Fiction: The Prize part 2

[kethni]

Name: Prize part 2

Rating: 18

Pairing: Matt/Mohinder, Matt/Adam implied

 

 

 

 

“Master, I would not abandon your bed,” Mohinder protests.

 

 

“Such a pretty lie,” Matt says lightly. “A long chain,” he says to the metal slave crouching by the bed. “So he can move about the bed without undue distress.”

 

 

“Yes master,” the slave says, fastening an elaborately decorated manacle around Mohinder’s wrist.

 

 

“Is it pretty enough?” Matt asks Mohinder.

 

 

“Master?” Mohinder asks cautiously.

 

 

“You said that you liked pretty things. I did not wish to distress with something that you found ugly.”

 

 

Mohinder inclines his head and smiles. “If I said no would you take it off?” he asks.

 

 

“Only to replace it with another,” Matt says, smiling back.

 

 

Mohinder makes a show of examining the gold and silver manacle. “It is very pretty, master, thank you.”

 

 

The slave attaches a long, slender chain to the manacle and then to a link in the wall.

 

 

“Will he be able to break it?” Matt demands.

 

 

The slave grovels at his feet. “No, no, it is too strong for ten slaves.”

 

 

“Be gone,” Matt says, kicking him. “Damn artisan slaves. Too cringing for my taste though I’m sure he pleases his master.”

 

 

“I don’t cringe,” Mohinder says, leaning back against the pillows.

 

 

“No,” Matt agrees, climbing onto the bed. “Very little.”

 

 

 

 

Adam folds his arms and stares at the adapted caravan. The sides are open with thick bars set too closely to allow a man to pass through. Inside there are cushions, platters of food, water, and wine. A corner is blocked off with a hatch for relief. Inside Mohinder stands up and walks up to the bars.

 

 

“Do you like what you see?” Mohinder asks archly. “I fear I am past your grasp.”

 

 

“Do not flatter yourself. Your kind is ten a penny.”

 

 

Mohinder smiles and flutters his eyelashes. “But not my master’s kind, hmm?”

 

 

“What?” Adam snaps.

 

 

Mohinder laughs and shakes his head. “Do you think that you are not seen? All know that you want him.”

 

 

“Be silent!”

 

 

“Or what?” Mohinder smirks, licking his lips slowly. “Shall you strike me? Do you think he would like that?”

 

 

“Pathetic slave,” Adam sneers. “He will tire of you.”

 

 

“After he has used me up,” Mohinder purrs. “He will never even touch you. He barely sees you. Poor, poor you.”

 

 

Adam lunges forward and Mohinder skips back. “Cowardly wretch,” he snarls.

 

 

“My master would be most displeased if I was damaged,” Mohinder says sweetly. “My master who uses me day and night as the mood takes him. Do you dream about it? Do you wish you were me?”

 

 

Adam slams the bars with his fist. “When he tires of you I will rip out your tongue and feed it to you.”

 

 

“It will not make what I’ve said less true.”

 

 

 

 

Matt looks up as the curtain to the tent is thrown open and Adam storms in. He looks back down at the map on the table.

 

 

“We make good time.”

 

 

“That creature of yours needs to keep his tongue,” Adam growls.

 

 

“He isn’t out of the cage is he?” Matt asks, surprised.

 

 

“No, he is there; lolling about like a palace whore.” Adam stalks about the tent. “He will cause dissension.”

 

 

Matt stands up. “Cause dissension with the men or with you?”

 

 

Adam looks away. “He delights in causing trouble. You think he will stop attempting escape because you have him in a box? He will spread lies, rumours, and trouble. We cannot have that. You cannot allow that.”

 

 

“What did he say to you?” Matt asks walking over to Adam. “He is only a slave, Adam.” Matt reaches out to rub the other man’s arm but he yanks his arm away and steps back.

 

 

“You ought not to have brought him,” Adam says flatly.

