Chapter 10
Ian was sure his mind was playing tricks on him. A side effect of the pain from the collar removal, or maybe he was having a bad dream.
Kash smiled down at him. "Wow. You still look just as pretty as you did in high school." He leaned down and gave Ian a quick kiss on the cheek. Ian shrank back and wiped his cheek with the back of his hand. No, this wasn't a dream. This was a nightmare.
Kash sat down in the seat across from him and grinned. Ian felt a ball of panic form in his stomach while a trickle of fear slithered up his spine.
"What are you doing here? Where's my mother?"
"This is my father's plane, and I have absolutely no idea."
"Why are you here?"
Kash licked his lips and looked into Ian's eyes.
"Let's just say that your mother is very busy and asked me to look after you for awhile."
Ian shook his head. "No, I'm not staying with you. When we get to Westerville drop me off at my mother's house."
"We're not going to Westerville."
"Where are we going?"
"Just sit back and enjoy the flight."
"Tell me where we're going!"
Kash actually jumped a little at the level and tone of Ian's voice. Ian Gallagher yelling? What the fuck? Ian's hands were clenched into tight fists. His eyes were dark, full of fear and...something else. Something was different. Something Kash didn't recognize and couldn't identify.
Kash's voice was strong and dominant. "Don't worry about it. Just sit back and relax."
Ian felt the weight of Kash's voice fall on him. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath...and shook it off.
"Tell me where we're going?"
"We're going to Europe."
"Europe?"
"Yes."
"Where in Europe? Why? Is my mother there?"
"Stop asking me questions."
"Tell me why we're going to Europe? And why are you here? What's going on?"
Kash leaned over and filled two glasses with champagne. He held one out to Ian. Ian shook his head.
"Oh, come on. Take it."
"No. I don't want any. I wanna know why we're going to Europe, and why you're here."
Kash set Ian's glass down. He picked up his and held it up.
"A toast to finally setting things right. Everything and everyone in their proper place." Kash drained the glass and poured some more. Ian's ball of panic turned into a swirling mass of dread.
"What's going on, Kash?"
Kash smiled a dazzling smile and gave Ian a knowing look. "I told you your mother would never allow you to be claimed by a grease monkey's offspring."
The swirling mass of dread exploded into streaks of panic and fear shooting throughout Ian's body. He slowly shook his head.
"No...I don't believe you. You're lying."
Kash laughed. "How am I lying? We're here aren't we?"
Ian shook his head. No. No way. His mother wouldn't do this to him. Would she? Kash gave him a smile anyone else would have found sexy. Ian found it repulsive.
"Don't worry, gorgeous. I always told you I would take care of you, and I intend to keep my word."
Ian shuddered as Kash stared into his eyes, the dominance burning into his submission. He turned his head and closed his eyes.
This could not be happening.
His mother had taken him away from Mickey to give him to Kash? Why? Why would she do this? Why now after almost seven years?
Kash watched Ian closely trying to figure out what was going on. It had been seven years since he'd seen Ian, so he knew he would have changed some, but this...this was completely unexpected. He could sense Ian's submission, but it was faint. Barely present. It wasn't overwhelming like in high school. Back then Ian's submission dripped off him like sweat. It was intoxicating. Kash always loved how Ian would immediately melt into a puddle of submissive fear whenever he entered the room, but this Ian was different. His submission was weak, his presence strong, and he was mouthy. How did Milkovich manage to fuck up the world's most perfect slave?
Kash's eyes roamed up and down Ian's body before resting on his collarless neck. As if on cue, a piercing pain struck Ian's submissive core. He dug his nails into the leather seat as he struggled to breathe through the pain. Kash frowned and switched to the seat next to Ian. Ian's body shook and he let out a small cry as the pain intensified. Suddenly he felt a warm sensation roll through him and the pain began to subside. He opened his eyes and saw Kash's hand resting on his arm. He snatched his arm away.
"Get the fuck off me!"
Kash was shocked. "Relax! I'm trying to help you! When was your collar removed?"
"None of your business!"
Okay. He definitely didn't like this Ian. What the hell had Milkovich done?
"If it was recently you're going to experience pain."
Ian glared at him. "As if you care."
"I do care. I don't want you uncomfortable."
Ian scoffed. "Are you kidding me?"
"I thought you would be past this phase by now, but I bought these just in case." Kash dug into his pocket and pulled out a small pill bottle. "Vickie, bring me a bottle of water."
Kash took out four small pills. "Here. They'll ease the pain."
They were like the ones the driver had given him. Ian shook his head.
"Come on, Ian. We have a long flight."
