Real Person Fic - CW: Rattling Your Locks [Part 1/5]
PART ONE
Jared can tell just from the sound of the footsteps in the hall what he'll see when they turn the corner. Not that the people who enter from this direction are terribly varied, there are maybe two or three basic types to pick from, but it's good to be prepared.
This person walks at a hurried pace, definitely male. The kind of man who thinks he's much too busy to take his time about anything. Long strides, too, confident of their right to trample through a place like this. That'll be the customer. An Alpha, Jared would bet his life on it, which means he's almost definitely safe. He still won't be taking any chances.
Mr. Sheppard's slightly frantic pace, struggling to keep up with his client, undoubtedly rambling away at the speed of light in an attempt to endear himself to the buyer, is easily distinguishable as well, but his footfalls aren't the ones that matter.
The last thing in the world Jared wants to do today is sell. Mark Sheppard is a minor threat to him-he can beat Jared but not enough to cripple him. He can withhold food, but he can't starve him. Jared was too big of an investment, and Mark will only devalue him by breaking or starving him. Jared has to be in prime condition, or at least look good enough to pass for that, which offers a lot of protection most slaves don't get in a place like this.
Jared has learned how to use every small advantage he has.
The boy in the glass cell across from Jared's is hopeless: his eyes widen every time a client comes by, puppy expression begging to be bought and loved. He's sweet and eager to please and obedient. He'll sell in a few days at the most, maybe even to the man coming down the hall now. A petty, sick master will buy him and immediately set to work on destroying all that sweetness.
The man next to Jared laughs disdainfully at the disappointed look that comes into the other slave's eyes every time someone passes through and does not buy him. He thinks he's doing himself a favor with all his venom, his challenging glances, and sneering expression, but really he's just as stupid as their friend across the way. His next master will lack the pettiness that the boy will appeal to, but they'll be infinitely more twisted and just as driven. Men will pay a lot, Jared has learned, for a good challenge. For a strong slave to tame. It may take a bit longer to sell, sure, but Jared wouldn't want to end up wherever he's going.
In his life, Jared has been both of these boys. He's had both of their masters. He's found a better way.
Now the two men are turning the corner, and Jared can hear Mark's usual spiel as they get closer and more of the sound from their conversation begins to filter in through the thick glass of his cage.
"Here are the slaves more likely to suit your purposes," he's saying. "We only purchase the best trained and most experienced of pleasure slaves here. I assure you, I've seen demonstrations of all of their talent and can promise…"
And on it goes. Jared doesn't get a look at the Alpha at his side. He's playing his part now. He daren't look down, but he stares straight ahead, expression as blank as marble. He catches every word without showing that he's listening and sees enough with just his ears to not need to move his eyes.
The trick to surviving this is being unremarkable. Bored expressions, too weary to be curious about the people in front of him, don't stand out. No one wants a slave with no spark left to squash. Jared has plenty of spark, but he's gotten good at hiding that. He's a body and nothing more when the masters come window shopping. Dead slaves don't sell.
Jared is at a disadvantage physically. He's tall and broad, even for an Alpha. He doesn't have the most attractive features in the world, but people don't buy slaves like him for their faces. He's taught himself to shrink, to pull himself in as much as his size will allow him. If he slumped in front of a potential master he would be beaten, but there are more subtle ways to adjust shoulders and legs in the attempt to conceal his height.
The Alpha has stopped just in front of Jared's cage now. He's a bit off to the side, so Jared still can't see his face, but he can see the expensive suit the man is wearing, the casual way he holds himself like he owns the world. This man is bad news, Jared decides.
"That one won't interest you, sir," Mr. Sheppard is saying, coming up at his side. "He's an-"
"Don't presume to tell me what I want, Sheppard," the customer replies, his left hand coming up to adjust the sleeve of his shirt. "Just let me look and be quiet."
Jared nearly smirks at that. Apparently the trader's friendliness, his 'please call me Mark' routine, didn't work on this one. It takes a lot to see through Sheppard-his unintimidating, nondescript face and charisma make it easy to forget who he is and what he does. He never gets his hands dirty. Even the other slaves sometimes fall into his trap and forget just how little he hesitates before issuing the orders that lead to their punishments.
This man must be smart to have Mr. Sheppard pinned so quickly, which only makes Jared want to curl in on himself more. He has no desire for a smart master. Smart usually just means creative.
"How old is he?"
Mr. Sheppard reappears at the client's side. "Around 25," he says. "And his background is extensive. Excellent reviews, for the most part. It's been years since he was sold for upsetting a master. But he is an Alpha, Mr. Ackles."
Ackles. Jared's heard that name before. The man steps forward again, and Jared finally gets a look at his face. Yes, it's that Ackles. Jared may not get many opportunities to catch up on celebrity gossip in his life, but he's heard this name around and seen this face, glossy on the covers of magazines, for years.
Jensen Ackles-the boy who inherited TradeMark Entertainment after his father and his father's business partner died in an accident. Everyone thought it would be the end of the company, but instead he made TradeMark the most successful production company in the country in less than three years. One word comes to Jared's mind now as this Ackles guy evaluates him: ruthless. The articles and television hosts never forget to mention how he got to the top. He was brutal against competition until he got the respect people were so hesitant to give someone his age.
Beautiful, too, Jared thinks now that the man's face is right in front of him. More beautiful than maybe anyone Jared has ever seen before, with big green eyes and freckles and full lips and soft brown hair cut close and elegant. The suit flatters him perfectly, his broad shoulders showcased without being overstated. Jared gets a terrible feeling of dread trying to imagine what someone this rich and powerful and gorgeous could possibly need a pleasure slave for. It wouldn't be hard for a man like Jensen Ackles to get anyone to agree to anything he wants for free.
Jared wishes Ackles would stop staring into his cage and just keep on walking, but he's okay. He's safe. He should be safe. All his masters haven't been Omegas. On occasion there are Betas that will buy an Alpha slave just to pad their egos. Just to prove to themselves they can make anyone, even an Alpha, grovel at their feet. But no Alpha needs that reassurance enough to pay the price a slave like Jared goes for.
After what feels like an eternity, Ackles pulls back from the glass of Jared's cage, makes a speculative "hmm" noise and moves along. Mark leads him eagerly to the boy across from Jared, and Jared watches as his blue eyes flash with excitement. He smiles at Ackles, and Jared hears the murmur of the black-haired man next to him saying something about needy Omega bitches.
Jared doesn't shake his head, but it's a near thing. The bright-eyed brunet across from them is a Beta, same as the other slave, but Betas can never tell the difference, not if their lives depend on it. Not unless their stereotypes are being satisfied.
After a few seconds, Ackles shrugs and starts walking again, Sheppard treading on his heels. Jared waits until he thinks he's safe to let his act drop. Ackles is stepping around the corner, and Jared is curious. He's never seen a famous person before. He figures there's no harm in turning to watch him leave.
Unfortunately, the man chooses that moment to send one last glimpse over his shoulder. He catches Jared's gaze, and Jared knows immediately from the calculating look that comes into those bright green eyes just how badly he's screwed himself over.
He's as good as sold.
Jared gets the early wakeup call the next morning. They all know what it means.
The other slaves lie in bed pretending to be asleep, but Jared knows every single one is awake and watching him. He catches some of their expressions as he dresses and makes his bed: hatred and envy from the very young or inexperienced, pity and relief from the rest.
Jared will find Mark Sheppard waiting for him in the hall to escort him to whatever form of transportation has been sent to pick him up. His new master may or may not have bothered to stick around to collect him. More likely there will be a slave handler here to take him to his new home. Theoretically, he will never be herded to the breakfast room with his fellow slaves and then crammed back into his thick glass cage to be evaluated like a piece of meat again, but Jared has gone through this routine too many times to believe that.
"Congratulations." Jared recognizes the voice immediately and doesn't bother looking down to see Mr. Sheppard as he begins to walk by his side. "You finally proved you weren't a giant waste of my time after all."
Jared's jaw clenches. He could say something now, Mr. Sheppard wouldn't beat someone else's property before sending him off, but it would do him no good at this point and will undoubtedly come back to haunt him if he ever ends up here again.
Sheppard laughs at his lack of response, apparently reading Jared's thought process in the way his muscles tighten. "You’re not completely stupid," he says. "I'll give you that."
"Thank you," Jared replies dryly.
He continues, "It's almost a shame you sold. We could have had a lot of fun together, you and I."
Jared can just imagine. This slave trader seems like exactly the kind of Beta who would use Jared to make himself feel big and strong, as if there's any distinction in winning a fight against someone who can't hit back.
"But not really, considering the price you fetched." He turns as they're approaching the door to the loading dock and grabs Jared's arm until Jared looks down and meets the dark look in his eyes. "You better make him happy, boy. I don't like giving refunds." He smiles cruelly and gives Jared one last quick assessment. "Then again, I can think of some fairly enjoyable punishments if I do get my hands on you. You won't like them, but I might."
Jared makes sure to turn his head before rolling his eyes. He's heard the 'intimidating-don't-come-back-here' pep talk so many times it hardly registers anymore.
"I'll do my best to serve my master and honor your generosity," Jared mumbles.
Mr. Sheppard makes an amused sound and nods his head at the guard standing by the door. It opens to reveal a sleek black car with tinted windows. Jared is used to being shuttled to his new home in less style than this, but maybe this means his master came to get him after all. Some masters like to keep their pleasure slaves close, cart them around so everyone can see their luxury.
Many of the other pleasure slaves Jared has talked to consider this a perk-getting to share in their master's expensive food and drink, ride in the nice cars and airplanes, sleep in the fine beds, and be seen by everyone who 'matters' according to some bullshit criteria Jared still doesn't understand. For him it's one of the worst things about the whole mess, being always at the side of someone he hates, shown off like a lapdog. He would rather be left behind with the other slaves, allowed the free time they get when their master is off living the high life.
But he doesn't really have much of a choice, so he steps forward to the car and waits for instruction.
Through the tinted window Jared can see someone bend over the back seat to open the door closest to him. It's not Ackles, and Jared's heart picks up for a moment, thinking maybe he didn't sell to the person he thought he did. Inside a woman with long brown hair waves her hand at him.
"Let's go," she says. "Get in. I don't have all day."
Jared has never seen her before in his life, but he does as he's told, closing the door after him.
"Jeff, he's in," the woman says.
In the front seat the driver nods, and the car begins to move. The woman turns her head then, removing her sunglasses as she looks at Jared. She smiles slowly and laughs. "Well, I still don't like it," she says cheerfully. "But I'll give the man that he has good taste."
Jared thinks it's best to stay quiet.
"I'm Genevieve," she adds after waiting for Jared to reply. She holds out a carefully manicured hand. "I'm Jens-uh, Mr. Ackles's personal assistant. I'll be getting you situated and all that jazz, at least until we get to the house. Then I guess my husband will be dealing with you."
Jared stares at her hand until she raises an eyebrow and pushes it forward a little more. "You want me to…?"
"Shake it," she says.
Jared does, though he's pretty sure of all the crazy shit he's been ordered to do in his life, shake hands like a normal human being is probably amongst the most unsettling.
"Good," she replies, like she's talking to a child. "Now you introduce yourself."
"I'm Jared, Master."
