Spliced: Part 5 - Chapter 1
TITLE: Spliced 5-1
AUTHOR: flighty_dreams
WARNINGS: NC-17. slavefic. scifi setting. M/m. some graphic violence.
WORD COUNT: 4,308 (this chapter), over 200k so far
SUMMARY: In a world where clones are made and sold as commodities, Matt Muldane can't resist purchasing an intriguing slave.
NOTES: The index to this story available here. Thanks to aurila and tuawahine ! Sorry for the very long delay. The good news is it won't happen again anytime in the near future!
FEEDBACK: Always welcome, even if it's just to say that you read it.
Chapter One
“You really believe this is a good idea?”
“Well,” Alex said, smiling, “I’m not absolutely sure it is, but what would be the fun in that?”
The familiar scowl only made his smile widen. Matt worried too much. How he’d ever taken the risks involved in starting his own business was a mystery. He probably examined it from every angle a thousand times before making a single move, Alex mused.
“How sure then?”
Alex stretched out on the couch in Matt’s office. There'd been meetings in here all morning, and his legs were stiff from the required kneeling. While some of the business done had been interesting to listen to, most of it had not been. At least he’d had the pocket-comm Matt had given him months earlier to ease some of the tediousness.
“About eighty percent? Something like that,” Alex told him.
Matt looked back down at his desk, his brows furrowed. Figuring he would likely take a while, Alex slipped the PC out of his pocket. He didn’t make calls with it-too risky, for multiple reasons-but he often read documents for Matt on it, as well as amusing himself.
This time he did something else. A quick search retrieved the article he’d found earlier. He began reading aloud from it, a dry text on the current conditions of the avala market and its need for safe, reliable transport due to the fragile nature of the product. Matt sent him an annoyed look at first, but as the relevance of the subject matter sunk in, he sobered, listening.
“Enough,” he said, after Alex had gotten halfway through the article. “Let me see that.”
Bristling inwardly both at the tone and at the hand Muldane held out expectantly, presuming that Alex be the one required to move, not him, he rose stiffly and brought him the PC. It had taken time to make Matt willing to discuss work with him at all, much less listen to any of his suggestions.
He sank into the chair opposite Matt. When the two of them were alone, there was no need for appearances in the man’s office; the shades were drawn on the windows-a precaution instated after Matt learned of Hayeston-and none of Matt’s employees would breach the soundproof door without knocking first.
Finished with it, Matt slid the PC across the desk to him. “This ploy of yours might work,” he said, still thinking, “or Cordrey might just go elsewhere.”
Alex shook his head. “Does she strike you as a woman who gives up easily?”
“No,” Matt replied, “but she’s also a woman with plenty of options, and one who doesn’t hear the word ‘no’ very often. Could piss her off.”
“Or intrigue her,” Alex countered. During Matt’s last meeting with her, Cerine Cordrey had balked on signing with Matt, claiming his fees were too high. “Her profit margin’s wide enough she’ll be more concerned about safety than a low price, no matter what she actually says.”
“She still wants as low a price as she can get though, everyone does,” Matt said, “and there are others out there willing to give it to her.”
Because they were unscrupulous, unlike Matt, and willing to lie about the corners they would cut in order to keep their profits. Matt had told him he could realistically lower his prices some, but not much, not without cutting either too much into his profits or the quality of his services.
“I think she’s smart enough to figure out they’re lying to her,” Alex said, “and willing to pay for good service. She's as practical as Sharra and as anal as you.”
Matt glowered at him for the last part, and Alex smirked. “Just being honest.”
After a few moments the glower diminished to a frown as Matt considered his words, obviously deciding arguing wasn't worth it. Alex felt it in his gut; this was the right approach, but it was Matt’s business and his decision. Slouched in his chair, Alex waited him out.
“Fine, I’ll do it,” Matt said at last, and Alex fought not to smile. Matt glared at him anyway. “Stop looking so smug, before I bend you over this desk and show you just how anal I am.”
Alex treated him to his most innocent look, even as he considered the appealing image.
Matt’s eyes flared, evidence that he approved too-though Alex could’ve guessed that within a day of meeting the man. Matt wasn’t exactly subtle about his desires, not that Alex wanted him any other way.
“Now why would you do that?” Alex asked, all smiles.
Matt gave him that look that said he wanted to fuck the smile off his face, but a glance at the clock left him grimacing. “Only half an hour to eat and make some calls.”
Alex grimaced too. No time for fun; Matt had more meetings that afternoon. “Call her, I’ll go heat up our lunch.”
Matt sent him a wry look, but after a couple seconds he turned to his computer to place the call. Alex left, greeting Matt’s assistant as he walked by her. She was accustomed to his presence by now. After Matt’s initial paranoia waned, he no longer came to work with Matt everyday, but he was still a common enough sight to go unremarked by Matt’s employees. Well, at least to Matt’s face.
When he returned with the food, Matt was still on a vid call. Out of sight of the vid camera, he slid the tray he held gently onto the desk so as not to interrupt the call.
“I look forward to it too,” Matt was saying, the overt warmth in his voice puzzling Alex. “I’ll see you then.”
A voice he didn’t recognize bid Matt farewell, and the call ended. Opening his mouth to ask who that had been, Matt spoke first. “She wasn’t there. I left her a message.”
Well, that answered one question. “Ah, so who was-”
The vid rang, interrupting him. “Cordrey,” Matt told him, just before answering.