 

 

“You did not want me to purchase him in the first place,” Matt points out. “I did and he is here. It is what it is. The only power that he has is what you allow him to have.”

 

 

Adam bares his teeth. “Remember that I warned you.”

 

 

 

 

A spike is hammered into the floor. The chain from Mohinder’s manacle is connected to a loop on the side of the spike. Mohinder tugs at the chain and then climbs onto the bed and waits.

 

 

 

 

“What did you say to Adam?” Matt demands as he walks into the tent.

 

 

Mohinder looks at him and shrugs. “Nothing of note, master.”

 

 

“What?”

 

 

Mohinder purses his lips and climbs off the bed. He walks around and kneels in front of Matt. “Master, I told him that all know that he desires you.”

 

 

“What?” Matt asks blankly. He grabs Mohinder’s chin and forces up his face. “Explain.”

 

 

“Master is hurting me,” Mohinder says meekly.

 

 

“Do you call me unmanly?” Matt demands. “Or do you call him unmanly? Which is it?”

 

 

Mohinder shifts position as he tries to ease his discomfort.

 

 

“My people do not think it unmanly to penetrate or be penetrated,” he says uncomfortably. “I cannot tell you which Adam wants. Please, master, do you want me to tell you untruths?”

 

 

Matt lets go of him and steps back. “You told him this, why?”

 

 

“It amused me.”

 

 

Matt snorts and nudges Mohinder gently with his foot. “Get on the bed.”

 

 

Mohinder climbs on the bed and sits cross-legged. “Ought I to fetch some food and drink?”

 

 

“You would be gone in an instant,” Matt says drily, climbing onto the bed. “Where comes this belief in Adam’s... partiality?”

 

 

“Gossip and observation, master,” Mohinder says meekly. He cautiously moves behind Matt and pulls up his robe.

 

 

“So you believe this, do you?” Matt asks, adjusting his position so Mohinder can pull his robe up and over his head.

 

 

“Yes master,” Mohinder admits. He runs a hand over Matt’s shoulder. “Shall I rub your back?” He picks up the jug of scented oil and unstoppers it.

 

 

Matt lies down and pulls a pillow under his head. “I ought not to have hurt you.”

 

 

“Master?” Mohinder asks surprised.

 

 

“Truth ought not be punished,” Matt says, groaning as Mohinder rubs his back. “Insolence, but not truth.”

 

 

Mohinder shifts his weight so that he grinds against Matt’s back.

 

 

“But master does not want to punish me, does he?” he asks.

 

 

“More gossip?” Matt asks smiling to himself.

 

 

“Observation,” Mohinder replies. He chews his lip and then leans down to kiss the back of Matt’s neck.

 

 

Matt looks back at him over his shoulder. “More physic?” he asks drily.

 

 

“It does not please?” Mohinder pouts.

 

 

“It pleases.” Matt purses his lips thoughtfully. “What were you before you were slaved?”

 

 

Mohinder shrugs expansively. “My father was the king.”

 

 

“Ah.” Matt closes his eyes and rests his head back on the pillow. “You were taught the arts of politic and intrigue no doubt.”

 

 

“No doubt,” Mohinder says blandly.

 

 

“Oldest son?”

 

 

“I had a sister,” Mohinder admits as he moves down Matt’s body. “She would have become queen. So I was trained in the scholarly arts.”

 

 

“Hmm.” Matt rolls over. “You could be most useful; if I only could trust you not to run.”

 

 

“If you were me, would you not run?”

 

 

Matt reaches up to play with a lock of his hair. “If I were you I should have died before being slaved.”

 

 

“I do not value my life so little.”

 

 

“Or value your honour so much,” Matt says mildly. “What use is life without honour?”

 

 

“What use is honour without life, master?” Mohinder asks.

 

 

Matt tucks his elbow underneath his head. “Life without honour is no life.”

 

 

“Yet I live.” Mohinder leans down and kisses Matt’s throat. “Perhaps there is no dishonour in doing what must be done.”