Ian shook his head just as a strong wave of pain radiated from his submissive core and exploded. He yelled and fell forward. Kash grabbed him and dragged him over to a small bed. He pushed him down and grabbed the bottle of water.
"Take these, now."
"No."
"Ian...they'll make you feel better." Ian's body shook harder as the pain grew worse. Kash's voice softened.
"I don't want you in pain."
"Then take me home! Take me back to Mickey!"
"You know what, Ian? Let's just get this out of the way. You're not going home, and you are definitely not going back to gayface Milkovich. But don't worry. I don't intend to claim you anytime soon. There's no hurry, but eventually you will submit to me. You might as well accept that. Now, as your future master, I don't want you in pain. Take the damn pills!"
Ian wanted to take them. Bad. His body was wracked with pain as his submission swirled and burned, trying to process the loss of the collar and bracelets. Where was Master Mickey? And who was this new master with the strong, striking presence? It was hard for him to stay focused and everything hurt, but he didn't want to follow any command given by Kash.
"You do not have to submit to or respect any other master."
He would suffer until he couldn't.
"No."
"Come on, Ian. I can see how much pain you're in!"
"No!"
"Fine! At least now I know you're a pain slut. I'll remember that."
Kash returned to his seat, strapped in and watched Ian grimace and shake. As he watched him, he couldn't help but think about Tristan. Tristan had probably gone through this phase on the plane to New York. Hopefully someone helped him. Maybe he should have given Tristan some pills.
Ian's head was spinning and pounding. Somewhere in-between the pain it hit him that Mickey would have no idea that he'd left the country. The thought seemed to intensify his suffering and his body started to grow warm. Too warm. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fists tighter. Damn he wanted those pills, but he would not give Kash the satisfaction of his obedience. Never. He'd rather suffer.
As the plane began to coast at flying altitude, Ian developed a fever and started falling in and out of consciousness. He started talking incoherently. Kash knelt down by the bed.
"Ian? Ian, go to sleep. Just sleep. You're almost through the bad part. Just sleep." He had Vickie fix a cold washcloth which he gently pressed to Ian's forehead. "Just sleep, Ian. Everything will be fine. I know you don't believe me, but...I will take care of you. I promise."
Ian started to ramble. "Mickey...I love you, Mickey. Everything will be fine. No jail, Mickey. Won't let you go to jail. Love you too much..."
Kash tensed at Ian's words, but forced himself to relax and remember that this was going to take time. Patience was key.
Ian continued rambling, his eyes closed, his face glistening with sweat. He called out to Mickey, professing his love, asking to serve him, and begging to be fucked. Listening to Ian beg, even in a semi-conscious state for another man made Kash's dick hard. He couldn't wait to hear Ian beg for him.
After a few hours Ian's fever broke. He woke up feeling sick, and dizzy, and needing to go to the bathroom. Kash helped him stand and held him up while he went. Ian's head was too fuzzy to protest. He laid back down and finally fell into a restful sleep. Kash fell asleep staring at him.
Several hours later Vickie woke Kash.
"Sir, we're about to land."
Kash nodded. He stood up and stretched. Ian was still asleep. Kash needed him to stay asleep for just a little while longer. He dug around in his bag and took out a small bottle of liquid and a syringe. He filled the syringe, pushed up Ian's sleeve and stuck the needle in Ian's arm, injecting him.
Once the plane landed Kash walked down the steps where two large men were waiting.
"He's asleep on the bed. He won't wake up, but you still need to lift him carefully. I don't want him hurt in anyway."
"Yes sir."
"He's kind of small so it won't take both of you. Go ahead and start the helicopter."
"Yes sir."
The helicopter pilot readied for take off while the other man climbed aboard the plane and carefully carried Ian out. Once Kash was settled in the helicopter, the man handed Ian over to him. Kash held him on his lap, his arms wrapped tightly around him. As they took off, he buried his nose in Ian's hair and inhaled. Ian's scent settled in his brain and made him slightly dizzy with desire. Kash had spent many a night, drinking and screwing slaves with curly, black hair and olive skin, trying to reach the addictive high that came from Ian's scent. Finally, he had the real thing.
It wasn't long before they landed. John sighed as he watched the pilot take Ian from Kash so he could climb out. He wondered where poor Tristan was.
Kash gathered Ian in his arms and held him close and tight as he walked towards John, a huge smile on his face.
"Hello!"
"Hello sir. How was your trip?"
"Long but worth it. I'm glad we're finally here. Is everything ready?"
"Of course. Shall I stay or do you want to be alone?"
"No, no, of course I need you to stay. We'll need to eat. Is the house stocked?"
"Fully sir."
"Great."
