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“Yeah. We get numbers.” The slave tugs at his collar where Carter sees a shiny silver 7 dangling off the front ring. He had noticed numbers before on the slaves, but he’d never allowed himself to dwell on the detail. “It’s easier to just go by numbers. We don’t really use names anymore, even when we’re alone. When a master grabs you and asks if you’ve seen 7, you better fucking know who 7 is, ya know?”
“And that’s you.”
“Yup. Lucky number 7.” The slave scoffs. Carter can’t blame him. Nothing about their lives is lucky. “You don’t have a number, I see. Not that it matters. Everyone knows your name.”
Carter shakes his head. “Everyone seems to know everything.”
“It’s not your fault. I mean, I get that they’re all jealous, hell I’m a little jealous too. Master Roarke is very gentle, and he never asks for anything truly bad. And he’s breaking his personal rules for you, which makes you seem more special or whatever, but you’ve gotta be fuckinglonelyman.”
Carter aches with the truth of the statement, his eyes pricking with tears. “You aren’t?”
“Not really. Not like you, anyway.” The slave’s smile is sad. “We all have each other. If we’re not being used at night, we sleep in the basement together. Sure, we get locked in, and it’s cramped and dark and everyone gets on each other’s fucking nerves, but we all get to talk like this. We get to remember that we’re human. I don’t know how you do it all by yourself. Does he at least talk to you? Like this, I mean? Openly? Does he let you talk to him?”
Focusing on the alcohol he’s pouring, Carter goes with a half-truth. “Not really. He talks to me sometimes, but it’s usually just like… him musing out loud. You guys are right, though. He is gentle in private. Most of the time, at least… If I’m good.”
“Is it true that he-”
“7,” a deep voice says from their left. Then, “Pet. What are the two of you doing?”
7 whips around, Carter following. The boy goes directly to his knees and presses his forehead to the floor, muttering an apology. When Carter begins to do the same, a large hand wraps around his bicep and keeps him on his feet. That’s when Carter’s mind slows enough to realize who just caught them speaking.
Sir.
The man keeps his eyes narrowed on Carter as he growls at 7, “Get back to your master before I decide to let him flog you for tonight’s post-dinner entertainment.”
“Yes, Master Roarke!” 7 squeaks, scrambling to his feet. “Thank you, Master Roarke!”
Sir releases Carter’s arm before quickly taking it back in his hands so he can gently rub the red marks his bruising grip left behind. The man looks torn. Upset. When his eyes take in the front of Carter’s body, all the way to his cock and balls, the torn expression twists into something devastated. Sir tears his gaze away long enough to check their surroundings. Then he lurches forward without warning, grabbing Carter’s head in a strong grip, holding him still as he crashes their mouths together.
Carter startles for just a moment before completely melting. The kiss is violent and desperate and reflects exactly how Carter has been feeling all night. He feels sir’s erection press against him and moans, hating himself for the thrill it sends through him. Maybe he isn’t special, but sir stillwantshim. This is proof.
Sir shoves Carter back until he’s pinned to the wall, growling as his hands make quick work of his belt and zipper. He yanks his cock out at the same time as he removes Carter’s plug, then spits on himself. Carter barely has enough time to comprehend what’s happening before sir is lifting him up by the back of his thighs like Carter weighs nothing and slamming his cock into him.
The sudden intrusion blurs Carter’s vision, stealing his breath, but sir works his magic and chases the pain away with his lips on Carter’s ear and his hard cock angling right at Carter’s prostate. Carter cries out as his cock starts to harden between them, too thankful for sir’s attention to be mad at his cock for the betrayal. When sir notices the erection, he pulls his head back to look into Carter’s eyes. Something intense passes between them. Something Carter isn’t sure there’s a name for. Then the man is pressing his forehead against Carter’s and growling, “Mine. You’re fuckingmine.”
“Yours,” Carter promises, his body trembling with emotion and need. “All yours, sir.”
Sir gives him another searing kiss before pulling back. “Touch yourself. Come for me.”
Carter bites back a sob of relief and nods, wrapping his hand around his cock and quickly tugging. Despite all the abuse it endeared tonight, the thing is fully on board with what sir is doing right now. It’s as relieved as Carter is to be feeling pleasure for a moment during a night so riddled with pain.
It can’t be more than a minute before Carter’s free hand is clawing at sir’s shoulder, his cock spurting stripes of white cum all over the powerful man’s suit jacket.
“Fuck, Car-” sir groans, cutting himself off by biting down on Carter’s shoulder. Carter has a fleeting thought that sir was about to use his name for the first time, but then sir is pumping him full of hot cum and whispering praise in his ear, and Carter forgets.
Sir rests his forehead against Carter’s for a few seconds as he catches his breath, their eyes locked.
“I hate his hands on you,” sir admits, his voice raw.
Before Carter can tell him how much he hates it too, how much he hates sir’s hands on another slave, how much he wants this night to be over so they can be together again, sir is pulling out of Carter and setting him back on his feet. “Turn around, hands on the wall, ass out.”
Carter does as told, biting his lip to stave off the sudden overwhelming urge to cry. He whimpers when sir presses his plug back into his hole, but he doesn’t complain. Not then, and certainly not when sir scoops up the drops of cum that had spilled out, pressing his fingers to Carter’s lips in a silent order to clean his mess. Carter sucks and licks the fingers like he can somehow convey everything he wanted to say by doing this simple task perfectly.
“Good boy,” sir finally says, stepping back. Despite sir only being inches away, Carter suddenly feels very alone. “Face me again.”
Carter follows the order, swaying slightly on his feet. He winces when he sees the mess he made of sir’s jacket. “I’m sorry, sir…”
“Don’t worry about it.” Sir squeezes his eyes shut before taking a deep breath and looking at Carter again. “Get back to Todd. We’ll discuss the little chat you were having with 7 later.”