Content to just listen-and avoid more kneeling-Alex sat down in the chair he’d vacated earlier. She couldn’t see him or the tray, which left him free to begin eating as Matt dealt with her. He’d no doubt Matt could handle her, and he did, in that direct way of his, saying that trying for a lower price was her prerogative, but he couldn’t in good conscience charge any less than what he’d quoted her, and he wished her luck in her endeavors.
Perfect, Alex thought with a smile. Matt had even worked in a hint that those offering a lower fee were being dishonest. The woman tutted and demurred, but beneath it all he had the definite sense that Matt had caught her interest.
After he ended the call, Matt returned his smile. “That won’t be the last we hear from her.”
“You're incorrigible,” Matt complained that evening.
“Thank you.” Alex grinned, sprawled along the bedroom couch. “I pride myself on it.”
Matt turned, giving him a long-suffering look over his shoulder. “I suppose everyone needs a specialty.”
Alex's voice warmed to a near purr. “Oh, I don't think that's my only specialty.”
“That I am well aware of.” Disappointingly, Matt didn't act on the hint, continuing to button his shirt.
“You sure? I wouldn't mind showing you again.”
Matt's hands stilled. “I'm sure,” he said after a moment, returning to his task. “Get dressed.”
So much for distracting Matt. “I already told you. I'm too tired to go to this party.”
“If you've got energy enough for sex, you must not be that tired.”
Alex scowled. The man did have a point, but his reluctance wasn't only due to simple exhaustion. “That's different.”
The look Matt threw him then was eloquent.
Sighing, Alex sat up. He didn't like making this sort of admission-suffering in silence was too ingrained by his childhood, though his time on The Cutter had taught him to be smarter about such things, at least sometimes. People who cared about you wanted to know if you were hurt. For all their problems, he knew Matt definitely cared.
Letting out a breath, he said, “It's my knee.”
Matt stilled again, this time for a different reason entirely. “What?”
Alex stroked the leg in question to ease the ache along the bottom edge of the kneecap. Sitting up was more uncomfortable than lying down. “It happens sometimes, aches when I strain it too much. Been that way ever since I hurt it a few years back.”
Matt frowned, studying him with his head slightly cocked. At last he said, “You aren't bullshitting me.”
It was a statement, not a question, but Matt feeling the need to reflect on whether to believe him almost caused his tongue to slip. Hours of chirping 'yes, master' and obeying all of Matt's whims in public took as much of a toll on his temper as the kneeling did on his legs. He was in no shape to be civil, but he managed it. Barely. “No, I'm not. This is beyond the usual soreness from extended kneeling.”
Matt's frown deepened. “The usual soreness? Of course too much of it would hurt, but you make it sound like a regular occurrence.”
Alex laughed, though there was little mirth to it. “That doesn't mean it's easy on the body, especially over time. Imagine standing for five hours straight. The training teaches you to endure the pain, and not to fidget, but it doesn't make the pain go away.”
The flare in Matt's eyes now was familiar; that mix of anger and helplessness appeared whenever Alex revealed something unpleasant about his past, but this time there was an added element: guilt. “So every time you-” Matt broke off, beginning again. “I noticed you didn't like going to work with me whenever I had lots of meetings scheduled that day, but I thought you just found them boring.”
“No, it wasn't that. Some are boring, sure, but I like seeing how you do business.”
His words brought a red tinge to Matt's cheeks. The man looked away, but it was too late to go unnoticed.
On Matt's busy days he often preferred to stay at the house or spend the day with Nuit. Both the extensive kneeling required and the feeling that he was just in the way motivated him to avoid the office then. He was surprised Matt had made the connection though, even if for the wrong reasons. Then again, Matt had made it his personal hobby to observe everything about him.
Some days-like today-meetings popped up unexpectedly. In the end Alex had spent over five hours kneeling, watching Matt dodge craters throughout his company and handle difficult clients. Although over the past few months Matt had come to value his opinion, except for the break between his morning and afternoon meetings when they'd discussed Cordrey, today he'd had neither the time nor the inclination to pay him much attention. Alex wasn't sulking over that; he'd seen firsthand that Matt had simply been too busy for him, and with other people around constantly, he'd had few opportunities to help Matt with his work-or stretch his legs. But it did leave him all the more reluctant to attend a party tonight with Matt where he'd once again be a silent spectator. He'd had enough of being useless for one day.
Matt walked over, gingerly touching his knee. “How bad is it?”
“I don't need to see a doctor about it,” he replied, knowing that would be Matt the Worrier's next question. “Some rest and both knees will be better soon.”
Frowning, Matt pushed up the leg of his synth-cott pants. He was wearing his slave 'uniform' today-plain synth-cott pants and shirts-instead of his preferred clothes. There wasn't anything to see since the damage was all internal, but he let Matt roll the cloth up enough to reveal his bad knee. Crouching down, Matt probed lightly, as if he were some fragile artifact. Something in Alex's chest tightened. Ignoring the feeling, he ran his finger along the bottom side again, pointing out the damaged area.
“Have you had a doctor look at it?” The suspicion in Matt's voice broadcasted his doubt. It wasn't unfounded; Alex was wary of doctors, for obvious reasons.
