In short order they had everything they’d come for and the directions to the tailor shop down the street.
Yohji was actually grinning as he strapped on the gun holster as they left the general store and Farfarello was testing the edge on a Bowie knife, shaving the hair from the back of his arm with a grin that matched Kudoh’s.
Aya was quietly pleased with his coat and the pale orchid shirt that matched his eyes. Aya-chan had added two or three more dresses and had been told she would need the strange contraption to wear the ‘new crinolines.’ Regretfully she’d added the thing and the huge hoop it was connected to together with layers of petticoats.
The whole mess would be delivered by Carter’s clerk to their hotel rooms. With Zeshin there to accept the stuff there wasn’t any worry that it would come up missing.
All they needed to take was the cloth intended for Brad’s clothing along with Yohji’s.
“Schu, you can deal with the tailor,” Aya said. “I’ve still got a couple of hundred dollars but I’m sick of shops and shopkeepers for now.”
“No problem,” Schuldig said. “I’ll be interested to see if the tailor has the same problems that Carter does.”
When they reached the tailor shop the sign painted on the window proclaimed, Adolph Mueller, Tailor in big bold lettering.
“Excellent!” Schuldig exclaimed. “A countryman! Let’s see what he has to say for himself.”
He pushed open the door and entered, the rest following him in out of interest.
The shop’s front room consisted of a counter and several pattern books perched on the well polished surface along with a mirror.
A young red-haired boy of about twelve stood behind the counter, wide blue eyes taking in the group of strangers. “Vater! Bitte gekommen. Wir haben Kunden.”**
A tall, elegant sandy-haired man came out of the back room. “Hans, how often must I tell you to speak in English? Please excuse my son, gentlemen, he’s a little slow. What can I do for you?”
Schuldig smiled. “No problem, Herr Mueller. It is good to hear my own language again. My rather tall friend here needs a shirt and our employer a suit and shirt. We’ve brought the cloth as you can see.”
Yohji smiled at the boy who was staring wide-eyed at the gun on his hip.
The tailor nodded, “Yes, I can do that, but, tell me with whom are you employed? I would need the gentleman’s measurements.”
“Our employer is Mr Crawford and his measurements are written on this piece of paper,” Schuldig said, handing over a scrap of paper to Mueller. “Those are exact and were taken only a few days ago.”
Or a century or so in the future. Made no difference. Brad was still tall and lean.
The tailor took the paper and studied the measurements, “A big fellow, this employer of yours. Yes, I can make him a suit and shirt. Now we must discuss style. He is a man of means, your Mr. Crawford?”
Schuldig thought about the Armani and Prada suits that Brad usually wore and smirked. “Yes, very wealthy, very stylish and used only to the best.” As he spoke he was scanning the minds around him.
Aya, bless him, was wondering if everyone in this godforsaken place was so nosey while Mueller was hoping that Crawford would be pleased enough to keep coming back. Most of the miners didn’t wear fancy suits and he was being squeezed dry by Everette and his cronies.
Yohji was wondering if he could find a little time to spend alone with Aya. He wanted to hold his lover but he was concerned that they’d never get another minute alone now that they were sharing a room with both Kai and the miserable brat.
The flare of jealous anger that came off of the blonde empath was almost as strong as a physical blow, one that twisted in the blonde’s guts like a knife.
Ken was wondering what Nagi would taste like with honey poured over him, but the only indication of his wayward thoughts was a faint smile.
Farfarello was thinking of all the fun he’d have with Schuldig later. Fun that involved playing ‘hide the knife of flesh’ until the German was begging for an end to the game.
Oddly the smile on his face was almost the mirror image of the one Ken was wearing.
Schuldig shook his head and left Nagi, Kai and Aya-chan strictly alone. He didn’t want to know any more. Mueller’s thoughts had been illuminating though. He turned his attention back to the business in hand.
“When could you have it ready?”
“I’ll get right on it. We should have it done in about four days. Sooner if your Mr. Crawford is willing to pay a small fee for the rush. Oh, and we’ll still need a fitting and he’ll need to come and select the style of course.”
“I’m sure he’ll pay the extra fee,” Schuldig said soothingly, “I’ll arrange for him to call by as soon as is possible. Probably some time tomorrow if that’s okay?”
When Mueller nodded his agreement Schuldig smiled and handed over the cloth. “You’ll need to measure my friend for a shirt in that dark green material,” he said and nudged Yohji forward.