Kash carried Ian up the stairs and down the hall to his bedroom. He carefully laid him on the bed and stood over him for a moment trying to decide if he should undress him or not. He decided against it. His plan was to move slowly and allow nature to take its course. He removed Ian's shoes and socks and laid a light blanket over him. He turned to leave before stopping and turning back around. Maybe he should do one more thing.
It couldn't hurt to give nature a little push.
Ian opened his eyes.
The pain was gone.
His mind felt clear.
Where was he?
He quickly sat up and looked around. He was sitting in a bed in a large bedroom with deep, dark gold walls and maroon window curtains. A large flat screen was on the wall across from the bed and a large dresser with a mirror was against the other. There was a mahogany desk in the corner with a leather chair. He could see inside a large walk-in closet and assumed the other door was to a master bathroom. A bathroom. Good. He needed to pee. He went to swing his legs to the floor...and couldn't.
He pulled up the blanket.
He was chained to the bed.
There was just enough slack for him to move while he slept, but he couldn't leave the bed. The chains were the same kind Mickey used during punishment. Heavy, medieval iron chains. As he stared at the chains, he felt a flutter deep, deep down in his belly. He squashed it. Only then did he look over and notice Kash. Kash was lying next to him, but was all the way on the other side of the bed leaving plenty of space between them.
Ian laid back down and tried to think. When did they get here and where was here? Assuming he could get to a phone, would he be able to call Mickey? How did international calling work? He noticed a laptop sitting on the desk. Email. If he sent Mickey an email, Mickey could get someone to trace it and maybe figure out where he was. When did they land? Why couldn't he remember arriving? How long had he been asleep? He looked over at Kash. He really needed to pee. He reached over and punched Kash in the back.
"Ow!" Kash's eyes flew open and he rolled over to glare at Ian. Wait? Did slave Ian just punch him?
"What the hell!"
"I gotta go to the bathroom."
"Gentle shaking would have sufficed." Since when did Ian punch? Kash eyed him warily. What the hell did Milkovich do to him?
Kash stood up and walked around to the foot of the bed. He took a chain with a key from around his neck and unlocked the padlocks. He stared at Ian as he removed the chains. Ian stared at the wall. When he heard the chains fall to the floor, he quickly scrambled out of bed and ran to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. He tried to lock it but there was no lock. He relieved himself and splashed cold water on his face. He looked for a towel and froze.
Kash
Ian
Matching monogrammed towels.
A set for Kash and a set for him.
He took a closer look at the counter. There was a brand new toothbrush and bottles of all the hair and skin products he always used. Mickey had carefully selected each product based on Ian's hair and skin type. How did Kash know what to buy?
He took a deep breath and walked back into the bedroom. Kash had opened the curtains allowing bright sunlight to flood the room. He was sitting at the desk, typing on his laptop. Ian spotted a cell phone next to him. Okay. He would definitely figure out a way to steal that. He shifted his gaze to the window and a new ball of panic began to form. He slowly walked to the window and stared out at...the ocean. Beautiful, perfectly blue water, sparkling under the sun.
Where the hell were they?
Kash was watching him. He stood up and walked over to a set of French doors. He opened them and stepped out onto a balcony. He leaned against the railing and looked out, waiting. Ian followed him outside, looked over the railing...and his heart sank.
"It's called K Isle. My great-great-great grandfather bought it. It sat here for years until my great-grandmother decided to build the house so they could vacation here, but my mother is the one who made it amazing. She remodeled the entire house, modernized it and created paradise. Of course, my parents never come here which is a shame. It really is beautiful."
Ian looked out over the water. A beautiful prison.
"Is it really an island?"
Kash didn't look at him, but he know what Ian was thinking.
"Yes. You fly in and fly out."
"How far is shore?"
Kash turned and smiled. "Too far to swim, gorgeous. Come on. Let's get dressed, have breakfast and I'll show you around."
Kash walked back inside while Ian just stood there.
He was trapped on an island in Europe. How the hell would Mickey ever find him?
He waited until enough minutes had passed to make it seem like he was coming on his own and not because Kash told him to. Kash was standing in the walk-in closet wearing nothing but a pair of tight, navy blue briefs. Ian noticed that he had grown since high school. He was taller and more muscular; strong and firm. His body had completely filled out making him tower over Ian even more. His master dominance was stronger too. Ian swallowed and steeled his mind.
Kash gestured towards one side of the closet. "That's all yours." Ian's eyes widened as he looked at the rows of shirts, pants, jeans, and shoes. There were jackets, coats and a suit. An open drawer was full of socks and boxers.
First the towels and toiletries, now a closet full of clothes.
This was crazy.
And scary.
Kash wasn't messing around.
He fully intended to keep him. And claim him.
