Against his own beliefs, Jere has lived in a slave state with his slave and lover, Wren, for a year. Wren is forbidden to leave the state and Jere refuses to leave Wren behind. Despite reluctantly adapting to the ways of his new state, Jere misses the carefree life he had before moving to Hojer and inheriting a slave. He wants to show Wren a fun evening out. After a night at a club, they have an encounter on that way home that reminds them both just how different things are in a slave state. (M/M)
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Wren felt a familiar tightening in his throat, an old fear; an irrational fear, given that this was Jere who had bought him something. Still, he had been a slave for years, and “gifts” from his previous master usually consisted of torture tools or embarrassing, revealing outfits that made Wren feel even more exposed and vulnerable than usual.
Jere ran down the hall to their bedroom, returning with a bag. “Open it!” he demanded, playful and excited, shoving the package toward Wren.
Resigned to making his lover happy, Wren took the package and opened it up, somewhat surprised at what he saw. A fashionable, stylish-yet-casual suit in a dark grey color, obviously expensive. He brushed his hands across the soft fabric, wondering where something of this quality had come from.
“I had a little help getting it,” Jere grinned at him. “Nothing in this shithole of a town carries anything nice! It’s from a shop in Sonova.”
Wren grinned back at him. “Thank you.”
“Try it on!” Jere urged him toward the bathroom. “Come out all fancied up, I want to see you!”
Wren couldn’t help but smile as he went into the bathroom, changing more slowly than was necessary, given his speed gift, just to tease. He felt a little ridiculous for feeling nervous—after this long with Jere, he should have known that he would never dress Wren in some garish stripper outfit. He paused for a moment, glancing at his own reflection. It fit him perfectly, clinging to his sturdy frame and making him look dignified, older than his years. The outfit wasn’t really fit for a slave—too proper, too conservative, too classy.
He stepped out, trying to force the blush off his face. “Well?”
Jere said nothing, just cocked his head and smiled, walking toward him. He grabbed the lapels of Wren’s jacket, carefully, but possessively, pulling him close and kissing him.
“I guess this means you like it?” Wren said telepathically, returning the kiss and relaxing into Jere’s soft pull at his shirt.
“I like you,” Jere returned, “beautiful, perfect, soft… the outfit is nice, too.”
The outfit, however, was quickly discarded.
Jere had stripped out of his clothes as well, and came up to Wren, kissing him again and nibbling a path down his neck.
Wren grinned, turning so that Jere could better access the sensitive skin, where he continued to nibble and kiss. “I’m sure I’ll have a good time if I’m with you,” he admitted. Unlike everyone else who had ever touched him like that, Jere always made him feel good, from the first time, to right this very moment.
“I can show you all sorts of good times,” Jere teased, dropping to his knees. “Want to see some of them?”