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He was startled and then terrified to find Timaios’ hand at the back of his neck.  He was going to be hauled off to a cage.  He was going to be locked away like the miserable bad thing that he was.  He was –

“Ctirad.  Look at me.”

He didn’t try to the fight the order.  He looked up, unable to control his expression and barely even thinking of trying. “Sir?”  A surge of misery struck him.  That was wrong, that wasn’t what he was supposed to call his master.  “Timaios?”

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First: M/m Keeper/Kept
Previous: Shopping

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By the time Shel deposited Ctirad back at the house with a pile of clothing, Ctirad wasn’t particularly sure if he felt more or less like himself than he had in ages.

He felt different, that much was for sure.  His head was swimming.  Shel had gotten him joking, laughing, and relaxed in a way he couldn’t remember ever being.

And now he was back in Timaios’ master suite, waiting for his master to arrive home.

It was like getting off the roller-coaster.  He felt like his legs were swaying under him.  

He knelt down on the floor and tried to find his calm place.  The pants moved strangely with him, and he thought about taking them off.

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Ctirad had been sure he’d be okay with shopping.

He was doing it for Timaios, after all, and he actually liked his current  owner – so far.  He had to keep repeating so far to himself.  If he forgot it could all go bad, it would hurt so

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Shel drove a small sports car which, he said, The Boss had bought for him. “It’s not mine or anything, it’s just, you know, image.”

“I know about image,” Ctirad agreed. He rode in the passenger seat, wondering what owning him - or, for the mundane people, what having him as, uh, an employed bodyguard one slept with Was that a thing, outside of Ermenrich? He was beginning to question everything he knew about life.

Again.

That was its own question, and he really didn’t know the answer.

Shel might, though. “So, uh.” Ctirad cleared his throat and tried not to be horribly uncomfortable. Mostly, he failed. “What does the boss have me for? A boyfriend, he said, and a bodyguard?”
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Fuck. Did everyone know Ctirad was the boss’s idiot leashed pet?

“Easy, easy. Come on, man.” Shel ran a hand in front of his face; when he dropped his hand, his skin was nut-brown and his ears were pointed. He looked a bit spindly around the joints and he was about half a foot shorter. “Easy. We’re all fae here. That means we all know what a collar means, okay?”

Ctirad touched the collar with both hands and tried to ignore the feeling in the pit of his stomach. “It means I’m his bitch.” That’s what Ermenrich had told him. “But that was… That was Ermenrich.”

“No, Ermenrich is just an asshole.” Shel sat down a few feet away from Ctirad. “Look. Belonging isn’t something Ermenrich made up for you, okay? It’s not something that he did because he’s clever or because he knows how to use people. You didn’t know?”

Ctirad shook his head, not trusting himself to words.

“Damnit, and I bet you act so… Well, self-confident isn’t the word, but you act like you know everything that’s going on. So the boss wouldn’t know, just think you were, uh. Abused. Which you were - sorry, but it’s true.” Shel leaned back. “Damn. Okay. You had a Mentor, you were trained?”
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As if understanding how overwhelmed Ctirad was feeling, Timaios gave him simple, direct orders for breakfast. “Sit here by me on the bed, we’ll eat off the lap tables, and eat as much as you want to eat but no more.” Ctirad, freshly scrubbed but still feeling like his brain was foggy and strange, managed a quiet “yes, sir” and nothing more.

Timaios left him sitting like that on the bed while he dressed and cleaned up for the day. Ctirad had fallen into a pleasant trance of time-to-my-self-in-comfort by the time he felt his master’s hand on his chin.

“You would tell me if something was wrong, correct?”

Not normally. This was not normal. Ctirad reviewed the day and found himself blushing. “Sir, I. That was wonderful. I liked it. I wanted it. I just… you’re so uh. I.” He couldn’t look away but he focused on Timaois’ lips and not his eyes.

“May I guess?”
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First: M/m Keeper/Kept
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This chapter features a lot of description that wanders around the edges of sex without describing penetration or intercourse.
.

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“Be yourself” was, Ctirad thought, the strangest, most unhelpful suggestion he’d ever gotten from an Owner — not even an order, it was just a broad guideline for behavior that meant, well, absolutely nothing.

He rose and put himself just behind and to the right of Timaios — Tim — running through the things his new Owner had told him. He wanted him to be somewhere between a bodyguard and a boyfriend in public. He wanted him to be used to physical contact. Sometimes, he might ask him to show off that he was more clever than the average idiot.

