23. Kyle

CHAPTER 23

Kyle

K yle had seen Master Epsilon in shoes at work, and barefoot in the bedroom. But socked feet was new.

New…and welcome.

Akira remained obediently silent, but not still: the growing tension in the kneeling man's shoulders made him look ready to explode by the time they reached the hour mark of the vid. Kyle milked the hell out of it with more inane comments and stupid questions that his submissive wasn't permitted to respond to, enjoying the way his mouth twitched with frustration each time.

But he didn't slip up. Not once did Akira speak as the vid continued to play, complying with Kyle's order through an impressive amount of willpower and self-control. The same determination that had helped him obtain his Mastery and his House at such a young age, and which made him a formidable player in Xerxes.

How had Kyle gotten so lucky as to have the most desirable man in the city at his feet in nothing but a shirt and a cock cage, head bowed and silent as he knelt so prettily for him? People paid thousands of credits for the privilege of Master Epsilon's company, and here Kyle was, offering him nothing but a dingy room, a pre-apocalypse vid played on his own runepad, and an overweight orange cat lying on his upturned feet.

Kyle almost… almost, sent him away, convinced there was some joke being played on him that he didn't comprehend, but then Akira's left hand moved from where it rested on his knee to give Havoc a quick scratch behind the ears, and Kyle fell in this crazy little thing called love for the thousandth time since they'd first met.

He was gorgeous, that much was undeniable. Elegant, and clever, and as a pansexual switch, was able to be almost anything to anyone. It was easy to see how he'd excelled as a whore.

But Akira was more than that. He was his concealed acts of kindness, his fierce protectiveness, his social awkwardness. He was his unexpected talent at hand-to-hand combat, and his ceaseless patience, and his willingness to help Kyle's ‘strays' despite the token pretence at complaint. He was Kyle's bright spot in his day, the smile on Kyle's face, and the hand on Kyle's cock when he brought himself to completion alone in his room.

And he was also the man who was this close to snapping under the pressure Kyle was unfairly putting him under, but who still spared time to pet the heavy cat who had decided that him kneeling on a cushion made him fair game to be one himself.

Giving Akira a reprieve from the tormenting for the next few minutes seemed only fair. It had nothing to do with the way Kyle's tongue had knotted up in his mouth and seemed determined to choke him, or how Akira laid his head on Kyle's knee and began to make the same contented vibrations in his throat as the cats did.

Stars, the Master of House Epsilon was fucking purring at him.

Kyle didn't take in anything of the second half of the vid, too busy memorising every single line of the man's hair where it lay splayed over his bare knee, and stroking it behind Akira's ear.

So he was startled when the credits began to roll, disguising his surprise within the movement of getting to his feet.

"Uh, right."

He looked at Akira expectantly. His submissive only smiled up at him and kept his mouth firmly shut.

Clever bastard.

"You could have talked, you know," Kyle told him as he wandered over to the kitchenette in the corner of his apartment. The slow, ominous music of the credits emanated from the runepad's impressive speakers, and Kyle wondered how good proper vocals would sound on it. Those of Queen, maybe. AC/DC? "Nothing I could have punished you with would have been as painful as that bag of fluffy rocks sitting on your feet. We may have to amputate."

Havoc stretched and rolled off Akira's legs onto the floor. Kyle grinned. He knew from frequent experience with the compression effect of Havoc's bulk that the cat's departure was when the trapped nerves would begin to burn and tingle, and relished the soft exhale Akira made as the discomfort set in.

Kyle ran the tap for a minute before sliding a glass tumbler underneath. Water was as precious on Xerxes as it was expensive, but he also knew that nothing was worth getting a mouthful of what might have built up in the pipes. It didn't just taste foul; it was a possibility of illness he couldn't afford – and wouldn't risk for his cats.

The music finally ceased, signalling an end to the vid…and his submissive's speech restrictions.

"Very nice, Sir," was all Akira said then, showing more of that superhuman restraint by not immediately calling Kyle out on his nonsense antics.

"What?" asked Kyle.

"Nothing," Akira called over from where he was still on his knees. "I just like the look of you in those shorts. If you can even call them that."

Kyle snorted. "Only you could sound like a father and a lover in the same sentence. Lecherous old man, staring at my ass."

"Yes, Sir. Happily, Sir."

"Then you're clearly far too comfortable," Kyle said as he returned to him with the glass in one hand and a cat bowl in the other, both filled with water. "Remove the cushion."

The mournful, betrayed look Akira sent his way was crafted to perfection. Not too miserable or conniving: anguished enough to tug on the heartstrings – if the other party had any – without risking them calling an end to the scene. The kind of expression that would have caused Kyle to let the poor, despondent subbie keep his measly cushion…if he hadn't known exactly what tricks Master Epsilon liked to play and how damn good he was at them.

"None of that," Kyle chided sharply, giving the man's thigh a light kick as he moved past. "Cushion, pet."

"…yes, Sir."