WARNINGS: NC-17. slavefic. scifi setting. M/m. some graphic violence.
WORD COUNT: 4,952 (this chapter), over 200k so far
SUMMARY: In a world where clones are made and sold as commodities, Matt Muldane can't resist purchasing an intriguing slave.
NOTES: The index to this story available here. Special thanks to aurila for helping me fix about 23432489 things before this chapter was ready for posting. It only needed a little attention! ;-)
“May I take a closer look?” Matt’s client asked. She was from some remote corner of Monlea that didn’t speak Standard, her voice heavily accented even through the translator.
On his knees, Alex kept his gaze on the landscape painting decorating the opposite wall. Better to pretend this conversation had nothing to do with him.
A brief pause, and then Matt said from behind his desk: “Sure. Min, oblige her.”
He rose with practiced grace and halted by the client’s chair. To glance out of the corner of his eye while keeping his gaze ‘respectfully’ averted was another trick perfected from years at Kristech. Too many years, he thought darkly. As long as it had been since they escaped, he’d still spent most of his life behind its walls. The familiar restlessness tugged at him then—must go, see more, do more—but he forced his feet still.
The woman studied him with a critical gaze, then gestured downwards. “Kneel.”
Of course that wasn’t inspection enough. He obeyed, face carefully blank. She grabbed his chin, turning his head first left, then right.
“He’s a pleasant view,” she said to Matt. Her nose wrinkled. “I feel he was better dressed the last time I saw him though.”
He barely kept his brows from rising. Matt had dealt with her before, and Alex knew he liked her. She was forthright. Unlike me.
His own dislike for her only increased as she added, “A pet is a canvas through which to show off your good taste.”
Matt pushed his chair back, the scrape of its legs loud against the floor. “I’ll keep that in mind. I was rather rushed this morning.”
Matt’s appearance was immaculate—Alex couldn’t turn his head with this blonde woman still touching him, but he remembered the distracting visual clearly enough—while he had thrown on these loose, rumpled clothes today, ignoring Matt’s protests. Since the argument over Red the week before Matt had been insufferable, keeping him under constant supervision for five days. He’d finally relented some two days ago, yet his Flaming pocket-comm was still locked up, now in his desk rather than the safe at the house. It hadn’t left Alex feeling gracious.
Her fingers stroked along his jaw, gentle but unwelcome. “Of course. It’s not my intention to judge.” Right. “Just a thought, if you wish him to be more distracting to clients,” she said, flashing Matt a smile.
“Now, Lidia,” Matt said, rising and taking her free hand, “why would I need to distract you?”
She laughed, her other hand finally dropping to clasp over Matt’s. It was an improvement, sort of. “I’ll go, before you use too much of that wicked charm on me.”
An act, both of them knowing Matt wasn’t attracted to her, but at least she left, Matt seeing her out.
Alone, Alex’s jaw tingled. It was nothing; he’d endured so much worse, especially during those first months when Matt had been arrogantly oblivious. Yet he remained where he was for a minute. Not enough had changed, the fight over Red had proven that, and he was tired and annoyed and disa-
A sharp pull on his hair, yanking his head back. Suddenly Matt was all over him, lips pressing against his, relentless tongue plundering his mouth, sweeping him into a kiss that allowed nothing less than complete surrender. His heart pounded, hands fumbling, clutching at Matt’s legs for an anchor. It was too much, overload.
At last Matt straightened, pulling him stumbling to his feet. His legs seemed to have forgotten how this whole balance thing worked. Then Matt shoved him forward, the desk suddenly looming in his vision.
The manhandling didn’t even falter, which turned him on more even as it pissed him off. He barely braced himself in time as Matt thrust him over the desk.
Alex bit his lip to silence a moan. He wouldn’t give Matt the satisfaction.
They were pressed so close though. The urge to spread his legs, to have Matt inside him was nearly unbearable. Cool fingers slid under his shirt, and he shuddered as they skimmed along his overheated skin. Who was he kidding? Matt knew exactly what he was doing to him every time they did this.
His hands were free. If he wanted to, he could’ve fought him. Instead they clawed at the desk.
Fingers trailed down his back, settling on his ass as Matt leaned over him, the word breathless and harsh: “Mine.”
