[Damien]
"Elua, you don't have your attention on this game at all, do you?" Astor exclaimed, as I set my ivory knight in its new space. "I'm beginning to wish I had accepted your wager after all."
I sat back in my chair and fixed him with the arrogant stare that I usually reserved for patrons. He ignored it, of course, rolling his eyes skyward before turning his own attention to the chess board.
He was right. No matter how I tried to focus on the game between us, my thoughts kept turning to Béline, and the night she and Sebastien had contracted me. I did not know what twist of fate had led her to Sebastien, nor him to me, but I was certain of one thing. Though Béline had not stopped looking at me with the haughtiness bred into her, there had also been a deep, startling desire in her eyes by the time that night had ended.
There were other memories from that night, too, that made me swallow back a surge of my own desire. She had been lovely, sitting there so primly, belying the arousal that I'd seen gripping her. She was hesitant and stubborn, wishing for guidance and too proud to take it, a combination that set my blood to boiling. I'd wanted, desperately, to force her to her knees, to show her that for all her haughtiness she was no better than I. I'd struggled to avoid touching her, especially while I undressed her.
"I think you are about to get yourself into trouble," Astor murmured as I moved to take my next turn. I scowled at him, knowing he was likely right.
He merely gazed back with serene blue eyes and gave me a half-smile. "Are you going to move, or do you forfeit? You might as well; there's no sense in prolonging your misery."
Glaring down at the board, I could see that he was right about that, too. In three or four moves, he would be victorious, and anything I might do would only prolong the inevitable. I flicked my fingertip at my king-piece, tipping it onto its side.
Astor laughed softly, rising to his feet. "A pity," he said, pausing beside me. He slid one graceful hand into my hair, thumb stroking my cheek possessively. "I'd hoped for a more challenging game. We shall have to hold a rematch when you are less... distracted."
Annoyed, I swatted his hand away. There had been a teasing sort of bond between us ever since we were children, and it went farther than simple teasing when it suited us... but I was in no mood for it today. He only laughed again, and strode away, leaving me with my thoughts.
I drew a deep breath, let it out slowly. I wished a patron would come, so that I might lose myself in him or her, give vent to my frustration. Instead, I replaced the chess pieces in their starting positions and left them for the next pair of players, hoping a walk in the House garden would clear my head.
It helped, a little, but I was restless for the remainder of the afternoon, all the way into that evening. Few patrons came to Mandrake House that night, and at last I returned to my own chambers alone, fingers itching for something to occupy them. I made myself sit down with a book, and managed to read almost half of it without remembering a single word, before a knock sounded at my door some hours later.
Béline was the last person I expected to see outside my bedchamber door. She looked up at me with those eyes like the sea, wearing a dark gown, with gray pearls twined into her hair. The acolyte who had escorted her dropped a curtsy and left while Béline and I stared at each other. My mind raced, wondering what this visit meant, and how much I truly wanted it.
"You should not be here, little comtesse," I said finally, but I could not make myself tell her outright to leave.
"I know," she admitted sharply. "Does that mean you will make me stand in the hall all evening?"
After a moment, I stepped aside, opening the door wider to let her in. She took a seat in the chair I had been sitting in, hands folded demurely in her lap, and glanced about the room. She seemed to be casting about for words.
There was nowhere else, so I sat on the edge of my bed and waited. After a long moment, she drew a deep breath. "I... I'm sorry I am here so late, but—"
I cut her off rudely. "What do you want, my lady?"
Her mouth snapped shut, and she glared at me, but when she answered, her voice was hesitant. "I... know you do not like me. I can see your contempt, and it infuriates me. But I want—" she paused, as if rethinking what she had been about to say. She wanted me, that was plain enough; else why would she be here? But she could not bring herself to say it.
"Does Sebastien know you are here?"
Béline shook her head, and I grimaced inwardly. Elua, I wanted nothing more than to grant her request, to bend her to my will as thoroughly as any other patron... but I could not betray Sebastien in such a manner. He was my friend, and the ink that marked my back, the promise of my freedom, was almost entirely due to his patronage. Love as thou wilt, Elua bids us, but I could not indulge myself with Béline. I knew Sebastien well enough to see that such a thing, without his blessing, could break our friendship.