Okay then. That was enough for a role. He let his hands fall comfortably in front of him and shifted his stance to “Waiting to hit someone”, feet just shoulders’-width apart, weight on the balls of his heels. It felt comfortable and proper and some part of him was still niggling with guilt, but bodyguard, Tim had told him, and he was good at that.
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.

It was telling, humiliating, and sensible. Do you know what you like to do for fun?

He ought to. He ought to know things that were enjoyable. Everyone did, right?

Ctirad swallowed around a keening sound that refused to quiet itself. He wanted to bow until his forehead was on the floor, but he’d been told to lean back, so he stayed leaning back.

“Hey, hey.” Timaios stroked his shoulders gently. “Hey. Ctirad. Come on, kitten, come on.”

Kitten? The nickname drew him out of his panic for a moment. “Kitten?”

“Sounds better than ‘puppy’ and I don’t think you’d like ‘pet’,” Timaios admitted. “So you’re my kitten.”

“Yes… yes sir. I’m your kitten.”
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After M/m Keeper/Kept and Keeper’s Interview and Needs a Title and Bad Titling is Catching and More M/m, when I’d given up on titles and The Driver Weighs Inand Sal’s Questions and Claws and Monsters and Weapons and Impressions and Masks and Tim Kaprinsky's House, Timaios' Bedroom and Take it Off and Danny and Let's Eat and Plans.



Ctiard struggled to finish eating. Finally he had to admit, “I’m full. I’m sorry.”

Timaios frowned, and Ctirad’s stomach dropped. “Fuck. I hope you didn’t stuff yourself too much?”

“What?” Ctirad stared at him in confusion. “No, sir, you said ‘finish eating’ and…” He was panicking. This was mortifying. He swallowed and tried to get control of himself.
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After M/m Keeper/Kept and Keeper’s Interview and Needs a Title and Bad Titling is Catching and More M/m, when I’d given up on titles and The Driver Weighs Inand Sal’s Questions and Claws and Monsters and Weapons and Impressions and Masks and Tim Kaprinsky's House, Timaios' Bedroom and Take it Off and Danny and Let's Eat.


It took effort to pick up the fork and eat without specific permission, but Ctirad wasn’t going to risk pissing his owner off again in such a short time.

After the first bite, it took effort to not gorge. To remind himself to be a good dinner companion, he attempted questions. “So, what are your plans for tomorrow?”

He thought Timaios looked amused, but was fine with that, as long as he didn’t look offended.
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After M/m Keeper/Kept and Keeper’s Interview and Needs a Title and Bad Titling is Catching and More M/m, when I’d given up on titles and The Driver Weighs Inand Sal’s Questions and Claws and Monsters and Weapons and Impressions and Masks and Tim Kaprinsky's House, Timaios' Bedroom and Take it Off and Danny.


The food smelled so good he was struggling not to drool. He waited patiently. He still wasn’t sure when the trap would spring closed.

He wasn’t sure if it ever would spring closed - except that the moment he relaxed, his nerves told him he would be snapped into a cycle of punishment.

Timaios sat down and studied Ctirad. After a moment, he nodded. “All right, we’re going to do this one this way. In public, you not only have my permission to eat as you see fit, I expect you to eat naturally, all right?”
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After M/m Keeper/Kept and Keeper’s Interview and Needs a Title and Bad Titling is Catching and More M/m, when I’d given up on titles and The Driver Weighs Inand Sal’s Questions and Claws and Monsters and Weapons and Impressions and Masks and Tim Kaprinsky's House, Timaios' Bedroom and Take it Off.

Danny was, Ctirad noticed, not wearing a uniform or any sort of suit, just a chef’s jacket and loose pants. Danny was also a woman, as far as Ctirad could tell; she had platinum-blonde hair in loose curls to the tips of her pointed ears and darkly tanned skin, her chef’s jacket covering the type of physique that made Ctirad think she doubles as a bodyguard.
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After M/m Keeper/Kept and Keeper’s Interview and Needs a Title and Bad Titling is Catching and More M/m, when I’d given up on titles and The Driver Weighs Inand Sal’s Questions and Claws and Monsters and Weapons and Impressions and Masks and Tim Kaprinsky's House, Timaios' Bedroom.

Ctirad cleared his throat. “Sir.” he dropped to his knees on the soft, plush carpet.

