27. Akira

CHAPTER 27

Akira

" Y ou're drunk," Theta said when he met Akira at the back door of his House on Level C, but he didn't sound disapproving. Just...amused.

Akira had been trying to maintain uprightness for the sake of House Theta's staff, but if their Master was going to remark so loudly on his inebriation, he needn't have bothered. He let himself slump against the worn doorway, not caring about all of the graffiti, piss, and cum that he knew had stained it over the years. Yet when his body failed to move and he realised he already was leaning on it, it occurred to him that maybe he hadn't been doing that good a job at pretending to be sober after all.

"It's 11pm," Akira said, or tried to. The slurring of his speech that he'd feigned earlier with the Carrions was all too real now. "I can be drunk."

"You can," Theta allowed, looking him up and down. "You could also come inside before you throw up on a client."

The only client Akira could see likely wouldn't notice any additional vomit with how much he'd already chucked up over himself, the whore he'd hired grimacing in disgust as she guided him to her room.

She must be new here. Drunks made good clients: they tipped freely and generously, could be easily pleased, and occasionally fell asleep in the middle of the act. It was no work at all to mess up their clothes and regale them with tales of how they'd had their mind blown when they finally woke up, giving the employee a rare chance to rest in the meantime.

Akira had sometimes dared to lighten their bank accounts while they were unconscious, too, at least with those who were stupid enough not to have locked their runepads. Most could be easily convinced that they'd freely paid for extra services the alcohol had since stolen the memories of, and as long as Akira had cut his Master in on the credits, he'd avoided a beating for stealing from clients.

Akira had only taken from the bastard Uppers, of course: thieving from those as badly off as you was only acceptable – according to his own loose principles – when you were starving. And by the time he'd started working at House Theta, Akira had been selling himself by the hour for long enough to secure himself at least one solid meal a day.

Stars, that felt like an eternity ago.

Theta must have noticed his expression, for he let out a low chuckle.

"There's always a place for you in my House, Akira," he murmured, dropping an arm around his shoulders and prying him from the doorframe.

"I'm a Master," Akira protested thickly around his uncooperative tongue, unsure if he was objecting to the offer or the use of his name.

"I meant as my guest," corrected Theta as he guided him further into the House, sounding incredulous.

Oh. Akira must have read something into his words that hadn't been there. How embarrassing.

He stumbled along at his side to the man's office, a sprawling room in the corner of the building with an enormous desk. Of course, the size of the desk wasn't really its noticeable feature – the cage underneath it was – and Akira relaxed fractionally when he saw it was empty.

Evidently none of Master Theta's staff had pissed him off in the past day, or they'd still be in there now.

Akira tried not to shudder as more memories came flooding back. It hadn't been the humiliation of the cage, or the discomfort of being confined in such a small space, that made it an effective punishment. It had been that while you were in there, you weren't fucking or getting fucked in one of the rooms upstairs, and that meant you weren't getting paid.

Akira had thought that opening his own House had meant he'd finally made it, that he'd never experience those particular fears again. Yet here he was, back on the brink of financial desperation and ready to beg his old employer for aid.

Theta was blessedly silent as he helped him into the chair opposite the desk and took the one behind it for himself, pouring them both generous glasses of whisky. It was smooth, and dark, and coated his throat as it went down, unlike the cheap shit Akira had drowned himself in earlier.

Theta only sipped from his own glass, watching him thoughtfully from over its rim. He waved a careless hand at the bottle to offer a refill when Akira finished.

Akira shook his head. The liquor was too fine to be wasted on the likes of him: a greedy street whore with delusions of grandeur. He didn't deserve the whisky but he'd taken and enjoyed it anyway.

Just like he had Kyle.

"Talk to me, Epsilon," Master Theta murmured, running a hand through his silvering hair. The beginnings of a beard graced his cheeks and chin; not from neglect but artful design, and even his relaxed pose in his chair couldn't hide the powerful strength in his body. The man was ageing gracefully, growing into his looks rather than out of them, and that was an impressive achievement considering how well he'd already drawn heads when Akira first began to work for him. "What brings you back here after all this time?"