Mueller studied the lanky blond and nodded, “With your colouring and eyes this shade will draw the eyes of all the ladies, ja.”
Yohji looked pointedly at Aya, “I suppose it might.”
Aya, also pointedly, turned his back to stare out of the window. What the hell was he going to do about the tangled mess his emotional life had become? A loud altercation called his attention and he watched as a little Chinese man was dragged out of a laundry across the street and flung down in a patch of horse shit.
“What do you mean, you can’t pay?”
“Sorry, very sorry, but so few wash clothes here.”
A booted foot caught the man in the ribs and he keeled over only to receive a thorough beating at the hands of the men tormenting him.
The commotion on the street caught Ken’s attention. When he saw what was going on he took a step toward the door.
A hand on his shoulder stopped him, Farfarello leaning close to the ex-soccer player’s ear. “Not our business. Not until we’re told, understood?”
Ken tensed as the men continued to beat the hapless Chinese man.
Farfarello’s fingers tightened, “Let it go, Hidaka. For now, let it go.”
Yohji looked at the tailor, “Seems like this town’s got some rough customers in it. Mind telling us who those guys are?”
“You really don’t want to know,” Mueller said, “but if your employer is intending to go into business here, he will come across them sooner or later.”
“Associates of Mr Everette are they?” Aya asked, sighing as the men finally left the Chinese laundry owner lying motionless and bloody in the street.
“Please, you didn’t hear it from me…” There was a decided whine in Mueller’s voice.
“Not a word,” Schuldig assured him in German. “Don’t worry, Herr Mueller.”
Farfarello let Ken go and the Weiss walked out the door, going to the injured man lying in the filth of the street.
Raising one eyebrow at Aya, Yohji followed Ken out the door.
“I’m going for a walk,” the Irishman said in Japanese, “to do a bit of window shopping just to see where they go next.” He grinned at Schuldig, “I’m sure our Vater will want a bit of recon info on our competition.”
*Good idea*
The Chinese man was coming to his senses slowly and he brightened considerably when he saw Ken and Nagi and started talking in swift Mandarin.
“I’m sorry,” Aya said, thinking quickly, “we were born in America. We never learned Chinese.”
“I thank you, merely, honourable sirs.”
For what, Kai wondered, we stood and watched this happen to you. Even though he knew why that had to be it still bothered him. And yet, had he stayed with the Yakuza, he would probably have been acting like the men who’d done this. It was very confusing.
Yohji propped his lean body against one of the roof supports in front of the tailor shop. He put on his sunglasses, a pair with gold frames and rose tinted lenses while Mueller peered uneasily out of the door.
“I have not taken your measurements sir. In order to make your shirt I’ll need them.”
Nodding the blonde stepped back into the shop, but he kept his eyes on what was happening on the street.
“Well I can speak a bit of Cantonese,” Ken admitted softly, “but not much and probably badly.” He gently helped the man to his feet. “Should we send for a doctor for you?”
Ken’s admission gave Aya an idea. If people heard them speaking in Japanese, they could claim to be from the Hong Kong area and thus not speak Mandarin. The Chinese in the area might see through it but they appeared to be right at the bottom of the local pecking order anyway.
“No, thank you. I be good with Chinese medicine.” He bowed as low as he was able and scurried back to his laundry.
“We need to give that man some custom so that he can give those bastards something rather than getting another beating,” Nagi said.
“No,” Schuldig argued, “we need to get rid of the bastards.”
“I like both ideas,” Yohji said as he rejoined them, his sunglasses perched low on his nose so he wasn’t even looking through the lenses. Not at the moment anyway.
“So do I,” Ken agreed, his fist flexing as if he was extending the claws on his bugnucks. “But I like the second one best.”
“We do nothing until we know exactly who, and how many we’re up against,” Aya decided. His eyes narrowed. “But then… I agree, this would be a far better place without them. If we’re all done, let’s go back to the hotel and let Crawford know what he hasn’t already seen!”
Schuldig chuckled at that. “He will still need the details, Aya,” he said. He would have said more but a quick peek at Yohji’s mind warned that now was not the time to tease Aya about either Crawford or Zeshin.
Yohji started down the street, not even bothering to wait for the others.