 

 

Matt rolls them over so that he is looming over Mohinder. “You are not stupid and you are not captive to ideas above reality. Be wise then; cease this useless and futile fighting.”

 

 

“I do not fight master!” Mohinder protests. “I am entirely amenable.”

 

 

Matt strokes his hand up Mohinder’s thigh and rubs slowly. “You have a way with words. You flatter me, you needle Nathan and Claire, and what you do to Adam... there is a talent there though wickedly applied.”

 

 

“I think it most unfair to call me wicked,” Mohinder pouts.

 

 

Matt raises Mohinder’s legs and wraps them around his waist. “But you are; very wicked and clever.”

 

 

“I am not prepared, master.”

 

 

“Tch.” Matt slaps Mohinder’s hip and sits back. “Be quick.”

 

 

“If I could but stay ready always I would,” Mohinder says lightly, his fingers working quickly.

 

 

“Liar,” Matt laughs. “If you were to escape, where you go? You would be caught and brought back. Then I would have to punish you. Consider; you have talent and intelligence if you try to hide it or not.”

 

 

Mohinder rests a hand on the back of Matt’s neck. As he lies down he pulls Matt on top of him and wraps his legs around Matt’s waist.

 

 

“What would you have uh...” Mohinder gulps as Matt enters him, “have me do?”

 

 

 

 

Adam grinds his teeth and looks away. Matt and Mohinder are on the horse next to him; Matt sat back with Mohinder in front of him and riding side-saddle.

 

 

“Adam,” Matt calls. “We make better time than we thought. See the city walls?”

 

 

“General.”

 

 

“Come, man, what ails? We battle soon enough,” Matt chides.

 

 

Adam forces himself to smile. “Yes, the pleasure indeed of a long siege.”

 

 

“So dull,” Matt complains. He strokes Mohinder’s legs idly. “Where is your excitement?”

 

 

“I at least am not distracted,” Adam says sourly.

 

 

“That is not how it appears to me,” Matt says lightly. “Indeed I think if their army were to appear instantly we would be unhorsed before you noticed.”

 

 

“Your creature would doubtless be of use at last; when they kill him first and give you time to draw your sword,” Adam snits.

 

 

Matt snorts and ruffles Mohinder’s hair. “No doubt he would be off and running by then.”

 

 

“You ought to hamstring him. Then there would be no running away.”

 

 

Mohinder merely smirks at Adam and shows his tongue.

 

 

“Enough,” Matt says mildly. “Adam, you demean yourself. He’s beneath your notice. He taunts you because you respond.”

 

 

“You allow him to,” Adam says coldly.

 

 

Matt slaps Mohinder’s legs. “Turn about.” Mohinder turns awkwardly so that his back is to Adam. “Really,” he says to Adam. “I had thought you would be embarrassed to seek protection from a slave.”

 

 

“Protection?” Adam spits. “General you go too far.”

 

 

Matt nods slowly. “I do. You have my apologies.”

 

 

 

 

The army surrounds the city walls and draws up the siege engines. They make camp out of range of the missiles thrown over the walls. The central tent is elaborate with rugs on the floor and ornate decorations on the wall. Matt and Adam are poring over a map as Mohinder walks in with a tray.

 

“Refreshment, master,” he says mildly.

 

“Oh, now you let him wander free?” Adam complains.

 

Matt rolls his eyes. “Behave now, both of you. Mohinder, come here.”

 

Mohinder walks over with his face set submissively.

 

“Did I ask for refreshment?” Matt asks mildly, reaching for a piece of bread.

 

“No master, but it is the time of day you normally take it,” Mohinder says sweetly. “Should I go away?”

 

“Oh please do,” Adam drawls.

 

“No,” Matt squeezes Mohinder’s bottom. “But fetch some wine.”

 

Mohinder nods agreeably.

 

“You give weight to his status by engaging in this pointless sniping,” Matt says mildly.

 

Adam throws himself into a chair. “I give status? I am not the one indulging and doting on the creature.”

