Quick update, woho! And: thanks for over 1,000 hits! *throws-confetti*
He splashes some cold water into his face but his eyes still look a little puffy. Hopefully Deacon won't notice. Scud huffs. Of course he will notice, the way he always looks him over as if Scud could drop dead any second. But maybe he has the courtesy not to mention it.
With a last look into the mirror Scud rubs over his face and sighs when he realizes the shower had done nothing to get rid of the tiredness written all over his features.
The door is still closed. Even though he must have spent some time in the bathroom already Deacon hasn't checked on him yet.
He must trust him in some way. Scud thinks of all the possibilities that lay practically sprawled out in front of him.
He could shatter the mirror and cut his throat with the glass. He could hang himself on the door knob or drown in the bathtub, hitting his head on the ceramic edge before to make sure his body's reflexes don't betray him.
But Scud doesn't want to die. Even under Anton's brutal hand he never had the wish to end his life. All he wants is to get away from the darkness of the night and return to the light of day. He wonders if he will ever see the sun again before someone else ends his life.
xXxXx
When the pet finally steps back into the living room and into Deacon's sight the first thing he notices is the relief washing through him, even though it is just for a split second. Then the pleasant feeling is replaced by anger.
"You took your time", he snarls but doesn't lift his eyes from the sheet he had been staring at the past hour. It says something about a defect power line in one of his clubs. He doesn't care. Petty is the one to take care of all those trivial affairs but as most of his familiars who are not able to hold a gun steadily she comes usually when the sun has risen.
"I'm sorry, Master", the pet says. He has stopped a few feet away from Deacon. His bureau and the living room are only separated by a thin dark glass wall. Usually there is no one to disturb him in his works, so he never saw a reason to built an own room for it.
The address suddenly makes him angry, downright furious. It is just another reminder of the pet's presence. As if the shy looks boring into his back as soon as he turns around wouldn't be enough. He is Deacon Frost and he will not let a human control his mood like this.
A little too quickly he stands up and the chair he had sat on almost falls over. The pet flinches and Deacon can see a hint of fear light up in his eyes. He notices the small red lines disturbing the deep blue. Has he cried?
The sound of his mobile phone rips him out of his thought. The ring tone is Quinn's. Deacon takes a deep unneeded breath and picks up.
"What is it, Quinn?" he asks. A quick look in the pet's direction makes the boy drop his eyes and bow his head. Still Deacon feels something like paranoia tug at the back of his mind and he changes into his race's language. Quinn and Mercury are on their way with the reports of the night. So far everything had stayed calm, no disturbances in his clubs and none of his familiars had been murdered the past days. At least not in a more dubious way than always.
As soon as he hangs up he realizes that Quinn and Mercury still know as much as nothing about the delicate situation he has gotten himself into within one single night. Now is as good of a time as any to tell them. Maybe he should just get that done and off his mind too.
He turns around, not surprised to find the boy still standing on the same spot as before.
"In a few minutes my two companions will be here. While they are in the apartment you will stay in my bedroom, keep the doors closed and pretend you're deaf. You understand me, human?"
"Yes", the pet answers, straightening a tuck in his shirt which isn't there. Deacon remembers the wounds he had when he brought him home that night.
"Have you taken off the bandage, as I told you?" he asks. The pet nods. "Have the wounds healed well?"
"There are-", the boy starts. He clears his throat, swallows and Deacon can see how he is struggling to keep his self-control. But his fingers tremble nonetheless when he tugs at the hemline of his shirt. He looks down.
"They have healed but there are scars", he manages to say but his voice breaks a little at the last word. Deacon can see how anxious he is. He probably fears that Deacon might disapprove of his marks, but truth is he doesn't care much. And he also doesn't care about the human's unease, so he just nods.
"Bedroom", he says, already heading back into his bureau. "And stay there."
xXxXx
When Quinn and Mercury enter the apartment a few moments later Deacon tries his best to keep an even expression.
"I need to talk to you about the human", he starts.