I should have sent her away, told her to speak with him, but I knew why she had not done so already. I had been right about the desire I'd seen, that night with the two of them. She was afraid of it, afraid even to admit it. Perhaps, I thought—struggling to think clearly past visions of Béline bound and helpless—perhaps I could compromise. Just once. Once, to show her that she is no better than I. Once, to put her in her place. Only once, and I needn't take her, needn't betray him. My desire-blinded mind seized on that thought, though the rest of me knew it was a foolish idea.
The silence had lasted too long; she glanced toward the door, then gathered her skirts as she stood. "Very well," she said, with all the cool anger of a woman scorned. "I see I chose poorly. I shall—"
"Sit down," I snapped, before I could help myself. She blinked, wide-eyed, and slowly sank back onto the chair. I clenched my jaw, eyed her for another stretch of silence, and came to a decision.
"Your first lesson as my patron, little comtesse," I said in a low voice, rising to my feet. "You belong on the floor, on your knees, unless I say otherwise."
She stared up at me, as if trying to determine whether I was serious. I raised one eyebrow and waited.
Slowly, she slid off the chair, sinking to her knees with her dark skirts pooling around her. The sight sent a bolt of fierce desire racing through me. A patron on their knees, awaiting my commands, is always a beautiful sight; the fact that it was Béline, all her icy disapproval washed away, was nearly enough to make me groan.
I crossed the room slowly. "Hands behind your head," I instructed. As she moved to obey, I crouched before her. Her eyes fixed on mine, flickering between emotions so quickly that I could not keep up. I cupped my hand around one breast, and she twitched, pulling away from my hand.
"Tell me your signale."
Her mouth worked for a moment before she managed to whisper, "Firefly."
"And do you wish to use it in earnest, already?"
She lifted her chin defiantly, set her jaw in a stubborn line. I held back a delighted laugh. Elua, I was going to enjoy this!
I stood and moved around her, dropped into the chair behind her. She turned her head slightly, as if trying to catch a glimpse of me. I leaned forward, swept the fall of her rich auburn hair over her shoulder, and began to unfasten the row of tiny buttons that followed her spine. I undressed her properly, this time, allowing myself to enjoy it, slowly tracing my fingertips over her skin, silently claiming her with every touch. She trembled at it, her breath growing uneven. When I stood up, the dress was still puddled around her, baring the curves of her waist and hips, the swell at the top of her buttocks. I stepped in front of her once more, gazing down, and what I saw made arousal tighten deep within me.
She still held her hands obediently behind her head, elbows out to the sides, her breasts pale and beckoning, tipped with nipples of dark rose. She looked up at me, face flushed. There was shame in her face, and embarrassment at the way I was eying her nudity. Desire, hot and hungry; fear, just a hint; and indignation, just enough to make her glare at me. Elua, she was beautiful! I wanted those lips on my phallus, wanted to force myself inside her and show her what it truly meant to be my patron... But I had already decided how far I would go, and that was certainly beyond my self-imposed limit.
I made myself turn away; I went to the cabinet that housed my things, and retrieved a short riding crop, like the one we'd used on Adélie. That edge of fear in Béline was common to new patrons, and I knew better than to overwhelm her with a more advanced instrument—No matter how badly I wanted to.
When I turned around, she had risen, left her dress on the floor and taken a few steps toward me, letting her arms fall to her sides.
"You mistake me, little one," I said, with the low menace in my voice that I reserved for patrons. She froze in mid-step, eyes going wide. "Did I tell you to stand?"
"...No," she whispered, as if realizing what a blunder she had made.
I strode toward her. She stood her ground, though those sea-blue eyes were as large as saucers. I seized her chin in one hand and lifted it up, drawing her onto her toes. She was short enough that I would still have to bend to kiss her. I pushed away the sudden urge to do just that, and dug my fingers deeper into her skin, instead.