 

Matt frowns at him. “I have neither lover not children. Who would you have me indulge and dote on?”

 

Adam reddens and looks away. “Silk robes and gold jewellery,” he grumbles. “No wonder it is so above its station.”

 

“Because bringing his master food and drink is clearly a sign of being above his station?”

 

Mohinder walks back into the tent with a jar of wine and two goblets. He silently takes in the expressions of the two men and moves over to Matt. Matt snatches a goblet and pours himself a generous measure of wine.

 

“Here,” Adam says snapping his fingers.

 

“As you say,” Mohinder says nicely, moving over to him. He pours a goblet of wine and hands it over.

 

“Food, Mohinder,” Matt says, leaning back over the map.

 

Mohinder winks at Adam and puts the wine to one side. He picks up the platter of food and stands beside Matt.

 

 

 

Mohinder is on fours on the bed; he grunts and pushes back as Matt thrusts into him.

 

Adam pulls shut the tiny gap in the curtain and stalks away, head lowered.

 

 

Matt lies on his side and pulls Mohinder closer. “Most pleasing.”

 

 

“Master is kind,” Mohinder says, shifting.

 

 

Matt walks his fingers over Mohinder’s stomach. “I wish you not to further antagonise Adam.”

 

 

“I was all politeness,” Mohinder protests.

 

 

Matt shakes his head and bites at Mohinder’s ear. “I cannot have my second in command so distracted.”

 

 

“It is not I who distracts him,” Mohinder says archly.

 

 

“You persist in this?”

 

 

“I will not mention it again if master wishes me not to.” Mohinder rolls onto his side to face Matt. “Your people believe being desired by another man makes you unmanly?”

 

 

Matt strokes Mohinder’s side. “To be penetrated is unmanly. If I was a young man and a man of Adam’s rank and standing desired me it would be an honour but for a grown man... it is an insult.”

 

 

“So your desire insults me?” Mohinder asks.

 

 

Matt laughs. “You are a slave. You have no honour to insult. Manly, womanly, it is the same to you.”

 

 

Mohinder catches himself before answering. “Desire is as hunger or thirst; it comes as it pleases with no thought for the subject or object.”

 

 

Matt sighs and nods. “I cannot believe Adam would choose to insult me so. I thought us as brothers.” He pinches Mohinder’s stomach and smiles at Mohinder’s squeak of displeasure. “But the reverse is little better. That he would so unmanly as to wish...”

 

 

“This is the judgement of manliness for such a civilized empire; ones preferred method of pleasuring?” Mohinder sneers. “He is of age, can protect himself, can feed himself; are those not measures of manhood? He is a soldier.”

 

 

Matt rolls his eyes. “I am being lectured on manliness by a catamite.”

 

 

“As it pleases,” Mohinder says shortly, rolling over away from Matt and pulling the covers over himself.

 

 

“None of that now,” Matt protests, trying to tug the covers away. “Damn you, turn over.”

 

 

Mohinder turns to face him and glares with hooded eyes. “What, master?”

 

 

Matt blinks at him. “Why angry?” he asks surprised.

 

 

“I do not know,” Mohinder says hotly. “Why angry after being slaved, beaten, starved, sold, used, and now called without honour and a catamite? I cannot imagine why I should be angry!” He turns again and pulls the pillow over his head.

 

 

“Don’t be angry,” Matt says awkwardly. “Look at me.”

 

 

“Leave me alone.”

 

 

“Do not push me,” Matt growls.

 

 

Mohinder shoves the pillow under his head and lies back, staring at the ceiling.

 

 

Matt sits up and straddles Mohinder. “I have been understanding and indulgent. Have I not?”

 

 

Mohinder licks his lips. “Yes, master,” he says quietly.

 

 

“I do not demand perfection but I do require respect and obedience,” Matt says resting his hands on the bed on either side of Mohinder’s face and leaning forward. “Beauty and talent earn some allowance but not absolute.”