"That's a lovely name, and I am not your master. Seriously. Genevieve will do fine." She smiles, then yells at the driver. "Jeff! Say hello to Jared."
Jeff only looks back for a moment, giving Jared a nod and the tiniest hint of a wave before his attention is back on the road.
Genevieve laughs. "Jeff is a little safety obsessed," she explains. "He's friendlier when he's not behind the wheel."
"Oh," Jared says blankly. Jeff's response had seemed more than friendly enough to Jared.
Genevieve looks him up and down for a few more seconds and then frowns slightly. "Yeah, I guess you're not going to talk much."
She doesn't seem upset, so Jared doesn't try to remedy her disappointment. Always better to be a quiet slave than to talk too much, make the mistake of thinking someone cares what you have to say. He looks out of the window mostly, trying to discover where his new home is. The drive is fairly long, an hour and 45 minutes, and the "house" they finally pull into is really a mansion, not that Jared was expecting any different. The gate is so tall Jared can't see the top from inside the car, and it surrounds acres and acres of land around the main building.
Jared has seen tackier displays of wealth in his life, but not many.
They get dropped off by the side of the house where a man is already waiting for them. He's dressed more casually than Jared is expecting, in black pants and a plain blue button down shirt. He steps forward to open the door on Genevieve's side of the car, and it's not until he offers her his hand and helps her out that Jared realizes she's several months pregnant under the blazer she's wearing.
"Hey baby," the man says, leaning in for a kiss.
Genevieve turns her head so his lips fall on her cheek instead of her mouth. She looks at Jared. "You have a nice day." Then she turns to the man, pointing a finger into his face. "And don't you start with this bullshit. I haven’t forgotten we're fighting yet."
"We're fighting?" the man asks.
Genevieve throws her hands up in the air and begins to stomp toward the house. "I'm too busy and too knocked up for this shit."
He looks after her until she's made it inside, then he turns his attention on Jared. "She's a splendid creature, isn't she?" he asks in an awed tone.
Jared is really, really confused.
"I'm Misha," the servant says, reaching out to grab Jared's hand just like Genevieve had, except he doesn't wait for Jared to close the gap, so it's much less awkward but no less unsettling. "Genevieve's husband and Jensen's head of staff. I'll take you to your room so you can get settled in."
Jared nearly flinches hearing this man call his master by his name like that. If he were a slave, he could be killed. Even as a servant, the man could lose his job if the wrong person heard him.
Misha must notice how uncomfortable Jared is, because he shakes his head. "Sorry, I, uh, forgot. Mr. Ackles, then. I guess."
The door opens to reveal a huge room full of people rushing about. Misha leads Jared in and gestures around. "This is where the staff lives," he says. "This is the common room, but the entire wing of the house is ours."
Jared isn’t usually allowed in servant's quarters, not even just in passing. He's either in the master's bed or in the slave quarters, so he looks around at the novelty.
"You'll have to come here pretty often," Misha explains as they keep walking. They head straight for the door without pausing for him to tell Jared where anything is. "But Mr. Ackles and I would prefer if you try to do so as rarely and as quietly as possible. The staff should not see you if it's at all avoidable. You'll be eating about a half hour after we're served, which is an hour after Mr. Ackles eats. It'll be up to you to come get your meal when it's ready, the kitchen staff won't be chasing you down. That means 9:30 for breakfast, 1:30 for lunch, and 7:30 for dinner."
Jared nods. Three meals is an extravagance he's rarely ever enjoyed, but he's not about to point the error out.
Once they've passed through the staff housing, Misha indicates a room down the hall. "These are our facilities as well, but you're welcome to use them as often as you'd like. Gym, library, all that good stuff. There's also a dining room that's usually empty, you're free to sit there if you don't feel like carrying your food all the way to your room."
Jared nods and does his best to map the way from where they are to his room as Misha leads him down a couple of flights of stairs and through a long hall. The walls and floors are much barer here than they'd been in the main house, but it's clean and quiet.
Misha stops by the open door of a large room and points in. There are rows and rows of small empty beds, but there's no sign that anyone lives here or has in a very long time.
"This is the slave housing," he says. "I guess you'll have the whole room to yourself. I'll talk to your master about clearing some of these beds out to make space for a better one. We have a few vacant rooms in staff housing, so it'll really just be a matter of moving it down a few floors. Though maybe you'll be sleeping in his room. I don't know." He shrugs. "I'm trying to get as little information about this whole thing as possible, to be honest."
Jared looks around. The room is big enough to house 20 people comfortably, which usually means about 60 or 70 slaves actually live here. It can't all be for Jared.
"So, make yourself at home," Misha says. "I'll come get you when Mr. Ackles wants to see you and take you to him. Until then, just relax."
Misha turns to leave, but Jared calls him back.
"Wait."
Misha stops in the doorway and looks at him. "Yes? Is something wrong?"
"Where are all the other slaves?" Jared asks because he knows he can't say 'What the hell happened to the other 59 people who are supposed to be crammed into this room?'
"There are none," Misha tells him, as if this should be fairly obvious. "There were when this was Jensen's father's house, but that was ten years ago. They were all freed. Mr. Ackles doesn't believe people can be owned."
Jared stares forward, blinking a few times, trying to ingest the apparent complete lack of irony with which this man just told him that the master who bought him and brought him here does not believe in slavery.
"What am I?" He doesn't usually say things without thinking about them, but it just falls out. It's too much. Not that all of the slave owners Jared's ever known haven't been hypocrites, but this is a whole new level.
Misha's face scrunches up, and he shakes his head. He looks sorry, but he avoids the question. "I suppose it will be lonely down here," he says quietly. "I wanted to keep you in the staff housing, but Mr. Ackles insisted."
With that he turns and leaves Jared alone.
It's actually Genevieve who comes to fetch him.
She knocks on his door at around 8 that night, not long after Jared has finished his dinner. It wasn't easy to find the staff housing on his own, but he made it just in time and was handed a plate packed full of chicken and wild rice. The cook, a maternal blonde woman who tells Jared to call her Sam, set the plate aside and kept it warm for him. She said she figured he'd need a good meal after such a big day. Jared had been too dumbfounded to even thank her as he'd accepted it and hurried it back to his room before someone could take it back.
Jared looks up at the rapping sound to see that Genevieve is already letting herself in.
"Hey," she says, leaning against the doorframe and watching him with a concerned expression. "How is everything so far?"
Jared opens his mouth, then closes it. He's been thinking over what Misha told him earlier all day. That, added to the friendly, sympathetic treatment he's received from all the servants he's talked to since arriving, has led him to the conclusion that he is in big, big trouble. Everyone is acting like they feel sorry for him. Like they're preparing to sacrifice him to something awful. Maybe this is what it takes to keep the rest of them free. One unfortunate slave at a time.
"I'll take the long, ominous silence as a sign that you're very satisfied."
Jared nods. "It's great," he says. "Everything's been great."
"That's good." She smiles and straightens up. "Mr. Ackles has requested that you visit him in his chamber."
Jared swallows the lump in his throat and immediately gets to his feet. Hesitating is only going to make things worse.
They walk in silence. Genevieve shows Jared the quickest passage from the slaves' quarters to the Master's apartments. He'll be making this journey a lot, after all, and the staff will probably have more important things to do than lead Jared around, especially if there are no slaves around to do the most basic chores like Jared had assumed there would be.
Jared's Master's main rooms are directly above Jared's quarters, four stories up. He replies brusquely to the knock on his door, calling out to know who it is and what they want. Genevieve rolls her eyes, quirking her lips and opening the door without answering or waiting for Mr. Ackles's permission.
"I brought Jared as requested," she announces.
Master Ackles is sitting on his bed, still impeccably dressed from the day. He looks up, clearly annoyed by the way Genevieve just let herself in, but then his expression wavers.
"I sent for Misha to get him," he says. "I didn't expect you to do it."
"Alas, Misha is off the clock and currently working very hard to please his other boss, me." She smirks and sends a suggestive look Jared's way. "He's running my bubble bath. You're not the only one around here who gets to have fun."
Jared's master almost looks like he's about to laugh, but he keeps his features schooled to indifference. "Very well. You're excused."
"Oh, excused am I?" she replies, turning toward the door and muttering to herself. "I walk my pregnant ass up and down four flights of stairs for this shady shit and what do I get? I get excused. No 'thank you, Genevieve.' No 'goodnight, Genevieve.'" She pauses in the doorway and sends one last significant glance in Ackles's direction. "I'd better be getting a hell of a Christmas bonus, that's all I'm saying."
"Just leave and close the door, would you?"
Genevieve tosses her hair and obeys. Jared watches her go with a feeling of dread. He's known men who would have killed Genevieve for the tone she just took, pregnant or not. Jensen just stays where he was when they walked in, looking neither surprised nor terribly incensed.
Jared stands in front of him as still as he can, waiting to feel his master's attention shift on to him. It's awkward now without Genevieve's running commentary, but not in a way Jared isn't used to.
Finally, his master looks up at him. Jared averts his eyes, letting them drop to the ground out of respect.
"Do you talk?" his master asks.
Jared nods, caught off guard by the question, but doesn't risk looking up for a clue on how to respond. "Yes, Master."
"It was a joke," he says, sounding annoyed. "You're allowed to laugh, you know."
Jared nods again and stays quiet. He hears a sigh from the bed and feels a nice, familiar sense of terror. Jared is usually better at reading people than this. By now, he normally at least has a general idea of what kind of master he's dealing with and what to say or do to stay out of trouble. But this man makes no sense to Jared, he's not like any master Jared has ever had or seen, and that just makes this whole thing worse, even if he hasn't shown himself to be cruel yet.
"Take off your shirt."
Jared feels relief at that. This part he knows how to do. He obeys, though he's unsure if his master would prefer haste or a show. He goes at a neutral pace and Ackles does not complain.
He lets the fabric drop to the ground, trying to keep his expression impassive through the prickling he feels, even now, every time someone looks at him like this. Shame. Even slaves like Jared can feel shame.
"Look up," his master says, not unkindly. "I didn't buy you to not see you."
Jared raises his eyes, keeping his head bowed, and meets those bright green eyes as they watch him.
"You looked better all oiled up at the trader's," his master says with a slight upward twist to his mouth. "Smaller, though."
Jared tries to stand up straighter. There's no point in trying to diminish himself now, especially not if his master wants more muscles. "I can oil myself before coming to see you from now on, Master," Jared tells him. "I'm sorry to have disappointed you."
The man rolls his eyes. "That was another joke. You don't have much of a sense of humor, do you?"
Jared bites down on all the nasty responses that come to mind. His master would probably not be very amused in his place. He tries to smile instead. "I can if it pleases you."
Mr. Ackles shakes his head. "Only laugh if you actually feel like it. I'm just letting you know you're allowed to."
"Thank you, Master."
His master looks at him for another long minute, then opens his mouth, hesitating before he says, "Touch yourself. I want to see your knot."
Jared can't imagine it looks terribly different from his master's knot, but he isn't here to be logical. His pants fall in a pool around his feet in seconds. He strokes himself until he's hard, closing his eyes and pushing until his mind is blank and he's almost forgotten when and where he is. Even like this he can feel his master's appraising eyes on him, but Jared has been doing this long enough to trick himself into staying hard.