Ian made up his mind. He was leaving. He had to escape while he was still strong and able to fight Kash's dominance. He had to try and run before he couldn't. How long before his true self returned? Without Mickey to balance and strengthen him, it was only a matter of time before his inherent submission took over. He had to run before it was too late.
"Look, I don't care what you and my mother are up to, I'm not staying here. I'm not being claimed by you. I have a master. I am the fully owned property of Mickey Elizabeth Milkovich. He is my master. I live to serve him and him alone."
Kash smiled wickedly. "Actually, that's no longer true. You don't have a master, Ian. You don't have a collar."
Ian ignored the tiny pinch in his submissive core. "Doesn't matter. I still belong to Mickey. I will always belong to Mickey."
Kash took one, long step forward putting him face to face with Ian. He stared into his eyes. "We both know that's not true. Even as we stand here your submission is shifting, seeking and trying to adjust to the fact that your collar is gone. The physical pain is just the first stage. We both know what's coming. Before it's all over, you will be begging me to claim you."
Ian stepped back. "I'll never submit to you. Never."
"Yes, you will. You can't fight nature, Ian."
Ian's chest tightened. Maybe, but he was sure as hell going to try.
Ian stared at the closet and tried to figure out what to wear. He hadn't chosen his own clothes in seven years. Mickey always dressed him. He reluctantly chose a t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Kash was lounging against the door frame, watching him. Ian didn't want to change in front of of him, but it was obvious Kash wasn't about to move. Ian turned his back on him and began to undress. Kash watched his every move and drooled just a little at the sight of Ian's muscular back, firm ass and strong legs. Waiting for Ian to break was going to be hard, but enjoyable to watch.
Once they were dressed Kash began the tour. There were several bedrooms and bathrooms upstairs, and downstairs was a large family room, dining room, another bedroom and kitchen. Ian scanned every room for a land line phone, but never saw one. He also noticed there were no clocks or calendars.
Breakfast was waiting on the deck. The table looked like something straight out of Home and Gardens magazine. It was beautifully set with a flower arrangement as the centerpiece. Ian sat down and stared at the food. There were waffles, biscuits, bacon, sausage, fruit and orange juice. His heart felt heavy as he thought of Mickey. Mickey always told him what to eat for breakfast. Always. It was one of his rules. On Saturdays and Sundays he could have Apple Jacks, but Mickey decided Monday through Friday.
Kash was watching him. "Do you want something different? I'll have John make anything you want."
"Who's John?"
John magically appeared by the table.
"This is John. John is my...I don't know. Chef, chauffeur, and everything in-between." John nodded formally to Ian. "Just tell him what you want and he'll make it."
"Uh, no, this is fine. Unless..."
"What?"
"Do you have Apple Jacks?"
"Apple Jacks?"
"Yeah, the cereal."
Kash looked at John who looked amused.
"No. I'm afraid we do not have...Apple Jacks. I will be sure to order some."
Kash looked furious. "I'll make sure you have some by tomorrow." He gave John a stern look. John disappeared.
Ian felt a little panicked. He didn't want to get John in trouble. It was a long shot, but he was hoping to get him to help him escape.
"No, that's not necessary. This is all fine." He quickly took a waffle and a few pieces of sausage.
"It's no problem. I want you to have what you like."
"I'd like to go home."
Kash shook his head.
"Then...can I at least call Mickey? I want him to know I'm okay."
"Mickey's not your master anymore, Ian. He removed your collar."
"No he didn't! Those assholes from the Ministry removed it!"
Kash sat back and groaned in his head.
Great. Just fucking great.
That explained why Ian's pain was gone so soon, but it also meant things might take longer than he'd planned. If Mickey didn't remove the collar, Mickey still had a strong mental hold on Ian. Kash watched he eat. Ian was so damn pretty. Everything about him was beyond attractive. The thick, curly black hair, the long eyelashes, the honey-amber eyes, pink lips and olive skin. It was all beauty perfected. And then just when you thought it couldn't get any better, there was the submission. A submission so strong, complete and thorough that you could smell it rolling off of Ian's body. At least you used to. Milkovich's ass had done something to ruin it, but that kind of submission was inborn. It would return. Deeper and stronger than before. Kash could wait. It would be worth it.
They finished breakfast in silence. Ian was starving and without Mickey to tell him he'd had enough, he ate and ate until he was stuffed. Kash was pleased to see him eat so well.
They went outside to walk around the grounds. Kash pointed out the swimming pool, the tennis courts, and the bike/walking path. The place was like a private resort. As they stood at the top of a hill, overlooking the water, Ian couldn't help but think of what it must have cost to ship everything to an island.
"I don't get it. Why spend all this money for a place you never visit?"
