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Jagger tucked the blanket around Luke’s waist so his back wasn’t touched and went to sit at his desk after he fully opened the window. Once in a while, he smoked if he felt like it, so he dug around for his cig case in the desk drawer.
After summoning a little fire to one finger, he lit the end of the cig. He carefully leaned back and tried to shift himself so the pressure from the chair wouldn't hurt his back so much.
Luke’s words kept ringing in his head. “I like you.”
Probably anyone would like someone that made a little effort to care for them in this place, but he had a feeling Luke meant it. And it wasn’t just because Jagger did stuff for him.
The look Luke had given him in the tent that night when he’d gotten between Jagger’s legs…Elira, how he wished he could fulfill his slave’s wish and get undressed with him. It had been so long since he’d felt true skin-to-skin contact with another man beyond his face, hands, and cock.
It was one of those things he’d never get again.
He couldn’t even say why it hurt sometimes like when Luke had crawled on top of him to wake him with a kiss that morning in the tent. The other few times after that they’d slept together, he always did it. Jagger let him because he liked the contact.
But it always hurt.
He flicked the cig ashes into a tiny bowl on his desk as he watched Luke who was out like a candle. In the morning, he’d still be tired, but Jagger would have to get him up and out. They both had to go on in this damn place they were stuck in.
If he stayed with Jagger for the whole five years, he’d prefer that. If he decided to leave, he could because Jagger wouldn’t force him to be his pet. He could still do Luke’s punishment whippings to make them more bearable, but he had a feeling his slave would stay and meant his last words before he fell asleep.
All of Jagger’s other pets in the eleven years had been sentenced to one and two years for petty theft. A few times, he had taken on a pet for short periods while at the mine, and afterward, nobody seemed to want to mess with them.
Someone had raped his first pet when he was still a newer guard, and the bastard had tried to intimidate his pet into keeping quiet about it. Anything went when someone messed with a claimed prisoner so that criminal was dead now. Jagger had taken care of him, and nobody had ever dared to touch another of his.
It would probably hurt a lot when Luke went free and back into the world. Jagger would still be trapped here because he had no choice.
In a way, he was a prisoner too.
He stubbed out the cig and grabbed some clothes from his wardrobe. If he knew he’d be alone, he’d lock his door and sleep with a single shirt on, but he wouldn't risk it with Luke in the bed. He picked three thicker ones, went into the privy room, locked the door, and started to undress.
Sometimes he wished he could be honest, and he was sure his lie seemed suspicious to Luke. He didn’t like lying, but it was better than his slave seeing or feeling his chest and back.
When he caught sight of himself in the looking glass on the wall, he turned away in disgust as he flung his last shirt over the stool. It never got better over the years. He’d heard someone say time heals all wounds, but that was an absolute lie. Some things never changed, and they still hurt years later. The memory was even worse.
As it occasionally did, pure jealousy erupted in him. One day, Luke would leave this place. He’d bear the scars from his time as a prisoner because nothing would erase those brands, but he’d be free again to do whatever he wanted. He could find someone, have a relationship, and get married. He wouldn’t be as badly marked up.
Jagger would never be able to leave for good until he was too old to work. Sometimes he’d thought about running, but he knew the Earl kept tabs on him enough to make sure he didn’t. Men-at-arms would come after him, and it would be worse than last time. Staying was his only option. He had Luke to take care of and brighten his life a little.
He rubbed oil into his chest and back to keep the good skin as supple as possible and try to ease his discomfort. Otherwise, the thick scars running all over would pull and make it worse and itchy. He had more scars than normal skin now, and the deep ridges wouldn’t change at this point.
Some of the cuts must have damaged the nerves and muscles underneath because he often had constant pain. Physicians didn’t know enough about the body in that way, and it was something a healer could fix. Not at this point. It was a matter of managing it and coping on the days when it was worse.
His back was the same. Sometimes, being touched too hard on his chest and back hurt, but he could never say it. He couldn’t even be mad at Luke for it because he didn’t know, and he missed having a man’s body against his. It wasn’t the fully naked touch he craved, but he liked it when Luke got on top to kiss him.
His slave was so sweet sometimes with his full lips and dark hair, Jagger didn’t want him to ever stay off or stop touching him. He just couldn’t bear for anyone to actually feel the marks or see him. Luke would probably be disgusted by them because Jagger couldn’t even stand to look at himself unless he was clothed.
He’d gotten away with keeping them all a secret in the eleven past years, and he’d continue to do so. For a moment, he stared at the floor after he put the cork back in the oil bottle. He could have sex, enjoy his kinks, and help prisoners who weren't truly bad people, but the Earl had taken a lot from him.
When he dressed, he tucked one shirt into his sleep pants and made sure the ties were snug so it wouldn’t ride up in his sleep. Once his other shirts were on, he put out the lanterns in the bedroom room and got into bed with Luke who shifted at the movement. Under the blanket, he burrowed close to Jagger and flung an arm over him as if desperately seeking more comfort in his sleep.
Jagger put an arm over him to give it.
Chapter Nine
Eleven years ago
Blood ran down Jagger’s forearms thanks to the rope digging into his wrists, and some of the streams were dried since he’d given up struggling. Some were new because his legs could barely hold him up anymore, and every time his body sagged, the ropes held him up and further chafed the abused skin.
Landy paced in front of the two trees that Jagger had been tied between. “Maybe you are telling the truth, but the fact that we found you with the gang is evidence enough.”