The room is eerily silent except for the slap of Jared's hand on his skin, and when he finally opens his eyes, he sees that his master is still sitting on the bed in the same position. Nothing about him gives away that he's getting any enjoyment from this at all, and Jared nearly worries he's doing something wrong until he sees his master's hands caught in the blanket of his bed. He's holding on so tight his knuckles have gone white from blood loss, and his eyes are unblinking, fixed on Jared's cock with something almost bordering on desperation. He's not easy to read like Jared's masters usually are, but Jared can see that he's at least a little turned on. He might make it through this after all.
Ackles doesn't issue any orders as Jared works himself, but Jared keeps a steady pace, worried he'll upset the moment by changing. This isn't so bad as first visits with new masters go. Jared is still unharmed and, even better, unmolested. He doesn't want to draw attention to that.
Finally, Jared feels himself getting close and bites down on his lip, knowing he'll be asking for trouble if he comes too soon. He slows the rhythm on his shaft and sees his master blinking and shaking his head slightly, as if some spell has been broken and he's coming back through the haze.
"You can stop, if you want," Ackles says.
Jared doesn't know what comes next, isn't sure he wants to stop, but he figures a command is a command, no matter how it's worded. He stops.
"That's, uh," his master wipes the other hand over his mouth, and Jared notes that he has not loosened his grip on the blanket, "that's good. That's all I wanted. You can go for the night."
Jared stands there at a loss, feeling his eyebrows draw in. It doesn't make any sense; he hasn't done anything to please his master yet. He can't just leave without pleasing his master. He thinks it must be another of those jokes he doesn't get, so he forces a small laugh out and tries to draw closer.
His master's eyes flash in response and he begins to draw back before he seems to remember something and stays in place. "That one wasn't a joke," he snaps. "Leave."
Jared pulls his pants back up and only buttons the top of them, not bothering to put his shirt on before rushing to the door and back down to his room. Jared hasn't screwed up in front of a master like that in years; he doesn't know how he allowed himself to make such a gross miscalculation.
He settles into his small, uncomfortable bed in the slave quarters, listening to the disturbing silence and staring at the stains on the walls, the proof that there was once life down here aside from him. He's no closer to understanding how he should act, and he falls asleep knowing he'll be lucky if he's awakened tomorrow by nothing worse than a whipping.
No one comes for him the next day. Sunlight doesn't shine into Jared's new home, he's too far under the house for that, and he never hears the alarm he's become so accustomed to while at the slave trader's.
He awakes simply because he's gotten enough sleep, turns over in bed to see the clock on the wall telling him he missed breakfast. He knows better than to go upstairs and try to remedy that situation, but he figures he should at least exercise.
He keeps an eye on the clock, running through the schedule Misha had given him the day before. He's pretty hungry already, but Master Ackles should only now be finishing up his own lunch, which means Jared still has to wait through the servant's lunch before he can even think of going to the kitchen.
"You've broken Sam's heart already."
Jared's body jolts in shock. He nearly misses his step and falls off the treadmill. He manages to stay on and to school the glare he wants to send toward the man who surprised him.
"I'm sorry?" Jared asks.
"Sam, the cook. She thinks you hated your dinner last night and that's why you skipped breakfast. Completely heartbroken, I tell you."
Jared steps off the machine, wiping his face with a towel and facing Misha. "I slept too late," he explains, wincing at the thought that this information will make it back to his master. "I missed my assigned time."
Misha laughs. "The food is still there if you're late, you know. Probably not as warm, but."
"I…oh."
"So I'm guessing you're hungry now?"
"I will not miss lunch, I assure you. My apologies for my tardiness."
"Er, right. That's great. So, you wanna have lunch with me and the little lady?"
Jared blinks, again caught off guard. "I'm not allowed."
"Okay, I know, I know. I said you should try to stay clear of the staff. But it's not like Gen and I don't know you're here, and we get an earlier lunch. So come get to know us and we'll feed you. I promise I'm not that bad of company. At any rate, Gen has gotten very good at shutting me up when I'm being annoying."
"No, I mean…" Jared coughs. "You're free. I can't eat with you without my master's permission."
"You've got our permission, it's our table. Not like anyone's going to tell the police."
"And if Master Ack-"
"Jensen won't care when or where you decide to eat, man. Besides, we've got rights. We can have lunch with whoever we want to."
That must be nice, Jared thinks, annoyed that the servant is so flippant about putting Jared in a bad spot just because he knows he and his wife will be safe.
But Misha is free and is, from what Jared can tell, third in command around here after Ackles and Genevieve. Jared could be killed for saying no to him, same as he could be killed for saying yes. And he is pretty hungry.
"Come on!" Misha makes his big blue eyes somehow get even bigger and bluer, and his bottom lip pouts. "It was Genevieve's idea, and that woman is scary when she doesn't get her way. Won't you think of my safety?"
Jared nods. He doesn't get why everyone here is going to such lengths to pretend he has choices, but it's nice even as it's more than a little insulting. "Okay, sir. I will be there."
"Well, uh, actually we're setting the table now, so if you're ready to go…"
Jared looks over to the clock and back to Misha. "But the master is still eating."
"We run the kitchen, you think we can't steal an early meal from time to time?" Misha pats Jared on the back, noticing a moment too late that his hand will come back covered in sweat. He makes a face, then blinks up at Jared. "Maybe a quick shower first?"
Jared surprises himself with a laugh. "Yes, sir."
Misha salutes. "Just meet me outside the servant's quarters when you're done."
Misha and Genevieve's apartments are on the second floor of the servant's quarters and take up more than three rooms. They aren't extravagant, but they're far more comfortable than Jared was expecting, and it puts him off kilter, lunching with people who live like this. Jared is used to starving on a slave's diet or being forced to stomach too much of a master's feasts. He doesn't know how to behave in the middle ground.
He tries to stay quiet and formal the way he does when a master takes him to dinner, erring on the side of caution, but it's hard with the way Misha and Genevieve speak to him.
"These fucking cheese things are fucking amazing." Genevieve stabs at her lunch with a fork, holding the plate up for inspection and peering at it. "I still don't fucking know what it is, but it's a goddamn orgasm on a plate. Right?" She looks up from her food, her eyes shifting from Jared to Misha and back again. "I'm right, aren't I?"
"Always," Misha says. "And it's called brie en croute."
"That's not the point," she replies. "The point is that I could eat fifty of these things and live to not regret it."
Jared, who cleaned his own plate in about a minute and a half, pretty much agrees. He catches her giving him and his empty dish an amused look and finds that his responding smile comes easily.
"See, baby? Jared agrees. He is a man of distinctive taste. It's why he likes me better than you."
"He never said he liked you better than me," Misha replies. She gives him a look and he immediately buckles. "But naturally he does."
"I'd rather not take sides," Jared says, in case anyone actually wanted his opinion on the matter.
Genevieve smiles triumphantly, holding up a hand for Misha to high five. "Aha! And we have accomplished speech!"
Jared looks down, but Genevieve makes a 'tsk' sound and puts a few fingers under Jared's chin, gently positioning his face up so he's looking at her. In the moment since he turned away, all the playfulness has left her expression. "How are you doing, Jared?" she asks.
He swallows, thrown off by the inexplicable and seemingly genuine worry in her voice. "I'm very happy," he says. "I appreciate everything my new master has done to help me feel at home."
Genevieve barks out a laugh. "Great, and now that we've gotten the official answer out of the way. How are you really? Look, I know how much it sucks to be sold and have to uproot everything, and how scary it can be to get to know an unfamiliar place and master."
Jared's face contorts in confusion, and he looks around the spacious rooms she and Misha share. This cannot be the home of a former slave. She's respected here. "You…?" Jared shakes his head. "That's not possible."
She smiles and nods softly. "I was 13 when they brought me here. The late Mr. Ackles bought me for Jensen. To do what you're here to do now, I guess. But he never touched me. I thought he would never-well, it doesn't matter what I thought. Point is: I've been where you are and it fucking sucks."
Beside her, Misha is quiet for once, his hand resting over hers on the table. He nods supportively.
"But you…" Jared can't finish his thought. From the way she had talked to Jensen last night and his master's lack of response, Jared had taken Genevieve for nobility-someone whose wealth had dried up but who still had the legal protection of birthright behind her. If she's a former slave, it would take little more effort to justify her death than it would to justify Jared's.
"We grew up friends," she says. "And when he freed us, I stayed. I didn't have anywhere better to go. I didn't have anyone I cared about more than him. I never regretted it-in fact, I was proud to serve him until he told me he was planning to buy someone like you."
"Genevieve and I very seriously considered leaving, but apparently our loyalty to Jensen is a little stronger than our morals." He frowns. "We're still here, but that doesn’t mean we like what he's doing."
They shouldn't be talking like that. Jared shouldn't be hearing it. He's inclined to assume this is some kind of test, except for the way they keep looking at him as if he's a person.
"Why are you telling me this?" Jared asks.
"Because we're sorry. We're complicit because we stayed, and we know that. There's no reason for you to forgive us for that. But we would like to try to be your friends anyway. We would like to make this as easy as possible for you. If you need anything, anything at all, tell Genevieve or me. Or Jensen, even."
Genevieve nods and sits forward, giving Jared a look that is begging to be trusted. "He won't be cruel, Jared. I know that doesn't really fix much, but it's something. And he will free you. We're going to make sure of it."
Jared shrugs and looks away. He appreciates what they're trying to do here-he really, really does. No one has ever been this kind to him before, even if it's just guilty consciences driving them. But there's no such thing as a benevolent master and there's no reason for Jared to start believing this one will free him. Some are worse than others, but at the end of the day, Jared is nothing as far as Ackles is concerned except for a place to put his dick. Losing sight of that is just about the most dangerous thing he could do.
There's a dejected sigh from across the table, and then Genevieve is forcing a smile. "Misha, don't just sit there. Get the man some sponge cake."
After that, the tone lightens. Misha and Genevieve go back to their banter, occasionally one or the other asking Jared to be the tie breaking vote in some inane argument, and Jared laughs a lot more than he's used to until they make their apologies about needing to get back to work and send Jared on his way.
He spends the better chunk of his days here alone, a luxury he's not really used to. He doesn't know what to do with himself. He finds a library tucked away in the servant facilities and makes a mental note to ask Genevieve the next time he sees her. Misha had said he could use anything he wanted, but books are different. Jared shouldn't even know how to read, he could be in serious trouble if he gets caught doing it without permission.
Instead he sits in the library without touching the books, just because it's quiet and less ugly than the slave quarters, until the time comes for dinner. He goes to fetch his and takes it back to his room just like the night before, pausing to apologize to the cook, and waits to find out if his master is going to summon him tonight.
It gets late before he does, but finally there's a soft rapping at his door and a girl Jared has never seen before is in the hall waiting to deliver a message. She tells him he's expected in his master's apartments without introducing herself or escorting Jared, but he wasn't expecting to be led again and he remembers the way well enough.
He knocks at his master's door and waits for the "come in" before turning the knob. The lights are dimmer inside than they'd been the night before, and Jared sees that his master is in pajamas instead of a suit like the other times he's seen him. Expensive pajamas, but still. It's a huge change to see him like this, almost soft in the lamplight with his hair mussed and his expression slightly fuzzy. He almost looks approachable.