Mecury snorts. "You mean your little pet. That's okay, Deac, we all have our needs. No one here will judge you."
She smugly smiles up at him from where she has settled on the couch. Deacon feels anger boil up inside of him at her words.
"Well, I know perfectly well about your needs, Mercury", he snarls. "But that's not why the human's here. I took him with me because he is our only insurance that Anton MacHorvath won't come storming through that door and stake us all. Apparently the deal I had with him failed because he found out the target was a pure blood. If it wasn't for the pet he would have told Dragonetti by now."
"Can't we just kill MacHorvath?" Quinn asks. He stopped playing with his braids when Deacon mentioned the staking.
"No", Deacon says and once again he wonders why exactly he had turned Quinn back then. Definitely not for his good ideas. "If we tried to kill him now all of his allies would throw a fit and try to get rid of us in return. The only thing we can do is try to get out of his way and stay low for the next time."
"And how long will that be?"
With a fluid movement Mercury rises from the couch. The white dress which covers her slim figure doesn't fit the hardened expression on her face.
"I say we kill MacHorvath and that pet now, just get rid of them both!"
"Mercury", Deacon starts and his voice drops while he tries not to worsen the situation with an emotional outburst. "I already told you how dangerous the situation is..."
"The situation you brought us into", she hisses. The tip of her sharp fangs glister in the dim light of the room but visibly enough to make Quinn lean forward on the couch and Deacon growl warningly.
Just when he opens his mouth to reply a sound from the direction of the bedroom makes all three turn their heads. Mercury glances over to Deacon.
"He's here, isn't he?" she asks, a vicious smile pulling her pale lips apart. Before he can move Mercury jumps over the couch and races to the bedroom.
"Mercury – no!" Deacon yells. He runs after her but it's too late. The doors are wide open and he can see the pet go down, Mercury standing over him.
xXxXx
When the doors abruptly open Scud has for one second the paranoid thought that Deacon somehow noticed he sat down on his bed. But it isn't his master who storms through the door. It's a woman. Scud jumps up from the bed and opens his mouth to say something, anything, but a kick to his chest presses all the air out of his lungs. He gasps, stumbling back and clutching his chest while his lungs fight to get back some of the much needed air.
He has no time to understand what just happened, a hard slap across his face throws him off balance and Scud slumps to the floor. There is a sharp pain shooting through his tongue and then he can taste iron.
As his mouth fills with blood the voice of his master drowns out the wild screaming of the woman. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Deacon tackle her.
'Don't spit out, don't dirty the carpet. Swallow it down', Scud thinks. But the warm fluid makes his stomach twist and turn and then he retches and all of the blood splashes to the floor. His vision blurs as the weirdly pink puddle in front of him runs through his fingers pressing into the marble.
Suddenly all other noises in the room disappear. The only sound is the rapid beat of his own heart. Scud feels a clutching cold climb up his body as the puddle on the floor gets bigger and bigger until he is almost drowning in a sea of his own blood. There is a scream far away and it speaks sheer horror. It takes him a moment before Scud realizes it's his own but his mouth doesn't move. It's in his head, just like the voice whispering low threats and the hand carving deep into his flesh.
Scud, still on his arms and knees, reaches down with one shaky hand to brush over his stomach. When he pulls it back it's covered in blood and bits of guts. His own guts.
The scream gets louder until it fills every corner of his body and mind. Then the world around him turns black.
xXxXx
When the door bell rings Deacon all but tears the door open. Missouri doesn't even blink, just stares up at him from where she stands, still in her night dress. Even in a situation like this, Deacon notices, her face is painted with a perfect mixture of mascara and lip stick.
"I hope your precious toy is dying", she snarls. "Otherwise I'd wonder where you take the courage from to call me in the middle of my only free night since thirty years."
"It's really important", Deacon says tersely. "I think he has a shock or something."