 

 

“I am not suited to slavery,” Mohinder says quietly.

 

 

“No,” Matt says, and sits back. “If you were I should not like you as well as I do.”

 

 

Mohinder sits up a little. “I am not a thing without feelings,” he says quietly. “Treating me as such is not the way to my respect.”

 

 

“One does not ask slaves for their respect,” Matt says mildly.

 

 

“Respect, like loyalty, is all the less likely offered when demanded,” Mohinder says calmly. “With slaves as it is with free men. Your household slaves don’t respect you because you demand it; but because they know where they stand and because you treat them well.”

 

 

“Do I not treat you well?” Matt asks, raising an eyebrow.

 

 

Mohinder meets his eyes. “You talk to me as a thing, not a person.”

 

 

“You are a thing,” Matt says. “That it was it means to be a slave.”

 

 

“Then there is nothing more to be said.”

 

 

 

 

Matt wakes first and lies quietly for a while. He strokes Mohinder’s arm softly and listens to his breathing. Asleep Mohinder’s face is years younger and much more open.

 

 

“Mohinder?” Matt says quietly. “Can you hear me?”

 

 

Mohinder murmurs something and shifts in his sleep.

 

 

Matt spoons around him and pushes his face into Mohinder’s hair.

 

 

 

 

 

The opposing army streams through the city gates in a desperate, unruly mob.

 

 

“Now, now,” Matt tuts. “This will never do.”

 

 

“No sport at all,” Adam agrees.

 

 

 

The horns and whistles blow and the elephants are driven forward; screaming their way through the suddenly panicking, fleeing men towards the still open city gates. As the desperate men flee away from the city gates they are cut down like chaff by Matt’s forces.

 

 

The city gates as smashed fully open and the soldiers march forward in tight formation.

 

 

“Why on earth did they not sit tight within the city?” Adam wonders as they prepare to charge down the hillside towards the field of blood and steel. “It would have taken us weeks to break them out.”

 

 

“Panic,” Matt says weighing his sword in his hand. “So little control these barbarians have.”

 

 

Adam grins and spurs his horse forward.

 

 

 

 

Matt staggers into his tent; armour torn, filthy, and covered in his own blood. Mohinder, tethered to the spike in the ground, leaps up and back away.

 

 

“Aid me?” Matt asks, struggling to take off his helmet.

 

 

Mohinder shakes himself and rushes over. He unbuckles the breastplate and almost staggers under the weight of it.

 

 

“How badly injured are you?”

 

 

“The medics are tending my men,” Matt says, dropping his helmet and sword. “I am merely scratched.”

 

 

“Of course,” Mohinder says sardonically. “Mere scratches that have you barely able to stand.” He undresses Matt and then frowns. “I will have to clean away this blood so that I can see your wounds.”

 

 

“As you will,” Matt says exhaustedly. He closes his eyes as Mohinder bathes him; covering him with oil and very cautiously scraping away the blood, sweat, and mud.

 

 

“Was your victory glorious?” Mohinder asks.

 

 

“All my battles are glorious,” Matt says smiling slightly. “Even the defeats.”

 

 

The curtain is thrown open and Adam storms in. His helmet has gone, his breastplate is dented, and he is limping. He pulls up short and stares at Matt and Mohinder.

 

 

“Mohinder is trained in physic,” Matt says, opening one eye. “But he could not see the wounds.”

 

 

“Oh.”

 

 

“I need supplies, master,” Mohinder says meekly.

 

 

“Adam, untether him,” Matt orders. “Be quick, Mohinder.”

 

 

Adam does as he’s bid and then stands silent and staring as Mohinder ducks out of the tent.

 

 

“Have you been seen by the medics?” Matt asks, rolling his head.

 

 

“Not yet, they are dealing with the men. Their need is greater.”

 

 

Matt nods at Mohinder as he returns to the tent. “Mohinder can see to you; if you are willing.”

 

 

“I fear the treatment far more than the injury,” Adam scoffs.

