Sex in C Major

"Four days in Istanbul," he said conversationally. "Yannis has been on about seeing the Hagia Sofia for ages. Question is, what do I do with you?"

Stefan paused and slowly lifted his mouth from his master's cock.

"W-what do you mean, Sir?"

A hand pushed him back down. He opened his throat around the head without hesitation, cringing at his error. Of course his master didn't want an answer. He wanted his cock sucked, not conversation.

"It's Yannis' birthday. Just him and me. Not you. But do I leave you here on your own, or do I get a sitter?"

Stefan's stomach clenched, and he drew off to suckle at the head and give himself a moment to think. A sitter? What the hell was a sitter supposed to be?

"I'm sure Jack would like a pet for a few days. He'll keep you busy."

Stefan's blood froze in his veins. The building arousal from his position-naked between his master's knees and sucking cock like he was born to do it, a blindfold wiping the world from his vision, and his hands cuffed behind his back-was snuffed out.

Be just given to Jack? For four days?

He drew off. His voice shook. But the word was hard all the same.

"No."

"No?"

"No," he repeated. The whine sounded pathetic, but he threw up the shield all the same. "I'd I'd checkmate. Sir."

There was a pause.

The sofa creaked. Daz's voice was closer. Softer.

"Why?"

It sounded almost gentle, and Stefan relaxed. He knew that voice, too. Rarer, but he knew it. From the kitchen, the day he'd been brought home. From the bedroom floor, the day he'd refused the cage. From this very sofa, the night he'd blacked out after playing the keyboard too long.

"I can't," he whispered.

"The dysphoria?"

"Yes. But also..."

"Also?"

Stefan licked his lips. "Not-not someone I don't know, for days, without you."

There it was.

"Not without you there," he repeated.

He trusted Jack-with Daz. He trusted strangers with his master there.

Not without him.

A hand ruffled his hair.

"Well then." The voice hardened, and fingers closed around the back of his neck.

Stefan blindly found his master's wet cock, and latched on again.

"We're going to have to work out how I'm going to trust you on your own for four days."

Stefan closed his eyes behind the cloth, and sucked. Hard. The grunt and sudden spurt was a welcome distraction from the new curveball, and Stefan drank it greedily, knowing full well the next climax-the third of the twelve he owed-would not be permitted in his mouth.

So he bought a little extra time for his sore arse by drinking every drop and cleaning the spent shaft after.

"Very nice, but don't think I don't know what you're doing."

Stefan pulled off and licked his lips. "Sir?"

"If I want to fuck your arse, I'll fuck it, pain and all."

"Yes, Sir."

"Now. Four days. On your own. How am I to trust you?"

Stefan bit his lip. It was teased free again.

"I-I promise not to get in trouble."

"Promises from something I don't trust aren't worth much."

Stefan knew full well Daz didn't trust him-but the remark stung all the same.

"You could-set up cameras."

"And if you left the house, they'd do shit all."

"A-a tracker, then?"

Daz hummed.

"If if I couldn't remove it..."

"There's an idea."

Stefan jumped as a hand tugged on his arm, and he climbed clumsily up onto his master's lap. He was arranged with harsh, crude hands, until he lay over his owner's lap, face down, fingers beginning to probe his aching holes. "I have a belt," Daz said calmly, "that has a lock on automatic release. Twice a day, at eight o'clock sharp, for half an hour. Then it locks again at eight thirty, and that's it for the next eleven and a half hours."

Stefan held his tongue, sensing the trap in speaking. And despite all their games, despite his harshest, sickest fantasies of torture and rape, of kidnap and sexual servitude, he really, really wasn't into spanking.

"I could put you in that. Get a tracking cuff for your thigh. That would stop you using your cunt or arse for any stupidity, at least, but what am I supposed to do about your mouth? That's what you used last time."

Stefan burned hot with shame, a shame that was nothing to do with the fingers opening him up for the fourth payment.

"I-I won't."

"Your word-"

"I won't," Stefan repeated in a fervent whisper. "This-this is-I like this. Love this. Being with you and Yannis. And if I fuck up this time, you'll get rid of me. For good. And I can't-I can't lose this. I can't. You keep me sane and under control even though this is crazy. You keep me together when I can't do that on my own. I tried and I fucked up so bad, and I-you-"

The idea struck, and Stefan seized it with both hands.