Angel and the Assassin

say yes, yet
    knowing it was both dangerous and impossible.
    “Yes, Sir. I want to be your boy. I want to be the one making your breakfast
    and serving you. I want you to show me how to be an obedient boy and how to take
    care of you.”
    Kael paused as the enormity of the idea settled in. Having someone living with
    him full-time meant giving up some control, and he was not used to that. The idea
    of the Dom being in charge at every moment was not as black-and-white as it
    appeared. If he was going to have a full-time boy and not just a one-night stand or
    playtime slave, he would have to allow Angel to take some responsibility. He would
    have to teach him responsibility.
    More important, he had to figure out a way to keep Angel safe without keeping
    him hidden forever.
    Kael kept his voice low. “You have to obey me. You cannot lie to me because
    you think you might get into trouble.”
    Angel looked into his eyes earnestly. “Yes, Sir. I won‟t do it again.”
    “Why did you lie about your age?”
    He dropped his chin. “I thought you might think I was too young and you
    wouldn‟t want me. I‟m legal. The age of consent is sixteen in England.”
    “Go and get in the shower while I do the dishes.”
    “Shouldn‟t I do them, Sir? I‟m your houseboy.”
    Kael turned him around toward the door and slapped his buttocks, but gently.
    “Do exactly as you are told, and you do it at once.”
    “Yes, Sir.”
    “Get cleaned up and join me in the living room.”
    “Yes, Sir.”
    Eighteen years old. Bloody hell!
    Fifteen minutes later Kael sprawled on the leather couch watching Angel, pink
    and shiny from his shower, walk naked into the living room and up to him. The boy
    walked very upright, with his shoulders squared. Excellent posture for a
    submissive.
    Kael hated it when slaves looked put-upon. A boy should look confident even
    when he was licking his master‟s boots. He should be proud but not swaggering or
    obnoxious the way some masters carried themselves. That kind of swagger
    portrayed insecurity or overconfidence, which were both dangerous in the dungeon
    and did not lead to success in interactions with subs.

    Angel and the Assassin
    75

    Angel pirouetted on the ball of his left foot. The beauty of his bearing made
    Kael‟s breath catch. He patted his lap. “Come here.”
    Angel jumped into it and sat sideways, throwing his arm around Kael‟s neck.
    “I had such a good time last night, Sir, even with our abrupt departure.”
    Angel kissed Kael‟s cheek sweetly. It was little things like that that Kael liked
    far more than big displays of subservience. Angel looked into his face. “Sir”—he
    paused nervously—“Sir, how come you have so many names?”
    “I have to. I‟m a secret agent.” Kael grinned.
    “You are not.” Angel touched his face, tracing the line of his jaw with one
    finger. “That guy in the park called you Kael Saunders, and you knew him from
    when you were at school so that makes me think Kael Saunders is your real name
    and John Carpe is made up.” Kael was impressed with the deduction. “Last night at
    the bar, that bouncer called you Stephen Conran.”
    Kael chuckled. He deliberately used Conran‟s name on anything to do with his
    interactions with the leather community. He had signed into private leather clubs
    all over Europe using Conran‟s name. “It doesn‟t matter to you what my name is
    because you have to call me Sir at all times,” he said. “That‟s all I can tell you.”
    “Actually, Sir, I‟ve figured something out.”
    Kael had one arm around the boy‟s slender waist, and his other hand rested
    lightly over Angel‟s cock and balls. “Tell me what you‟ve figured out.”
    “Sir, you work for Greenpeace, don‟t you?”
    Confused at the assertion, Kael bit his lower lip to prevent himself from
    laughing out loud. “Aren‟t they the ones that save the whales?”
    “Yes, Sir, but they do other things too. Like trying to make the world a better
    place. I think they probably want to get rid of guns and stuff.”
    Kael raised his eyebrows as if impressed. “You found me out.”
    “Really? You work for Greenpeace?”
    “Yes, but a lot of what we do is covert. That was why I told Freddie I‟m in
    security.”
    “You‟ve never done it before, have you, Sir? You know, like, killed someone?”
    “No, of course not, but some people forfeit their right to live when they do bad
    things. Lots of people get hurt from arms sales.” Kael