His slave kneels willingly at his side, his empty eyes turned up in question. Slade pets him in reassurance and the boy almost smiles as he lowers his eyes and waits for a command.
Slade takes a bite of his steak and thinks about praising the boy for cooking it to perfection, but holds his tongue. Having his dinner prepared just the way he wants it should be an expectation.
He's still new at owning a slave, still surprised that every time he looks at the boy he's actually there, willing and waiting.
Logically he understands why. The boy failed in his mission and, in doing so, went too far over the line to ever be a hero again. At least in his own eyes and the eyes of his family.
Slade found him offering his head to some lowlife criminal with a sword and rescued him. Hours later, after the whole sordid story of his recent life was out, the boy made the offer, pled for him to take him.
Slade's still surprised he agreed.
As he sips the Cabernet that melds wonderfully with the nearly rare meat, he wonders if tonight is the time to take the next step.
In agreeing to take the boy as his slave, to collar and leash him, to imprison him in this mansion in the Swiss Alps, he's gone too far already. There's no going back.
So, he might as well take advantage of the willing numbness of the boy and fuck him.
Drake isn't Grayson, but he's pretty and he'll do.
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