“Yes.” He refrained from adding that it had taken a little pestering from Kate first. Even though he'd voluntarily told Matt that he was bisexual two months earlier, Matt's immediate suspicion that his ex might be a woman-a possibility that completely hadn't crossed Matt's mind until then-had prevented Alex from revealing that part of it freely as well. That he had lied by omission when he first arrived meant Kate remained a point of contention between them, although he knew she would have been regardless. He'd own up to his share of the blame in this-Matt had a right to be upset that he'd lied-but Matt would never like any ex of his, so in the interests of harmony, it was generally better to avoid mentioning her when not necessary. They'd already gone through a couple awkward, drawn out conversations about her.
“What did the doctor say?”
Alex explained, “He said it was only a minor condition, not worth treatment. There's some weakness, but not enough to make bolstering it or replacing it worthwhile.
“Not worth treatment?” Matt growled. “Was this guy a fraud?”
Alex almost laughed. Matt's outrage was nearly identical to hers at the time, which made him feel better. “No, the second opinion was the same. Some painkillers and I'll be fine.”
Those words-a solid solution to the problem at hand-sent Matt to the bathroom cabinet, searching through his medications. Alex lay back while he waited, gladly stretching out his leg.
When Matt returned, he handed Alex the medicine and let him take it before asking, “How did you hurt it in the first place?”
Alex grimaced. “It was so stupid. I walked into a crate.”
“You what?” Matt's mouth twitched.
Faking a scowl-Alex couldn't really be annoyed, not when Matt was giving him that rare mischievous grin-he grumbled, “You heard me. Caught my knee on the edge of it, bruised it up real bad.” All Andorian healing had done was make the colorful spectrum of bruises rotate faster.
A light lingered in Matt's eyes. “Distracted by something?”
The innocent question wasn't so harmless, but he answered carefully-and honestly. “Obviously. I don't even remember by what now, this was three years ago. One second I was lost in thought, the next I was on the floor, clutching my leg.”
Matt's fingers caressed his cheek. “Poor Min.”
After four months, the use of that name almost didn't bother him. Almost. He didn't protest it, but he didn't lean into the contact either, as he would have had Matt avoided mentioning it. He supposed he and Matt weren't so different: both of them were sensitive to certain names.
Matt's hand dropped away, and he realized belatedly that Matt was hurt by his lack of response. Alex grabbed his hand, giving it a light squeeze. Matt had spoken out of sympathy; he hadn't intended to offend him, though his blatant ignoring of Alex's preferences in this regard was an offense in itself. But he had to choose his battles.
Matt's fingers tightened on his, then let go. “You wouldn't have said anything about your knee if I hadn't pushed the issue, would you?”
Alex shrugged. He might be opening up more to Matt these days, but he still didn't like showing weakness in front of him, afraid it would reinforce that traditional view of clones as helpless.
A muttered curse from Matt, before he caught Alex's chin in his hand. “If something hurts, you tell me.”
He appreciated the concern, he did, but the highhandedness was still insulting. “I don't need a damn keeper, Muldane,” he said, pulling Matt's hand away. “I'm perfectly capable of deciding for myself whether I need a doctor.”
“Oh really? So you saw one right away for your knee?”
Alex closed his eyes for a moment. If he couldn't see Matt, he wouldn't strangle him. “If it's not serious enough to warrant immediate attention, I have a tendency to put things off. Plenty of capable people handle this urge as part of their daily lives. It's called procrastinating, Muldane. Perhaps you're familiar with the concept?”
From Matt's furious glare, he clearly didn't appreciate his sarcasm. “What about worrying? That seems a foreign concept to you. You never give the risks you take a thought.”
“If that's what you think,” Alex growled, “then you haven't been paying attention.”
Matt's tension eased slightly, and his voice softened. “Enlighten me then. You never seem even half as worried as you should be.”
“I don't like to show it.” Alex looked away, staring blankly towards the door as he debated whether to elaborate, ultimately deciding yes. “Sometimes I can't sleep. Or I'll wake up in the middle of the night, unable to fall back asleep.”
“Yeah, I know those nights,” Matt said dryly. If Matt didn't have anywhere to be the next day, Alex often gave him a very pleasant wake up call. A better use of time than worrying.
Alex shook his head. “You know some of them. If you have work I won't wake you.”
He had Matt's full attention now. “What's keeping you up?”
Regret. Worry. Frustration. Too many things, none of which he wanted to discuss, but if he wanted a relationship with Matt, the least he could do was act like he was already in one.
“You,” he admitted. “I've put you at risk by coming back here. Sometimes I think I shouldn't have.”
“No, never think that,” Matt said, squeezing his shoulders.
Still angry with Matt when he first arrived, and foolishly confident that he could keep Matt out of it, his safety hadn't seemed at much risk. But as the months passed he'd found the certainty that either of them would be safe diminishing to nil. Even if he alone were targeted, Matt would be frantic, and likely do something reckless. He'd been a thoughtless idiot not to have considered his safety more seriously.
Biting back a sigh, Alex stared up into earnest hazel eyes. There'd been no open move from Hayeston, but Matt's heightened security measures, which would hopefully be seen as increased paranoia after the 'abduction' of his slave-rather than a sign they were on to him-had blocked the signals from some surveillance attempts. Blind behind their electronic barriers, it was Ten who'd detected the efforts. From what he'd gleaned during furtive contact with his brother, Ten had been able to trace some of them to Matt's competitors, but not all. It was the unknowns that were keeping him awake at night.
