The Weapon, ch 6/? Kept!verse
Jan. 26th, 2010 07:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ladyjanellyMatt and Karl with bonus Ben Affleck.
So much love for my cheerleader: trishabooms
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The restaurant Ben picked out is everything Matt expected. Artsy and eclectic in a trendy sort of way. Glass-topped tables and mismatched silver. Stoneware plates and re-purposed beer bottles for salt-shakers. Bohemian tapestries and padded leather kneeling pads for the slaves of the wealthy who eat here to be seen pretending not to be rich.
The food has to be good though. Ben might go with the in-crowd but not at the risk of a bland meal. As the maitre de leads them to Ben’s booth, a waiter with a sizzling tray of citrus shrimp passes and Matt’s stomach rumbles at the sweet spicy savory smell and he already knows what he’ll be ordering.
“Matt!” Ben stands from his seat and meets Matt halfway. Like he couldn’t wait those ten seconds more. His grin is wide and his eyes are warm. Sometimes Matt forgets, when it’s been a while, how light hanging out with Ben makes him feel. How far from his troubles and plans and worries he can be when they’re together.
Ben wraps him in a hug and lifts him half off of his feet. “Too long, man. It has been way too long.” And it has. Over a year since their summer of touring around the south of France.
“I promise,” Matt laughs and turns a few playful punches at Ben’s side as he’s released. “I promise it won’t be this long again if everything comes together.”
Ben ruffles his hair like he’s the younger of the two and Matt bats his hands away. “It better not,” Ben warns, but he’s already distracted again, this time by Karl. Looks him over with an assessing eye.
“Kind of rough looking for your first body-slave in years, isn’t he?” Ben reaches out and touches Karl along his jaw and Matt is torn between hoping Karl doesn’t strike out and the effort of suppressing the surge of possessiveness that rushes through him. Karl is calm. Almost too still. He lets Ben tip his head towards the light. His face is a mask, his eyes unfocused glass. Ben’s thumb moves like he’s a thought away from brushing it across Karl’s lips but then he snorts and leads the way back to the table where his own pretty slave kneels.
“I’m just saying,” Ben grins. “I mean yeah he’s pretty, but people are gonna think he’s the one fucking you. You into that these days? It really has been too long.”
Matt laughs and shakes his head and flips Ben off because it’s expected of him. Karl holds his chair and then kneels at his side, close enough that his shoulder brushes Matt’s chair. Smooth and pretty as any slave trained from childhood with his hands folded in his lap palm-up and vulnerable looking. The curve of his neck is wrong though. His sight-line too high and it takes a second for Matt to realize it’s the salt shaker his gaze is fixed on. Watching the reflection of the room distorted in the glass.
The waiter comes by to drop off menus and get their drink orders. It’s been a while since Matt’s had a body-slave but it feels natural when his hand drops to Karl’s shoulder, when his thumb traces the top edge of the collar and the velvet bristle of his close-cropped hair.
“So how’s your mom been?” He asks Ben and then spends the next twenty minutes listening to tales of Lady Affleck and her latest spouse and new cars and how many houses does one woman need? It feels good. Relaxing and cleansing and simple. Their food arrives and it tastes fully as good as it had smelled and Matt turns most of his attention to his plate.
“So is this a training thing or are you being a dick for no reason?” Ben’s sharp question comes out of the blue, just after a comment about his mom’s new place in the Hamptons.
Matt blinks and stops eating. “Is what?” He looks down at Karl who is the perfect image of slavish patience. Composed and silent at his side.
“I keep seeing him looking over the edge of the table at your plate” He gestures at Karl and it’s hard to tell if Ben’s complaining about his own inconvenience or out of sympathy. “Did he eat before you guys came out?” At Matt’s blank stare he shakes his head. “Jesus Christ, Matt. You really have been away too long. You can’t expect a new slave to take care of things like that. Not until he knows you better, knows what you expect.”
And even though Matt suspects Karl was looking at the table to watch the room in the reflections he can’t tell Ben that. Warmth creeps up his cheeks. Embarrassment even though he’s done nothing wrong. “You’re right,” he says, but remedying the situation isn’t as simple. He can’t just order Karl a plate; that’s not how these things are done. Not here at least.
He trims the tail off of one of the shrimps on his plate and takes the firm meat between his fingers. “Karl,” he calls softly and Karl looks up at him, the picture of complete trust. Matt offers the morsel and Karl’s lips part. His teeth skim over Matt’s fingers as he takes it. His tongue flicks out to lick the flavoring from his thumb. And fuck. Fuck. It’s nothing but a show. An act for Ben and the other patrons of the restaurant. Just building a credible cover.