"Or something", Missouri mutters as she walks past him and heads straight to the curled up figure of the pet laying on one of the couches. She sits down next to him, brushes some strands out of his face and whispers to him in a low voice. Deacon stays next to the door. After he had managed to shove the hissing Mercury out of the room, tightly held in Quinn's embrace, he noticed the shaking and coughing body of the human on the floor.
He watches as Missouri pulls a tiny casket from he purse. She takes out a blue pill and puts it into the human's opened mouth. Deacon can see the unease in the boy's face as he swallows the small thing.
"Now let me take a look at your tongue", she says. The boy sits up and obediently shows her the large cut which had led to the amount of blood which is still decorating the bedroom's floor. She nods.
"This will take some days to heal but it's nothing all too serious. Seems like you took off the bandages. Show me, darling."
Before he lifts his shirt the pet throws Deacon a shy look. Missouri must have noticed the slight panic in his eyes as she turns around and tells Deacon with a nod of her head to leave them alone. He clenches his jaw in frustration but paces out of the room.
If Missouri hadn't proved herself as useful he would have killed her many times already.
xXxXx
Scud flinches when the woman feels his scars, pressing down on them and tracing their way along his skin.
"Well, doesn't that look fine?" she says and smiles. "I seriously thought the fever would have left a greater damage. Seems like I can be wrong too..."
"What fever?" Scud asks before he realizes that maybe he shouldn't even talk to her. But the look she gives him is none of judgment, more like confusion.
"You had a fever, angel cake", she says slowly as if Scud asked something terribly stupid. "It almost cooked your guts from the inside. Good thing Frost seems to have taken a great fancy to you, otherwise you'd be dead by now. And by dead I mean six feet under in some container outside the building."
Scud nods. The Valium the woman had given him seems to kick in as he doesn't feel like puking out his soul anymore. The hit that vampire chick had given him brought back memories. Memories of his last night as Anton's pet.
As she brushes with a small hand over his arms, feeling every little dotted scar, Scud notices the warmth of her body.
"You're human", he whispers. The realization makes him weirdly happy.
"Always been and always will be until the day I die." She turns his neck to take a look at the puncture wounds over his carotid. With a thumb she brushes over the hickey under his ear.
"So you're not a familiar?"
The woman snorts and lets her hands fall back on his shoulders. She gropes them wholeheartedly and Scud whines as her fingertips press against the hardening there.
"No, I am not a familiar. I leave that filthy business to other people. Turn around."
He slips on the couch to face the opposite direction. As she strokes over his back to feel for any concussions or fractures Scud already feels another question dance over his tongue. The Valium makes him carefree.
"What's your name?"
There is a small pause and the hands stop to move. Then they continue their slow way down his spine.
"I'm the doctor who put you back together, boy, that's all you need to know. And you are Frost's pet and that is all I need to know. Seems all fine."
With a pat to his back she stands up. Scud notices the faint pink nightdress she wears under a stogy leather jacket. Deacon must have called her out of her sleep to make sure he is alright.
"Thank you", he says before realizing his mouth moved.
The woman nods without looking at him and heads into the direction his master had left.
xXxXx
Deacon sits on his bed and stares at the puddle of blood as Missouri approaches him. He lifts his head, and frowns at her concerned expression. She stops a few inches too close to him. Her sweet perfume stings in Deacon's nose and sends his sensitive nerves standing on edge.
"You want this boy to survive?" she asks suddenly. Deacon looks at her, trying to read in her face but fails.
"Yes", he simply answers instead. "I need him."
"Good thing you're able to admit at least that, shithead", she comments snappishly. With her hands on her hips she looks like a wintery pin-up motive. Deacon knows her since Missouri's very first night as a doctor for not only humans but vampires also. Back then she had been a beautiful young woman but her mouth had always been filthy and her manners more than rude. "If you want this boy to survive than you have to give him some more than food and a place to sleep."
He narrows his eyes suspiciously. "What do you mean?"
"What I-? Christ, if you were a dog you'd be chasing your own tail out of sheer ignorance! I mean: do you even know his name? This boy is utterly broken. Did you know a person can die of a broken heart, hm? Of course you didn't, since you're dead cold inside yourself!"
