Chapter One

Cavan woke in a cold sweat. His heart beat a sharp pace in his ears. Terror tightened his chest. The sound of his master’s steady breathing barely eased Cavan’s fear.

Darkness cocooned them in Biton’s wide bed. If only he could stay wrapped in the safety of his presence...

Red numbers glared at him from the clock on the nightstand. Just after midnight, he had been asleep for a couple of hours.

Biton had been tired when he got home. Tired and preoccupied. He hadn’t discussed what was on his mind and a slave knew better than to ask questions. Anxiety accompanied his master’s silent mood.

Biton Savakis was a different kind of master. Not like the one before. Master Wainwright would never have taken Cavan into his bed. Never wrapped comforting arms around him and simply fallen asleep. Wainwright would have taken what pleasure he required and locked Cavan in a stinking basement room with a blanket for a bed and a bucket for a toilet.

Cavan fingered the soft sheet covering him. The clean smell and cushioned mattress were a secret pleasure. And the man whose chest lined his back was his life. At least what he wanted out of life.

After four months of therapy and steady reassurance from Biton, Cavan still couldn’t convince himself it wouldn’t end soon.

“What’s wrong?” A gentle hand slid across Cavan’s chest.

“Nothing,” Cavan lied. “Go back to sleep.” At one time, lying to his master wouldn’t have been possible. Now, he had to or risk losing the only good thing he remembered in his life.

A snuffling breath tickled the back of Cavan’s neck. “You first.” Biton’s mumbling lips teased his shoulder.

Cavan turned his head toward Biton. Gentle kisses and a scratchy stubbled face contrasted against his jaw. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s okay.” Arms encircled him and tightened. Biton’s lips found his.

The now familiar tightness in his groin tingled. His cock filled as Biton’s tongue slid across the seam of his mouth. A wandering hand helped with long languid strokes.

Biton’s thickening cock rubbed against Cavan. Short gentle strokes pushed between his cheeks, plowing through the furrow of his ass.

“Nightmare?” Biton whispered.

Cavan nodded. One he had more often as Wainwright’s trial approached. Four months ago, emboldened by Biton’s support and reinforced by the need to obey his new master, Cavan accused Wainwright of murder. Now, even with Biton’s support, the idea of facing the man who abused him for nine years became more terrifying each day.

“Want to talk about it?” Biton’s hand slid away from Cavan’s cock. His arm tightened around Cavan’s waist.

“No... I don’t remember it now...” Cavan bit his lip as soon as the lie slipped out. To distract his master from further questions, Cavan pressed back against the hard flesh nestled between his ass cheeks.

Biton squeezed him tight then his fingers trailed down his lower stomach. His hand grasped Cavan’s cock again. Long strokes topped by his thumb rounding over the sensitive tip made Cavan gasp for air.

The heat of Biton’s body chased away residual fear. When Cavan was with his master, the world didn’t matter. The long days while Biton was at work gave Cavan too much time to think about the terror of his past and the uncertainty of his future. The sessions with Dr. Merten didn’t help.

Reliving his years of abuse, by both his former master and his foster parents two days a week kept his memories sharp and painful.

When he first came to stay with Biton, his master made him talk about his life, about Wainwright and about Mateo, the slave Wainwright had killed. Therapy was supposed to help Cavan return to a normal life. Except Cavan’s idea of normal didn’t meet Dr. Merten’s standard. He understood that the people who abused him were wrong but Biton was different. However, her disapproval of Biton’s lifestyle, of his position as Cavan’s master, showed in every session.

She insisted his sessions were confidential and not even Biton had the right to know what was said. Since his master assured him Dr. Merten was the best in her field, he tried to obey her.

Biton insisted he continue even after Cavan made his choice to stay three months ago.

Although Biton said he could stay forever, his master hadn’t drawn up a new contract and they hadn’t been in the playroom since the last day of the old contract. He feared his master had changed his mind.

“I want you...” Biton’s whispered words sent shivers through him.

If only those words meant more than sexual attraction... Cavan slid his hand behind him and over Biton’s muscular hip. Pulling the firm ass toward him, he pushed back into the heat of his cock. “Take me... Just like this...”

Biton’s hand scrambled under the pillow for the lube and condoms they kept there.

Cavan released his grip on Biton’s ass. His master’s warm body rolled away leaving a cool void. A plastic cap snapped open followed by the rip of the small packet. Cavan bit his lip in anticipation.

Cold slippery fingers prodded his anus. He relaxed his body and welcomed the intrusion. Three swift strokes only teased him and then disappeared. Biton’s body heat returned to line his back. His thick flesh pushed against the ring of muscle guarding his entrance.

“Yes...” Cavan breathed the word as his passage filled with hot cock. His eyes rolled shut from the intense pleasure. His need for Biton went beyond sex. The intimate connection helped reassure him of Biton’s desire.

With both of them on their sides, Biton’s strokes were slow, drawing out the intense sensations.

Cavan’s head lolled back against Biton’s shoulder. Canting his face toward his master, he caught Biton’s lips. Long deep kisses with a lazy tongue explored Cavan’s mouth, matching the pace of Biton’s strokes.

Biton’s hand slid down Cavan’s stomach to his aching cock. His mouth captured Cavan’s moans as Biton’s thumb and forefinger circled just below the crown.

Everything moved in slow motion, lips, tongue, hand, and cock. Tension built to a raging climax and Cavan fell apart with an orgasm so intense his body seemed to collapse in on itself.

Gasping for air, his fingers clutched Biton’s arm. Tears blurred his vision. He pulled away from Biton’s kiss. Biting his lips, he resisted the urge to shout his love for Biton.

Biton promised him forever but the contract still hadn’t been made. Uncertainty of the future frightened him in ways his former master never could.

Cavan turned his face into the pillow and let the tears flow as Biton’s cock emptied into him.

*

Still shaking from the intensity of his orgasm, Biton leaned over Cavan. He plucked several tissues from a box on the nightstand. First wiping his hand, he then cleaned Cavan with a gentle touch and took a cursory swipe at the remaining mess on the bed.

After tossing the tissues toward the trashcan next to the bed, Biton held the quaking body of his lover. “Are you okay?”

Cavan’s trembling seemed more than the aftershocks of orgasm. More like the shaking sobs of tears.

“Yes...” The gulping sound confirmed Biton’s suspicions.

“Talk to me. I want to help.”

Cavan shook his head. His only defiance since three months ago, when he deliberately provoked Biton to punish him, was refusing to talk. Something for which Biton couldn’t, wouldn’t, punish him.

Instead, Biton held him close, stroking his wavy red hair until the sobs slowed and his breathing evened out.

Once again, Biton wondered whether his course of action was the right one. Following Dr. Merten’s advice hadn’t worked before and he didn’t think it was working now. But therapy of any kind needed more than four months to work. Cavan was abused for nine years. He wouldn’t heal over night.

Although he refused to avoid sexual contact with Cavan, he’d agreed to postpone any discussion of a permanent arrangement as well as any dominant play. She insisted either would hamper Cavan’s recovery. She’d voiced her disapproval of their physical relationship as well. Her theory was that any physical relationship without his full understanding could be damaging. But Biton couldn’t turn Cavan away.

With a gentle kiss on his sleeping lover’s temple, Biton whispered, “I love you.”