Ken stepped closer to Aya, “It’s none of my business... Scratch that, it is because whatever’s going on between you and Yohji needs to be resolved and fast because both of you being pissy bastards is getting on my nerves.”
“You were right the first time, it is none of your business,” Aya retorted with a glare.
“Go fuck yourself, Aya,” Ken muttered and stalked away from the redhead to walk with Nagi.
Yohji turned, walking backward he just smiled slightly at Aya as if agreeing with Ken, then turned back around and continued to walk toward the hotel.
Aya remained silent but he did have the sense to realise that things could not continue as they were. No wonder Crawford had said they would talk later. The bastard must have foreseen most of this.
They arrived at the hotel without incident to find Brad seated in the hotel dining area, a cup of steaming coffee in front of him, and a local newspaper neatly folded, commuter style, for reading in his hand.
*Trouble in paradise, Vater. Farf’s doing recon on some thugs who work for a Mr Everette and you need to sort Fujimiya out. Even Hidaka has started sniping at him.*
*I have already informed Abyssinian that he and I will be having a talk. As to Mr. Everette and his gang, we’re going to need to sort them out soon. They’re making a nuisance of themselves and we can’t have anyone standing in our way.*
Brad smirked, *They’re bad for business.*
Schuldig nodded his understanding. *Glad to hear it, Vater, although one of them bears watching. His mind is shielded but he’s a dangerous sonofabitch. Took a bit of an interest in Fujimiya‘s sister, too.*
Crawford raised and eyebrow, *Did he now? That’s a man who is either going to find out all about katanas, or have a very unpleasant encounter with the Shanghai Kid.*
Yohji dropped himself into a seat and stretched long legs out, crossing them at the ankles, “Coffee sounds like a good idea.”
The Schwarz leader regarded the blonde coolly, “What else sounds like a good idea to you?”
“Oh, I don’t know...” All pretence of being relaxed vanished as Yohji leaned forward in the seat, steepling his fingers in front of his lips and meeting Brad’s gaze. “Maybe knocking a few of your teeth out or beating Zeshin within a centimetre of his life.”
At this point Aya stormed up the stairs to his room. There was the distant sound of the door slamming.
“Excuse me,” Aya-chan said, uncomfortably and also headed for the stairs.
“I would leave your brother alone if I were you,” Schuldig warned her. She turned and gave the German a bright smile.
“Oh, I know all about Ran’s temper,” she said with a hint of amusement, “and have no intention of going anywhere near him until he calms down. I was actually going to try and figure out that weird contraption I had to buy.”
Ken motioned to Nagi, “Let’s get out of the crossfire, huh?”
Nagi nodded and the two of them disappeared up the stairs.
Crawford studied the blonde across the table from him, “And do you think that is the way to get him back?”
Yohji pulled out a cigarette and lit it, “No, but it might make me feel a little better.”
“Would it?’ Crawford asked. “Or would it only serve to make him even madder at you the way your threats just now did?”
“He’s pissed because he’s feeling guilty for a few things, Crawford. I think I know him better than you, or he, realizes.”
*Schuldig, I take it things are degenerating more rapidly between Fujimiya and Kudoh than I’d anticipated.*
*I hadn’t realised they’d got this bad. Aya’s been his normal self for most of the morning so Yohji’s picking up on something that I can’t read.*
*Yes. He’s been around the rest of Weiss for a long time. His empathy, while not developed, does read his team mate’s moods. Aya feels trapped into the relationship with him now because he has realized that Yohji isn’t right for him and never will be.
*And if you want to know a little secret, Yohji’s known it all along but loves the stubborn bitch so much he was willing to try and meet him half way. Unfortunately, it’s not in our best interest to let that happen.*
Crawford adjusted his glasses, “You did initially push him toward Zeshin, and now you’re going to fault him for wanting what you showed to him. It seems to me that you set yourself up for this, Kudoh.”
Yohji took a long drag off his cigarette, and exhaled slowly. “I love him, and I think he loves me, but we’re fire and ice. We don’t and can’t mix.”
“You’re smarter than I gave you credit for,” Brad stated.
“Not really. If I was smart, I’d have never told him I loved him and we wouldn’t be going through all this melodramatic bullshit now. I’d be happily chasing women still and he could do as he fucking well pleases.” Yohji studied his cigarette thoughtfully, “Which is what he’s going to do anyway. There’s no sense fighting for what was never mine in the first place, is there?”