"And you want me to do... what?" Deacon asks, raising his eyebrows to make clear how uninterested he really is in everything Missouri says. The small woman takes a sharp breath.
"I don't want you to do anything, you arrogant little dipshit. If it was for me I'd end that boy's misery with a syringe full of morphine because I wouldn't be able to just stand there and watch him slowly slip away like that."
Suddenly she steps closer, grabbing him by his wrists. Deacon is too surprised to fight her off. It's the first time in forty years that Missouri ever dared to touch him.
"You are Deacon Frost and you are a fierce bastard", she speaks lowly, hastily. "But if you let this boy just die I will personally guarantee that your ashes will be baked into some chocolate fudge cake and served on a kid's party with clowns and balloons and an ass full of happiness and rainbows. Do you understand me, Frost? You will not let him die!"
"Missouri", Deacon mumbles and the smile that plays around the corners of his lips is driven by pure amusement. "When did you start to care for your patients again? I thought that was a closed book."
He looks directly into her eyes while speaking and sees how the fire slowly dies until they return to their usual sarcastic expression. She lets go of his wrists, only the small half-moons in Deacon's skin a sign for her previous outburst and takes a step back.
"You misunderstand me", she says. The bright smile that pulls her accurately painted lips apart and reveals the white teeth underneath has been perfected over the years and would fool anyone who didn't know her the way Deacon does. "If the pet dies it wouldn't be long until all that's left of you was a little pile of bones and ashes. Who would pay me all the extra money then? If you haven't noticed, this little purse here is Yves Saint Laurent and they sure have their prices, honey."
xXxXx
When the light clicking of the woman's heels comes closer Scud turns his head. He sees his master who follows the small woman. He opens the door for her and sends her away with a polite smile and an ironic wave of his hand. He couldn't see her face but Scud can imagine what kind of gesture she gave Deacon as a goodbye.
"Is she going home alone?" Scud asks as soon as the door falls shut. "It's dangerous to be outside at night."
"It's always dangerous", Deacon corrects him. He slowly comes closer, hands buried in the pockets of his slacks.
"Well, I certainly wasn't attacked at day by a horde of vampires." Scud plays with a tear in his shirt. It must have ripped when he fell.
Deacon sits down on the couch opposite of Scud's. He can hear him sigh loudly. His attention is caught when the sound of a lighter being clicked open echoes through the silent room. Scud watches as his master takes a long drag from a cigarette. He knows the brand, used to smoke it himself when he still was able to decide when to smoke.
Deacon catches his gaze and this time Scud doesn't look away. That pill surely does things to him.
"Want one?"
Scud nods. When Deacon offers him the opened packet he shyly pulls a cigarette out. It feels good between his fingers, the smooth surface of the filter between his lips as he lights the tip up.
"Missouri says you shouldn't smoke, so that will stay our little secret."
So her name's Missouri. Strangely fitting.
"Thank you", Scud mumbles. He closes his eyes when he inhales the beloved mixture of nicotine and tar for the first time in months. As the smoke wanders into his lungs, stinging where it brushes against the cut, Scud leans back against the couch. He holds it in until he feels his chest tighten and his lungs begin to burn. Then he exhales, slowly and watches the curls of smoke rise to the ceiling. He has missed this so much.
When he opens his eyes again Deacon watches him interestedly.
"What's your name, pet?" he asks, taking another drag of his cigarette. Scud watches the length of it light up and burn down. If he wasn't so dulled by the Valium and the butt between his fingers he would have wondered about the question.
"Scud", he says flatly. "My name is Scud."
Deacon gives him an unconvinced frown. "Scud? Is that even a name?"
"It's my name", he says and looks up from where his eyes had fixed a spot on the table between them.
Deacon chuckles. It sounds almost lighthearted, close to amusement and it sounds wrong.
They stay silent for a while. Scud rubs his thumb against the warm side of the cigarette and enjoys not having to do anything humiliating for it. He is sure Deacon won't ask anything of him. Otherwise he would have let that crazy vampire bitch kick his face into mash.
