~the end~