However, there was little else they could do. For now those measures plus their regular scans of Matt's home, office and cars for listening devices had kept them safe, but eventually whoever it was would grow impatient. If surveillance didn't obtain the information one needed, there were always more direct methods. And if Hayeston was indeed behind it, part of Alex was eager for that patience to snap, so the man would reveal himself. Irritating as it was, they were still no closer to discovering Hayeston's identity or what he wanted with him.
Alex shifted his legs off the couch, and Matt sat down beside him. Reaching out, he caressed Matt's face, fingers sliding along the handsome features nearly as familiar as his own. Just this light contact was enough to awaken his body's interest; Matt was hard to resist, even when he was furious with him, much less now.
“I know I chose to be bait for this trap,” Alex told him, “but now I wonder if there was some other way.” Had making himself a target only seemed the best option because it gave him an excuse to return to Matt?
Biting his lip, Matt said with obviously mixed feelings, “I don't know.”
“It doesn't matter anymore, I suppose, since it's too late to change plans,” Alex mused, before he added more hesitantly, “I feel too exposed here though. I'm afraid I'll wake up somewhere else one day alone, captured, not knowing what happened to you.”
Matt's arms immediately surrounded him. “I won't let that happen.”
“Matt, be serious,” he said, even as he returned the embrace. He refused to be treated like a child. “Don't make promises you can't keep. Tell me what you're really thinking.”
A huff of breath brushed Alex's ear. “I worry about the same thing. Waking up, and you're gone.”
An ever-present worry, Alex knew, for various reasons. It was nice to hear him admit it; Matt was still in denial about so many other things.
Sometimes there was such a lost little boy look about him-a lost little boy yearning for love-that Alex found himself wanting to take Matt into his arms and tell him that everything would be all right. After all, the man had no qualms about comforting him. Unfortunately, the same family that had neglected Matt had also taught him it was the height of shame to show vulnerability to others. It doubled their crimes, in Alex's opinion. Not that he was any great example of someone unafraid to open up-quite the opposite really, given his own upbringing-but at least he'd had his siblings to show him there were some people you could trust. From what he could tell, Hollis was the only person Matt had ever leaned on.
Stroking along Alex's jaw, Matt said, “Funny. Sometimes you wonder if you shouldn't have come. Sometimes I wonder if we should move.”
Alex's stomach did a curious little flip. “Move?”
“Yeah. I don't like waiting around for something to happen. I feel exposed here too. But they'd just track me anyway, so no point.”
Of course. Alex's arms loosened from Matt. The name of a 'slave' was of no importance, but they'd find Matt again easily enough. Another unconscious insult, blundered into through thick-headedness.
Railing at Matt would do no good though; this campaign had to be fought with subtlety, not direct clashes. Sometimes his temper still got the best of him, but he'd realized after the first month that pushing Matt to change was never going to work-seeing Hollis guide but not push Nuit into being more independent had reminded him of that. Matt had to want it first.
So far he hadn't. While not exactly happy, he seemed content enough just having Alex around, with no reservations regarding Alex's public status as a slave. His slave. No surprise really that he'd no problem with it, Alex thought irritably.
“Damn.” Matt brushed at his shirt in a vain attempt to smooth out the wrinkles.
Against his will, Alex found himself noting that he thought the gesture cute. He leaned in, fingers combing through Matt’s hair as he murmured into his ear, “Maybe you should take that as a sign to stay home.”
“Hmm.” Lying back against the couch, Matt pulled Alex down on top of him. Alex followed readily, straddling him as their mouths met in an enthusiastic kiss. Sadly Matt kept it brief, separating to say, “Or see this as a sign that your knees are feeling better.”
Alex flushed, taking in his straddled position and the grin on Matt’s face. Caught at his own game. “Yes,” he conceded, his mouth flush against Matt’s ear, “your medicine’s helping.”
“Good,” Matt said, the huskiness to his voice proving he wasn’t as calm as he pretended, “you should feel well enough for the party then.”
Sighing, Alex slumped onto Matt, his head tucked against the other man’s throat. Matt would take him literally.
In general he liked the idea of parties-meeting new people, talking to them about their lives or work, all of which satisfied his natural curiosity, with the drinking and dancing being bonuses as well-but not if he was going as a slave, forced to kneel quietly and watch, prohibited from speaking unless asked a direct question. It lost all appeal for him, and in fact left him unbearably frustrated-and often infuriated, if enough of the guests leered at him. Even Matt’s presence didn't make the experience much more bearable. Alex had gone to other parties with him before, but attending all of them seemed unnecessary.
“It doesn’t matter if I go,” he told Matt, “I don’t count.”
Matt stiffened beneath him, even though it was the truth. “Yes, you do. It matters to me.” As Alex was savoring the rare frankness, Matt added, “But regardless, we don't have to go.”
The plural pronoun didn't go unnoticed, even amidst Alex's sudden relief. “We?”
“Yeah.” Matt's hand slid to Alex's knee, stroking it. “Nothing there that can't wait.”
That had never happened before. Alex laid his head against Matt's throat again, this time with a sigh of contentment. “Thanks.”
Matt kissed his cheek, his fingers tracing idle circles of reassurance along his back. Alex lifted his head in response, nibbling along Matt's jaw. This was a far more pleasant way to spend an evening than another annoying party.
A calm settling over him, Alex closed his eyes. Sometimes, there was reason for hope.