Alex shivered, Matt’s weight bearing down harder now. He expected him to resist as he usually did. Instead of a typical glib remark though like, “No, but fuck me already,” his throat closed down around a shorter, much simpler response.
He bucked against him, fighting himself more than the other man, but Matt captured his hip with bruising force. Bruises that would fade too soon with his faster healing, Matt’s marks leaving his skin.
Fuck. He was more far gone than he thought, the idea somehow both panicking and exciting him.
“Hm,” Matt said, and Alex realized then that his very silence had been damning.
When Matt finally released him, the whimper that slipped out was of—fuck—disappointment, not discomfort. Matt stilled for an instant, then chuckled in such an obnoxious, knowing way that his tolerance finally snapped.
Fucking hell. Just as he started to push himself off the desk, Matt pinned his arms at his sides. He thrust against Alex’s ass then too, and his brain seemed to stop. When it came back he was groaning—at least Matt was groaning too—and his pants were already shoved down around his thighs. Yes, they were getting closer. Seeking relief, he rubbed himself against the wood beneath him.
A slap hit his ass, sharp and driving a jolt straight to his aching cock. His brain shut off again.
“Stop,” Matt said, and only his hard voice was there, every other sound deafened by his need. That had felt so good, maybe he should-
“Don’t.” That deep, delicious voice again, becoming smug. “Unless you want me to do it again?”
“No.” He choked the word out, some bit of resistance resurrecting from the ashes of his scattered mind.
“Then stay still,” Matt commanded, a ragged edge to it.
Exhaling, Alex stilled. He couldn’t possibly relax—his body was screaming for release—but being trapped underneath Matt didn’t exactly feel bad. A pen or something was digging into his stomach, he noticed for the first time, but nothing else. Matt kept half of his desk very clean. For this.
“Good boy,” Matt murmured, running a hand along his bare flank.
The part of him that could never shake the damn training quivered with pleasure. He closed his eyes. Kristeer had said that too, as he stupidly lapped up the praise. Remember that.
The sound of a belt buckle loosening propelled him back to the present. Finally. Ardent flesh strained against him, and he arched his back, seeking more contact.
“Do not come without permission,” Matt growled.
“Sa… sadist,” he panted out, appalled after by the weak complaint. But he didn’t really mind, damn these fucked up genes of his. Just the thought of the rough ride to come nearly drew a moan. No preparation, no stretching, just Matt inside him… possessing him.
And Flaming Matt, sensing his extra struggle today, knew it was a day he could push further. He thrust between his thighs, and Alex spread helplessly wider.
“Ask for it,” Matt ground out. “You know what I want.”
Yes, he did. What that fucked up part of him wanted too—yes, please, fuck me, I’m begging you—but the last words penetrated his lust-fogged mind. Ask for it, he’d said, not beg me for it.
He trembled. Matt was different, even during a moment like this.
Another thrust, battering through his ability to think even as Alex desperately wanted Matt battering something else. “I’m waiting.”
His throat worked. The words were always hard to get out, if they came at all. “I-”
The comm sounded beside his head, his body jerking. Matt forced him still, controlling him with an ease that sent heat to his cheeks. A wave of roiling disappointment—and a little bit of relief—assailed him as Matt reached over him for the device.
His finger paused just above it. “Don’t move.”
Alex gritted his teeth as Matt opened the voice channel. “What?”
His assistant of course, sounding understandably hesitant after Matt’s hoarse response. “Garthen is on the line for you.”
They both froze, their private party cancelled. Matt had been waiting all day for that bastard to return his call. “Fine. Thanks.”
He didn’t connect to Garthen right away though. He rubbed both hands down Alex’s back and then over his ass, his skin tingling in response as Matt cupped his cheeks before letting go. Taking one last taste Alex sensed, and he started to shift. At least he could get more comfortable.
Firm hands rammed him back down against the desk, stealing his breath. “The order still stands. Don’t move.”
As turned on as he was, that damn pen was digging hard into his hip now. “There’s something fucking caught underneath me.”
He pushed himself onto his elbows as Matt’s hold loosened. It felt good to have some breathing room, even if his wayward cock was still asking why they weren’t fucking yet.