Kash shrugged. "It was my mother's project. Something for her to do while my father was busy."
"But how did they get it all here?"
"Some things were flown in. Others were brought in by boat."
"Is there like a weekly boat or something?"
Kash smiled slowly. Ian was adorable.
"No. There's no weekly boat for you to stow away on, Ian."
Ian said nothing. Damn. Was he really that obvious?
When they returned to the house, Kash stripped down to his briefs and jumped into the pool. Ian sat down in a chaise lounge chair, closed his eyes and tried to think.
How could he escape?
Kash had to be lying. There had to be a weekly or daily boat or plane that brought things in. How was John going to have Apple Jacks for him in the morning? Maybe they really weren't the only ones on the island. For all he knew this house was really rented. Kash was an evil douchebag. He could be lying about everything.
How could his mother do this to him?
And where the hell was Lip? Ian had tried calling him several times, but was always told he was out of the country and couldn't be reached. How was that possible in today's high tech world?
Ian shifted from thoughts of escape and betrayal to thoughts of Mickey. What time was it in New York? Was Mickey awake? Did he miss his morning blowjob? Ian had definitely missed sucking him. Mickey was all alone in New York with no one to serve him. Tears rolled down Ian's cheeks as he stared up at the sky. Maybe Mickey was looking at the same sky. Okay, that was impossible, but it was still a comforting thought.
Kash swam for a while before sitting in the chaise lounge chair next to Ian. He glanced over and saw the tears.
Shit.
That fucking Mickey. He was supposed to be the one to remove Ian's collar, not the Ministry. If Mickey had removed it, Ian would still be in pain, but his mind wouldn't be so stuck on Mickey to the point that he was crying. Stupid Milkovich. From day one he'd fucked up everything. If it wasn't for him, Ian would have been his years ago.
After lunch Kash had to check in on work. "You can watch movies, or take a nap, or do whatever you want."
"Can I leave?"
"No."
Ian took this opportunity to go snooping. He wandered throughout the house searching for a phone, cell phone or laptop. Nothing. He rummaged through desk drawers and bookshelves, but found nothing that would help him escape or even tell him where he was. In the family room he spied a large, framed drawing leaning against the wall. It was a picture of Kash with a man with long black hair. They were both wearing only briefs and had their arms wrapped around each other. They looked very hot and sexy. Ian studied the long haired man. He looked beautiful.
"That's Tristan."
Ian spun around to find John standing in the doorway watching him.
"Who is he?"
"Kash's slave. Before you."
"I'm not his slave!"
John smiled. "Not yet." He turned and walked out.
So much for John helping him.
Ian returned to the bedroom. Kash was still sitting at his desk, typing away. He didn't look up.
"Done snooping?"
"Who's Tristan?"
The color drained from Kash's face. He stared at the computer screen. "He's nobody."
"John said he was your slave."
What the hell? John was really on a fuck up roll today. First no Apple Jacks, now this.
"He wasn't my slave."
Ian tried to remember. Did the guy have a collar on in the picture? "Then why would he say that?"
"He was mistaken."
Ian kept thinking. Hadn't Wes said he'd heard Kash had moved to Paris and claimed someone?
"Where is he now?"
Kash shrugged. "I don't know."
"So you raped him and then dumped him?"
Kash looked up angrily. "No! I didn't rape him! I've never raped anybody!"
"Says your father's money."
Kash stared at Ian hard. Where was the Ian that was scared of his own shadow and every master alive? This Ian was annoying and...
Strong.
Kash cocked his head to the side and stared at Ian's body. Ian had his back to him as he studied the DVD collection. Kash looked at how he was standing. Back straight, feet slightly apart, shoulders back.
"Ian."
Ian turned around and stared at him. Kash looked him up and down and then stared into his eyes.
Strength.
This Ian was strong and...defiant.
That was it. That was the thing Kash couldn't identify in Ian's eyes. Strength and defiance. Somehow Mickey had given Ian strength and defiance.
"Ian, come here."
Ian didn't move. "Why? What do you want?"
Kash nodded. Yep. That was it. Strength to question and refuse a master. Why would he do that? Milkovich really was the stupidest asshole on the face of the earth. He definitely did not deserve Ian.
Ian felt a chill drift over him as Kash slowly smiled, his eyes shining with sudden knowledge and excitement.
Assuming Mickey had been experimenting on Ian's mind since he claimed him, when Ian finally returned to his true nature, he was going to crash.
Hard.
Really hard.
Break into a million pieces hard.
And Kash would be there to scramble all the pieces and recreate the beautiful, super submissive slave, Ian Victor Gallagher.
And claim him.