He's propped up in bed with a stack of pillows and there are papers Jared can only assume are work-related scattered around the mattress. When he sees Jared he begins to gather it all together, laughing under his breath as he does so. "I say come in, so he comes in." He looks up at Jared. "At least someone around here knows how to take orders."
Jared knows it's a joke this time, but it's in such poor taste he can't even pretend to be amused, punishment be damned.
His master shrugs off his silence, moving so that he's sitting up at the edge of his bed and gesturing for Jared to come closer. Jared does as he's told, eyes scanning up and down as he gets closer, and realizes something about Ackles is off. He can't put his finger on it-it's not just the change of clothes or the sleepy look on his master's face. The man looks shrunken compared to what Jared remembers of him.
He licks his lips and looks up at Jared, placing a hand on each side of his hips when he stops in front of him. He begins to undo the buckle on Jared's pants and slides them down eagerly, staring with only slightly less intensity than he had the night before. This time he touches Jared, his hand stroking deftly until Jared is hard, his knot throbbing between his master's palms.
He looks up instead of at the sight. Ackles really is gorgeous, and Jared is having a difficult enough time convincing himself that it doesn't feel good and he doesn't like it without seeing all that lust on his master's perfect features.
"Look at me."
Grudgingly, Jared does as he's told. Ackles lets go of him, but Jared knows from the way his breath is hitching that this is nowhere near over.
"Kneel."
Jared gets to his knees between his master's legs and is immediately hit by a wave of sweetness, a scent that makes him want nothing in the world more than to stand up, throw his master onto the bed, and knot him up so tight they never come apart. It's been years since Jared has smelled this, but he would know what it means even if it were new.
Suddenly things begin to fall into place. Jared can see now why Jensen Ackles, who he'd taken for such a typical Alpha male, wanted an Alpha as his pleasure slave. The change he hadn't been able to pick out earlier is now clear; his shoulders aren't nearly as broad as Jared thought. He's heard of men having suits tailored to give off the impression of dominance, but this is the first time he's seen how effective it can be. Personalized colognes can even simulate the slight Alpha scent Jared can still detect under the much stronger smell coming off his master.
Jared has never been tricked before now, but now he's really sure. He knows an Omega when he smells one. His mouth drops open in shock and before he can think he says, "You're an Omega."
The hands on Jared's shoulder falter for a moment before his master regains his composure. When he replies, his voice is calm and steady. "If you ever tell anyone, I'll have you killed. And you know I can." His words are so casual it sounds more like he's placing a lunch order than issuing a very serious threat on Jared's life.
Jared has been threatened before, but something about the delivery makes his blood run colder than it ever has. And he's right-people kill their slaves for fun. He swallows hard and nods. "Understood, Master."
"Good."
Ackles draws him close then, burying his face in Jared's neck and taking a deep breath. Jared is already groping up the man's thigh, incapable of stopping himself, but he receives a low groan of encouragement, so he keeps working until his palm is resting over the crotch of his master's pants. Jared feels him get hard under his touch as he breathes in Jared's Alpha scent.
All he wants is to get him naked and feel how wet he is and fuck the man until they're both too raw to keep going. And he hates himself for that, but he knows there's no point fighting it now.
The smell only gets stronger when Jared finally gets his master's pajama bottoms off and his cock free. Jared can see the wetness shining below and tries to dip his head down to taste it, but he feels strong hands in his hair stopping him.
He looks up. It's taking every ounce of self-control Jared has to keep himself off his master, and it makes no fucking sense that this Omega won't just let him have his way. By now they should be tied together for crying out loud.
"Do you want me to knot you, Master?"
Jensen's fingers tighten in his hair and he tugs Jared even further back. Puts more distance between him and the intoxicating scent and it's not fair. It's torture, which wouldn't be new to Jared except that he knows his master wants this just as much. This is what he was bought for, isn't it?
"Don’t you dare even try it."
The response catches Jared so far off guard that he looks up in shock and disappointment. His master's face almost looks scared, though even now he's too much in control for Jared to be sure.
"I'm sorry, Master. I shouldn't have assumed. Please forgive me."
The relief on Ackles's face is the first time his master has ever let his guard drop, but it's gone in half a second and again his expression is unyielding. "It's okay," he says. His grip in Jared's hair lessens slightly until he's stroking his fingers gently through.
Jared waits for an order, but nothing comes, until finally the smell and the quiet and the weight of his master's heated gaze is all too much. Jared has made the first move before, but never with a master as unpredictable as this one. Still, something has to give or Jared really won't be able to control himself.
"What would you like, Master?"
Ackles hesitates, then his hands urge Jared's face forward. "Can you-?" He stops, leaving a long pause. When he speaks again, there's no question or politeness in his tone. It's as clear an order as Jared's ever received. "Suck me."
Jared nods eagerly and moves forward, taking his master's cock into his mouth. It's easy enough to swallow down the entire length of him. Jared's training was thorough. He stops when he reaches the base of Ackles's dick and lets his nose rest in hairs. He can smell his master so strongly here that his whole body burns up, and he begins to lick up and down with an enthusiasm he knows he will be embarrassed to remember by the time the hormones wear off.
Still, it's incredible, and his master is not entirely successful in his attempts to swallow his low sounds of satisfaction. As Jared continues to take Ackles in his mouth, the hand on the back of his head shifts, first holding on tighter and guiding him, then losing the concentration to hold on as he gets closer to coming.
Jared is straining in his pants, his knot demanding attention, and he's still half-hoping and half-dreading he'll be expected to fuck his master after this. He can feel Ackles getting closer, and then his free hand slips under Jared and he presses his fingers into the wetness that's been driving Jared so crazy. Jared keeps working through his confusion. He would have done that if his master had asked him to. Hell, he would have been happy to do anything that would have gotten him closer to this smell.
The sound that Ackles makes once he's begun to touch himself is nearly a whimper, and it sends shockwaves through Jared, reminding him of all the times he's made his Omegas beg. It hurts at this point to keep his knot untouched, but Jared knows he'll only be opening himself up to more pain if he does something before his master has given him instruction.
Still, he can't hold back his own needy groan around his master's cock. That seems to jolt the other man back into the moment, and he almost sounds apologetic when he says, "God, I know you need it, too. You can touch yourself. I'm close. You can come whenever you want to."
Jared pushes his hands into the tight fabric of his pants and begins to jerk himself at a desperate pace. He isn't sure what would upset his master more, if he comes in his only clothes or if he comes on the floor by the bed, but he knows his hand won't be big enough to hold everything, not with the ache in his knot. It's been years since he smelled an Omega; he's about to burst.
He errs on the side of caution, keeping the mess inside his pants. Better his clothes than his master's room. Jared finishes almost the moment he touches himself, but he knows his knot will still be emptying itself through his master's climax and after.
Ackles must smell Jared's hormones get stronger as he finishes, because he comes only a few seconds after Jared starts, his body lifting off the bed as he thrusts roughly into Jared's mouth before his pace slackens and he collapses back. Jared can hear his ragged breathing, can only imagine how good he looks, and it's with some hesitance that he pulls his mouth away from the softening dick.
On the mattress, Jared's master lifts his head to look between his legs to where Jared is still kneeling. He begins to sit up, moving back onto the bed. "Are you still…?"
Jared nods, doesn’t even stop to pull his hand up.
Ackles pats the side of the bed closest to Jared. "Come here."
Jared does as he's told, finally relinquishing his grip. He winces at the slide of come in his pants and feels vulnerable and naked with his master's eyes on him, even though he's still completely clothed.
"You could have-" Jared's master shrugs, then turns onto his side. He reaches out and stops and then keeps moving forward, as if he's only just reminded himself that he doesn't exactly have to ease Jared into whatever he's about to do. He puts his hand over the buttons on Jared's pants and begins to unfasten them, and Jared turns his face away.
"Master, I can't again yet. I'm sorry, I finished. I'm still-I can't get hard again."
Ackles laughs. "I know, I just want to…" He slides his palm down Jared's thighs just enough to uncover Jared's still-knotted cock and the come that has gotten all over his legs. He keeps his hand away from Jared's dick and slips his fingers through the mess on his leg instead.
Then he closes his eyes and brings the fingers up to his lips, sucking them slowly into his mouth. He moans quietly to himself, and for some reason the satisfied look on his master's face makes Jared feel like he's intruding on something personal, like he shouldn't be here to see a man who owns him look that happy. Which is stupid, because it's his come that's doing it.
After a few moments, Jared's master opens his eyes again and looks over at Jared. "I have a bathroom through that door," he says. "You can clean this off. Then come back here."
Jared nods, rising to do as his master commanded. The bathroom attached to Ackles's room is like nothing Jared has ever seen, and he's lived with men he thought were unfathomably wealthy in the past. The tub looks so big it could hold them both easily, and Jared nearly blushes at that thought, looking away from it and focusing on the ornate golden sink instead.
His master is dressed in his pajamas again by the time he gets out, sitting up against the headboard in exactly the same position. Jared nearly wonders if he'd imagined everything that's happened since he walked in tonight.
Ackles looks at him as he approaches, gesturing to the end of the bed. Jared takes the cue and sits down, waiting for further instruction.
"Do you know why I chose you?" he asks.
Half an hour ago, when he first put together that his master was an Omega, the answer would have seemed fairly obvious. After what just did not happen, Jared frankly has no clue. "Because I looked good oiled up?"
His master barks out a surprised laugh, his face lighting up like the answer delighted him. Jared feels a little reassured that he can at least give Ackles some kind of pleasure, even if it's not quite the kind he's used to giving.
"That didn't hurt," he says, his lips still quirked into a small smile. "It's because you were acting in order to keep me from noticing you."
Jared hopes his face doesn't show as much surprise as he feels, but he knows he hasn't kept it all hidden. He hadn't thought he'd been obvious. Those tricks have been serving him well for years, and Jared feels stupid, childish hatred for this man, not only for seeing through him so easily but for doing it while tricking Jared. Jared prided himself on knowing how to read people just as he prided his ability to blindside others. Those were the only things he had going for him, and this smug bastard has just taken them both from him in the span of an hour.
His master laughs at whatever face he's making and shakes his head. "Don't worry, Jared. You weren't bad at it. I suspected, but I never would have known if you hadn't broken in that last second. And I," Jensen gestures to one of the blazers draped over his closet door, one of the ones with the fake shoulders that had been such a huge part of throwing Jared off about Ackles being an Omega, "I know a thing or two about acting."
Jared tilts his head to the side, trying to see how any of that connects to his being brought here. "I don't understand."
Ackles licks his lips. "I need someone discreet, is that understood? I'm-no one is proud of being what I am, but it is what it is. I need an Alpha. But only one kind of person has the kind of slave you are, and I can't be that kind of person. Not publicly."
He nods slowly. Jared has had plenty of masters who weren't that kind of person, but it's pretty clear this guy has some serious issues to work through, and Jared has no motivation to help him out. Anyway, this at least lets him know the conditions expected from him. It's been driving him crazy trying to guess for the last few days.
"So you draw those shoulders in and look puny and insignificant like you did in that cage. You make them think you're an Omega, or at the very least a servile Beta. And you stay quiet about me. That, and your knot, is all I'll ask you for. We clear?"
"Yes, Master."
"Good boy," he replies in a mocking tone. "You can leave now."