Not that he got much time to recover. After brushing the pen away, Matt shoved his shirt up, tangling his head and arms in it. He did something, and the cloth tightened around him.
“Hey,” Alex began, the words dying in his throat when Matt’s hand found his arousal. One, two pumps and all capacity for thought left him again. He groaned, slumped over the desk, his legs spread and a little away from it. Anything to encourage Matt to keep doing that.
He didn’t. Matt’s fingers slid lower, flicking his balls, and Alex hissed sharply.
Another slap to his ass had him fighting to keep silent. “Now, don’t move.”
The tap of his finger hitting the button, then the click of the comm connection and Matt’s damnably cool voice. “Sorry for the delay. I had something to take care of.”
Garthen’s demurring that it wasn’t a problem wasn’t quite sincere—too fucking bad—but Matt managed to smooth it over, while stroking Alex’s back and ass with a proprietary air.
Alex’s head lingered at the far reaches of lust. He savored Matt’s possessive touch, the fingers drifting along his skin, the firm hand anchoring his hip. Keeping him there, ready for whenever Matt wanted him, for whatever Matt wanted to do to-
Wait a minute.
Irritation tangled with the lust, clouding it. Quick, rough sex without giving him a spare moment to think was one thing, but to lie here while Matt had a conversation with Flaming Garthen? It smacked too much of real slavery, being ignored while the important things got done. Because he didn't matter. Again.
A burning feeling filled his chest. No, never again. He shifted, fighting to free his head, but Matt's hand fisted in his hair through the shirt, cutting off his escape. His stupid dick jumped, the hold tightening when he pulled against it not helping at all.
His breathing harshened. He was restrained by his own fucking clothes. Somewhere along the way his pants had slid down to his ankles, limiting his mobility even if Matt wasn't so close.
No, these were excuses. He hadn't seriously tried to get away, not yet. And he knew why: part of him just wanted to lie here until he got fucked.
And he should do it, right? He'd promised to accept his Andorian urges, or at least try to. He hadn't kept that vow to himself, aside from occasional quick sex on this very desk that he'd compartmentalized the rest of the time. He should try damn it, stop being a Flaming coward.
He steadied himself, taking deeper, slower breaths. Sensing his lowered tension, Matt's grip loosened but stayed. A warning not to try again.
Dark blue, the shirt blocked his vision. He'd started to sweat in its close confines, the material wound tight to his skin. It contrasted with the cool air brushing along the rest of his exposed body. He flushed, feeling cloth against his legs and a part of Matt’s anatomy even needier than the rest of him. Still mostly dressed, his pants were only open at the front. All Matt needed to fuck him.
“What about that other shipment you were interested in making?” Matt asked Garthen, tracing a finger along the crack of Alex’s ass. “You mentioned it the other day.”
Ignoring thoughts of where that finger might go next, Alex frowned. He'd thought Matt had only taken the call because he had to. Why was he dragging it out? Alex shifted his feet, his resolve wavering. If Matt thought he would just-
Matt curved his leg around Alex’s, pinning him as he drove Alex harder into the desk. He grunted at the impact, hating how much he loved the manhandling.
“What was that?” Garthen asked over the comm.
Alex fought back a groan low in his throat. Delicious, Matt plastered all over him like this.
“Nothing important,” Matt told the man, his voice infuriatingly calm compared to Alex’s flustered state. “Something almost slipped out of my grasp, that's all.”
Alex's mouth formed a silent snarl at the blithe words. Matt had called him a thing again.
Garthen's knowing fucking chuckle almost made Alex snap. “If you have your hands... full right now, we can continue this discussion later. Some discipline will do that one good.”
“Thanks. But what was it you said before?” Matt put just the right amount of sheepishness into his words. “I missed it.”
Unbelievable. Prolonging this again, despite the erection he could feel burning another hole into his ass. Or trying to, at any rate. But what did Matt care? He had Alex right where he wanted him. No intent to release him, just like Red.
Alex pressed his face into his arm. No, he could control his own fate, even if it ran contrary to Matt's wishes. He did not fucking own him.
Matt stroked him just behind the balls then. No… yes. They were cupped and caressed before Matt found his flagging arousal and ruthlessly brought it new life. Fucking Matt, using his own body against him.