"You will learn this very quickly, little comtesse, or our time here will come to an end. You are my patron, and you will obey me. If I set you to a task, you will work until I decide it is complete. If I position you where I want you, you will not move until I tell you otherwise. And if you cannot abide by my rules, you can find another Mandrake adept with more patience than I. Do you understand?"
"Yes," she said through her teeth, her jaw tensing in my grip. She was angry, stormy-eyed now, and she added sharply, "How would it please you for me to position myself?"
I laughed softly, cruelly. "Insolence already," I murmured. "This shall be a long night." My phallus was achingly hard; I had to clench my other fist around the crop to keep myself from pulling her against me. "I have already instructed you in the way I want you to await me. I suggest you resume it before I grow angry." I let her go, pushing her roughly back. She staggered, then knelt again, clasping her hands behind her head and glaring up at me.
"You are not accustomed to this, are you, little comtesse?" I asked, twirling the short crop in lazy circles.
She watched me silently, the way a mouse watches a cat: still as a stone, wide-eyed. I moved closer and used the crop to gently brush back the waves of her hair, baring her shoulders.
"You will learn," I said softly, though there was a hard edge to my voice. "You will learn that here, your titles and your estates and your ancestry mean nothing. You are nothing, only a foolish girl who must be shown her place."
Oh, she did not like that at all! Her chin came up defiantly, and those eyes flashed like lightning. I gave her a tight smile, tracing the curve of one breast with the end of the crop.
"It only takes one word, little comtesse," I reminded her. "Say it, and I will stop." When she didn't answer, I raised one eyebrow, feigning surprise. "No? Well, it is early yet." I swung the crop, lightly but quickly, snapping it across the tops of her breasts. She jerked, eyes going even wider, more from surprise than pain. I had not intended it to hurt, not yet.
She guessed it, glaring up at me with a challenge in her eyes. I circled her slowly, plying the crop with the same light touch on her ribs, her back, her shoulders. It raised gooseflesh on her skin, brought a flush to the surface. I am trained for such things, and I knew what I was doing; her every nerve was beginning to tingle, awakened by the light flicks of the crop and hungering for more.
Two complete circles around her, with her stare weighing on me whenever I passed in front of her. When I finally put a bit more force into my swing, it was with all the precision I had honed since I'd first been handed a whip. The tip of the crop snapped out, flashing across one nipple. Béline gasped, mouth dropping open, shoulders hunching as she recoiled in reflex. I gave her no time to recover, repeating the strike on her other side. She cried out, a helpless sound that made me clench my fists.
Ah, Elua, it was as good as I had imagined it would be. On her knees, she shuddered and gasped as I plied the crop against her skin. I did what I had longed to do all night, and lost myself in the rhythmic swing of my arm, in the steady snap of leather against skin and the sounds it forced from her lips. Béline writhed on her knees, and soon began to beg me to stop, but when I reminded her again of the signale, she bit her lip stubbornly and said nothing. I let myself go; all my earlier frustration, my anger at her, my guilt over Sebastien... it all melted into a kind of furious desire, and I reveled in giving it free rein. There was more I could have done to her, so much more, but I did not trust myself not to cross my own limits. The crop was safe enough, and so I went on unrelenting, waiting only to hear the word that would halt me.
Eventually, though, my fury and my desire reached a balance. I lowered my arm slowly, listening to my own blood pounding hotly in my head. "Have you had enough, little comtesse?" I asked. My voice came out harsh, breathless—and no wonder, with the desire that had seized hold of me.
Swallowing back a sob, she nodded. Tears glistened in her eyes, and I made myself step back from her before I forced them to fall. I rested the crop against my shoulder in a show of nonchalance and eyed her silently.
"Get up," I said finally. She rose unsteadily, lowering her arms with obvious relief. Her skin from collarbone to navel was reddened with the marks of the crop; they would fade quickly. Arousal still shone in her eyes behind the tears; still stiffened her nipples, made her breathing uneven. I gestured toward the bed, and she went. I had to turn away, returning the crop to the cabinet and taking a moment to regain control. Reminding myself of the promise I'd made earlier was not easy.
