That thought hurt in about a hundred different ways.
And the worst of it was, there was something, some small spark between us. Left to muddle through in our own time, I could easily see more developing between us. Master was right. I'd picked Kai, and not for entirely altruistic reasons. He was beautiful; there was no other word for it, shorn head and all. But I was more than some dumb, brainless animal capable only of lust. Kai was damaged, that much was obvious, but I just knew that inside him somewhere there was a sweet soul, waiting to be drawn out.
I didn't want to bully or coerce him into sucking my dick or letting me fuck him, I wanted to get to know him first, forge a connection, however tentative. Even with Master … . To an impartial observer maybe I was just a pleasureslave, his to use as he wanted, but to me, we shared something. It meant something. Even if it was only one-sided, I made love to him. It wasn't fair of him to put me under so much pressure.
"I'm sorry, Kai."
He jumped when I spoke, a startled rabbit ready to bolt. "What for?"
I snorted. "Everything." My loose gesture encompassed the whole mess. "I didn't think he'd be like this."
"Like what?" He remained closed off, his words muffled by his knees.
"So … insistent."
"Would it have changed anything if you had?"
I frowned my confusion. "What?"
He turned to me, green eyes flashing. "Would you still have bought me? Would you have done anything different at all?"
"I … no. No," I admitted. "Whatever he makes us do, it can't be worse than what those others wanted to do to you."
"You think that's all that matters? Saving me?"
"What else is there?"
"What if I didn't want to be saved?" he screamed so loudly I jumped.
"I-I'm sorry. Kai, I'm so sorry … ."
"Forget it."
I cringed.
"I didn't want to be saved for this."
He retreated again, hugging his knees tight to his chest. A fresh wave of indignation overwhelmed me.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I snapped.
He glared at me.
"No, come on, out with it. What would you rather? You were sold as a pleasureslave. That's not my fault. Someone had to buy you."
"Just go away and leave me alone."
His shoulders slumped, his whole body curled into a tiny, desolate ball at the foot of the bed, and my heart ached to comfort him. He didn't strike me as a man easily defeated, but he'd been living on a knife edge for who knows how long. I didn't think he had anything left to give.
"Kai, please." I reached for him, tentatively brushing the air between us. "I thought we were friends."
"Friends?" He turned to face me, voice rising. "Friends? Do you even know what friends are?"
I flinched. "What do you want from me, Kai? So maybe I've never had any friends, and maybe I never wanted you here in the first place, but we're stuck with each other." I swallowed past a lump in my throat. "I don't want to argue with you."
For a moment he looked stricken, before he carefully schooled his expression into something neutral. "I don't want to argue with you, either. I know this isn't your fault."
We smiled sadly at each other, the smallest of understandings.
"Talk to me," I urged. "Ask me whatever you want. I won't mind."
He remained wary. "What good will it do?"
"It's got to be better than this. Please, Kai," I crept towards him along the bed.
He turned as I touched his shoulder, breaking the contact. "Have you really never had any friends? Really?"
"When I was younger, I had a stuffed rabbit." I tried to laugh, but even to my ears it sounded strangled, and I quickly stopped. Shame washed over me as I looked at his incredulous expression, rising in a red tide until I couldn't bear the silence any longer. "I know, I know. I'm pathetic. I know you think that. A slave who likes his bonds, who loves his master-it's pitiful, isn't it? But I've been here since I was twelve years old and this life is all I know. I live in the room he gave me, I wear the clothes he chooses … My friends, my possessions, he dictates everything. He always has. Everything except you."
"Me?" His eyes widened, startled.
I smiled gently. "Yes, you. You're the only thing I ever chose for myself."
A small, pained moan escaping his parted lips. That simple sound hurt me in more ways than I could possibly explain.
"Please," I tried again, struggling to speak. "Please, I couldn't bear it if you hated me."
He shook his head, slowly, like a dazed animal. "I don't hate you."
"No?" I held my breath.
He smiled, and if his eyes looked a little too bright, I pretended not to notice. "No."
҉҉҉
We sat side-by-side, staring sightlessly forward at the blank wall at the foot of the bed. It was easier not to have to look at each other or make eye contact as we talked. Or rather, as I talked. Kai remained quiet, listening to me narrate the brief history of my life so far. As I spoke, I longed to ask him what he was thinking, what he made of my tale, if he thought any less of me because of it. What had I done with my twenty-seven years? Consolidated as they were into a few brief utterances, they seemed pitifully bereft of detail. Every day like the one before, stretching out behind me, a fifteen-year catalogue of failure to achieve anything at all. Playing in the grounds as a child, learning my lessons like the obedient little soul I was, throwing myself shamelessly at Master until he finally relented, took me to his bed, and made me his.
And since then … nothing. An endless round of empty days and sweat-soaked nights. Of long walks through dark corridors back to my room, cold and alone, my body aching and bruised. Fifteen years of waking up in my own bed, clasping a pillow to my chest, and wishing it was him.
Laid out like that, it didn't seem like much of a life at all.
"Tam?"
The soft brush of his fingers against my arm made me jump.
"Tam, are you all right?"
Having promised him the truth, I answered honestly. "No. Not really."
"What's wrong?"
"I suppose I've just realised what you must think of me. How little I've done with my life … ."
"What, and you think anything I've ever done has made a difference?" He laughed bitterly. "I couldn't even save my best friend."
"What happened to him?" I asked quietly.
Kai shook his head. "Not yet. I can't talk about it, not yet."
"Okay." I nodded acceptance. "I won't push you."
"I know."
We looked at each other, a ghost of understanding flitting between us.
I smiled. "At least you've done something, been somewhere. I can barely remember my life outside this compound."
"You're not missing much, believe me." He patted my thigh. "Nothing much changes there, either. March, fight, make camp. Wake up in the morning and do it all again. Endless drills, not enough food, not enough of anything to go around."
"At least you were part of something bigger," I protested. "What you did had meaning."
"What meaning?" he asked dolefully. "I never knew who I was fighting, or why. The soldiers on the other side, what harm had they ever done me? What part had any of us to play in being there?" He snorted. "No, we were rich men's pawns, that's all. Better they had no armies and settled their disputes amongst themselves."
I turned his words over in my mind.
"I almost envy you," he admitted quietly.
"What? Why?"
"Your life, it's so simple. No big aim, no petty worries, no struggling to make ends meet or fearing what you're going to face today or tomorrow or the next day."
"No," I sneered. "My life is completely meaningless."
"I didn't mean it like that," he said.
We sat still, the shadows growing longer around us. When next he spoke, it was almost a whisper. "The fear, that was the worst thing."
"Fear of what?"
"Of going into battle. Of having to kill other men or see them be killed. Friends, strangers, it didn't matter. None of them deserved to die. And I didn't deserve to survive. It would paralyse me sometimes, the thought of what was coming. Relentless, a new battle every day. If we weren't fighting, we were marching to somewhere we could fight. It was kill or be killed."
"That's not your fault."
"I know." He nodded. "I do know that. But it's no excuse, is it? It almost makes it worse. I killed people because it was my job." He sneered the word. "What kind of solace is that? When someone dies, someone you love, you want to know why. You want the killer to give you a reason. What reason could I possibly give? Because I was following orders? You think that would satisfy the widows and mothers of those men? You think that stopped me seeing their faces in my dreams?"