And yet he couldn't help wanting more. He thrust into the touch and Matt took his hand away. Bastard.
Garthen droned on about his company’s plans, his scaly voice grating, while Matt drummed his fingers idly against Alex’s back. Far from where Alex really wanted them. After a minute Matt moved aside, no longer touching him at all. If this discussion had actually been important, requiring a decision or two, Alex would’ve understood, but Garthen blathered about this every time.
Matt expected him to be so eager for his ‘ashen’ Kartan cock that he’d just wait out this ridiculous conversation, or worse, expected him to wait because it was his place. Just a fuck toy. Another tool to satisfy a need, like the computer or comm beside him.
His fingers curled around the edge of the desk hard enough to dig into skin. He was letting himself be used.
This wasn’t about his damn Andorian nature. He craved Matt's respect. He’d already captured at least a piece of the man's heart, but what did that matter if Matt was just going to treat him like this? Something to possess, something that he felt responsible for keeping in good condition, but never an equal.
He didn’t think of himself as a fucking victim—they had gotten out, made their own choices—but Matt did. He got upset when Alex admitted some past abuse to him, but Alex having an opinion? Matt often dismissed it, like with Sadie. Even regarding work, maybe Matt just humored him and then did what he really wanted when Alex wasn't looking. If he’d had any respect for Alex’s opinions or decision-making, concealing his message to Ten to save Red wouldn’t have been necessary.
Matt cared about his body, not his mind.
The conversation with Garthen was finally winding down, not that Alex cared anymore. Hands returned, roaming along his tense back as Matt finally said goodbye. As soon as the connection clicked off, Alex snarled, “Get off me.”
The idiot laughed at him. “Unhappy about the wait?” His shirted chest brushed Alex’s bare back. “I promise I'll make it worthwhile.”
Matt pressed his point clearly against his ass, but for once it didn't stir answering interest. Not when he still felt so... inconsequential. And furious.
“If you aren't off me in five seconds, I hope you weren't attached to anything on your desk.”
Once again, Matt didn’t take him seriously. “I'm attached to you. Or I want to be very soon.”
The throaty words and Matt’s nearness—two things that never failed to affect him—started to pierce the numbness. Don't be weak, he told himself, even as his body wanted that hard fuck so long denied.
Overconfident, Matt straightened, tracing a line down his back towards neglected parts of him. Alex inhaled. Lurching to the left, he thrashed off the end of the desk. The corner caught him in the stomach on the way down, scraping skin. He barely felt the burn as he landed on his side, the impact jarring. Wrestling with the shirt as he rolled away, he discovered Matt had knotted the ends of the sleeves together. Bastard.
“What the fuck-” was all Matt had choked out when Alex got his head free. Flaming hell, Matt grabbed his arms before he could untangle them though. “Where are you going?”
“Away from you.”
For an instant Matt looked wounded—good—but then he finally glanced down at the erection that had all but disappeared. “What happened?”
“Not feeling it now,” Alex ground out. “Let go of me.”
Of course the grip on his arms tightened. “Not until you tell me what changed.”
Matt ignoring his wishes again, doing what he wanted. Fighting to steady his breathing, Alex said, “I am not talking like this.”
Matt blinked, perhaps finally realizing that having a conversation with your pants down around your ankles and your shirt knotted on your arms might feel awkward. Or embarrassing. Well, Matt's open pants, exposing his still-hard cock, weren’t much better.
Instead of unknotting the sleeves, Matt yanked the shirt all the way off. Scowling, Alex reached for it but Matt dropped it on the desk. “You're bleeding.”
Alex looked down. The desk's corner had cut a narrow line along his stomach. He wasn't exactly bleeding to death, but Matt brought over a tissue, crouching down and applying it to the wound. Alex nearly rolled his eyes. Matt couldn't be bothered to carry the smallest shopping bag whenever they were out, but the slightest cut and he had to play Nurse Matt.
Normally it made Alex feel good—Matt cared—but not right now. He just cares that your body is okay.
The dark thought roughened his tone. “I got it.” He grabbed the tissue from Matt and used the chair near him to climb to his feet. It was awkward, with the pants still confining his legs. Still crouched, Matt frowned up at him before rising too. Alex pulled his pants up with a sigh—would've been nice if Matt had helped with that—and then applied the tissue again.