His attention snaps back to reality when Deacon subtly clears his throat.
"So, Scud", he starts and it doesn't need a lot of experience to see how difficult it is for him as a vampire to address Scud with his name. "You remembered your last night in Anton MacHorvath's mansion."
"More his basement", Scud mumbles. He flicks the burned tip into an ashtray on the table.
"Yeah, right", Deacon says and straightens his position on the couch. Scud keeps his slumped back. "I assume you had a rather uncomfortable time as his pet."
"When you mean with uncomfortable being taken against your will, forced to swallow every bastard's cock and get passed around a group of hungry young vampires like a joint, then, yes, it was rather uncomfortable."
He looks up. Deacon watches him, his expression stern. Scud isn't surprised to see no shock in his face. He probably himself saw a few times how Anton used to treat his pets. Even though the real deal was always reserved for his friends and loyal customers, behind closed doors and a curtain of discretion.
Suddenly Scud feels tired. His arms are heavy and he watches the rest of his cigarette slowly burn up without having the need to take a last drag. All Scud wants is to sleep and maybe, when he's lucky which does happen sometimes, Missouri's pill will keep all nightmares away.
But there is one last thing he has to know.
"Why am I here?" he asks, surprised by the sudden hardness in his voice.
Deacon huffs and draws a hand over his face. He looks a little tattered himself. His shirt is torn where that vampire chick had drawn her claws into and he has a long deep scratch on his neck which will be gone by tomorrow night.
"You are here because I want you to", he says lowly, carefully but with just enough of a growl to make Scud realize that he had gone too far with that question.
He nods even though the answer could have been Anton's. What does that even mean, he wants him to be here? No one ever wanted him to be there. Why, of all people, would a vampire appreciate his companion?
But all that comes out of his mouth is a mumbled "Okay" and with that their conversation ends. Deacon stubs out the small rest of his cigarette and stands up. As he almost reaches the doors to his bedroom he turns around again.
"Don't think about running", he says. "You said it yourself, it's dangerous outside at night. Next time I maybe won't be able to save you."
Scud listens as the doors to the bedroom fall shut and then he's alone.
"Where should I go anyway?" he mumbles. His head starts to feel fuzzy so he sinks down onto the couch, curls up and quickly drifts off into an undisturbed sleep.
xXxXx
The last night is a clear memory in his mind but it still feels like a weird dream he had. Scud wakes up before nightfall. He can tell by the still locked shutters shielding the inside of the apartment from any sunlight. Scud misses the sun and how warm she had felt on his skin when he had fixed cars in Ronaldo's workshop. If his former employer wondered where he had gone? Probably not. Scud always has been one of those guys of whom people expect to just vanish one day and never return.
He stands up, stretches and takes a look around the silent room. There is still the filled ashtray on the table in front of him with the two cold cigarette stubs. As he stares at the little thing he begins to wonder what exactly the conversation between them last night had meant to Deacon.
He doesn't have much time to think about it though as the doors to his master's bedroom swing open and Deacon, already fully dressed and with his usual cold expression, steps out.
"You're up early", Scud notices. Deacon doesn't reply, just glares at him as he walks past and heads for the kitchen. Scud ducks his head when he sees the annoyance in his master's look. So they're back to hateful stares then.
He watches Deacon open the fridge and take out a bag filled with blood. Up to now he hasn't seen him feed on anything or anyone, but vampires need their daily meal too, just like him. Still he looks away when Deacon rips the bag open with his bare teeth and starts to take large gulps from it.
A small trickle of blood runs from one corner of the mouth down to his neck. The large scratch from yesterday has already healed Scud notices. He can somewhat understand the obsession vampires have for an unscathed body. They'll never have fresh scars themselves, only the ones they gained during their human life, if they had one before.