Sitting uncertainly on the edge of my bed, heels drawn up so she could hug her knees, Béline watched me with a look of mingled need and fear. Elua, she looked... hunted, either by me or by the desire that she knew she should not indulge. I approached her slowly, stopping right in front of her, and raised one eyebrow.
Biting her lip, Béline released her knees and let her feet slide to the floor, surrendering.
"Good girl," I murmured, nudging her legs apart, and the words sent a tremor through her. I bent forward, and she moved back, until she lay against the blankets and our noses were nearly touching. Gods, we were so close... I wanted to kiss her, fiercely, to feel those full lips against mine, to conquer every inch of her beginning with that sweet mouth...
Instead, I let a cruel smile tug at my lips as I eased one hand up the inside of her thigh. She whimpered when I brushed against her nether lips, and I had to bite back an echo of the sound. Elua, she was slick with desire, and hot enough to match the fire that burned through my own body. I forgot the notion of kissing her; I wanted to take her, hard, to sheathe my aching phallus in that wet heat and make her mine—
It was plain that she wanted the same; her hand went to the waist of my trousers, searching for the laces. I caught her wrist and pinned it to the bed. My hair spilled over my shoulder as I shook my head.
"Not yet, little comtesse," I admonished. It could not ever happen, but I couldn't make myself say it outright. "You will take what I give you, and no more." She moaned in frustration, and it changed to a gasp as I slipped two fingers inside of her, stroking slowly.
"Oh, gods," she pleaded breathlessly. "Damien, please—"
I ground my thumb roughly against Naamah's Pearl. She cried out, writhing under me, trying to escape the pressure. "You're forgetting your place, little one," I hissed. "You are my patron; you are not my equal. If you are going to beg, I suggest that you do so with more respect."
It took her a moment. I glared down at her, watching her eyes flickering again with emotions almost too quickly to catch. I saw fury there, but it was desire that won out, before she closed her eyes.
"Please, my lord," she whispered.
"Much better," I allowed, easing my grip. I moved lower, still holding her wrist against the bed, and traced my lips over the faint red lines of the crop-marks on her skin. Her skin was hot; I could fair taste the heat of her blood throbbing beneath it. I moved my thumb in gentle circles against Naamah's Pearl, my fingers still working within her. Moaning, Béline sank her other hand into my hair. I allowed it, still soothing her welts with lips and tongue. I had the measure of her, now; I could feel the climax building in her with every swirl of my fingers. When I closed my lips around her nipple, tongue working in tandem with my hand, she cried out, a half-strangled sound. Her fist tightened in my hair, and I could feel the tendons in her other wrist tightening in my grip; the climax seized her, making her back arch.
When it subsided, I raised my head, fixing her with a hard smile. "Very good, little comtesse," I praised her softly, sending another tremor of pleasure through her. I abandoned Naamah's Pearl and slid deeper inside her, searching with questing fingers. "Again."
I found what I sought, that place inside a woman that some call the inner Pearl. "Oh, Elua!" Béline cried as a second climax took her. This time, I watched her, transfixed; her beauty was all the more striking when she was unstrung by passion. Shuddering, she clutched desperately at my hair, her inner muscles fluttering around my fingers.
"Yes," I encouraged her in a hoarse whisper, fingers still working inside her, prolonging it as long as I could. When I finally withdrew my hand, she let out a sound that was nearly a sob.
I gritted my teeth and made myself move away before I gave in to my own raging need. I had already pushed past unspoken boundaries... I desperately wanted to do more, and I knew how much we would both regret it. It was poor practice to take such abrupt leave of a patron, but I knew I could not stay. Kneeling on the bed beside her, I clenched my fists to keep from touching her, and said, "Stay as long as you need, my lady. I will see that a servant is sent to attend you when you are ready."
Surprise cut through the lassitude that had begun to take her over. She struggled half-upright, propping herself up on one elbow.
"What? But..." She reached for me. Ah, Elua, I wanted her touch too much; I should have stopped her, but I hesitated, and her hand found my phallus. She stroked its hard length through my trousers, and I bit back a groan, just barely. Before she could go farther, I snatched her wrist again, holding her motionless against me.