Adjusting his own pants back into order, Matt walked around the desk and into his high-backed chair, looking at him with an air of expectation. A figure of authority again. “Now tell me what happened.”
Alex bristled. A figurehead of authority was more like it. “You happened.”
Matt frowned, his tone drying. “It's not the first time I've bent you over my desk.”
They'd been doing more than that, and Matt knew it. Alex crossed his arms and glared, though being shirtless probably ruined the effect. Not that Matt took him seriously even when fully clothed.
“I know what it is,” Matt said, his expression darkening. “I gave you too much time to think.”
Alex flushed. They didn’t do this sort of thing often, but when they did it was always an ambush that left him no time to do anything but feel, the Andorian in him all too happy to ride the waves.
“Yes, you sat there and convinced yourself you didn't want it after all, retreating to your denial like you always do,” Matt said, warming to his rant. “And now you're trying to blame me instead.”
Alex hugged himself tighter. That was—fuck—partly true. He'd struggled, but he had been trying to face it, until Matt made him feel like shit. To do it before when Matt didn't know the real him at all was one thing, but to do that now...
Watching him, Matt’s face softened. “Come on, it's not that terrible, is it?”
Alex forced down the lump in his throat. “What is?”
Matt gestured with his hands, his hazel eyes almost pitying. “Admitting what you really want.”
Alex's eyes narrowed. “What I really want or what I am?”
A little smile curved Matt's lips. “You said it, not me.”
“Only because it's what you're really thinking.”
Matt shrugged, not denying it. Muttering under his breath, Alex paced across the office. On his second pass he grabbed his shirt from the desk; the bleeding had stopped. Pulling it on made him feel slightly less exposed.
A few passes later Alex looked at him and said, “You're wrong.” At Matt's dubious face he added, “Mostly.”
Brows lifted in silent inquiry.
Remembering how he'd felt bent over the desk, waiting at Matt's convenience, Alex's fury returned in full force. 'Nothing important' Matt had called him, carrying on his business.
“I was trying,” Alex said, stopping in front of Matt's desk, fists knotted at his sides. “I was trying, and you-” Hurt tangled with the anger, stealing his words.
“I what?” Matt prompted. His gaze was calm, not angry, but he hadn’t been angry when Alex talked to him about Sadie either. Why would this turn out any differently?
“Just don't fucking do that again.” Alex walked out, wanting—needing—the last word. The door slammed behind him, startling Matt's assistant, but he didn't care. He headed straight for the bathroom, feeling more than a little unsteady.
It wasn't that unusual. Whenever he gave in to Matt over that desk, sometimes yielding to the order to ask for the fucking, self-loathing overcame him afterwards. He usually brushed it aside after a few minutes in the bathroom, and since he'd promised himself not to deny his urges, he never fought Matt about it later. Never brought it up later at all really. Yes, there were serious limits to his self-acceptance.
One of Matt's employees was in the bathroom, so he ducked into the privacy of a stall. He resisted the urge to bang his fist against the side of it. Giving in to Matt sometimes here made him balk harder the rest of the time, to prove he wasn't weak, that Matt didn't fucking control him. His official status and societal expectations often did Matt's work for him though.
He thought of his pocket-comm, locked away for days now and Matt keeping an eye on him after Red. Matt sure fucking pushed as far as he could on his own. And Alex let him, because he didn't want to get into a physical fight with him, which was exactly what would happen if he say, picked the lock on that desk drawer right in front of Matt.
To prevent that ugliness, to keep the peace, he... submitted.
Self-disgust swelled. Matt would never restrict Hollis or Sadie or Tara or anyone he had any respect for in that way. He looked at him and still saw a slave.
No wonder he had problems accepting himself. Rationally he knew there was nothing inherently wrong with having certain kinks, but to Matt's Flaming stupid Kartan mind, submission was only arousing to a slave. A 'real' man would never feel any such need. Worse still, it was like he was spreading that belief to Alex, feeding his fears.
Footsteps, moving to the bathroom door and out. Alex sighed, leaning against the side of the stall. Months later, he was no closer to an answer.