 

 

Mohinder ignores him and begins binding Matt’s injuries.

 

 

“Have you had his tongue removed? A good step,” Adam says, rubbing his hair.

 

 

“I told him not to antagonise you any further,” Matt says, wincing in pain. “Be more careful!”

 

 

“Master has a sword wound three inches deep,” Mohinder says tightly. “How careful would I have to be?”

 

 

“Your creature has a point,” Adam observes. “Pain is the gods way of telling you to be more careful in future.”

 

 

Matt shakes his head. “Oh, now you act together against me,” he mutters.

 

 

Mohinder walks around Matt. “Are there any wounds I have not tended, master?”

 

 

“There,” Adam says shortly, gesturing. “A small cut on the belly.”

 

 

Mohinder nods. “I see it.”

 

 

“I see he is a better medic than he is a slave,” Adam says sourly.

 

 

“Adam, desist,” Matt says tiredly. “Now you embarrass yourself.”

 

 

“Will he live?” Adam asks Mohinder.

 

 

Mohinder dresses Matt in a clean tunic and help him onto the bed.

 

 

“Master needs rest. The wounds are many but none should be fatal if cared for properly,” Mohinder says.

 

 

Matt wraps an arm around Mohinder’s waist and pulls him close. He rests his forehead against Mohinder’s chest.

 

 

“Would you like me to see to your wounds?” Mohinder asks, looking back at Adam.

 

 

“Would I survive the experience?” Adam retorts.

 

 

Mohinder gently pushes Matt down onto the bed and covers him up. Within seconds he’s snoring softly. “I am not the one wishes the other dead and gone.”

 

 

Adam shoves off his armour. “Wish you dead and gone? You are beneath my notice,” he sneers.

 

 

Mohinder yanks the tunic off him roughly. “And yet you notice. As the master uses me, fondles me, plies me pretty things, you watch, do you not?”

 

 

“Be silent,” Adam growls.

 

 

“As you wish.” Mohinder rubs him over briskly with oil.

 

 

Adam stares over at Matt, shifting on the bed. “Does he speak of me?”

 

 

“Often.” Mohinder tips up Adam’s face to see to a cut across his shoulder and neck.

 

 

“In what manner?”

 

 

Mohinder steps back and meets his gaze. “With affection as a brother.”

 

 

“A brother, wonderful,” Adam says bitterly.

 

 

“He cannot help his passions any more than you can help yours,” Mohinder says, moving behind him.

 

 

“A curse on passions,” Adam says quietly.

 

 

“There we can agree,” Mohinder says evenly.

 

 

Adam stares at Matt sleeping on the bed. “He would not sleep easy if he knew mine.”

 

 

“He does know yours,” Mohinder says calmly.

 

 

Adam spins, fist raised to strike, but finds his own sword pressed against his belly.

 

 

“Hold, sir,” Mohinder sneers. “It is not too late for you to die of your wounds.”

 

 

“You told him! You laid those charges to him?” Adam growls.

 

 

Mohinder rolls his eyes. “After you ran crying to him like an infant I had no other choice. He would know what had made the baby wail and so I, his faithful slave, had to tell him.”

 

 

“You must drop the weapon now or later,” Adam observes.

 

 

“There is no need for us to be at war,” Mohinder says, stepping back.

 

 

“Was you declared it,” Adam spits.

 

 

Mohinder shrugs dismissively. “A light skirmish; no more than with anyone else, and only you turned it into a campaign.”

 

 

“You poison him against me.”

 

 

“You overestimate my influence. If he treats you differently it is for knowledge of your desire.” Mohinder gestures with the sword. “I am not responsible for your passions.”

 

 

“This is how you sue for peace is it? No wonder you were conquered,” Adam retorts.

 

 

“I have no quarrel with you but that which you pick,” Mohinder says coolly. “I did not choose his bed, though it suits me well enough, and I am not depriving you of it.”