The blonde stood, “I’m going for a walk.”
Brad watched Yohji leave then turned to Schuldig, “Something has happened to him. I don’t know what, but he’s... different somehow.”
“He’s been like that nearly all morning,” Schuldig said as he sat down in Yohji’s vacated seat. “It may be that he’s been thinking about the little talk we had back in Singapore or it might be something that happened before they came to breakfast. Either way, it helps you, doesn’t it?”
“Yes. But I already know that Aya will be mine if I’m patient enough.” He lowered his gaze to the newspaper, “I out waited the Elders, Abyssinian will be a piece of cake.”
Meanwhile, Aya found Zeshin staring at him as he slammed the bedroom door. “Not a word,” he warned, “not one fucking word!”
Zeshin stared wide eyed at Aya, not sure what he’d done wrong, but wisely did as he was told.
Aya paced, trying to get his thoughts into some semblance of order. Yohji had been sniping all morning, so much so that even Ken had noticed, Everette’s henchmen were another worry and now, when he needed peace and quiet in which to think he was faced with yet another of his problems.
What the hell was he going to do about Zeshin? He knew exactly what he wanted to do which was to tear the clothes off the boy, throw him down on the bed and make him beg for mercy. But that would not be the wisest of moves if he wanted to keep Zeshin alive.
Damn Yohji for being so possessive and needy, damn Crawford for putting stupid ideas into his head and damn Zeshin for being so much what he wanted right now.
He snarled and stalked over to the window, just in time to see Yohji leave the building. Now where the hell was the fool going?
Said fool was heading directly for the saloon.
Aya watched him push open the swing doors to the saloon and sighed. Only midday and already he needed a drink. He sighed before turning to stare at Zeshin.
Big amber eyes gazed up questioningly.
Something in Aya snapped and growling he lunged across the room and grabbed the boy. He needed this too badly to resist any further.
Zeshin yelped and pressed his hands to Aya’s chest, his eyes gone huge and full of confusion.
Aya grabbed his wrists and pinned his hands behind his back before swooping in to kiss him savagely.
The boy froze, heart racing, breath coming in panting gasps as he struggled to breathe under the onslaught of the older man’s mouth.
“Mine,” Aya growled when he came up for air, “you’re mine.”
“Yours, Fujimiya-san,” the boy stated softly, his eyes half veiled by silver tipped lashes. “Only yours.”
Zeshin’s reaction calmed Aya somewhat. At least he wasn’t arguing. He rewarded Zeshin with a smile as he pushed and prodded him towards the bed.
The boy backed up until his knees hit the edge of the mattress. His head lowered, “What does Fujimiya-san desire this boy to do?” His voice was soft, respectful, a husky purr.
And that voice went straight to Aya’s groin, his cock springing up immediately. What did he want? So many options, all of them appealing but he would make it easy on the boy this first time. “Strip,” he said and let Zeshin’s hands go so he could do just that.
Nervous and unaccustomed to the older man’s aggression-- Mamoru had never been like this-- Zeshin reached up to unbutton his shirt. To his credit he wasn’t visibly shaking, but there was a bit of hesitation in his movements.
“What about Kudoh-san?” he asked. “I... don’t want him mad at me.”
“I’ll worry about Yohji.” Aya leaned forward for another kiss, this one a little more gentle than the last. When he pulled away he added, “I won’t let him harm you.”
The boy met Aya’s gaze, “I’m not afraid Kudoh will hurt me. But I don’t want to have to hurt him over this either.” Zeshin dropped his shirt and started on the button of his pants. He gave Aya a measuring look, “Or is that what you really want. For us to fight over you?”
Aya actually thought about that question. Was it what he wanted? No, not really. Yohji had to come to terms with the fact that, while he might love him, he was basically straight while he was wholly gay.
“You will not hurt him anymore than he will hurt you. He needs to realise that I’m not really what he needs, although he might think I’m what he wants.”
Zeshin stepped out of his pants and underwear and lowered his head. “And am I really what you want?” he questioned, his hair falling forward to nearly hide his face.
A low growl was the only answer Aya was capable of. The boy was beautiful and his and that was precisely what he wanted and even needed. None of the demands for dominion that Yohji was capable of, none of the complications that Crawford introduced. Just sheer physical pleasure and Zeshin’s desire to please. “Yes,” he managed through the growl.