Akira placed the empty glass on the desk and slid it away using the tips of his fingers so it was out of reach. It was still there, tempting him with its seductive promises, but hopefully the amount of exertion required from him to retrieve and fill it would make that temptation controllable.

"I need a million credits."

"And I need a good fuck," Theta responded without missing a beat. "Are we sharing wishes, or something more?"

Akira sagged into his chair. "More. I made a deal with the Carrion."

"By the stars, Epsilon," Theta ground out after he'd recovered from his visible shock. "What possessed you to be so stupid? Do you have any idea what Sinead Gallagher will do to you if you can't pay-"

"Yes," he said shortly.

The other man let out a long, slow breath. "You don't have the funds?"

"Did," Akira said. Single syllables seemed safest right now. "Need more. Please?"

That last word did something to his old boss. He sat up straighter, his eyes brightening, and seemed to shrug off his reticence. Elegant hands folded themselves across each other and came to rest on the surface of his desk.

"You want me to lend you the money? Just ask me, Akira."

He thought he already had? Maybe it had only been in his head.

"May I please borrow a million credits?" Akira asked obligingly, somehow managing to hold the man's gaze without flinching. It wasn't that he felt submissive to Theta – although he did, as until he'd worked his way into a seat on the Coterie that was the only dynamic they'd ever held – but there was a certain shame to begging for money that never went away. Not matter how much or why one needed it, the necessity of the act only barely took the edge off the humiliation. "I will pay you back as soon as I can."

"How?" Theta asked, his voice an octave lower than it had been. It was in Coaxing Dominant mode now, encouraging with a side of demanding. "You'd make a lot more money if you were to run your House like the Coterie has asked-"

And put profit over his staff? No.

"I can bring in the credits myself." Akira shrugged, a slow rise and fall of one shoulder. "Take on clients of my own. Appointments away from the House will-"

"Earn the most. Yes," he agreed softly, his expression turning tender. "You should reach out to your old client list. I doubt any of them would turn down the chance for another taste of you. And start with the Uppers: the mayor would pay a small fucking fortune to get you into his bed again."

"Not Mackenroth," Akira said distastefully, the words short and clipped. The man was the reason he was having to do this in the first place. Although having Xerxes' mayor fund the obstruction to his own plans had some nice irony to it.

Standing, Theta reached over the desk and held out his hand for Akira to shake. He did.

The other man frowned. "I'd have expected a solution to your financial woes to at least put a smile on your face. There's something else bothering you."

It wasn't a question. Master Theta had known him too long and at his most vulnerable, for him to be fooled by the pretences Akira showed to everyone else.

"I was with…Kyle."

A long, exasperated sigh erupted from the other man. "For fuck's sake. We've talked about this, Akira. If you can't stay away from him, fire the boy and remove him from your reach."

Akira stared at the now empty glass that was perched innocently next to the bottle of whisky. "But it was good. Nice. Fun."

Theta gave him a dark look, still looming over him. "How does any of that help your career or your House? Your family?"

Akira shrugged, letting his shoulders slowly rise and then drop.

"And that past tense verb? Was with Randall ? Are you going to tell me what happened, or do I have to wade through all the pouts and scowls first?"

Akira sighed. "I fucked up, Simon."

" Epsilon. "

"Sorry, Master." He didn't object to the hypocrisy of not being permitted to use Theta's real name. Closing his eyes, Akira let the whisky and foul vodka in his stomach dull both his body and his mind, no longer trying to fight the alcohol's insistent effects. "I said Robby's name in front of Kyle. To Kyle."

He heard a sharp, hissed inhale. "Oh, Akira."

A short pause, a rustle of fabric, and then fingers were stroking through his hair.

Akira stiffened. "What are you doing?"