"We cannot," I whispered hoarsely.
Slowly, I pulled her hand away. She did not resist, but I could see her haughtiness returning, closing off the open desire that had taken her over. It took the last of my self-control to leave her there in my bed, staring after me with those blue-gray ocean eyes.
Outside my room, I leaned back against the door, eyes closed, and drew a deep breath. Need and arousal still surged through me. There would be no returning to my room until Béline had gone, and no resting anywhere until my desire was eased. Gritting my teeth, I made my way down the hallway, pausing to instruct a passing servant to care for Béline.
Astor's room was down the corridor and around a corner. Thankfully, the lantern outside his door was unlit; he was alone. I had to pound on the door three separate times before he opened it, bare-chested and bleary-eyed, his blue-black hair tousled from sleep. He blinked when he saw me, and knew immediately why I was there. A slow smile spread across his face.
"Well," he said softly, beckoning me inside. "I see you have had an eventful night after all."
I scowled at him, closing the door behind myself and leaning against it. "Astor-"
He held up a hand. "You know I do not give out favors freely," he reminded me, a dark shadow growing in his eyes. Night Court-born and raised, he found negotiating as natural as breathing, but I was in no mood for it.
"I will leave, if you prefer," I lied. Astor only grinned, moving a little closer. He was nearly a head shorter than I, but he knew how to loom imposingly as well as any of us.
"No, you won't," he murmured, and went to his knees, tugging at my trousers. I tried to help him, my fumbling hands interfering more often than not. When he drew me into his mouth, I seized his head in both hands and thrust forward. He growled in his throat, a deep vibration against my flesh, and I knew he would make me pay for the rough treatment later... but I was beyond caring. He was not the one I wanted, but his mouth was hot and wet and willing. He braced one hand on the door behind me; his other hand stroked my testes as he took me fully into him. I closed my eyes, threaded my hands into his dark hair and imagined Béline's auburn waves, instead.
He was skilled, and I was desperate; it did not last long. Groaning aloud, I soon spent myself down his throat. Ah, it was good; rarely had I ever been so desperate for release. Béline's name waited on my lips, but I managed to hold it back. Astor knew he was not the one that had ignited this burning need, but there was no sense in insulting him. He swallowed my seed, continuing to stroke my flesh until I shuddered and pulled away.
He stood, eying me with that dark glimmer in his eyes while I caught my breath. "Better?" he asked, smiling.
"Elua, yes," I breathed, slumping back against the door. "Thank you."
Astor's smile deepened, wickedly. "You will thank me," he teased. One strong hand reached up to grip my chin, tugging me forward. "Come to bed, Damien, and I will let you return the favor."
I twisted out of his grip, but I went, of course; it was only fair. He made it last far longer- he always liked to take his time when I gave him my mouth. When he was finally satisfied, he lifted my head away, pulled me up to lie beside him while he caught his breath.
"Tell me," he murmured. "Who is this patron who has so much power over you, to drive you so deep into Naamah's clutches and abandon you there?"
"You needn't concern yourself with it," I said coolly. "I will not be seeing her again." The words did not sound as if they hurt, but I felt a pang as I spoke them.
Astor snorted, a habit that our childhood tutors had despaired of him ever losing. "Send her to me, then," he said, yawning. "I promise you, she won't send me away before I take my pleasure."
I muttered a vulgar insult, like the ones we had hurled at each other as boys. He chuckled softly and gave my arm an affectionate squeeze before turning onto his side. As he sank into sleep, I lay awake, staring unseeing at the half-finished marque on his back. I cannot see her again, I told myself, and that pang shot through me once more. An image floated into my thoughts: the look in Béline's eyes when she knelt before me, giving herself to me against all her instincts. I pushed the thought away. Love as thou wilt, we are told... but that did not give me the right to interfere with Sebastien's love.
Astor sighed in his sleep, startling me out of my reverie. Resolutely, I put Sebastien and Béline out of my mind. Snaking an arm over Astor's waist, I pulled myself closer and closed my eyes, falling into an uneasy, guilty slumber.