Page 9 of Caroled
“You truly want to be my master? Mine?”
Charles watched a streetcar rattle by as he gathered his thoughts. He wasn’t a loquacious man, and he certainly wasn’t accustomed to sharing his feelings, perhaps because he’d had to hide them for so long. But it was likely he’d inherited a great deal of his nature from his mother, an intelligent and resourceful woman who raised a child on her own but who spoke very little. Charles knew she loved him; he’d always known that from the way she protected him and taught him, the way she always made sure he had what he needed even if it meant she went without. But as far as he could recall, she’d never said “I love you,” and she’d never said she was glad he’d come into her life. She’d never spoken about his father either. When she’d died quite suddenly from influenza, it left Charles destined to spend his adulthood carrying unanswered questions.
Charles’s mortal life was short, his job dangerous. Hell, human existence was dangerous. Soon enough he’d be dust and Tenrael would remain; Charles didn’t want Tenrael to spend eternity wondering how Charles had really felt.
He'd start with his baser nature; that was the easier part. “I think,” he said carefully, “Ineedto be your master. You’re strong enough to withstand me. If I didn’t have you… I’m not sure what I’d do. What I’d become. There’s this… icy thing inside my heart, and it’s dangerous. I don’t think a creature like me is meant to exist. I’m an abomination. You understand?”
Tenrael nodded solemnly. “I believe you are capable of harming others—perhaps more than the average human is. But I do not believe you are an abomination. I believe you are a wonder. A miracle.”
“You can bear the hurt I give, Ten, and so I need you.”
Tenrael gave a small smile. “I need you to hurt me. It is in my nature as well.”
“Yeah.” Charles blew out a long breath. Now on to the more complicated part. Gathering his thoughts, he watched an old woman, wearing an apron and with a scarf tied over her hair, sweeping the sidewalk. She gave their car an incurious glance as she worked her way past. She looked as if she’d been pushing that broom for decades and would never stop. He remembered the way his mother used to watch him while he played, her eyes full of emotions she would never express.
“I don’t just need you. I want you. And that’s something different. If that icy thing melts someday, if I no longer feel that push to… to cause pain, I’d still want you. With or without your wings and your horns. You specifically, of all the beings in the world.” He wouldn’t mention love because he wasn’t sure he was capable of it. But he could be honest about this much.
“Me,” Tenrael whispered, and then, “Master.”
Charles kissed him then. He couldn’tnotkiss him any more than he could stop breathing. He had to taste Tenrael on his lips and tongue—the flavor of bitter oranges—and bury a hand in his thick, glossy hair. Had to nibble on his lip hard enough to draw blood, making Tenrael groan and clutch at him. Had to feel that powerful body trapped against his own.
But then Charles opened his eyes and saw, over Tenrael’s shoulder, a stout man stood very near the car window, glaring at them. Charles wasn’t worried about being arrested; his Bureau identification would protect him. But he didn’t want to make a spectacle. Besides, he and Tenrael had a very nice bed waiting for them in a fancy hotel room. He straightened up, jerked the shift lever into Drive, and pulled away from the curb fast enough to make the angry man jump back.
* * *
“You should eat,” Tenrael said as they made their way into the crowded St. Francis lobby.
“Later. I was thinking that tonight we’d go out and visit a few of the places on the list Donne and Ferencz gave us. I can have dinner then.”
“But for now?” Tenrael was grinning.
“I’m hungry for something else.”
The elevator seemed exceptionally slow.
After they entered their room, while Charles was still hanging up their coats, Tenrael started to laugh. Charles came up next to him at the small table near the window, where a glass bowl full of gold foil-wrapped chocolate coins had appeared during their absence. Tenrael read the accompanying card. “Happy Hanukkah and congratulations. Abe and Thomas.”
“I don’t celebrate Hanukkah.” Charles didn’t celebrate anything.
But Tenrael unwrapped one of the candies and placed it on Charles’s tongue, where the chocolate melted almost instantly. Charles was still savoring the creamy richness when Tenrael kissed him, slow and tender and sweet. “You taste good,” he said, leaning their foreheads together. “You’re sweet.”
Charles scoffed. “I am anything but sweet.”
“But you are.”
Even if Charles knew the compliment wasn’t true, it warmed him. He’d been given so few of them, especially by people he cared about. It was lovely to look into Tenrael’s eyes—brown rather than red right now—and know that he mattered to someone.
He took a step back and deepened his voice. “Strip.”
Between his eagerness to obey and his unfamiliarity with shirts, Tenrael managed to rip his as he took it off. But Charles didn’t care; the Bureau could pay to replace it. The City of Paris department store was right on the other side of Union Square, and as Charles recalled, they carried—
Tenrael slipped out of his trousers, and Charles abandoned all thoughts of shopping. So beautiful. But there was one more thing Tenrael needed to remove.
“Take off the ring,” Charles commanded.
Tenrael’s heavy cock, already half-erect, hardened completely. “Yes, Master.” Smiling, he set the ring beside the chocolates.
The transformation back to himself was almost instant: a shimmer in the air and then his wings and horns were back and his eyes glowed redder than flames. He stood with his legs slightly apart, his head bowed, his wings spread widely. And he was… maybe beautiful wasn’t the word. Demons were not pretty creatures, and although Tenrael’s face wasn’t as gnarled and twisted as most, his features were harsh, as if he’d been carved out of stone. A stranger might not have found him ugly, exactly, but he was never going to be offered modeling jobs.
