Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 5

and eat something."
    Was this a tease? A test? Gods, just give him the answer. Was Sebastian supposed to beg? He might just be willing. His stomach gnawed on itself, threatening to collapse entirely if he didn't swallow something, anything. His mind floated adrift in a sea of hunger.
    What had he said before? I'd let you lick me all over, over the head, sucking out the cum that's already there… Would you do that for me, if I asked you to?
    Yes, he'd answered, because he did want to, although he wasn't aroused now. He wanted to eat, and if this was the price, he would be happy to pay. His mind latched onto that thought, grateful to have solved the puzzle in its numbed state.
    He rose from the chair and wavered briefly, then walked around the table and knelt at the man's feet. He fumbled with the man's lacings, but his hands were caught in a tight grip. He looked up. The man looked murderous.
    "What are you doing?" The words rippled around him. His eyes blurred, but he was glad that he at least managed to remain upright.
    The hands released him and he felt a smooth surface against his lips. He opened, mindless as a babe, and cool water trickled to the back of his throat. Several times he drank from the hand he could not see, but was forced to trust.
    Then the cup was gone and something soft whispered at his lips. He opened again and was rewarded with a chunk of bread. As he chewed, he realized it was definitely torn from the inside, not the crust. How long had it been since someone had fed him so carefully? More likely it had never happened. He had always been the one to make sure his father got fed, not the other way around.
    The bread was followed by a grape, and then more bread, and finally a few choice morsels of meat. Sebastian ate in a kind of trance, kneeling with his eyes closed. He took a few more sips of water, and felt utterly full. Utterly content.
    That was not to last.
    Hands that were not rough but were not gentle lifted him and sat him on the chair, its surface still warm. Sebastian opened his eyes to regard the cold soldier who was bound to interrogate him now, to hurt him. He had just been fattened up like a pig to the slaughter, but he couldn't regret it.
    "What's your name?" The words blurred together as if he had drunk two tanks full of spirits instead of a half glass of water.
    "I am Drake." As usual the words were soft, belying the stern countenance they emerged from. What would it take to shake that implacable severity? But he knew. He'd already accomplished it once before with a well-placed thrust of his hips. This man wasn't immune to him.
    A napkin cleaned his lips softly, then again and he realized it was damp. Sebastian's breath caught as Drake moved it over his face, washing his forehead, wiping his eyes, following the contours of his nose and cheeks. Sebastian barely moved a muscle as Drake wrung out the cloth in a basin of water – precious water – by his side and washed his neck, his chest and his arms.
    Why was Drake cleaning him? Was he to be presented to one of the Generals? Perhaps even the prisoners had to be pristine before they could be tortured by one of them. He couldn't complain. Not only because he couldn't speak, but also because it felt too damned good – the warm water, the soft cloth, the gentle touch. This was nothing like the tight strokes that had yanked him to completion on the floor of his cell. Each gentle stroke caused his eyes to prick and warm, and he closed them even tighter.
    Now he understood what Drake was doing. He had buttered him up, so that Sebastian was forced to rely on him, to trust him, no matter what. The warmth of the room, the fullness of the food, the sweetness of his touch lulled Sebastian into a state of complacency more effective than any truth serum.
    Even as he knew it to be a ruse, the words fell from his lips. "I wasn't with the rebels."
    "No?" Drake was clearly unconvinced, but that was fair enough because Sebastian had been with them.
    "I was there to petition for the release of one of their prisoners."
    Drake stilled. "And?"
    Sebastian opened his eyes at that and found himself looking into two blue ones, as if he looked up into a great expanse of sky. "And what?"
    "Did they free the prisoner?"
    Sebastian felt his face darken with grief, but that was part of the ruse. He was too open, too vulnerable this way. He couldn't stop. "No. They said they needed 2,500 credits to release him." It didn't need to be said that he didn't have