Chapter Two
AUTHOR: flighty_dreams
WARNINGS: NC-17. slavefic. scifi setting. M/m. some graphic violence.
WORD COUNT: 4,308 (this chapter), over 200k so far
SUMMARY: In a world where clones are made and sold as commodities, Matt Muldane can't resist purchasing an intriguing slave.
NOTES: The index to this story available here. Thanks to aurila and tuawahine ! Sorry for the very long delay. The good news is it won't happen again anytime in the near future!
FEEDBACK: Always welcome, even if it's just to say that you read it.
Chapter One
“You really believe this is a good idea?”
“Well,” Alex said, smiling, “I’m not absolutely sure it is, but what would be the fun in that?”
The familiar scowl only made his smile widen. Matt worried too much. How he’d ever taken the risks involved in starting his own business was a mystery. He probably examined it from every angle a thousand times before making a single move, Alex mused.
“How sure then?”
Alex stretched out on the couch in Matt’s office. There'd been meetings in here all morning, and his legs were stiff from the required kneeling. While some of the business done had been interesting to listen to, most of it had not been. At least he’d had the pocket-comm Matt had given him months earlier to ease some of the tediousness.
“About eighty percent? Something like that,” Alex told him.
Matt looked back down at his desk, his brows furrowed. Figuring he would likely take a while, Alex slipped the PC out of his pocket. He didn’t make calls with it-too risky, for multiple reasons-but he often read documents for Matt on it, as well as amusing himself.
This time he did something else. A quick search retrieved the article he’d found earlier. He began reading aloud from it, a dry text on the current conditions of the avala market and its need for safe, reliable transport due to the fragile nature of the product. Matt sent him an annoyed look at first, but as the relevance of the subject matter sunk in, he sobered, listening.
“Enough,” he said, after Alex had gotten halfway through the article. “Let me see that.”
Bristling inwardly both at the tone and at the hand Muldane held out expectantly, presuming that Alex be the one required to move, not him, he rose stiffly and brought him the PC. It had taken time to make Matt willing to discuss work with him at all, much less listen to any of his suggestions.
He sank into the chair opposite Matt. When the two of them were alone, there was no need for appearances in the man’s office; the shades were drawn on the windows-a precaution instated after Matt learned of Hayeston-and none of Matt’s employees would breach the soundproof door without knocking first.
Finished with it, Matt slid the PC across the desk to him. “This ploy of yours might work,” he said, still thinking, “or Cordrey might just go elsewhere.”
Alex shook his head. “Does she strike you as a woman who gives up easily?”
“No,” Matt replied, “but she’s also a woman with plenty of options, and one who doesn’t hear the word ‘no’ very often. Could piss her off.”
“Or intrigue her,” Alex countered. During Matt’s last meeting with her, Cerine Cordrey had balked on signing with Matt, claiming his fees were too high. “Her profit margin’s wide enough she’ll be more concerned about safety than a low price, no matter what she actually says.”
“She still wants as low a price as she can get though, everyone does,” Matt said, “and there are others out there willing to give it to her.”
Because they were unscrupulous, unlike Matt, and willing to lie about the corners they would cut in order to keep their profits. Matt had told him he could realistically lower his prices some, but not much, not without cutting either too much into his profits or the quality of his services.
“I think she’s smart enough to figure out they’re lying to her,” Alex said, “and willing to pay for good service. She's as practical as Sharra and as anal as you.”
Matt glowered at him for the last part, and Alex smirked. “Just being honest.”
After a few moments the glower diminished to a frown as Matt considered his words, obviously deciding arguing wasn't worth it. Alex felt it in his gut; this was the right approach, but it was Matt’s business and his decision. Slouched in his chair, Alex waited him out.
“Fine, I’ll do it,” Matt said at last, and Alex fought not to smile. Matt glared at him anyway. “Stop looking so smug, before I bend you over this desk and show you just how anal I am.”
Alex treated him to his most innocent look, even as he considered the appealing image.
Matt’s eyes flared, evidence that he approved too-though Alex could’ve guessed that within a day of meeting the man. Matt wasn’t exactly subtle about his desires, not that Alex wanted him any other way.
“Now why would you do that?” Alex asked, all smiles.
Matt gave him that look that said he wanted to fuck the smile off his face, but a glance at the clock left him grimacing. “Only half an hour to eat and make some calls.”
Alex grimaced too. No time for fun; Matt had more meetings that afternoon. “Call her, I’ll go heat up our lunch.”
Matt sent him a wry look, but after a couple seconds he turned to his computer to place the call. Alex left, greeting Matt’s assistant as he walked by her. She was accustomed to his presence by now. After Matt’s initial paranoia waned, he no longer came to work with Matt everyday, but he was still a common enough sight to go unremarked by Matt’s employees. Well, at least to Matt’s face.
When he returned with the food, Matt was still on a vid call. Out of sight of the vid camera, he slid the tray he held gently onto the desk so as not to interrupt the call.
“I look forward to it too,” Matt was saying, the overt warmth in his voice puzzling Alex. “I’ll see you then.”
A voice he didn’t recognize bid Matt farewell, and the call ended. Opening his mouth to ask who that had been, Matt spoke first. “She wasn’t there. I left her a message.”
Well, that answered one question. “Ah, so who was-”
The vid rang, interrupting him. “Cordrey,” Matt told him, just before answering.