By the end of the first week, a loose routine had emerged. It wasn't the type of strict routine a master should set for a slave, but it was something for Ian to cling to. They would wake, dress and have breakfast. Ian forced himself not to eat Apple Jacks everyday. He knew Mickey wouldn't approve. After breakfast Kash would work while Ian wondered around aimlessly. By Friday he had managed to search the entire house, but still found nothing that would help him escape or learn where he was. He was sure Kash was lying about there being a daily or weekly plane or boat, but he never saw or heard anything. He was also suspicious of John. He always appeared at mealtimes, but was unseen the rest of the day. Where did he go?
After lunch they would spend the afternoon swimming or watching movies. Ian tried to write songs in a blank notebook he'd found, but for the first time in years, words refused to come to him. Instead he found himself writing Mickey's name over and over.
And then he would cry.
He wanted to go home. He missed Mickey so much it hurt. He missed serving him. His mouth missed the feel of Mickey's cock, heavy on his tongue. He missed the taste of his cum sliding down his throat. He missed the feel of Mickey's cock sliding in and out of his ass, and damn did he miss having someone rub his purr spot.
All the missing scared him.
For anyone else it would be normal, but for a slave, missing was just the beginning. When would the rest hit?
He was also very confused by, and scared of Kash.
Kash hadn't tried to touch him once. Not one time. Ian remembered his predatory behavior in high school. Now that he finally had Ian captive where no one would stop him, why hadn't he attacked? Instead Kash was always asking him what he wanted to eat and what he wanted to do. Ian's answer was always the same. I want to go home. Kash would just shake his head.
The only time he touched Ian was at night. He chained him to the bed every single night. Ian was always careful to look at the wall while Kash chained him. He didn't want to trigger his submission. He knew it was a matter of time before the hungry, desperate need to be dominated kicked in. How long would he be able to fight his natural urges and instincts? At night he fell asleep repeating Mickey's words in his head and whispering to himself.
"You are my beautiful slave. Mine. Your submission is to me and me alone. I command you to refuse all others. You do not have to submit to or respect any other master...Never submit to another, Ian. Never."
"I won't Mickey. I promise to try as hard as I can, but please...please find me. Please Mickey. Hurry. Please."
Frank stopped at the top of the stairs and leaned against the wall. He took out a handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his face. He pulled out a small bottle and popped two pills into his mouth, swallowing with no water. He let his head fall back against the wall, closed his eyes and tried to relax. He couldn't let Carol see how tired he was and he definitely didn't want her to know how tight his chest had been the past week. She would insist they return to Ohio and he didn't want to do that. He couldn't do that. Not while his son lay in bed dying a slow emotional death.
Once he felt pulled together, he entered the apartment and walked into the kitchen. Carol took one look at him and frowned.
"We're going home tonight."
Frank ignored her. "How is he?"
"No change, and don't ignore me. You're not well. You need to rest. We're going home."
"I'm not leaving him."
Carol walked over and took his hands in hers. Her eyes were submissive and slightly pleading, but Frank knew better. He may be the master, but Carol knew how to give the commands.
"Mickey is suffering and he's not going to get better anytime soon. He's experiencing the worst kind of pain, probably second to losing his mother. It's going to take him a long, long time to recover. It would be awful if in the middle of that recovery he had to deal with his father being hospitalized or worse, planning his father's funeral. You must take care of yourself in order to take care of Mickey and to help him get Ian back. It won't do him any good to lose his father and then have to console his father's heartbroken slave and step-brother. We are going home tonight. I've already booked our flight. The taxi will be here in an hour."
"Carol…"
"It's been a week, Frank. You can't keep commuting from New York to D.C., and running around to meetings, and screaming at people on the phone. Your heart can't take it. We're going home. Rachel and Finn are coming over and Rachel has agreed to have Finn stay with him every day while she's at rehearsal. Chandler and Seth will come over in the evenings. Quinn will handle the office all next week. We're going home and you are going to sit and do absolutely nothing while I take care of you."
Frank sighed. He knew she was right, but the idea of leaving Mickey in his current state did not sit well with him. His son was in pain and he needed to be there for him. Carol read his mind.
"I know you want to be here for him. That's what I'm doing. Making sure you will be here for him. For a long, long time."
Frank squeezed her hand and nodded. "Okay."
Frank walked to Mickey's room and pushed open the door. Mickey was on the bed in the same position he'd been in for an entire week. On his side, legs curled up, clutching a small yellow dog he'd given Ian in high school. Margaret Thatcher Dog. Ian had planned to take it with him, but then decided to leave if for Mickey. He told him the dog would keep him company. Mickey had been squeezing it against his chest since Ian left.
Everyone had worried about Mickey preparing Ian.
But there was no one to prepare Mickey.