“What if I don’t want you?” the boy asked. There was an odd note in his voice, and his breathing was a bit more rapid than the situation warranted. “Will you still take what you want?”
His words gave Aya pause. Yes, he would take what he wanted but… was he actually capable of rape? He could kill easily enough but rape was somehow different, more personal and perhaps even more destructive.
“Are you trying to tell me that you don’t want me? If that’s the case then put your clothes back on now. I won’t force you. But, if you do decide you want me then it will be on my terms after today.”
“I thought I belonged to you,” Zeshin murmured, the faint quaver in his voice more pronounced. “I thought I was yours and you’d do what you wanted with me, even if I didn’t want you.”
Amber eyes regarded him from behind the silver fall of hair. “If I belong to you, then I don’t have any choice and I don’t have any say in what you do with me. Isn’t that really what you want?”
Zeshin looked away, head dropping, “I don’t want a choice, Fujimiya-san. I only want to do whatever will please you,” he admitted before he sank to his knees at Aya’s feet, head bowed.
Aya nodded to himself. Zeshin was almost precisely what he wanted. No worrying about who was in charge, no wanting what he couldn’t have. He might desire a little more spirit but if the boy really wanted to please him he would soon discover that for himself.
He reached out and tousled the silky hair before grabbing a handful of it and tilting the boy’s head for another searing kiss. He could get addicted to this meek compliance and yet… Kami-sama was he never satisfied?
“I want… I want things that I can’t even put into words,” he admitted quietly.
“Then don’t talk, show me,” the boy said before he gently pressed his mouth to Aya’s, his arms slipping around the older man in a tentative embrace.
Yes! That was it! The boy was kissing and holding him in return, acting as if he actually wanted him. He pulled him closer and whispered in his ear, “Now undress me.”
Zeshin’s amber eyes glittered as he backed slightly away and lowered his head to the buttons on Aya’s shirt. Slowly, one by one, he undid them with nothing more than his mouth. As Aya’s chest was revealed the boy would stop and nuzzle his way into the shirt to kiss the skin he’d just uncovered.
Aya leaned back on his elbows, losing himself in the sensations that were being produced in his body. He was now so hard it was almost painful and he moaned aloud, showing his appreciation.
Zeshin didn’t stop when he ran out of shirt. Still without using his hands he unbuttoned Aya’s pants and pulled the zipper down, his tongue darting out to tease exposed skin.
When he’d gone as far as he could, Zeshin sat back and looked at the older man, his gaze hot with lust. He gripped Aya’s shirt and shoved it down the man’s arms, all but trapping him in his own clothing before he started to lave his tongue delicately over Aya’s pale chest.
There was more that Aya wanted to do before he came so he told Zeshin to stop and freed himself of his clothing.
“On the bed,” he rasped out.
Zeshin offered Aya a too knowing smile and gracefully crawled onto the bed, his ass presented invitingly to the older man for a moment before he turned around and knelt in the middle of the bed.
Aya took off his boots and swung his feet onto the bed before reaching for Zeshin. He pushed the boy back onto the bed until he was lying on his back. Then he pinned his wrists to the pillow with one hand while toying with his nipples with the other. He bent his head to lave the sensitised buds with his tongue before blowing warm air across them.
Zeshin’s eyes closed and he moaned, body writhing beneath the teasing pleasure Aya’s tongue was sending through his flesh. He was hard, painfully hard and he wanted more. “Please....” he all but purred.
Sure now of the boy’s full co-operation, Aya let go of his wrists and rested his hands on Zeshin’s hips instead. “Please what?” he asked, voice low with the weight of his own lust.
“Please fuck me Fujimiya-san. Please.”
Oh there was no doubt of that, not now. He’d wanted this for too long, ever since he’d first kissed Zeshin. He looked about for something to use as lube. There was a bottle of massage oil sitting strategically placed on the table beside the bed. He grabbed it and opened it, cocking a quizzical eyebrow at Zeshin as he did so.
“Massage oil?”
Zeshin looked away, “It’s not mine, it belongs to Kudoh-san. I... I think he was hoping to use it with you.”
Aya sighed. “I see,” he said. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to use the stuff now but there was nothing else and he was too far gone to get up and search the room. He would have to deal with Yohji later, now… He opened the bottle and spread a generous amount of the viscous oil on his fingers.