ON TO PART TWO
or
BACK TO MASTERPOST
Jared can tell just from the sound of the footsteps in the hall what he'll see when they turn the corner. Not that the people who enter from this direction are terribly varied, there are maybe two or three basic types to pick from, but it's good to be prepared.
This person walks at a hurried pace, definitely male. The kind of man who thinks he's much too busy to take his time about anything. Long strides, too, confident of their right to trample through a place like this. That'll be the customer. An Alpha, Jared would bet his life on it, which means he's almost definitely safe. He still won't be taking any chances.
Mr. Sheppard's slightly frantic pace, struggling to keep up with his client, undoubtedly rambling away at the speed of light in an attempt to endear himself to the buyer, is easily distinguishable as well, but his footfalls aren't the ones that matter.
The last thing in the world Jared wants to do today is sell. Mark Sheppard is a minor threat to him-he can beat Jared but not enough to cripple him. He can withhold food, but he can't starve him. Jared was too big of an investment, and Mark will only devalue him by breaking or starving him. Jared has to be in prime condition, or at least look good enough to pass for that, which offers a lot of protection most slaves don't get in a place like this.
Jared has learned how to use every small advantage he has.
The boy in the glass cell across from Jared's is hopeless: his eyes widen every time a client comes by, puppy expression begging to be bought and loved. He's sweet and eager to please and obedient. He'll sell in a few days at the most, maybe even to the man coming down the hall now. A petty, sick master will buy him and immediately set to work on destroying all that sweetness.
The man next to Jared laughs disdainfully at the disappointed look that comes into the other slave's eyes every time someone passes through and does not buy him. He thinks he's doing himself a favor with all his venom, his challenging glances, and sneering expression, but really he's just as stupid as their friend across the way. His next master will lack the pettiness that the boy will appeal to, but they'll be infinitely more twisted and just as driven. Men will pay a lot, Jared has learned, for a good challenge. For a strong slave to tame. It may take a bit longer to sell, sure, but Jared wouldn't want to end up wherever he's going.
In his life, Jared has been both of these boys. He's had both of their masters. He's found a better way.
Now the two men are turning the corner, and Jared can hear Mark's usual spiel as they get closer and more of the sound from their conversation begins to filter in through the thick glass of his cage.
"Here are the slaves more likely to suit your purposes," he's saying. "We only purchase the best trained and most experienced of pleasure slaves here. I assure you, I've seen demonstrations of all of their talent and can promise…"
And on it goes. Jared doesn't get a look at the Alpha at his side. He's playing his part now. He daren't look down, but he stares straight ahead, expression as blank as marble. He catches every word without showing that he's listening and sees enough with just his ears to not need to move his eyes.
The trick to surviving this is being unremarkable. Bored expressions, too weary to be curious about the people in front of him, don't stand out. No one wants a slave with no spark left to squash. Jared has plenty of spark, but he's gotten good at hiding that. He's a body and nothing more when the masters come window shopping. Dead slaves don't sell.
Jared is at a disadvantage physically. He's tall and broad, even for an Alpha. He doesn't have the most attractive features in the world, but people don't buy slaves like him for their faces. He's taught himself to shrink, to pull himself in as much as his size will allow him. If he slumped in front of a potential master he would be beaten, but there are more subtle ways to adjust shoulders and legs in the attempt to conceal his height.
The Alpha has stopped just in front of Jared's cage now. He's a bit off to the side, so Jared still can't see his face, but he can see the expensive suit the man is wearing, the casual way he holds himself like he owns the world. This man is bad news, Jared decides.
"That one won't interest you, sir," Mr. Sheppard is saying, coming up at his side. "He's an-"
"Don't presume to tell me what I want, Sheppard," the customer replies, his left hand coming up to adjust the sleeve of his shirt. "Just let me look and be quiet."
Jared nearly smirks at that. Apparently the trader's friendliness, his 'please call me Mark' routine, didn't work on this one. It takes a lot to see through Sheppard-his unintimidating, nondescript face and charisma make it easy to forget who he is and what he does. He never gets his hands dirty. Even the other slaves sometimes fall into his trap and forget just how little he hesitates before issuing the orders that lead to their punishments.
This man must be smart to have Mr. Sheppard pinned so quickly, which only makes Jared want to curl in on himself more. He has no desire for a smart master. Smart usually just means creative.
"How old is he?"
Mr. Sheppard reappears at the client's side. "Around 25," he says. "And his background is extensive. Excellent reviews, for the most part. It's been years since he was sold for upsetting a master. But he is an Alpha, Mr. Ackles."
Ackles. Jared's heard that name before. The man steps forward again, and Jared finally gets a look at his face. Yes, it's that Ackles. Jared may not get many opportunities to catch up on celebrity gossip in his life, but he's heard this name around and seen this face, glossy on the covers of magazines, for years.
Jensen Ackles-the boy who inherited TradeMark Entertainment after his father and his father's business partner died in an accident. Everyone thought it would be the end of the company, but instead he made TradeMark the most successful production company in the country in less than three years. One word comes to Jared's mind now as this Ackles guy evaluates him: ruthless. The articles and television hosts never forget to mention how he got to the top. He was brutal against competition until he got the respect people were so hesitant to give someone his age.
Beautiful, too, Jared thinks now that the man's face is right in front of him. More beautiful than maybe anyone Jared has ever seen before, with big green eyes and freckles and full lips and soft brown hair cut close and elegant. The suit flatters him perfectly, his broad shoulders showcased without being overstated. Jared gets a terrible feeling of dread trying to imagine what someone this rich and powerful and gorgeous could possibly need a pleasure slave for. It wouldn't be hard for a man like Jensen Ackles to get anyone to agree to anything he wants for free.
Jared wishes Ackles would stop staring into his cage and just keep on walking, but he's okay. He's safe. He should be safe. All his masters haven't been Omegas. On occasion there are Betas that will buy an Alpha slave just to pad their egos. Just to prove to themselves they can make anyone, even an Alpha, grovel at their feet. But no Alpha needs that reassurance enough to pay the price a slave like Jared goes for.
After what feels like an eternity, Ackles pulls back from the glass of Jared's cage, makes a speculative "hmm" noise and moves along. Mark leads him eagerly to the boy across from Jared, and Jared watches as his blue eyes flash with excitement. He smiles at Ackles, and Jared hears the murmur of the black-haired man next to him saying something about needy Omega bitches.
Jared doesn't shake his head, but it's a near thing. The bright-eyed brunet across from them is a Beta, same as the other slave, but Betas can never tell the difference, not if their lives depend on it. Not unless their stereotypes are being satisfied.
After a few seconds, Ackles shrugs and starts walking again, Sheppard treading on his heels. Jared waits until he thinks he's safe to let his act drop. Ackles is stepping around the corner, and Jared is curious. He's never seen a famous person before. He figures there's no harm in turning to watch him leave.
Unfortunately, the man chooses that moment to send one last glimpse over his shoulder. He catches Jared's gaze, and Jared knows immediately from the calculating look that comes into those bright green eyes just how badly he's screwed himself over.
He's as good as sold.
Jared gets the early wakeup call the next morning. They all know what it means.
The other slaves lie in bed pretending to be asleep, but Jared knows every single one is awake and watching him. He catches some of their expressions as he dresses and makes his bed: hatred and envy from the very young or inexperienced, pity and relief from the rest.
Jared will find Mark Sheppard waiting for him in the hall to escort him to whatever form of transportation has been sent to pick him up. His new master may or may not have bothered to stick around to collect him. More likely there will be a slave handler here to take him to his new home. Theoretically, he will never be herded to the breakfast room with his fellow slaves and then crammed back into his thick glass cage to be evaluated like a piece of meat again, but Jared has gone through this routine too many times to believe that.
"Congratulations." Jared recognizes the voice immediately and doesn't bother looking down to see Mr. Sheppard as he begins to walk by his side. "You finally proved you weren't a giant waste of my time after all."
Jared's jaw clenches. He could say something now, Mr. Sheppard wouldn't beat someone else's property before sending him off, but it would do him no good at this point and will undoubtedly come back to haunt him if he ever ends up here again.
Sheppard laughs at his lack of response, apparently reading Jared's thought process in the way his muscles tighten. "You’re not completely stupid," he says. "I'll give you that."
"Thank you," Jared replies dryly.
He continues, "It's almost a shame you sold. We could have had a lot of fun together, you and I."
Jared can just imagine. This slave trader seems like exactly the kind of Beta who would use Jared to make himself feel big and strong, as if there's any distinction in winning a fight against someone who can't hit back.
"But not really, considering the price you fetched." He turns as they're approaching the door to the loading dock and grabs Jared's arm until Jared looks down and meets the dark look in his eyes. "You better make him happy, boy. I don't like giving refunds." He smiles cruelly and gives Jared one last quick assessment. "Then again, I can think of some fairly enjoyable punishments if I do get my hands on you. You won't like them, but I might."
Jared makes sure to turn his head before rolling his eyes. He's heard the 'intimidating-don't-come-back-here' pep talk so many times it hardly registers anymore.
"I'll do my best to serve my master and honor your generosity," Jared mumbles.
Mr. Sheppard makes an amused sound and nods his head at the guard standing by the door. It opens to reveal a sleek black car with tinted windows. Jared is used to being shuttled to his new home in less style than this, but maybe this means his master came to get him after all. Some masters like to keep their pleasure slaves close, cart them around so everyone can see their luxury.
Many of the other pleasure slaves Jared has talked to consider this a perk-getting to share in their master's expensive food and drink, ride in the nice cars and airplanes, sleep in the fine beds, and be seen by everyone who 'matters' according to some bullshit criteria Jared still doesn't understand. For him it's one of the worst things about the whole mess, being always at the side of someone he hates, shown off like a lapdog. He would rather be left behind with the other slaves, allowed the free time they get when their master is off living the high life.
But he doesn't really have much of a choice, so he steps forward to the car and waits for instruction.
Through the tinted window Jared can see someone bend over the back seat to open the door closest to him. It's not Ackles, and Jared's heart picks up for a moment, thinking maybe he didn't sell to the person he thought he did. Inside a woman with long brown hair waves her hand at him.
"Let's go," she says. "Get in. I don't have all day."
Jared has never seen her before in his life, but he does as he's told, closing the door after him.
"Jeff, he's in," the woman says.
In the front seat the driver nods, and the car begins to move. The woman turns her head then, removing her sunglasses as she looks at Jared. She smiles slowly and laughs. "Well, I still don't like it," she says cheerfully. "But I'll give the man that he has good taste."
Jared thinks it's best to stay quiet.
"I'm Genevieve," she adds after waiting for Jared to reply. She holds out a carefully manicured hand. "I'm Jens-uh, Mr. Ackles's personal assistant. I'll be getting you situated and all that jazz, at least until we get to the house. Then I guess my husband will be dealing with you."
Jared stares at her hand until she raises an eyebrow and pushes it forward a little more. "You want me to…?"
"Shake it," she says.
Jared does, though he's pretty sure of all the crazy shit he's been ordered to do in his life, shake hands like a normal human being is probably amongst the most unsettling.
"Good," she replies, like she's talking to a child. "Now you introduce yourself."
"I'm Jared, Master."