"What happened last night", he suddenly says and the sound of his voice startles Scud. It's icy old, such a hard contrast to the tone he had the night before. "That doesn't make us friends. I am still your master and you are still my pet. If you think this little chat changed anything then you are wrong. It's dangerous to assume the wrong things of me."
The empty blood bag makes an obscene slapping sound when Deacon casually darts it into the sink. Scud watches him as he steps closer, the resentment vibrating off his body turning the light around them a little darker.
He stops a foot away from him.
"You understand, human?"
"Yes."
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, Master", Scud mumbles and now he looks away. It feels as if Deacon's eyes are piercing right through him, making him shiver even though it's not cold in the room. He feels vulnerable and not just in a physical way. Last night the vampire had managed to strip him off his first layer of repression. He had given him the feeling of being cared for, even though in a rather twisted way. But it had been the nicest treatment he had gotten in months.
Now the memory is dirtied with a threat and a hateful stare. Both remind Scud of his place in his master's life.
"Good", Deacon says. The satisfaction in his voice makes Scud sick. "Believe me, this is better for the both of us."
'I bet', Scud silently snorts. He can feel the bitterness crawl through his veins like venom and he knows he shouldn't feel like this. It surely wasn't Deacon's intention to make him have the impression he is actually worth a damn.
As Deacon turns around he smiles at how fucked up everything is.
xXxXx
Mercury is wild and untamed. She always has been, even back then when she was still a human and her heart alive and pounding in her chest. It had been the main reason why Deacon chose to turn her. The irony of Mercury's companion is that she is there even though Deacon had at that point already decided for himself to never turn a human and after Mercury never again. But then she got bored and he saw himself forced to find her a decent playfellow. The only reason why Quinn is still among them and not already a rotting corpse.
Her skin is still as perfect as it has been 90 years ago. With one finger he slowly runs from her cleavage down to her navel. She moves under him like a fish in the water, fluid and smoothly. Deacon knows how her beauty can trick men into doing things they would under other circumstances never do. And he also knows that Mercury is brutal and violent behind her fine features and the seductive smile she puts on.
"Do you remember the night we met?" He draws a small circle on her stomach.
Mercury purrs and reaches down to lightly scratch with sharp nails over his thigh. "Of course I do. I will never forget that night. You had looked quite charming with your fedora, not as silly as the other men."
"What other men?" he growls playfully. Mercury giggles and leans up to steal a small kiss from him. When she pulls back her expression has changed.
"You smell like human", she notices and the light tone is gone within a second.
Deacon sighs. "Of course I do."
"So he's still here? Where is he? I haven't noticed him. Did you hide him from me?"
She pushes his hand on her waist away. It takes Deacon all composure not to growl at her.
"After your last encounter I thought it would be better if you and Scud had a little break from each other", he says. When he sees how her face slips he instantly regrets it.
"Scud?" she repeats and the disbelief is written all over her face. It is quickly replaced by wild fury. "So we're on first names now? Are you fucking kidding me? He's a human, Deacon and a pet. He's the very bottom of the food chain! How can you possibly let him just live like that?"
She knocks his hand away as he reaches out for her.
"No", she hisses. "I surely won't let you touch me with that filthy human scent all over you!"
In one quick movement she is off the bed and grabs her blouse. Deacon fixes a small spot on the wall, silently waiting until the boiling anger inside of him has calmed down a bit. Then he follows her.
"Mercury, wait. What do you expect of me? I already explained the situation to y-"
She suddenly whirls around and he can see her fully exposed fangs. With a warning hiss she slips into her leather jacket, her eyes never stopping to throw silent maledictions into Deacon's direction.
"You explained me nothing", she growls. "All you said is you wanted to keep the pet. You know what? Keep him, I'm sure he's a great fuck. From what I heard Anton's pets are quite well trained!"
A small cough from behind them makes both whirl around. The human doesn't stand far away, half hidden behind the door to a room. Deacon makes a mental note to himself to get that idiot a bell or something so he can't sneak up on them anymore.