 

 

Adam waves his hand. “Drop the sword for pity’s sake. I am not about to destroy his current plaything in a fit of pique. Finish your medicine. You have my word I will not strike you.”

 

 

Mohinder throws the sword down and moves behind Adam.

 

 

“Like it well enough, do you?” Adam asks bitterly. “A good lover is he?”

 

 

“My pleasure is not the issue.”

 

 

Adam snorts and shakes his head. “Not yet you mean. You keep flattering and fluttering and he will be your toy before too long. Always was lead more by a kind word than a pretty face.”

 

 

“Then why were you not kind to him?”

 

 

Adam’s head drops. “He would not have me in any event. Not I. Thinks me unmanly now does he?”

 

 

“He is uncertain.”

 

 

“Uncertain, why?”

 

 

Mohinder binds a wound on the back of Adam’s right leg. “He says being penetrated is unmanly. If you wish to be then you are and you wish him to be...”

 

 

“Oh gods!” Adam covers his eyes with his hands. “I should take my life and have done with it.”

 

 

Mohinder snorts and moves around in front of him. “I doubt that would convince anyone of your manliness.”

 

 

“Does he mean to kill me?”

 

 

Mohinder raises his eyebrows. “He has given no indication. That would be a terrible loss of a good soldier,” he says dryly.

 

 

 

Matt snags Mohinder’s arm and pulls him onto the bed. “Lie down little wolf and let me use you.”

 

 

“Better a wolf than a grizzled bear,” Mohinder complains but slips under the covers. He lies face down and slips a pillow under his head and another under his hips.

 

 

“How is it done?” Matt asks, picking up the oil. “No,” he says when Mohinder reaches for it. “I want to. How is it done?”

 

 

Mohinder shifts warily. “Oil upon the fingers and the porta. One finger enters slowly, then two, finally three. Is it not work for master, I can...”

 

 

Matt shakes his head. “No, lie still. I mean to learn this.”

 

 

Mohinder closes his eyes and takes deep, slow breaths. Matt’s finger is too cautious and only makes him squirm and his breath hitch. At the second attempt he is successful and Mohinder presses back against it.

 

 

“Does that hurt?” Matt asks gently.

 

 

“No.”

 

 

Matt adds a finger and Mohinder’s toes clench.

 

 

“And now?”

 

 

“No.”

 

 

“But it is not pleasant?” Matt asks. “I heard pleasure could be given in the act.”

 

 

Mohinder looks back over his shoulder at Matt. “There is a button. I know not clearly where it is.”

 

 

Matt strokes his fingers inside Mohinder and he shudders. “It gives pleasure?”

 

 

Mohinder shrugs. “I have heard tell.”

 

 

Matt’s face tightens briefly. “Heard tell,” he mutters. He adds a third finger and Mohinder wriggles uncomfortably.

 

 

Matt moves his fingers slowly to and from and rotates his wrist until he brushes something. Mohinder gasps and clutches the covers.

 

 

“In pain?”

 

 

“No, no,” Mohinder says hoarsely. “No pain.”

 

 

“Again?” Matt asks, smirking.

 

 

“Please.”

 

 

Matt rests his free hand on the bed and hums slightly as he brushes fingers again and again over the spot. Mohinder whines in his throat and reaches down for himself. His eyes close and he bucks back clumsily against Matt’s hand. Matt shifts his position and gathers Mohinder’s wrists in his other hand, holding them away from Mohinder’s crotch.

 

 

Mohinder keens softly and squirms on the bed, trying to tug his hands free.

 

 

“Please, please, please master... please...”

 

 

“Like it when you beg,” Matt says quietly. “If I promise to let your hands loose will you swear not to run away?”

 

 

“Yes, yes, please...”

 

 

“Oh your gods, on your life.”

 

 

“Swear.... nghhh,” Mohinder moans painfully. “Master please, please...”

 

 

“On your gods and on your life,” Matt urges.

 

 

“Swear... swear on my gods and on my life.”