After the van pulled away, it took Frank and Wes 15 minutes to get Mickey off the ground. He was molded to the cement, sobbing and screaming Ian's name. Once they pulled him to his feet, it took another 15 minutes to get him up the stairs, into the building and then up the stairs to the apartment. Once inside, they laid him on his bed where he curled up and cried.
Mickey had been in bed ever since.
He refused to eat or drink until the fourth day when Carol threatened to drag him to a hospital if he didn't at least drink some water and take a few bites of soup. He hadn't had anything else.
Frank carefully sat down on the edge of the bed and laid his hand on Mickey's shoulder.
"We're leaving tonight. Carol's insisting. I'm sorry." Mickey remained motionless and silent. "I promise...we'll figure out something. We'll..."
Mickey interrupted, his voice a hoarse whisper from not speaking in days. "Don't...please...just don't."
"Don't leave? You want me to stay? I'll stay, Mickey. I'll stay for as long..."
"No. Promises. Don't promise. No more promises."
The words felt like a knife slowly sinking into Frank's already damaged heart.
"Mickey..."
"I promised him. I promised him I'd take care of him. Protect him. I said I'd protect him with my life, and I didn't. I failed him. No more promises. I don't deserve promises when I can't keep the ones I make."
"No...Mickey...don't...please. It's not your fault. This is not your fault. You were up against forces bigger and more powerful than you. Don't blame yourself. This is not your fault."
Mickey rolled over and looked at his father. Frank was disturbed by the sight of his fashion conscious, always perfectly coiffed son. Mickey's skin was dry, blotchy and streaked with dried tear stains. His hair was limp, messy and matted to his head. His eyes were red, swollen and full of despair and sadness. He looked like hell.
Mickey studied Frank, his heart growing heavy with guilt. His father looked awful. Pale, tired, dark circles under his eyes. Aged. His father had aged years in just seven days. Of course, so had he. Instead of 24, Mickey felt 110.
"Carol's right. You need to go home. Go home, dad. Go home."
Frank reached down and pulled him up into a hug. Mickey allowed himself to be held, but he didn't hug back. He felt too old and tired. Lifting his arms would require energy he just didn't have. So instead he allowed Frank to hold him and whisper that he loved him and not to worry because they would find a way to get Ian back.
Once Frank pulled away, Mickey returned to his curled up position on the bed with the little yellow dog tucked safely in his arms. Frank stood up and said something Mickey didn't bother to listen to. Whatever his father was saying didn't matter.
Ian was gone.
Nothing mattered. Not anymore.
He opened his eyes briefly when he heard the door buzzer. He didn't care who it was. He closed his eyes and then opened them again.
The trunk.
Ian's trunk! He hadn't shipped Ian's trunk! It was sitting against the wall under the window. How many days had it been? Ian didn't have his things! Mickey flew into a panic.
"Dad! Dad!" It hurt to yell, but he needed them to send the trunk. He climbed out of bed and immediately fell down, his legs weak from no use. Frank, Carol, Rachel and Finn burst into the room.
"Mickey!" Frank and Finn rushed over to help him stand. Mickey's eyes were wide and he was trying to talk, but his voice was hoarse and his throat hurt.
"The trunk...Ian's trunk. He...he doesn't have his...his things. He needs..."
"Shh, Mickey calm down. We'll take care of it. Carol and I will take it with us on the plane. I'll take it to Westerville tomorrow, okay? I won't call first. I'll just show up. That way I can check on him, all right?"
Mickey nodded and sat down heavily on the bed. Finn frowned at him.
"Wow. You smell. I didn't think you could smell. Well, smell bad that is. You always smell good. Like fruit. Actually better than fruit. But fruity. Yeah."
Rachel gave him a horrified look. "Finn! Honestly!"
"I am being honest! Dude I love you, but I don't wanna hang out here all day if you're gonna smell like that."
For the first time in a long time, Frank and Carol laughed. Rachel smiled, but Mickey just stared at the floor. Rachel sat down and took Mickey's hand.
"I'm not going to pretend to understand the pain you're in, but you always feel better when you look your best. Why don't you at least take a shower and try to eat something? You haven't eaten in days."
Mickey snatched his hand away. "For once in your selfish life, Rachel you are absolutely correct. You have no fucking idea what I feel like, but I can assure you that a shower will not make me feel better!"
Rachel was undaunted. She knew the anger wasn't really for her.
"Nevertheless, you smell like shit, and I know Ian would be more heartbroken than he already is if he knew his beautiful, well-manicured, shower obsessed master was sitting here allowing himself to stink." Rachel stood up. "Now, you do whatever you want. Finn and I will be in the living room. Chandler and Seth are coming over later. You don't have to come out. Just know that we're here. We're here and we love you."