"That's a lovely name, and I am not your master. Seriously. Genevieve will do fine." She smiles, then yells at the driver. "Jeff! Say hello to Jared."
Jeff only looks back for a moment, giving Jared a nod and the tiniest hint of a wave before his attention is back on the road.
Genevieve laughs. "Jeff is a little safety obsessed," she explains. "He's friendlier when he's not behind the wheel."
"Oh," Jared says blankly. Jeff's response had seemed more than friendly enough to Jared.
Genevieve looks him up and down for a few more seconds and then frowns slightly. "Yeah, I guess you're not going to talk much."
She doesn't seem upset, so Jared doesn't try to remedy her disappointment. Always better to be a quiet slave than to talk too much, make the mistake of thinking someone cares what you have to say. He looks out of the window mostly, trying to discover where his new home is. The drive is fairly long, an hour and 45 minutes, and the "house" they finally pull into is really a mansion, not that Jared was expecting any different. The gate is so tall Jared can't see the top from inside the car, and it surrounds acres and acres of land around the main building.
Jared has seen tackier displays of wealth in his life, but not many.
They get dropped off by the side of the house where a man is already waiting for them. He's dressed more casually than Jared is expecting, in black pants and a plain blue button down shirt. He steps forward to open the door on Genevieve's side of the car, and it's not until he offers her his hand and helps her out that Jared realizes she's several months pregnant under the blazer she's wearing.
"Hey baby," the man says, leaning in for a kiss.
Genevieve turns her head so his lips fall on her cheek instead of her mouth. She looks at Jared. "You have a nice day." Then she turns to the man, pointing a finger into his face. "And don't you start with this bullshit. I haven’t forgotten we're fighting yet."
"We're fighting?" the man asks.
Genevieve throws her hands up in the air and begins to stomp toward the house. "I'm too busy and too knocked up for this shit."
He looks after her until she's made it inside, then he turns his attention on Jared. "She's a splendid creature, isn't she?" he asks in an awed tone.
Jared is really, really confused.
"I'm Misha," the servant says, reaching out to grab Jared's hand just like Genevieve had, except he doesn't wait for Jared to close the gap, so it's much less awkward but no less unsettling. "Genevieve's husband and Jensen's head of staff. I'll take you to your room so you can get settled in."
Jared nearly flinches hearing this man call his master by his name like that. If he were a slave, he could be killed. Even as a servant, the man could lose his job if the wrong person heard him.
Misha must notice how uncomfortable Jared is, because he shakes his head. "Sorry, I, uh, forgot. Mr. Ackles, then. I guess."
The door opens to reveal a huge room full of people rushing about. Misha leads Jared in and gestures around. "This is where the staff lives," he says. "This is the common room, but the entire wing of the house is ours."
Jared isn’t usually allowed in servant's quarters, not even just in passing. He's either in the master's bed or in the slave quarters, so he looks around at the novelty.
"You'll have to come here pretty often," Misha explains as they keep walking. They head straight for the door without pausing for him to tell Jared where anything is. "But Mr. Ackles and I would prefer if you try to do so as rarely and as quietly as possible. The staff should not see you if it's at all avoidable. You'll be eating about a half hour after we're served, which is an hour after Mr. Ackles eats. It'll be up to you to come get your meal when it's ready, the kitchen staff won't be chasing you down. That means 9:30 for breakfast, 1:30 for lunch, and 7:30 for dinner."
Jared nods. Three meals is an extravagance he's rarely ever enjoyed, but he's not about to point the error out.
Once they've passed through the staff housing, Misha indicates a room down the hall. "These are our facilities as well, but you're welcome to use them as often as you'd like. Gym, library, all that good stuff. There's also a dining room that's usually empty, you're free to sit there if you don't feel like carrying your food all the way to your room."
Jared nods and does his best to map the way from where they are to his room as Misha leads him down a couple of flights of stairs and through a long hall. The walls and floors are much barer here than they'd been in the main house, but it's clean and quiet.
Misha stops by the open door of a large room and points in. There are rows and rows of small empty beds, but there's no sign that anyone lives here or has in a very long time.
"This is the slave housing," he says. "I guess you'll have the whole room to yourself. I'll talk to your master about clearing some of these beds out to make space for a better one. We have a few vacant rooms in staff housing, so it'll really just be a matter of moving it down a few floors. Though maybe you'll be sleeping in his room. I don't know." He shrugs. "I'm trying to get as little information about this whole thing as possible, to be honest."
Jared looks around. The room is big enough to house 20 people comfortably, which usually means about 60 or 70 slaves actually live here. It can't all be for Jared.
"So, make yourself at home," Misha says. "I'll come get you when Mr. Ackles wants to see you and take you to him. Until then, just relax."
Misha turns to leave, but Jared calls him back.
"Wait."
Misha stops in the doorway and looks at him. "Yes? Is something wrong?"
"Where are all the other slaves?" Jared asks because he knows he can't say 'What the hell happened to the other 59 people who are supposed to be crammed into this room?'
"There are none," Misha tells him, as if this should be fairly obvious. "There were when this was Jensen's father's house, but that was ten years ago. They were all freed. Mr. Ackles doesn't believe people can be owned."
Jared stares forward, blinking a few times, trying to ingest the apparent complete lack of irony with which this man just told him that the master who bought him and brought him here does not believe in slavery.
"What am I?" He doesn't usually say things without thinking about them, but it just falls out. It's too much. Not that all of the slave owners Jared's ever known haven't been hypocrites, but this is a whole new level.
Misha's face scrunches up, and he shakes his head. He looks sorry, but he avoids the question. "I suppose it will be lonely down here," he says quietly. "I wanted to keep you in the staff housing, but Mr. Ackles insisted."
With that he turns and leaves Jared alone.
It's actually Genevieve who comes to fetch him.
She knocks on his door at around 8 that night, not long after Jared has finished his dinner. It wasn't easy to find the staff housing on his own, but he made it just in time and was handed a plate packed full of chicken and wild rice. The cook, a maternal blonde woman who tells Jared to call her Sam, set the plate aside and kept it warm for him. She said she figured he'd need a good meal after such a big day. Jared had been too dumbfounded to even thank her as he'd accepted it and hurried it back to his room before someone could take it back.
Jared looks up at the rapping sound to see that Genevieve is already letting herself in.
"Hey," she says, leaning against the doorframe and watching him with a concerned expression. "How is everything so far?"
Jared opens his mouth, then closes it. He's been thinking over what Misha told him earlier all day. That, added to the friendly, sympathetic treatment he's received from all the servants he's talked to since arriving, has led him to the conclusion that he is in big, big trouble. Everyone is acting like they feel sorry for him. Like they're preparing to sacrifice him to something awful. Maybe this is what it takes to keep the rest of them free. One unfortunate slave at a time.
"I'll take the long, ominous silence as a sign that you're very satisfied."
Jared nods. "It's great," he says. "Everything's been great."
"That's good." She smiles and straightens up. "Mr. Ackles has requested that you visit him in his chamber."
Jared swallows the lump in his throat and immediately gets to his feet. Hesitating is only going to make things worse.
They walk in silence. Genevieve shows Jared the quickest passage from the slaves' quarters to the Master's apartments. He'll be making this journey a lot, after all, and the staff will probably have more important things to do than lead Jared around, especially if there are no slaves around to do the most basic chores like Jared had assumed there would be.
Jared's Master's main rooms are directly above Jared's quarters, four stories up. He replies brusquely to the knock on his door, calling out to know who it is and what they want. Genevieve rolls her eyes, quirking her lips and opening the door without answering or waiting for Mr. Ackles's permission.
"I brought Jared as requested," she announces.
Master Ackles is sitting on his bed, still impeccably dressed from the day. He looks up, clearly annoyed by the way Genevieve just let herself in, but then his expression wavers.
"I sent for Misha to get him," he says. "I didn't expect you to do it."
"Alas, Misha is off the clock and currently working very hard to please his other boss, me." She smirks and sends a suggestive look Jared's way. "He's running my bubble bath. You're not the only one around here who gets to have fun."
Jared's master almost looks like he's about to laugh, but he keeps his features schooled to indifference. "Very well. You're excused."
"Oh, excused am I?" she replies, turning toward the door and muttering to herself. "I walk my pregnant ass up and down four flights of stairs for this shady shit and what do I get? I get excused. No 'thank you, Genevieve.' No 'goodnight, Genevieve.'" She pauses in the doorway and sends one last significant glance in Ackles's direction. "I'd better be getting a hell of a Christmas bonus, that's all I'm saying."
"Just leave and close the door, would you?"
Genevieve tosses her hair and obeys. Jared watches her go with a feeling of dread. He's known men who would have killed Genevieve for the tone she just took, pregnant or not. Jensen just stays where he was when they walked in, looking neither surprised nor terribly incensed.
Jared stands in front of him as still as he can, waiting to feel his master's attention shift on to him. It's awkward now without Genevieve's running commentary, but not in a way Jared isn't used to.
Finally, his master looks up at him. Jared averts his eyes, letting them drop to the ground out of respect.
"Do you talk?" his master asks.
Jared nods, caught off guard by the question, but doesn't risk looking up for a clue on how to respond. "Yes, Master."
"It was a joke," he says, sounding annoyed. "You're allowed to laugh, you know."
Jared nods again and stays quiet. He hears a sigh from the bed and feels a nice, familiar sense of terror. Jared is usually better at reading people than this. By now, he normally at least has a general idea of what kind of master he's dealing with and what to say or do to stay out of trouble. But this man makes no sense to Jared, he's not like any master Jared has ever had or seen, and that just makes this whole thing worse, even if he hasn't shown himself to be cruel yet.
"Take off your shirt."
Jared feels relief at that. This part he knows how to do. He obeys, though he's unsure if his master would prefer haste or a show. He goes at a neutral pace and Ackles does not complain.
He lets the fabric drop to the ground, trying to keep his expression impassive through the prickling he feels, even now, every time someone looks at him like this. Shame. Even slaves like Jared can feel shame.
"Look up," his master says, not unkindly. "I didn't buy you to not see you."
Jared raises his eyes, keeping his head bowed, and meets those bright green eyes as they watch him.
"You looked better all oiled up at the trader's," his master says with a slight upward twist to his mouth. "Smaller, though."
Jared tries to stand up straighter. There's no point in trying to diminish himself now, especially not if his master wants more muscles. "I can oil myself before coming to see you from now on, Master," Jared tells him. "I'm sorry to have disappointed you."
The man rolls his eyes. "That was another joke. You don't have much of a sense of humor, do you?"
Jared bites down on all the nasty responses that come to mind. His master would probably not be very amused in his place. He tries to smile instead. "I can if it pleases you."
Mr. Ackles shakes his head. "Only laugh if you actually feel like it. I'm just letting you know you're allowed to."
"Thank you, Master."
His master looks at him for another long minute, then opens his mouth, hesitating before he says, "Touch yourself. I want to see your knot."
Jared can't imagine it looks terribly different from his master's knot, but he isn't here to be logical. His pants fall in a pool around his feet in seconds. He strokes himself until he's hard, closing his eyes and pushing until his mind is blank and he's almost forgotten when and where he is. Even like this he can feel his master's appraising eyes on him, but Jared has been doing this long enough to trick himself into staying hard.