 

 

Matt lets go off Mohinder’s hands and sits back as Mohinder frantically strokes himself. He comes quickly, face agonised, and spurts across the covers. Matt slips his fingers out, wincing at Mohinder’s soft pained noise, and then shifts Mohinder’s body. He moves him back onto his front and grips Mohinder’s thighs.

 

 

“No,” Mohinder moans softly as Matt enters him.

 

 

“Shush now.”

 

 

“Sore,” Mohinder mutters. He jerks with the force of Matt’s thrusts. “Please...”

 

 

A hand clamps over his mouth.

 

 

“Quiet, no barking little wolf.”

 

 

Matt’s other arm circles his waist, holding him in place until Matt is finished.

 

 

Mohinder lies still, trapped under Matt’s weight, breathing noisily through his nose.

 

 

Matt shifts the arm around Mohinder’s waist and pinches Mohinder’s side. Mohinder’s protest is muffled and barely audible.

 

 

Matt laughs and pinches him again. “Like you quiet and looking away. Too clever you are.”

 

 

Mohinder tries to shift away or push Matt off him.

 

 

“Oh, don’t sulk now.” Matt grips him much more tightly. “I don’t like it when you sulk.” He nuzzles the side of Mohinder’s face. “I only tease you. It didn’t hurt that much now did it?”

 

 

Mohinder snorts out a breath. Matt gently takes his hand from Mohinder’s mouth.

 

 

“Only a little pinch,” he says soothingly. “You barely felt it.”

 

 

“I do not like it. Please do not do it.”

 

 

Matt kisses the side of his face and his hand gently pinches Mohinder’s belly.

 

 

“Get off!” Mohinder snaps, wrenching himself free and off the bed.

 

 

“Why angry?” Matt asks softly.

 

 

“I asked you to not and you did,” Mohinder hisses. “Can you not even make me that one concession?”

 

 

“Don’t be angry.”

 

 

Mohinder stomps to the other side of the tent and starts preparing food.

 

 

“Mohinder!” Matt says, trying painfully to get out of bed. “Don’t be angry. I don’t want you to be angry.”

 

 

Mohinder spins around. “Then perhaps do not do things that you know I dislike intensely.”

 

 

Matt sits back against the pillows. “Do not raise your voice to me.”

 

 

Mohinder’s face twitches. “Yes master.”

 

 

“Don’t be angry?” Matt asks gently. “Please?”

 

 

Mohinder chews the side of his cheek. “I dislike being pinched, or slapped, or any of the other playful punishments you inflict on me.” His tone softens. “I do not ask for much, master.”

 

 

“No,” Matt agrees. “You do not. It was not meant as punishment but affection. I did not realise how strongly you disliked it. If I had known I would not have done it.”

 

 

Mohinder nods reluctantly. “As you say master.”

 

 

“Come here.”

 

 

Mohinder returns to the bed and sits down with his back to Matt. Matt pulls him close, wraps his arms around Mohinder’s waist, and rests his chin on Mohinder’s shoulder.

 

 

“Please don’t sulk.”

 

 

“I’m not sulking,” Mohinder says quietly. “You tricked me into swearing I wouldn’t run away.”

 

 

“I don’t want you to run away,” Matt says. “You’d be brought back and I’d have to punish you. I don’t want to punish you.”

 

 

“Is it honourable to make me promise something when I cannot think clearly?”

 

 

Matt nuzzles the side of his face. “Honour is for free men.”

 

 

Mohinder snorts. “I see. What makes you think I will keep my word? You do not think I have any honour.”

 

 

“You think you do,” Matt says. He gives Mohinder a squeeze. “Be happy, perhaps next battle I’ll die,” he suggests.

 

 

Mohinder smiles unwillingly. “Master is most amusing.” He turns on the bed. “Shall I bring food?”

 

 

“Is your stomach rumbling little wolf?” Matt tugs one of Mohinder’s curls. “Food would be welcome.”

 

 

End of part 2