"Offering comfort." Theta's voice was dry. "It's what human beings do for each other. Surely even an emotional vacuum like yourself has worked that out?"

He tried not to bristle at the condescension. "I don't need it."

"Stop being such a selfish, unfeeling bastard, and consider that maybe I do," said the other man sharply, and Akira's eyes shot open to land on his.

He wasn't unfeeling. Sometimes he wished he was, because the emotion could overwhelm him until the fear or the lust or the anger became his entire world. He just wasn't very good at understanding the feelings of other people.

Theta was grinning wolfishly down at him, an expression Akira knew well – and had learned to treat with caution. "You're not the only one with things to worry about," his ex-House Master murmured. "It would be good to take the edge off, would it not?"

Akira hesitated. He'd promised himself that he wouldn't have sex with his old boss again, but he'd also promised he wouldn't let Kyle get any closer than occasional scenes within the confines of their work. That he wouldn't let himself fall for the blonde's guileless smiles and carefree cheer and boundless, beautiful heart.

That he would never, ever, let Kyle learn about Robby.

Theta's fingers trailed down the back of his scalp to his neck, before settling around his throat and squeezing. "Fine," he murmured, his demeanour instantly changing from guarded friendliness to oppressive dominance. He leaned over Akira, eradicating all personal space left to him, and twisted his hand to put pressure on both his windpipe and the angle of his neck. "If it's not for mutual satisfaction, consider it a generous offer from your first client in helping you pay off your freshly incurred debt. I'll wipe five grand from it in exchange for your company for the rest of the night."

Five thousand credits…out of a million. It was indeed generous and as much as Akira could hope to earn from anyone else, but it brought home the formidable reality of his situation and how fucking long he'd be in Theta's debt.

He really shouldn't begin with denying the man.

And if Akira was going to do this, to put himself back in the trade on the regular, he'd be servicing clients a lot worse than Master Theta. He could only be grateful he'd had the sense to remove the cock cage in the early stages of his drunkenness, for if Theta had discovered him still wearing the toy Kyle had put on him, he would have been merciless .

"Epsilon? Do we have a deal?"

Akira dipped his chin and mouthed his assent, although the hand around his neck denied him the ability to speak the words out loud.

But Theta understood, and he smiled.

It was not a nice smile.

-

"Akira, darling, don't try to move. It's been a big night for you."

He wet parched lips and attempted to swallow. His throat hurt. "What…what time…"

"Shush," Theta said, laying a warm hand on Akira's bare shoulder.

Akira cracked an eye, immediately regretted it with the light that came flooding in, and gave up on trying to see. It wasn't just his throat that hurt. He was lying on what felt like the floor of Theta's office, naked but no longer bound, and every inch of his body felt like it had been flung down to the Earth.

"I need to…"

The hand on his shoulder pressed down, keeping him in place. Master Theta tsked. "You don't need to do anything, darling. I've organised a car to take you home, and called someone from your House to accompany you and make sure you're fine. You are fine, aren't you, Epsilon?"

Akira didn't have the energy to analyse the bite behind the words. "Yes."

"I'm so glad to hear that. Ah, that will be him now."

"Him?" Akira croaked. "Who did you call-"

"Akir…Epsilon!?"

Oh, fuck. Fuck the stars, the city, and every other damn thing in the universe. Theta had called Kyle?

It might have been a kindness, but even beaten, fucked, and dangerously hungover, Akira knew it was no such thing. Master Theta was finishing off his night of purchased dominion over him with one final act of abuse.

"Oh, Epsilon," Kyle whispered, close enough that Akira could smell him. Soap. Plain but clean, and with something intangible that made the scent uniquely Kyle's. Warm breath fluttered over Akira's face. "What happened? Are you alright?"

All Akira had to do was open his eyes and he'd get to see his man, and all the joy that just looking at him could bring.

But there was nothing in the world that could compel Akira to face him like this, not here and not now.

He buried his face into his arm, tasting blood and whisky and failure, and feeling absolutely wretched.