The room is eerily silent except for the slap of Jared's hand on his skin, and when he finally opens his eyes, he sees that his master is still sitting on the bed in the same position. Nothing about him gives away that he's getting any enjoyment from this at all, and Jared nearly worries he's doing something wrong until he sees his master's hands caught in the blanket of his bed. He's holding on so tight his knuckles have gone white from blood loss, and his eyes are unblinking, fixed on Jared's cock with something almost bordering on desperation. He's not easy to read like Jared's masters usually are, but Jared can see that he's at least a little turned on. He might make it through this after all.
Ackles doesn't issue any orders as Jared works himself, but Jared keeps a steady pace, worried he'll upset the moment by changing. This isn't so bad as first visits with new masters go. Jared is still unharmed and, even better, unmolested. He doesn't want to draw attention to that.
Finally, Jared feels himself getting close and bites down on his lip, knowing he'll be asking for trouble if he comes too soon. He slows the rhythm on his shaft and sees his master blinking and shaking his head slightly, as if some spell has been broken and he's coming back through the haze.
"You can stop, if you want," Ackles says.
Jared doesn't know what comes next, isn't sure he wants to stop, but he figures a command is a command, no matter how it's worded. He stops.
"That's, uh," his master wipes the other hand over his mouth, and Jared notes that he has not loosened his grip on the blanket, "that's good. That's all I wanted. You can go for the night."
Jared stands there at a loss, feeling his eyebrows draw in. It doesn't make any sense; he hasn't done anything to please his master yet. He can't just leave without pleasing his master. He thinks it must be another of those jokes he doesn't get, so he forces a small laugh out and tries to draw closer.
His master's eyes flash in response and he begins to draw back before he seems to remember something and stays in place. "That one wasn't a joke," he snaps. "Leave."
Jared pulls his pants back up and only buttons the top of them, not bothering to put his shirt on before rushing to the door and back down to his room. Jared hasn't screwed up in front of a master like that in years; he doesn't know how he allowed himself to make such a gross miscalculation.
He settles into his small, uncomfortable bed in the slave quarters, listening to the disturbing silence and staring at the stains on the walls, the proof that there was once life down here aside from him. He's no closer to understanding how he should act, and he falls asleep knowing he'll be lucky if he's awakened tomorrow by nothing worse than a whipping.
No one comes for him the next day. Sunlight doesn't shine into Jared's new home, he's too far under the house for that, and he never hears the alarm he's become so accustomed to while at the slave trader's.
He awakes simply because he's gotten enough sleep, turns over in bed to see the clock on the wall telling him he missed breakfast. He knows better than to go upstairs and try to remedy that situation, but he figures he should at least exercise.
He keeps an eye on the clock, running through the schedule Misha had given him the day before. He's pretty hungry already, but Master Ackles should only now be finishing up his own lunch, which means Jared still has to wait through the servant's lunch before he can even think of going to the kitchen.
"You've broken Sam's heart already."
Jared's body jolts in shock. He nearly misses his step and falls off the treadmill. He manages to stay on and to school the glare he wants to send toward the man who surprised him.
"I'm sorry?" Jared asks.
"Sam, the cook. She thinks you hated your dinner last night and that's why you skipped breakfast. Completely heartbroken, I tell you."
Jared steps off the machine, wiping his face with a towel and facing Misha. "I slept too late," he explains, wincing at the thought that this information will make it back to his master. "I missed my assigned time."
Misha laughs. "The food is still there if you're late, you know. Probably not as warm, but."
"I…oh."
"So I'm guessing you're hungry now?"
"I will not miss lunch, I assure you. My apologies for my tardiness."
"Er, right. That's great. So, you wanna have lunch with me and the little lady?"
Jared blinks, again caught off guard. "I'm not allowed."
"Okay, I know, I know. I said you should try to stay clear of the staff. But it's not like Gen and I don't know you're here, and we get an earlier lunch. So come get to know us and we'll feed you. I promise I'm not that bad of company. At any rate, Gen has gotten very good at shutting me up when I'm being annoying."
"No, I mean…" Jared coughs. "You're free. I can't eat with you without my master's permission."
"You've got our permission, it's our table. Not like anyone's going to tell the police."
"And if Master Ack-"
"Jensen won't care when or where you decide to eat, man. Besides, we've got rights. We can have lunch with whoever we want to."
That must be nice, Jared thinks, annoyed that the servant is so flippant about putting Jared in a bad spot just because he knows he and his wife will be safe.
But Misha is free and is, from what Jared can tell, third in command around here after Ackles and Genevieve. Jared could be killed for saying no to him, same as he could be killed for saying yes. And he is pretty hungry.
"Come on!" Misha makes his big blue eyes somehow get even bigger and bluer, and his bottom lip pouts. "It was Genevieve's idea, and that woman is scary when she doesn't get her way. Won't you think of my safety?"
Jared nods. He doesn't get why everyone here is going to such lengths to pretend he has choices, but it's nice even as it's more than a little insulting. "Okay, sir. I will be there."
"Well, uh, actually we're setting the table now, so if you're ready to go…"
Jared looks over to the clock and back to Misha. "But the master is still eating."
"We run the kitchen, you think we can't steal an early meal from time to time?" Misha pats Jared on the back, noticing a moment too late that his hand will come back covered in sweat. He makes a face, then blinks up at Jared. "Maybe a quick shower first?"
Jared surprises himself with a laugh. "Yes, sir."
Misha salutes. "Just meet me outside the servant's quarters when you're done."
Misha and Genevieve's apartments are on the second floor of the servant's quarters and take up more than three rooms. They aren't extravagant, but they're far more comfortable than Jared was expecting, and it puts him off kilter, lunching with people who live like this. Jared is used to starving on a slave's diet or being forced to stomach too much of a master's feasts. He doesn't know how to behave in the middle ground.
He tries to stay quiet and formal the way he does when a master takes him to dinner, erring on the side of caution, but it's hard with the way Misha and Genevieve speak to him.
"These fucking cheese things are fucking amazing." Genevieve stabs at her lunch with a fork, holding the plate up for inspection and peering at it. "I still don't fucking know what it is, but it's a goddamn orgasm on a plate. Right?" She looks up from her food, her eyes shifting from Jared to Misha and back again. "I'm right, aren't I?"
"Always," Misha says. "And it's called brie en croute."
"That's not the point," she replies. "The point is that I could eat fifty of these things and live to not regret it."
Jared, who cleaned his own plate in about a minute and a half, pretty much agrees. He catches her giving him and his empty dish an amused look and finds that his responding smile comes easily.
"See, baby? Jared agrees. He is a man of distinctive taste. It's why he likes me better than you."
"He never said he liked you better than me," Misha replies. She gives him a look and he immediately buckles. "But naturally he does."
"I'd rather not take sides," Jared says, in case anyone actually wanted his opinion on the matter.
Genevieve smiles triumphantly, holding up a hand for Misha to high five. "Aha! And we have accomplished speech!"
Jared looks down, but Genevieve makes a 'tsk' sound and puts a few fingers under Jared's chin, gently positioning his face up so he's looking at her. In the moment since he turned away, all the playfulness has left her expression. "How are you doing, Jared?" she asks.
He swallows, thrown off by the inexplicable and seemingly genuine worry in her voice. "I'm very happy," he says. "I appreciate everything my new master has done to help me feel at home."
Genevieve barks out a laugh. "Great, and now that we've gotten the official answer out of the way. How are you really? Look, I know how much it sucks to be sold and have to uproot everything, and how scary it can be to get to know an unfamiliar place and master."
Jared's face contorts in confusion, and he looks around the spacious rooms she and Misha share. This cannot be the home of a former slave. She's respected here. "You…?" Jared shakes his head. "That's not possible."
She smiles and nods softly. "I was 13 when they brought me here. The late Mr. Ackles bought me for Jensen. To do what you're here to do now, I guess. But he never touched me. I thought he would never-well, it doesn't matter what I thought. Point is: I've been where you are and it fucking sucks."
Beside her, Misha is quiet for once, his hand resting over hers on the table. He nods supportively.
"But you…" Jared can't finish his thought. From the way she had talked to Jensen last night and his master's lack of response, Jared had taken Genevieve for nobility-someone whose wealth had dried up but who still had the legal protection of birthright behind her. If she's a former slave, it would take little more effort to justify her death than it would to justify Jared's.
"We grew up friends," she says. "And when he freed us, I stayed. I didn't have anywhere better to go. I didn't have anyone I cared about more than him. I never regretted it-in fact, I was proud to serve him until he told me he was planning to buy someone like you."
"Genevieve and I very seriously considered leaving, but apparently our loyalty to Jensen is a little stronger than our morals." He frowns. "We're still here, but that doesn’t mean we like what he's doing."
They shouldn't be talking like that. Jared shouldn't be hearing it. He's inclined to assume this is some kind of test, except for the way they keep looking at him as if he's a person.
"Why are you telling me this?" Jared asks.
"Because we're sorry. We're complicit because we stayed, and we know that. There's no reason for you to forgive us for that. But we would like to try to be your friends anyway. We would like to make this as easy as possible for you. If you need anything, anything at all, tell Genevieve or me. Or Jensen, even."
Genevieve nods and sits forward, giving Jared a look that is begging to be trusted. "He won't be cruel, Jared. I know that doesn't really fix much, but it's something. And he will free you. We're going to make sure of it."
Jared shrugs and looks away. He appreciates what they're trying to do here-he really, really does. No one has ever been this kind to him before, even if it's just guilty consciences driving them. But there's no such thing as a benevolent master and there's no reason for Jared to start believing this one will free him. Some are worse than others, but at the end of the day, Jared is nothing as far as Ackles is concerned except for a place to put his dick. Losing sight of that is just about the most dangerous thing he could do.
There's a dejected sigh from across the table, and then Genevieve is forcing a smile. "Misha, don't just sit there. Get the man some sponge cake."
After that, the tone lightens. Misha and Genevieve go back to their banter, occasionally one or the other asking Jared to be the tie breaking vote in some inane argument, and Jared laughs a lot more than he's used to until they make their apologies about needing to get back to work and send Jared on his way.
He spends the better chunk of his days here alone, a luxury he's not really used to. He doesn't know what to do with himself. He finds a library tucked away in the servant facilities and makes a mental note to ask Genevieve the next time he sees her. Misha had said he could use anything he wanted, but books are different. Jared shouldn't even know how to read, he could be in serious trouble if he gets caught doing it without permission.
Instead he sits in the library without touching the books, just because it's quiet and less ugly than the slave quarters, until the time comes for dinner. He goes to fetch his and takes it back to his room just like the night before, pausing to apologize to the cook, and waits to find out if his master is going to summon him tonight.
It gets late before he does, but finally there's a soft rapping at his door and a girl Jared has never seen before is in the hall waiting to deliver a message. She tells him he's expected in his master's apartments without introducing herself or escorting Jared, but he wasn't expecting to be led again and he remembers the way well enough.
He knocks at his master's door and waits for the "come in" before turning the knob. The lights are dimmer inside than they'd been the night before, and Jared sees that his master is in pajamas instead of a suit like the other times he's seen him. Expensive pajamas, but still. It's a huge change to see him like this, almost soft in the lamplight with his hair mussed and his expression slightly fuzzy. He almost looks approachable.
