Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 5

thought.
    The man's body was lean, a body born of years of hardship, but even so it was glorious. His clothes had been rags, and his body smelled of filth, and yet Drake could sense the tightly leashed strength. Where another man would quake or beg or threaten, Sebastian wore his chains like jewels.
    Drake felt stirrings of lust for this man, which was bad enough. Stranger still, he felt something like respect.
    He hadn't always been a fighter. Many years ago he had been a farmer who thought he could stay out of the war and just feed his family. His child had only been a beautiful raised tummy on his wife when the rebels had burned his home, murdered his wife and child, and beaten him nearly to death.
    He had turned into a machine after that, a machine that fought for Ke'lan. He still didn't care about the cause. He refused to attend the propaganda meetings or accept a promotion into the higher ranks. All he wanted to do was fight. To kill.
    Except tonight, when somehow, he didn't seem to have the stomach to cause even pain. He didn't want Sebastian to die. What was wrong with him?
    The squeak of his superior officer's boots sounded behind him, and he felt the corpulent presence beside him. "Did you break him yet?" General Folsom asked.
    "Not yet."
    Folsom peered closer to the screen. "How old is he?"
    "Fully grown." Drake recognized the spark of interest in Folsom's eyes, and found he didn't like it. He'd seen the men who were dragged unseeing from Folsom's bed. The thought of Sebastian's body being one of them made him sick. "I will manage him."
    Folsom grunted. "See that you do."
    After Folsom left, Drake closed his eyes against the pitiful sight on the screen. He almost hated to break the man. Strength was so rare these days. But if he failed, Sebatian would be passed along to one of the other interrogators, ones well versed and infatuated with torture.
    Drake refused to let that happen. He would break Sebastian. He had to.
    He glanced back at the screen. Sebastian faced the wall in fetal position, still. The picture of vulnerability stirred that something in Drake, that heady mixture of lust and affection that should have died in him years ago. He would have the night to inure himself to such a weakness. Sebastian would also get to rest and recover his strength.
    Tomorrow they would battle. Tomorrow, Drake would win.
    ****
    When Drake walked into the room, Sebastian scrambled to a stand against the wall. Far from rested, the man looked tired today. Drake knew they wouldn't have fed him. He held the bottle of water out from his body, as if coaxing a skittish animal.
    Sebastian eyed it warily.
    "Take it," Drake said. "I brought it for you."
    Sebastian mouthed something, then cleared his throat and tried again. "You first."
    So, he speaks. Drake almost smiled. The distrust was an insult, but he wouldn't hold that against a caged man. He took a swig from the bottle and held it out again.
    Sebastian gingerly took it, careful not to touch their fingers. Then he gulped down the entire contents, dribbling a wet line down the side of his chin. His fingers clutched the empty bottle, made from recyclable hydrocarbons, at his side.
    Drake raised his eyebrows. "Planning on using that as a weapon?"
    Sebastian let the bottle slip from his fingers, but as it clattered on the floor, he raised his chin. The message was clear: he may not have the means to fight, but he would not bow. Drake would see about that.
    In a minute, Drake wrestled the other man down to the floor. Sebastian struggled, a jumble of sluggish limbs and defiant spirit, but he was no match for Drake. Drake felt no victory at all. This wasn't a fair fight. This wasn't about fairness at all.
    "Come on, boy," he said. "Tell me something. A new location. A supply route. You were in the rebel compound; you've got to have something I can use." It didn't matter to Drake what it was. Drake would insist it was all Sebastian had to offer and ensure he was released.
    He could see the boy's tongue swish in his mouth, probably trying to spit at him again although the man really couldn't afford to lose the moisture. Drake clamped his hand across Sebastian's mouth. "Don't even think about it," he snarled. "I let you get away with that last night. I won't be so lenient today."
    Sebastian's eyes flashed with impotent fury. His hips bucked up to throw Drake off, but he wouldn't be dislodged that easily. The movement had a surely unintended effect, though, as Sebastian writhed