Content to just listen-and avoid more kneeling-Alex sat down in the chair he’d vacated earlier. She couldn’t see him or the tray, which left him free to begin eating as Matt dealt with her. He’d no doubt Matt could handle her, and he did, in that direct way of his, saying that trying for a lower price was her prerogative, but he couldn’t in good conscience charge any less than what he’d quoted her, and he wished her luck in her endeavors.
Perfect, Alex thought with a smile. Matt had even worked in a hint that those offering a lower fee were being dishonest. The woman tutted and demurred, but beneath it all he had the definite sense that Matt had caught her interest.
After he ended the call, Matt returned his smile. “That won’t be the last we hear from her.”
“You're incorrigible,” Matt complained that evening.
“Thank you.” Alex grinned, sprawled along the bedroom couch. “I pride myself on it.”
Matt turned, giving him a long-suffering look over his shoulder. “I suppose everyone needs a specialty.”
Alex's voice warmed to a near purr. “Oh, I don't think that's my only specialty.”
“That I am well aware of.” Disappointingly, Matt didn't act on the hint, continuing to button his shirt.
“You sure? I wouldn't mind showing you again.”
Matt's hands stilled. “I'm sure,” he said after a moment, returning to his task. “Get dressed.”
So much for distracting Matt. “I already told you. I'm too tired to go to this party.”
“If you've got energy enough for sex, you must not be that tired.”
Alex scowled. The man did have a point, but his reluctance wasn't only due to simple exhaustion. “That's different.”
The look Matt threw him then was eloquent.
Sighing, Alex sat up. He didn't like making this sort of admission-suffering in silence was too ingrained by his childhood, though his time on The Cutter had taught him to be smarter about such things, at least sometimes. People who cared about you wanted to know if you were hurt. For all their problems, he knew Matt definitely cared.
Letting out a breath, he said, “It's my knee.”
Matt stilled again, this time for a different reason entirely. “What?”
Alex stroked the leg in question to ease the ache along the bottom edge of the kneecap. Sitting up was more uncomfortable than lying down. “It happens sometimes, aches when I strain it too much. Been that way ever since I hurt it a few years back.”
Matt frowned, studying him with his head slightly cocked. At last he said, “You aren't bullshitting me.”
It was a statement, not a question, but Matt feeling the need to reflect on whether to believe him almost caused his tongue to slip. Hours of chirping 'yes, master' and obeying all of Matt's whims in public took as much of a toll on his temper as the kneeling did on his legs. He was in no shape to be civil, but he managed it. Barely. “No, I'm not. This is beyond the usual soreness from extended kneeling.”
Matt's frown deepened. “The usual soreness? Of course too much of it would hurt, but you make it sound like a regular occurrence.”
Alex laughed, though there was little mirth to it. “That doesn't mean it's easy on the body, especially over time. Imagine standing for five hours straight. The training teaches you to endure the pain, and not to fidget, but it doesn't make the pain go away.”
The flare in Matt's eyes now was familiar; that mix of anger and helplessness appeared whenever Alex revealed something unpleasant about his past, but this time there was an added element: guilt. “So every time you-” Matt broke off, beginning again. “I noticed you didn't like going to work with me whenever I had lots of meetings scheduled that day, but I thought you just found them boring.”
“No, it wasn't that. Some are boring, sure, but I like seeing how you do business.”
His words brought a red tinge to Matt's cheeks. The man looked away, but it was too late to go unnoticed.
On Matt's busy days he often preferred to stay at the house or spend the day with Nuit. Both the extensive kneeling required and the feeling that he was just in the way motivated him to avoid the office then. He was surprised Matt had made the connection though, even if for the wrong reasons. Then again, Matt had made it his personal hobby to observe everything about him.
Some days-like today-meetings popped up unexpectedly. In the end Alex had spent over five hours kneeling, watching Matt dodge craters throughout his company and handle difficult clients. Although over the past few months Matt had come to value his opinion, except for the break between his morning and afternoon meetings when they'd discussed Cordrey, today he'd had neither the time nor the inclination to pay him much attention. Alex wasn't sulking over that; he'd seen firsthand that Matt had simply been too busy for him, and with other people around constantly, he'd had few opportunities to help Matt with his work-or stretch his legs. But it did leave him all the more reluctant to attend a party tonight with Matt where he'd once again be a silent spectator. He'd had enough of being useless for one day.
Matt walked over, gingerly touching his knee. “How bad is it?”
“I don't need to see a doctor about it,” he replied, knowing that would be Matt the Worrier's next question. “Some rest and both knees will be better soon.”
Frowning, Matt pushed up the leg of his synth-cott pants. He was wearing his slave 'uniform' today-plain synth-cott pants and shirts-instead of his preferred clothes. There wasn't anything to see since the damage was all internal, but he let Matt roll the cloth up enough to reveal his bad knee. Crouching down, Matt probed lightly, as if he were some fragile artifact. Something in Alex's chest tightened. Ignoring the feeling, he ran his finger along the bottom side again, pointing out the damaged area.
“Have you had a doctor look at it?” The suspicion in Matt's voice broadcasted his doubt. It wasn't unfounded; Alex was wary of doctors, for obvious reasons.