“Ctirad.” There was the gentlest of chiding tones in Timaios’ voice. Ctirad fought the urge to duck his head and apologize. “When we are alone in my bedroom, at the very least, I expect you to call me by my name.”

“S- Timaios?”
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Timaios’ house was everything Ctirad might have expected from someone as rich as Tim Kaprinsky, and yet nothing at all he expected. It was a big house on a big lot in the middle of the city, an easy four acres of property with such good landscaping that you hardly noticed you could almost never see more than three feet in any direction, and the house itself was almost completely obscured from the road and all three of its neighbors.
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After M/m Keeper/Kept and Keeper’s Interview and Needs a Title and Bad Titling is Catching and More M/m, when I’d given up on titles and The Driver Weighs Inand Sal’s Questions and Claws and Monsters and Weapons and Impressions.

“Now you know half of it.” Timaios leaned back, searching Ctirad’s face. “And, yes, that’s a fairly common reaction. Although you don’t seem like you’re awed by my money.”

“Why should I be, sir?” Ctirad cleared his throat. “I mean. You have money for yourself, not for your toys - except to buy them.”
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Impressions

Apr. 9th, 2017 09:21 pm
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After M/m Keeper/Kept and Keeper’s Interview and Needs a Title and Bad Titling is Catching and More M/m, when I’d given up on titles and The Driver Weighs Inand Sal’s Questions and Claws and Monsters and Weapons


“Ctirad.” There was a hand on his chin, with a grip that he would have to fight to get out of. He held even stiller, if that was possible. “I did not buy you to use you. I bought you to have you, yes. To own you. But not to use you.”

“But…” Ctirad felt his brow furrow. “Why? And…” He considered his question before deciding he had already pushed all his limits and might as well keep pushing. “What’s the difference? And why have slaves if you’re not going to use them?”
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Claws and Monsters


There was a moment of silence in the car. Ctirad could hear the road under the tires, some traffic noise, the breathing of all three of them.

“You Belong to me,” Sir agreed carefully. “And I neither object to you having claws nor intend to use you as a murderer. Would you like my word on that?”

Ctirad wasn’t certain he could speak. He cleared his throat and settled for “sir?” with an intonation that might have relayed what the fuck?
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After M/m Keeper/Kept and Keeper’s Interview and Needs a Title and Bad Titling is Catching and More M/m, when I’d given up on titles and The Driver Weighs Inand Sal's Questions


Ctirad could practically feel Sir’s eyes on him. The silence seemed to hang in the air, something nobody was saying just waiting to be said.

Finally, Ctirad cleared his throat. “So what should I know?”

Sir chuckled. “I’m not Ermenrich. Sometimes I’m an asshole, and I admit it - Sal will tell you…”

“Sometimes he’s an asshole,” Sal agreed cheerfully.

“-Thanks, Sal. But I’m not a monster,” his voice did something strange. Ctirad looked up at the voice as if that would help.
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After M/m Keeper/Kept and Keeper’s Interview and Needs a Title and Bad Titling is Catching and More M/m, when I’d given up on titles and The Driver Weighs In

Ctirad tensed. That… was a bad sign.

Sir stroked the top of his back gently, such that the touch might be missed from the rear-view mirror, if Ctirad had his positioning right.

“What’s your name mean?” Sal sounded completely serious. Ctirad gave the question consideration.

His name wasn’t all that common in America, he knew that. And among fae, the name your father chose to give you was heavy with meaning (sometimes). Of course, he had no idea if Sal was fae or not. He cleared his throat. “Joy and honor, or joy from honor.” It wasn’t a name that brought him any joy anymore, but it was all he had left that was his.
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After M/m Keeper/Kept and Keeper’s Interview and Needs a Title and Bad Titling is Catching and More M/m, when I’d given up on titles



Sir ran a hand over the side of Ctirad’s hair. Ermenrich had cut it short again, shaved on the sides, military-looking. Ctirad hated it that way - but it wasn’t his hair, any more than when he had been in the military. “So, I trust Sal with my life, with my secrets, and with a good deal of my fortune - and not just in this car, which you can’t see at the moment, but is very expensive. But I assured you that when we weren’t alone, I would not make you answer questions - and while Sal does count as ‘private’ for me, I can’t say the same for you. You follow?”

Oh. “I… follow, sir.” Ctirad swallowed. “What do you want me to do?”

“Easy there, darling. Remember, I said this would be up to you? So. The question is, what do you want to do?”
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