He reached down between Zeshin’s legs and swirled his coated fingers round the boys entrance until the tight ring of muscle relaxed then he slipped one into the tight heat that was waiting for it.
Zeshin whimpered, “Fuck me. I don’t need anything but your cock now. Please.” He was begging, his eyes bright with desire as he looked up at the man above him.
This was right. It was how it should be. Fujimiya-san was... was what? His friend? His lover? No. Neither of those was right. Fujimiya was his master. His owner.
“I belong only to you, Abyssinian.”
The whispered words affected Aya more than he could even admit to himself. He had never owned another person before and he knew instinctively that it was not an easy option, that he would have to make the decisions for both of them. Yet, somehow he knew it was exactly what he wanted, what he needed. He growled softly and added another finger, stretching and readying the boy, his boy.
“You’ll take what I choose to give you.”
A soft cry of desperate need was wrenched from Zeshin as the fingers invaded him. They were merciless, teasing, inadequate to answer the raging need that threatened to steal all power of reason from him.
“I want you. This boy wants your cock inside him. Please....” he hesitated for a heartbeat then said it, “Master.”
That one word was enough to make Aya withdraw his fingers and coat his cock with the oil. He positioned himself, urging Zeshin to lift his legs until they were resting round his wait then he pushed into his koi with one long, powerful thrust.
Zeshin gasped, his body accepting the penetration, his reaction one of pleasure not pain. He dared caress his master’s arms and shoulders, touching the man’s pale skin. “Yes... yes please.”
Aya began to move then, withdrawing almost completely only to plunge in once again, Zeshin’s tentative caresses spurring him on. He leaned forward, kissing his koi, wanting to feel contact in as many places as he could.
Zeshin eagerly responded to the kiss, his body already riding on the rising wave of ecstasy his lover was creating in him. His hands stroked across Aya’s chest and down his belly, fingers tracing the rippling abs as the man moved.
Aya’s thrusts became stronger, faster and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. He reached between their bodies to stroke Zeshin’s cock before gripping it and pumping in time to his thrusts.
The pale haired boy moaned, body rocking in time with Aya, the passions taking control making him growl softly and grip his lover’s arms.
“So good... Aya-san. So very, very good,” he moaned.
Aya growled in response, surprised at the strong reactions Zeshin was eliciting in him. He felt possessive yet protective at the same time and suddenly got an insight into the way Yohji might have been viewing him. Thrusting those thoughts aside, he lost himself in sensation once again until his world was full of the boy in his arms. How could Takatori have let this go?
Growling again at that thought he thrust even harder and faster until he felt his balls tighten in readiness.
Zeshin’s breathing was harsh, the boy’s head turning from side to side as his hands clenched the older man’s arms. “Aya-san!” he cried out as his hot cum spattered his lover’s hand and his own heaving belly.
The clench around his cock as Zeshin came was enough to send Aya over the edge and he came with a harsh cry which just happened to be the pale boy’s name.
Zeshin reached up and gripped Aya’s shoulders, trying to pull his lover down on top of him, wanting the contact of the older man’s body, wanting to be held down, wanting things he didn’t fully understand.
Wanting Aya.
Aya collapsed against him, breathing hard and pinning him with the warmth of his sweat-soaked body. One hand stroked down his side, caressingly, possessively.
Slim hands moved over Aya’s body, touching, worshipping every curve of muscle, every inch of flesh and bone he could reach. He kissed gently along Aya’s shoulder and collar bone and along the man’s jaw, lips touching the curve of Aya’s ear, the boy’s breath warm on the assassin’s damp skin.
Finally recovering, Aya pulled out and rolled over onto his side. Some instinct he didn’t fully comprehend made him reach out and take Zeshin in his arms. He knew that one day he would want to take things further, would want to restrain, inflict pain/pleasure, use toys but for now he was surprisingly content.
The boy sighed and snuggled close to the older killer, eyes drifting closed. He knew it wouldn’t stay like this. How or why he didn’t know but he was as sure of it as he was that the sun would rise in the morning. Aya wanted more than this from him. He’d seen it in the older man’s eyes. Hunger. A predator that needed it’s prey as surely as the man needed air and food to survive.
He shivered with the knowledge, recalling how the man had pinned him to the bed. Wanting... more. Much more.
But right now that didn’t matter. The only thing that was important was that he was with his master. He allowed the post orgasmic fog to slide into his mind and take away everything.