Frank and Carol gave Mickey one last hug before leaving, promising to deliver the trunk and to report on Ian. Rachel closed the door behind her.
Mickey stared at the floor.
Was Ian okay?
Was Monica taking care of him?
Did she establish a routine for him? Ian needed routine, even more than most slaves. Did Monica know that? Did she care?
His eyes drifted to Ian's cage and he felt his dominance rise and crash around in his chest. Where's your slave, Mickey? Is he locked in someone else's cage?
Mickey screamed in both anger and despair. He'd spent the past seven days crying. Now he was angry. He started throwing things across the room. First the pillows on the bed, then the lamp on the nightstand. Then everything. If he could reach it and lift it, he threw it. Books, scripts, bottles, pictures. Everything went flying across the room and slamming into the walls. Rachel and Finn ran in to see what was going on, but Rachel stopped Finn from stopping Mickey. They just stood in the doorway and watched him yell and scream and throw things until he was exhausted.
He sat down on the floor and put his face in his hands. Rachel and Finn sat down on either side of him. Rachel rubbed his back but didn't say anything. After several minutes, Mickey looked around the room at the mess he'd made. He looked at Rachel.
"I'm going to get him back. I have to. He belongs to me."
Rachel nodded. "Yes. I know, and you will."
Tristan sat on the brick wall across from Fresia and watched people filing in. Even from his location across the street it was easy to spot the slaves versus the masters. The slaves were dressed to impress in impossibly short shorts, sleeveless tops, and low cut shirts designed to show off their ink stained wrists and collarless necks. The masters were dressed a bit more conservatively in khaki pants and button down shirts. They didn't need to look impressive. Their master status made them attractive.
Tristan wrinkled his nose. Even from where he was sitting he could smell the desperation. He looked down at his phone and stared at the wallpaper, a photo of him and Kash. He heard Kash's voice in his head.
…don't go to the free clubs, okay? Just...if you need money, call me, but...don't go to the clubs.
"You don't get to tell me what to do! You threw me away, remember?"
He looked around nervously as he realized he'd just yelled that out loud. People were going to think he was nuts.
He put the phone away and continued to stare at the club. This was the third one he'd been to since arriving in New York. The first one turned out to be a straight club. The second one was for gays, but he'd left within 15 minutes of arriving. The masters had looked terrifying. Huge, hulking men covered in tattoos. Fresia was supposedly upscale and sophisticated. Wealthy masters and high class slaves. Tristan considered himself a high class slave. After all, he used to belong to a very wealthy, high class master who gave him a high class life. He and Kash had so much fun together. Romantic trips, shopping sprees, delicious meals in the best restaurants, champagne and chocolate covered strawberries in the hot tub. And the sex. Damn the sex. Kash's appetite for hard, kinky, punishing sex had been insatiable. Tristan loved the way Kash would use his long hair as a chain, wrapping it around his hand to jerk Tristan's head back while pounding into…
"Hey baby, you scared to go in by yourself?"
He was medium height with curly hair and gentle green eyes. His expression was one of amused concern. Tristan could feel he was a master. He looked down.
"Um, no, well...maybe. I'm just sitting here."
"I'd be happy to go in with you. Or…we don't have to go in at all."
Tristan's heart jumped as his submission burned. This guy was cute and he didn't seem scary, but the idea of being with another master terrified him. Kash was the only man he'd ever been with. The idea of another man touching him, feeling him, fucking him. It was unthinkable, but he was growing desperate. It had been several months and things weren't getting easier.
The plane ride from France to New York had been sheer hell. At one point the pain became so unbearable that he couldn't control himself. He screamed, scaring the other passengers and causing the pilot to threaten an emergency landing to have him arrested. A kind stewardess took mercy on him and sneaked him a painkilling sedative.
Once in New York, he sat in the apartment alone, in pain and haunted by dreams of Kash. His body tortured itself, seeking a connection it knew was once there. After several weeks the pain subsided and was replaced by the constant craving to be dominated. It was a hungry ache that grew more ravenous over time. He needed to be dominated. Dominated and fucked until he passed out. His submission was starving, but so was his heart. He wanted to be claimed again. He wasn't sure he could really sleep with a master and then walk away with no claim.
He glanced across the street at the slaves entering the club. How did they do it?
"Hey, sweetheart, what do you wanna do?"
Tristan looked at the master. He seemed harmless, and his eyes looked kind, but his dominance wasn't powerfully strong.
Like Kash's.
"Um...I..."
Tristan slid off the wall and backed away. His voice was a whisper. "I'm sorry...I can't...I just can't..."
He turned and ran.