But the way Karl looks up at him. Serene and adoring and god it hits him where it counts. Like Matt’s his whole damn world. The way he sucks on the very tip of Matt’s fingers with the next bite and the way his dark eyelashes flutter closed as if this moment, eating from Matt’s hand, is the most pleasure he’s known in this world.
He’s sure Ben keeps making small talk. Maybe even teases him about how devoted Matt’s new pretty is. He knows he replies when it seems to make sense but he doubts he’s eloquent. He never quite manages to eat any more of his lunch himself. Too fascinated watching Karl instead. Ben is teasing and fond when he tells him to “Get the hell out of here and enjoy your ‘afternoon,’ you asshole.”
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Matt watches Karl in the rear-view mirror on the ride back to the hotel. The slave looks calm. Relaxed like he wasn’t shamed by eating from Matt’s hand.
“I didn’t offend you or anything, did I?” Matt asks when he can’t stand the silence. Blatant and over-casual words for the situation.
And Karl. He meets Matt’s eye in the mirror and snorts with amusement. “Offend? I’m not sure you could.”
“So you weren’t embarrassed? At all?” And maybe Matt has been away too long because he’s having a hard time reconciling his pet bad-ass and his pet pet.
Karl gives the question a moment’s thought and Matt thinks he’s taking it seriously. “No, I don’t think so. It wasn’t unpleasant. Though it would be easier to keep an eye on things if you’d situate us so I have a sight-line on the door next time.”
It’s an odd, odd sensation. To be with someone who doesn’t seem to have boundaries. “I feel like I’m going to cross some line and you’ll freak out and walk away.” The words are almost as much a test as choking Karl to unconsciousness in the storefront had been.
Karl smiles back at him in the mirror. Not the vacant smile of a broken spineless slave, but the wry grin of someone who is intensely here. “Don’t take this as encouragement to try to come up with a way to drive me off, but that’s not going to happen. I can’t even imagine it.”
And Jesus. Whatever they did to Karl’s head it was worth every penny. That he knows he’s tied to Matt so tight he couldn’t even start to fight and doesn’t care. It’s beyond loyalty. Beyond love even. It’s not unconditional it’s god-damn dysfunctional.
The only thing sicker is how much Matt needs it.
So much love for my cheerleader: trishabooms
-----------
The restaurant Ben picked out is everything Matt expected. Artsy and eclectic in a trendy sort of way. Glass-topped tables and mismatched silver. Stoneware plates and re-purposed beer bottles for salt-shakers. Bohemian tapestries and padded leather kneeling pads for the slaves of the wealthy who eat here to be seen pretending not to be rich.
The food has to be good though. Ben might go with the in-crowd but not at the risk of a bland meal. As the maitre de leads them to Ben’s booth, a waiter with a sizzling tray of citrus shrimp passes and Matt’s stomach rumbles at the sweet spicy savory smell and he already knows what he’ll be ordering.
“Matt!” Ben stands from his seat and meets Matt halfway. Like he couldn’t wait those ten seconds more. His grin is wide and his eyes are warm. Sometimes Matt forgets, when it’s been a while, how light hanging out with Ben makes him feel. How far from his troubles and plans and worries he can be when they’re together.
Ben wraps him in a hug and lifts him half off of his feet. “Too long, man. It has been way too long.” And it has. Over a year since their summer of touring around the south of France.
“I promise,” Matt laughs and turns a few playful punches at Ben’s side as he’s released. “I promise it won’t be this long again if everything comes together.”
Ben ruffles his hair like he’s the younger of the two and Matt bats his hands away. “It better not,” Ben warns, but he’s already distracted again, this time by Karl. Looks him over with an assessing eye.
“Kind of rough looking for your first body-slave in years, isn’t he?” Ben reaches out and touches Karl along his jaw and Matt is torn between hoping Karl doesn’t strike out and the effort of suppressing the surge of possessiveness that rushes through him. Karl is calm. Almost too still. He lets Ben tip his head towards the light. His face is a mask, his eyes unfocused glass. Ben’s thumb moves like he’s a thought away from brushing it across Karl’s lips but then he snorts and leads the way back to the table where his own pretty slave kneels.
“I’m just saying,” Ben grins. “I mean yeah he’s pretty, but people are gonna think he’s the one fucking you. You into that these days? It really has been too long.”
Matt laughs and shakes his head and flips Ben off because it’s expected of him. Karl holds his chair and then kneels at his side, close enough that his shoulder brushes Matt’s chair. Smooth and pretty as any slave trained from childhood with his hands folded in his lap palm-up and vulnerable looking. The curve of his neck is wrong though. His sight-line too high and it takes a second for Matt to realize it’s the salt shaker his gaze is fixed on. Watching the reflection of the room distorted in the glass.