“Yes.” He refrained from adding that it had taken a little pestering from Kate first. Even though he'd voluntarily told Matt that he was bisexual two months earlier, Matt's immediate suspicion that his ex might be a woman-a possibility that completely hadn't crossed Matt's mind until then-had prevented Alex from revealing that part of it freely as well. That he had lied by omission when he first arrived meant Kate remained a point of contention between them, although he knew she would have been regardless. He'd own up to his share of the blame in this-Matt had a right to be upset that he'd lied-but Matt would never like any ex of his, so in the interests of harmony, it was generally better to avoid mentioning her when not necessary. They'd already gone through a couple awkward, drawn out conversations about her.
“What did the doctor say?”
Alex explained, “He said it was only a minor condition, not worth treatment. There's some weakness, but not enough to make bolstering it or replacing it worthwhile.
“Not worth treatment?” Matt growled. “Was this guy a fraud?”
Alex almost laughed. Matt's outrage was nearly identical to hers at the time, which made him feel better. “No, the second opinion was the same. Some painkillers and I'll be fine.”
Those words-a solid solution to the problem at hand-sent Matt to the bathroom cabinet, searching through his medications. Alex lay back while he waited, gladly stretching out his leg.
When Matt returned, he handed Alex the medicine and let him take it before asking, “How did you hurt it in the first place?”
Alex grimaced. “It was so stupid. I walked into a crate.”
“You what?” Matt's mouth twitched.
Faking a scowl-Alex couldn't really be annoyed, not when Matt was giving him that rare mischievous grin-he grumbled, “You heard me. Caught my knee on the edge of it, bruised it up real bad.” All Andorian healing had done was make the colorful spectrum of bruises rotate faster.
A light lingered in Matt's eyes. “Distracted by something?”
The innocent question wasn't so harmless, but he answered carefully-and honestly. “Obviously. I don't even remember by what now, this was three years ago. One second I was lost in thought, the next I was on the floor, clutching my leg.”
Matt's fingers caressed his cheek. “Poor Min.”
After four months, the use of that name almost didn't bother him. Almost. He didn't protest it, but he didn't lean into the contact either, as he would have had Matt avoided mentioning it. He supposed he and Matt weren't so different: both of them were sensitive to certain names.
Matt's hand dropped away, and he realized belatedly that Matt was hurt by his lack of response. Alex grabbed his hand, giving it a light squeeze. Matt had spoken out of sympathy; he hadn't intended to offend him, though his blatant ignoring of Alex's preferences in this regard was an offense in itself. But he had to choose his battles.
Matt's fingers tightened on his, then let go. “You wouldn't have said anything about your knee if I hadn't pushed the issue, would you?”
Alex shrugged. He might be opening up more to Matt these days, but he still didn't like showing weakness in front of him, afraid it would reinforce that traditional view of clones as helpless.
A muttered curse from Matt, before he caught Alex's chin in his hand. “If something hurts, you tell me.”
He appreciated the concern, he did, but the highhandedness was still insulting. “I don't need a damn keeper, Muldane,” he said, pulling Matt's hand away. “I'm perfectly capable of deciding for myself whether I need a doctor.”
“Oh really? So you saw one right away for your knee?”
Alex closed his eyes for a moment. If he couldn't see Matt, he wouldn't strangle him. “If it's not serious enough to warrant immediate attention, I have a tendency to put things off. Plenty of capable people handle this urge as part of their daily lives. It's called procrastinating, Muldane. Perhaps you're familiar with the concept?”
From Matt's furious glare, he clearly didn't appreciate his sarcasm. “What about worrying? That seems a foreign concept to you. You never give the risks you take a thought.”
“If that's what you think,” Alex growled, “then you haven't been paying attention.”
Matt's tension eased slightly, and his voice softened. “Enlighten me then. You never seem even half as worried as you should be.”
“I don't like to show it.” Alex looked away, staring blankly towards the door as he debated whether to elaborate, ultimately deciding yes. “Sometimes I can't sleep. Or I'll wake up in the middle of the night, unable to fall back asleep.”
“Yeah, I know those nights,” Matt said dryly. If Matt didn't have anywhere to be the next day, Alex often gave him a very pleasant wake up call. A better use of time than worrying.
Alex shook his head. “You know some of them. If you have work I won't wake you.”
He had Matt's full attention now. “What's keeping you up?”
Regret. Worry. Frustration. Too many things, none of which he wanted to discuss, but if he wanted a relationship with Matt, the least he could do was act like he was already in one.
“You,” he admitted. “I've put you at risk by coming back here. Sometimes I think I shouldn't have.”
“No, never think that,” Matt said, squeezing his shoulders.
Still angry with Matt when he first arrived, and foolishly confident that he could keep Matt out of it, his safety hadn't seemed at much risk. But as the months passed he'd found the certainty that either of them would be safe diminishing to nil. Even if he alone were targeted, Matt would be frantic, and likely do something reckless. He'd been a thoughtless idiot not to have considered his safety more seriously.
Biting back a sigh, Alex stared up into earnest hazel eyes. There'd been no open move from Hayeston, but Matt's heightened security measures, which would hopefully be seen as increased paranoia after the 'abduction' of his slave-rather than a sign they were on to him-had blocked the signals from some surveillance attempts. Blind behind their electronic barriers, it was Ten who'd detected the efforts. From what he'd gleaned during furtive contact with his brother, Ten had been able to trace some of them to Matt's competitors, but not all. It was the unknowns that were keeping him awake at night.