Despair was beginning to win out. The hope he'd had at the beginning, knowing that Matt didn't know the real him yet, was fading. Instead he'd only graduated to somewhere between pet and useful servant in Matt's eyes, depending on the circumstances at the time.
It had been a mistake to come here like this. Sharra had been right.
He slammed his palm against the wooden wall, not that that accomplished anything. Just like the past five months.
All right, maybe that was unfair. Matt had changed. He was better than when they'd started this arrangement, and much better than when they first met, but the change had reached a plateau Alex hadn't noticed until recent events.
He was running out of excuses for Matt, and for himself. What more did he expect to accomplish? Especially when there were other realities he'd been ignoring as surely as the Andorian urges at times. There was no place for him here but slavery, or whatever this damn pretense was. It wasn't like he could suddenly reappear as a free person. Sadie, Tara and everyone else Matt knew would think the man had gone insane. Only Hollis and Nuit would understand.
He sat down on the toilet lid and pressed his face into his hands, unable to imagine what else he could have done though. He couldn't have returned here just as himself. No doubt Matt, pissed as he was then, would've called the authorities on him if he tried to 'pose' as a free man. Anything to get him collared and restrained and under his thumb. A simple dinner that first night had been about all Matt had tolerance for.
A lump grew in his throat. He was trapped. If he left, Matt wouldn't rest until he found him. At least the galaxy was big, with lots of places to hide. Maybe losing him again would drive Matt past that plateau.
No, there was only one guarantee in that: Matt would never trust him again. Already he seemed to spend half the time glancing over to make sure he was still there. And he knew he hadn't misinterpreted the tight way Matt held him at night.
Even if he warned him beforehand, his leaving would devastate Matt. Not that the idiot would ever admit it. His fucked up Kartan mind would have to wrap it up in his 'property' daring to escape him, and think it was all about damaged pride again.
Alex allowed himself a small smile. Matt did care about him more than he'd given him credit for before. And yet it still felt like it was his body Matt would miss most of all.
The bathroom door opened, a familiar tread approaching. Couldn't the asshole give him any privacy for once? The recent five days of ‘protective custody’ still stung. He was so tired of being followed around like a kleptomaniac in a museum.
“Go away,” he said as Matt stopped outside the stall.
“We aren’t done yet,” Matt growled back. “Open this door.”
Alex didn't answer, letting the silence drag out. He was done taking orders.
“If I have to crawl under the door to get in there, you'll be washing my clothes by hand,” Matt threatened.
“No, I won't,” Alex said, voice flat. He was also done caving in to threats.
A silence, and then Matt apparently decided to try sugar instead. “Min, come on. I want to talk to you.”
If only he'd tried that approach first, but no, Matt's first instinct was always to order the 'slave' around. And yet even this method was flawed too.
“That's not my fucking name. You keep insulting me, except in the rare moment when it suits you,” Alex said, remembering the dinner with the Chavelles.
“Fine,” Matt said without an iota of graciousness. “Alex, would you open the door so we can talk?”
He blinked. That had been far easier than expected. Since he'd gotten that much, Alex forced himself to slide the lock open despite the voice telling him he was giving in too quickly. Maybe positive reinforcement would have an effect. Eventually.
As the open door revealed Matt, Alex told him, “I have nothing to say.”
“But I do,” Matt said, leaning against the open doorway.
“And whether I'm ready to hear it gets no thought from you,” Alex said, glaring at him.
Matt frowned, but he continued anyway after a thick pause. “I didn't mean to- we've done that before. I thought you liked it.”
Months and months ago, not now, and being ignored and humiliated hadn't exactly been his favorite thing even then. As far as apologies went, this one wouldn't win any awards. “You done?” Alex asked.
“Yes,” Matt said, hesitation stealing over his face.
“Good. Now leave me alone.”
Matt started, clearly surprised his stellar apology hadn't worked miracles. When Alex betrayed no signs of softening, and after an obvious moment of internal debate, Matt stepped back.
Just as he went out of sight, Alex said, “And Matt?”
He reappeared with such a relieved look that Alex felt a pang of guilt. The memory of Matt toying with him earlier shoved it away.
“I meant what I said before. Don’t do that again.”