He quickly looks back to Mercury. He expected her to completely lose it, jump at the boy again or start to scream and trash things. But instead the anger in her face vanishes and her features even. She starts to laugh. It sounds fake.
"Have fun", she chirps. Deacon watches her walk over to the door and leave, not without giving him one last bright smile. As soon as the door closes behind her silence settles in the room.
"Was that my fault?"
Deacon begins to hate the sound of that small raspy voice. Maybe Mercury is right, maybe he should just get rid of the pet. So far the human had brought him nothing but difficulties and bloodied furniture. But he had taken so much already to keep him alive. Killing him would mean a defeat of his own willpower and for that Deacon is too proud.
He slowly turns back to the pet. To his own dislike the boy doesn't look guilty at all. A part of him can understand. Mercury tried to kill him and almost succeeded in her task. If he was in his place he would be relieved about her leaving too.
If he was in the pet's place. Deacon's face darkens at his own thought.
"Didn't I tell you to stay in the room?" he asks and his voice is sharp and cold.
"Yes", Scud says and starts to slowly walk towards him. He is barefooted, the sound of his careful steps the only noise that interrupts the silence between his words. "But I heard something and thought there was a problem."
"The only problem here is you", Deacon hisses.
Scud stops in his tracks, the harsh tone clearly waking his caution. But this time he doesn't look scared. Deacon watches as the pet's eyes slowly wander down his bare chest and even further down. Scud smiles weakly.
"Were you interrupted during... something?", he asks. "You have an erection."
Deacon frowns at the sudden bluntness of the human. The past days it had seemed as if every word the pet spoke was carefully chosen, only facile sentences which couldn't make his master furious. The change surprises him and not exactly in a positive way.
"Yeah, I noticed that", Deacon mumbles, suspicion written all over his face. When Scud takes another step closer to him he almost backs away, but he can stop himself just in time. Who is he to back away from a human? And who the fuck is this boy to approach him like that? Why does he let this happen? He is the master and the one in control!
Despite that he keeps still as the pet comes closer, stopping mere inches away from him. Deacon can almost taste his skin, the smell a mixture of sweat, blood and smoke. With a surprisingly calm hand Scud lets the tip of one finger lightly dance over Deacon's stomach.
"I could take care of that", he says in that tone. He looks up and locks his gaze with that of Deacon. "I can be very good. You haven't even let me show you how good I can be."
His finger wanders further down until he reaches the waistband of Deacon's slacks. Slowly he hooks two finger under the dark fabric, dangerously close to the bulge in his crotch.
Before the pet can make another move Deacon grabs his wrists and jerks it away from his body. Scud whines in pain when Deacon turns the fragile bone which gives an audible crack. He watches Scud's knees buckle a little as he tightens his grip.
"You will never do that again", he says darkly. His voice is completely calm. "If you ever dare to touch me again, I will break your arm."
Another turn, a small plea spilling from the boy's lips.
"Do you understand me? I am not Anton. I won't fuck you and then let you lick your wounds in a corner. If you're not careful, I will break every little bone in your body and nothing you could offer me would be satisfying enough to pay for the fun that I would have while watching you lie helpless and begging on the floor, not able to move one little finger anymore."
With cold satisfaction he sees the pet nod hastily. His lips are pressed together to keep himself from crying out. Deacon smiles and it feels really good.
xXxXx
When Deacon lets go of his wrist Scud's knees finally give in. He clutches his aching hand, trying to suppress any sound as his master walks away. When he is sure he heard a door close he buckles over, groaning against the hard marble floor. His heart is racing. For a moment he thought Deacon would rip open his throat. Luckily he just went for the fragile wrist. Scud turns it a few times, biting his lips when a jolt of pain shoots through his arm at the movement.
At least one thing he knows now.
Deacon doesn't keep him for the fucking, but he may be even more dangerous than his former master. Scud feels a cry built up in his throat and he quickly shoves a fist into his mouth, biting down on the knuckles to hold back the sound.
It had been foolish of him to think that maybe, just maybe, he had found a person that wouldn't try to screw him over.