However, there was little else they could do. For now those measures plus their regular scans of Matt's home, office and cars for listening devices had kept them safe, but eventually whoever it was would grow impatient. If surveillance didn't obtain the information one needed, there were always more direct methods. And if Hayeston was indeed behind it, part of Alex was eager for that patience to snap, so the man would reveal himself. Irritating as it was, they were still no closer to discovering Hayeston's identity or what he wanted with him.
Alex shifted his legs off the couch, and Matt sat down beside him. Reaching out, he caressed Matt's face, fingers sliding along the handsome features nearly as familiar as his own. Just this light contact was enough to awaken his body's interest; Matt was hard to resist, even when he was furious with him, much less now.
“I know I chose to be bait for this trap,” Alex told him, “but now I wonder if there was some other way.” Had making himself a target only seemed the best option because it gave him an excuse to return to Matt?
Biting his lip, Matt said with obviously mixed feelings, “I don't know.”
“It doesn't matter anymore, I suppose, since it's too late to change plans,” Alex mused, before he added more hesitantly, “I feel too exposed here though. I'm afraid I'll wake up somewhere else one day alone, captured, not knowing what happened to you.”
Matt's arms immediately surrounded him. “I won't let that happen.”
“Matt, be serious,” he said, even as he returned the embrace. He refused to be treated like a child. “Don't make promises you can't keep. Tell me what you're really thinking.”
A huff of breath brushed Alex's ear. “I worry about the same thing. Waking up, and you're gone.”
An ever-present worry, Alex knew, for various reasons. It was nice to hear him admit it; Matt was still in denial about so many other things.
Sometimes there was such a lost little boy look about him-a lost little boy yearning for love-that Alex found himself wanting to take Matt into his arms and tell him that everything would be all right. After all, the man had no qualms about comforting him. Unfortunately, the same family that had neglected Matt had also taught him it was the height of shame to show vulnerability to others. It doubled their crimes, in Alex's opinion. Not that he was any great example of someone unafraid to open up-quite the opposite really, given his own upbringing-but at least he'd had his siblings to show him there were some people you could trust. From what he could tell, Hollis was the only person Matt had ever leaned on.
Stroking along Alex's jaw, Matt said, “Funny. Sometimes you wonder if you shouldn't have come. Sometimes I wonder if we should move.”
Alex's stomach did a curious little flip. “Move?”
“Yeah. I don't like waiting around for something to happen. I feel exposed here too. But they'd just track me anyway, so no point.”
Of course. Alex's arms loosened from Matt. The name of a 'slave' was of no importance, but they'd find Matt again easily enough. Another unconscious insult, blundered into through thick-headedness.
Railing at Matt would do no good though; this campaign had to be fought with subtlety, not direct clashes. Sometimes his temper still got the best of him, but he'd realized after the first month that pushing Matt to change was never going to work-seeing Hollis guide but not push Nuit into being more independent had reminded him of that. Matt had to want it first.
So far he hadn't. While not exactly happy, he seemed content enough just having Alex around, with no reservations regarding Alex's public status as a slave. His slave. No surprise really that he'd no problem with it, Alex thought irritably.
“Damn.” Matt brushed at his shirt in a vain attempt to smooth out the wrinkles.
Against his will, Alex found himself noting that he thought the gesture cute. He leaned in, fingers combing through Matt’s hair as he murmured into his ear, “Maybe you should take that as a sign to stay home.”
“Hmm.” Lying back against the couch, Matt pulled Alex down on top of him. Alex followed readily, straddling him as their mouths met in an enthusiastic kiss. Sadly Matt kept it brief, separating to say, “Or see this as a sign that your knees are feeling better.”
Alex flushed, taking in his straddled position and the grin on Matt’s face. Caught at his own game. “Yes,” he conceded, his mouth flush against Matt’s ear, “your medicine’s helping.”
“Good,” Matt said, the huskiness to his voice proving he wasn’t as calm as he pretended, “you should feel well enough for the party then.”
Sighing, Alex slumped onto Matt, his head tucked against the other man’s throat. Matt would take him literally.
In general he liked the idea of parties-meeting new people, talking to them about their lives or work, all of which satisfied his natural curiosity, with the drinking and dancing being bonuses as well-but not if he was going as a slave, forced to kneel quietly and watch, prohibited from speaking unless asked a direct question. It lost all appeal for him, and in fact left him unbearably frustrated-and often infuriated, if enough of the guests leered at him. Even Matt’s presence didn't make the experience much more bearable. Alex had gone to other parties with him before, but attending all of them seemed unnecessary.
“It doesn’t matter if I go,” he told Matt, “I don’t count.”
Matt stiffened beneath him, even though it was the truth. “Yes, you do. It matters to me.” As Alex was savoring the rare frankness, Matt added, “But regardless, we don't have to go.”
The plural pronoun didn't go unnoticed, even amidst Alex's sudden relief. “We?”
“Yeah.” Matt's hand slid to Alex's knee, stroking it. “Nothing there that can't wait.”
That had never happened before. Alex laid his head against Matt's throat again, this time with a sigh of contentment. “Thanks.”
Matt kissed his cheek, his fingers tracing idle circles of reassurance along his back. Alex lifted his head in response, nibbling along Matt's jaw. This was a far more pleasant way to spend an evening than another annoying party.
A calm settling over him, Alex closed his eyes. Sometimes, there was reason for hope.
Chapter Two