He's propped up in bed with a stack of pillows and there are papers Jared can only assume are work-related scattered around the mattress. When he sees Jared he begins to gather it all together, laughing under his breath as he does so. "I say come in, so he comes in." He looks up at Jared. "At least someone around here knows how to take orders."
Jared knows it's a joke this time, but it's in such poor taste he can't even pretend to be amused, punishment be damned.
His master shrugs off his silence, moving so that he's sitting up at the edge of his bed and gesturing for Jared to come closer. Jared does as he's told, eyes scanning up and down as he gets closer, and realizes something about Ackles is off. He can't put his finger on it-it's not just the change of clothes or the sleepy look on his master's face. The man looks shrunken compared to what Jared remembers of him.
He licks his lips and looks up at Jared, placing a hand on each side of his hips when he stops in front of him. He begins to undo the buckle on Jared's pants and slides them down eagerly, staring with only slightly less intensity than he had the night before. This time he touches Jared, his hand stroking deftly until Jared is hard, his knot throbbing between his master's palms.
He looks up instead of at the sight. Ackles really is gorgeous, and Jared is having a difficult enough time convincing himself that it doesn't feel good and he doesn't like it without seeing all that lust on his master's perfect features.
"Look at me."
Grudgingly, Jared does as he's told. Ackles lets go of him, but Jared knows from the way his breath is hitching that this is nowhere near over.
"Kneel."
Jared gets to his knees between his master's legs and is immediately hit by a wave of sweetness, a scent that makes him want nothing in the world more than to stand up, throw his master onto the bed, and knot him up so tight they never come apart. It's been years since Jared has smelled this, but he would know what it means even if it were new.
Suddenly things begin to fall into place. Jared can see now why Jensen Ackles, who he'd taken for such a typical Alpha male, wanted an Alpha as his pleasure slave. The change he hadn't been able to pick out earlier is now clear; his shoulders aren't nearly as broad as Jared thought. He's heard of men having suits tailored to give off the impression of dominance, but this is the first time he's seen how effective it can be. Personalized colognes can even simulate the slight Alpha scent Jared can still detect under the much stronger smell coming off his master.
Jared has never been tricked before now, but now he's really sure. He knows an Omega when he smells one. His mouth drops open in shock and before he can think he says, "You're an Omega."
The hands on Jared's shoulder falter for a moment before his master regains his composure. When he replies, his voice is calm and steady. "If you ever tell anyone, I'll have you killed. And you know I can." His words are so casual it sounds more like he's placing a lunch order than issuing a very serious threat on Jared's life.
Jared has been threatened before, but something about the delivery makes his blood run colder than it ever has. And he's right-people kill their slaves for fun. He swallows hard and nods. "Understood, Master."
"Good."
Ackles draws him close then, burying his face in Jared's neck and taking a deep breath. Jared is already groping up the man's thigh, incapable of stopping himself, but he receives a low groan of encouragement, so he keeps working until his palm is resting over the crotch of his master's pants. Jared feels him get hard under his touch as he breathes in Jared's Alpha scent.
All he wants is to get him naked and feel how wet he is and fuck the man until they're both too raw to keep going. And he hates himself for that, but he knows there's no point fighting it now.
The smell only gets stronger when Jared finally gets his master's pajama bottoms off and his cock free. Jared can see the wetness shining below and tries to dip his head down to taste it, but he feels strong hands in his hair stopping him.
He looks up. It's taking every ounce of self-control Jared has to keep himself off his master, and it makes no fucking sense that this Omega won't just let him have his way. By now they should be tied together for crying out loud.
"Do you want me to knot you, Master?"
Jensen's fingers tighten in his hair and he tugs Jared even further back. Puts more distance between him and the intoxicating scent and it's not fair. It's torture, which wouldn't be new to Jared except that he knows his master wants this just as much. This is what he was bought for, isn't it?
"Don’t you dare even try it."
The response catches Jared so far off guard that he looks up in shock and disappointment. His master's face almost looks scared, though even now he's too much in control for Jared to be sure.
"I'm sorry, Master. I shouldn't have assumed. Please forgive me."
The relief on Ackles's face is the first time his master has ever let his guard drop, but it's gone in half a second and again his expression is unyielding. "It's okay," he says. His grip in Jared's hair lessens slightly until he's stroking his fingers gently through.
Jared waits for an order, but nothing comes, until finally the smell and the quiet and the weight of his master's heated gaze is all too much. Jared has made the first move before, but never with a master as unpredictable as this one. Still, something has to give or Jared really won't be able to control himself.
"What would you like, Master?"
Ackles hesitates, then his hands urge Jared's face forward. "Can you-?" He stops, leaving a long pause. When he speaks again, there's no question or politeness in his tone. It's as clear an order as Jared's ever received. "Suck me."
Jared nods eagerly and moves forward, taking his master's cock into his mouth. It's easy enough to swallow down the entire length of him. Jared's training was thorough. He stops when he reaches the base of Ackles's dick and lets his nose rest in hairs. He can smell his master so strongly here that his whole body burns up, and he begins to lick up and down with an enthusiasm he knows he will be embarrassed to remember by the time the hormones wear off.
Still, it's incredible, and his master is not entirely successful in his attempts to swallow his low sounds of satisfaction. As Jared continues to take Ackles in his mouth, the hand on the back of his head shifts, first holding on tighter and guiding him, then losing the concentration to hold on as he gets closer to coming.
Jared is straining in his pants, his knot demanding attention, and he's still half-hoping and half-dreading he'll be expected to fuck his master after this. He can feel Ackles getting closer, and then his free hand slips under Jared and he presses his fingers into the wetness that's been driving Jared so crazy. Jared keeps working through his confusion. He would have done that if his master had asked him to. Hell, he would have been happy to do anything that would have gotten him closer to this smell.
The sound that Ackles makes once he's begun to touch himself is nearly a whimper, and it sends shockwaves through Jared, reminding him of all the times he's made his Omegas beg. It hurts at this point to keep his knot untouched, but Jared knows he'll only be opening himself up to more pain if he does something before his master has given him instruction.
Still, he can't hold back his own needy groan around his master's cock. That seems to jolt the other man back into the moment, and he almost sounds apologetic when he says, "God, I know you need it, too. You can touch yourself. I'm close. You can come whenever you want to."
Jared pushes his hands into the tight fabric of his pants and begins to jerk himself at a desperate pace. He isn't sure what would upset his master more, if he comes in his only clothes or if he comes on the floor by the bed, but he knows his hand won't be big enough to hold everything, not with the ache in his knot. It's been years since he smelled an Omega; he's about to burst.
He errs on the side of caution, keeping the mess inside his pants. Better his clothes than his master's room. Jared finishes almost the moment he touches himself, but he knows his knot will still be emptying itself through his master's climax and after.
Ackles must smell Jared's hormones get stronger as he finishes, because he comes only a few seconds after Jared starts, his body lifting off the bed as he thrusts roughly into Jared's mouth before his pace slackens and he collapses back. Jared can hear his ragged breathing, can only imagine how good he looks, and it's with some hesitance that he pulls his mouth away from the softening dick.
On the mattress, Jared's master lifts his head to look between his legs to where Jared is still kneeling. He begins to sit up, moving back onto the bed. "Are you still…?"
Jared nods, doesn’t even stop to pull his hand up.
Ackles pats the side of the bed closest to Jared. "Come here."
Jared does as he's told, finally relinquishing his grip. He winces at the slide of come in his pants and feels vulnerable and naked with his master's eyes on him, even though he's still completely clothed.
"You could have-" Jared's master shrugs, then turns onto his side. He reaches out and stops and then keeps moving forward, as if he's only just reminded himself that he doesn't exactly have to ease Jared into whatever he's about to do. He puts his hand over the buttons on Jared's pants and begins to unfasten them, and Jared turns his face away.
"Master, I can't again yet. I'm sorry, I finished. I'm still-I can't get hard again."
Ackles laughs. "I know, I just want to…" He slides his palm down Jared's thighs just enough to uncover Jared's still-knotted cock and the come that has gotten all over his legs. He keeps his hand away from Jared's dick and slips his fingers through the mess on his leg instead.
Then he closes his eyes and brings the fingers up to his lips, sucking them slowly into his mouth. He moans quietly to himself, and for some reason the satisfied look on his master's face makes Jared feel like he's intruding on something personal, like he shouldn't be here to see a man who owns him look that happy. Which is stupid, because it's his come that's doing it.
After a few moments, Jared's master opens his eyes again and looks over at Jared. "I have a bathroom through that door," he says. "You can clean this off. Then come back here."
Jared nods, rising to do as his master commanded. The bathroom attached to Ackles's room is like nothing Jared has ever seen, and he's lived with men he thought were unfathomably wealthy in the past. The tub looks so big it could hold them both easily, and Jared nearly blushes at that thought, looking away from it and focusing on the ornate golden sink instead.
His master is dressed in his pajamas again by the time he gets out, sitting up against the headboard in exactly the same position. Jared nearly wonders if he'd imagined everything that's happened since he walked in tonight.
Ackles looks at him as he approaches, gesturing to the end of the bed. Jared takes the cue and sits down, waiting for further instruction.
"Do you know why I chose you?" he asks.
Half an hour ago, when he first put together that his master was an Omega, the answer would have seemed fairly obvious. After what just did not happen, Jared frankly has no clue. "Because I looked good oiled up?"
His master barks out a surprised laugh, his face lighting up like the answer delighted him. Jared feels a little reassured that he can at least give Ackles some kind of pleasure, even if it's not quite the kind he's used to giving.
"That didn't hurt," he says, his lips still quirked into a small smile. "It's because you were acting in order to keep me from noticing you."
Jared hopes his face doesn't show as much surprise as he feels, but he knows he hasn't kept it all hidden. He hadn't thought he'd been obvious. Those tricks have been serving him well for years, and Jared feels stupid, childish hatred for this man, not only for seeing through him so easily but for doing it while tricking Jared. Jared prided himself on knowing how to read people just as he prided his ability to blindside others. Those were the only things he had going for him, and this smug bastard has just taken them both from him in the span of an hour.
His master laughs at whatever face he's making and shakes his head. "Don't worry, Jared. You weren't bad at it. I suspected, but I never would have known if you hadn't broken in that last second. And I," Jensen gestures to one of the blazers draped over his closet door, one of the ones with the fake shoulders that had been such a huge part of throwing Jared off about Ackles being an Omega, "I know a thing or two about acting."
Jared tilts his head to the side, trying to see how any of that connects to his being brought here. "I don't understand."
Ackles licks his lips. "I need someone discreet, is that understood? I'm-no one is proud of being what I am, but it is what it is. I need an Alpha. But only one kind of person has the kind of slave you are, and I can't be that kind of person. Not publicly."
He nods slowly. Jared has had plenty of masters who weren't that kind of person, but it's pretty clear this guy has some serious issues to work through, and Jared has no motivation to help him out. Anyway, this at least lets him know the conditions expected from him. It's been driving him crazy trying to guess for the last few days.
"So you draw those shoulders in and look puny and insignificant like you did in that cage. You make them think you're an Omega, or at the very least a servile Beta. And you stay quiet about me. That, and your knot, is all I'll ask you for. We clear?"
"Yes, Master."
"Good boy," he replies in a mocking tone. "You can leave now."
ON TO PART TWO
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