The waiter comes by to drop off menus and get their drink orders. It’s been a while since Matt’s had a body-slave but it feels natural when his hand drops to Karl’s shoulder, when his thumb traces the top edge of the collar and the velvet bristle of his close-cropped hair.
“So how’s your mom been?” He asks Ben and then spends the next twenty minutes listening to tales of Lady Affleck and her latest spouse and new cars and how many houses does one woman need? It feels good. Relaxing and cleansing and simple. Their food arrives and it tastes fully as good as it had smelled and Matt turns most of his attention to his plate.
“So is this a training thing or are you being a dick for no reason?” Ben’s sharp question comes out of the blue, just after a comment about his mom’s new place in the Hamptons.
Matt blinks and stops eating. “Is what?” He looks down at Karl who is the perfect image of slavish patience. Composed and silent at his side.
“I keep seeing him looking over the edge of the table at your plate” He gestures at Karl and it’s hard to tell if Ben’s complaining about his own inconvenience or out of sympathy. “Did he eat before you guys came out?” At Matt’s blank stare he shakes his head. “Jesus Christ, Matt. You really have been away too long. You can’t expect a new slave to take care of things like that. Not until he knows you better, knows what you expect.”
And even though Matt suspects Karl was looking at the table to watch the room in the reflections he can’t tell Ben that. Warmth creeps up his cheeks. Embarrassment even though he’s done nothing wrong. “You’re right,” he says, but remedying the situation isn’t as simple. He can’t just order Karl a plate; that’s not how these things are done. Not here at least.
He trims the tail off of one of the shrimps on his plate and takes the firm meat between his fingers. “Karl,” he calls softly and Karl looks up at him, the picture of complete trust. Matt offers the morsel and Karl’s lips part. His teeth skim over Matt’s fingers as he takes it. His tongue flicks out to lick the flavoring from his thumb. And fuck. Fuck. It’s nothing but a show. An act for Ben and the other patrons of the restaurant. Just building a credible cover.
But the way Karl looks up at him. Serene and adoring and god it hits him where it counts. Like Matt’s his whole damn world. The way he sucks on the very tip of Matt’s fingers with the next bite and the way his dark eyelashes flutter closed as if this moment, eating from Matt’s hand, is the most pleasure he’s known in this world.
He’s sure Ben keeps making small talk. Maybe even teases him about how devoted Matt’s new pretty is. He knows he replies when it seems to make sense but he doubts he’s eloquent. He never quite manages to eat any more of his lunch himself. Too fascinated watching Karl instead. Ben is teasing and fond when he tells him to “Get the hell out of here and enjoy your ‘afternoon,’ you asshole.”
-------------------
Matt watches Karl in the rear-view mirror on the ride back to the hotel. The slave looks calm. Relaxed like he wasn’t shamed by eating from Matt’s hand.
“I didn’t offend you or anything, did I?” Matt asks when he can’t stand the silence. Blatant and over-casual words for the situation.
And Karl. He meets Matt’s eye in the mirror and snorts with amusement. “Offend? I’m not sure you could.”
“So you weren’t embarrassed? At all?” And maybe Matt has been away too long because he’s having a hard time reconciling his pet bad-ass and his pet pet.
Karl gives the question a moment’s thought and Matt thinks he’s taking it seriously. “No, I don’t think so. It wasn’t unpleasant. Though it would be easier to keep an eye on things if you’d situate us so I have a sight-line on the door next time.”
It’s an odd, odd sensation. To be with someone who doesn’t seem to have boundaries. “I feel like I’m going to cross some line and you’ll freak out and walk away.” The words are almost as much a test as choking Karl to unconsciousness in the storefront had been.
Karl smiles back at him in the mirror. Not the vacant smile of a broken spineless slave, but the wry grin of someone who is intensely here. “Don’t take this as encouragement to try to come up with a way to drive me off, but that’s not going to happen. I can’t even imagine it.”
And Jesus. Whatever they did to Karl’s head it was worth every penny. That he knows he’s tied to Matt so tight he couldn’t even start to fight and doesn’t care. It’s beyond loyalty. Beyond love even. It’s not unconditional it’s god-damn dysfunctional.
The only thing sicker is how much Matt needs it.
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no subject
Date: 2010-01-27 02:57 am (UTC)sorry, that's all I got!
no subject
Date: 2010-01-27 04:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-27 04:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-27 06:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-27 02:40 pm (UTC)and this dysfunction makes Karl-the-character so mysterious and unpredictable, and the story so thrilling to read. looking forward to the next installment.
no subject
Date: 2010-01-27 05:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-30 04:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-01-31 10:15 pm (UTC)I am very sorry to hear that you're sick, by the way!
no subject
Date: 2010-02-13 03:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-18 06:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-15 04:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-26 04:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-18 11:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-08-19 03:35 am (UTC)