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If ever Jakub needed relaxing, thought Marcin in mounting exasperation, then good God, it was now. Marcin wanted to spend time with him, of course he did – as much as possible. But these days there wasn’t a minute’s peace to be had in his rooms: not for reading or for talking or even for lovemaking, not with Jakub in this infuriating mood. And all because he was climbing the career ladder.

Jakub had known for weeks that he was in line for a promotion. He’d been assisting the Bishop for some months betting on that very outcome – his ambition was less extreme than his perversions, but only just – and lately the man had started dropping hints. A chance to be appointed as his episcopal vicar: more money, more access, more power. As far as Marcin could tell, Jakub had never been wanting confidence when it came to his own priestly abilities – however misguided that confidence might be, given his lack of moral virtues. But now, with the Bishop’s decision imminent, he was understandably stressed. Jakub did not do well under stress.

It had been Marcin’s natural instinct to soothe him with treats and kindness: what a decent man would do for any person he loved. It had worked at first, but not anymore, and Marcin knew perfectly well why. All week long Jakub had been preparing for a sermon the Bishop had asked him to give at the Archcathedral. It was an obvious test of his abilities, perhaps the final test before the Bishop made his decision. And it was happening tomorrow.

“Fuck.” The word was Marcin’s only warning as Jakub flung a balled-up bit of parchment over his shoulder with force, narrowly avoiding Marcin’s head. Marcin picked it up, smoothed it out, sighed.

“Will you leave it alone already? It was as perfect three days ago as it’s going to get.” Jakub ignored him, sitting bolt upright and scribbling furiously, occasionally giving the desk a violent kick and muttering to himself in a most irritating way – if only because it signalled to Marcin how tense and jittery he was about the whole thing. He’d never seen him like this before. “Sweetheart,” he called softly from his usual chair, “you already know it’s good.” Rather too much fire and brimstone for Marcin’s personal taste, but Jakub was Jakub. “You’ve practiced it – stop changing it!”

“Piss off! Go home!”

At least Jakub was finally paying attention, thought Marcin wryly. He looked across at those narrow shoulders, stiff for the last week with anxiety, at the black head now bent low over its work. Marcin was damn sure that none of this would help Jakub’s performance in the pulpit tomorrow. And he wanted him to succeed: after all these months of misunderstandings, dissatisfaction, and finally growing esteem, Marcin had come to truly love Jakub. It sometimes felt preposterous – Jakub was still in possession of all his unpleasant aspects – but perhaps it was Marcin himself who had changed, adapting himself to Jakub’s faults and discovering more of his qualities. And he wanted Jakub to have everything it was good for him to have. In which case, he thought as Jakub grumbled and flicked ink around and made it impossible to concentrate on anything else, now was probably the time to intervene.

“Jakub.” He sensed Jakub’s ears prick up at his tone, but this time he got no response. Remembering everything he had learned about him in the last few months, and about himself, and the kind of man Jakub needed him to be, he tried again. “Jakub. Come here.” At that Jakub twisted round in his seat and glared at him, quill still raised. Ah. There it was: the attentiveness, a bodily responsiveness to the command in his voice that Marcin had once envied in Janusz. Now came the test – would Jakub heel to him? He was so deep in his own head over this promotion business that Marcin wasn’t sure if he’d be able to. He’d been in such a foul mood that it was remarkable even for him. Well, it couldn’t hurt to try. Marcin casually folded his hands across his stomach and added: “Now.”

And Jakub came. His expression was grudging and fully aware of what Marcin was doing, but still he came, putting down his pen and padding silently across to Marcin’s chair. Marcin held his gaze for a moment – showing his approval but not his relief at Jakub’s acquiescence – then glanced pointedly at the rug. Jakub let out a sigh, and sank to the floor at his feet.

“Good boy,” said Marcin, quietly triumphant as he began to stroke Jakub’s hair. That pretty face, white and blank in its natural state, was pink with concentration and annoyance. But perhaps a tiny part of his blush was for Marcin’s praise. “Now, you’re going to listen to me, and you’re going to do as I say.” Marcin didn’t ask as he once would have: he told him. Jakub didn’t reply. The gaze he was directing up at Marcin was still rather combative, but he did nothing else to indicate disagreement or argument. “You’ve been driving yourself up the wall for a week,” Marcin told him gently, thumb brushing across his cheek before he took his jaw in a firm grip – so soft beneath his fingers, everything about Jakub was soft except his bloody-minded personality. “And you’re driving me up there too! But enough is enough. I’m going to take your mind off it, and then you’re going to sleep.” Jakub gave him a token eye-roll. “You understand me?” Marcin shook him lightly.

“…I understand.” It would take more than that to make him let go and relax, as Marcin was well aware, but this was an excellent beginning. He leaned down and rewarded him with a kiss. Jakub never refused kisses.

“Then suck me.” Gesturing to his pantaloons, Marcin spread his thighs and smiled at him. He was unsurprised when Jakub knelt back on his heels with a huff.

“I thought you were going to take my mind off things.”

“I will, once you show me you can be good.” Marcin beckoned to him. “Come on – that mouth wasn’t only made for complaining!” That got him a sour look, but Jakub reached forward without further comment and tore open his pantaloons and underthings. “Easy,” said Marcin in a teasing voice. “What happened to your famous finesse?” If he could get Jakub mad enough at him then making him forget the sermon might be easier work than Marcin had anticipated. Jakub shot him a venomous glance. But when Marcin laid both palms atop his slender ink-stained hands – they were shaking lightly with nerves and a week of not finishing his dinners, despite Marcin’s nagging – Jakub exhaled unsteadily and complied. “…Yes,” Marcin told him as Jakub stroked him: it took only a few seconds for those clever fingers to get him fully hard. “Yes, sweetheart, that’s good.”

“How fast do you want to come?” asked Jakub, licking his lips in readiness to accept Marcin’s prick. Marcin laughed: arrogant even in submission, that was his Jakub.

“Never mind that.” He took a handful of Jakub’s hair, not pulling hard, just enough for him to know that Marcin had control of him. “I’ll stop you if I decide it’s too fast. Just do it as well as you know how.”

As always, that was astoundingly well: Jakub’s mouth was legendary among too many of the sadistic commoners around Adamczycha and who knew how many high-ranking clerics of Warsaw. But that had been before Marcin made Jakub his. He serviced Marcin slowly, tongue and hands working in harmony, and taking him so deep and for so long that Marcin had no need to push on his head or thrust to hear those exquisite muffled sounds of effort, to feel his throat contract as he grew close to choking. Jakub knew the effect it had on Marcin: and now that Marcin was at last willing and competent enough to assume responsibility for his wellbeing and safety, and indeed his life, Jakub would happily allow him to control his very breath. Later, though, Marcin reminded himself as he groaned with the pleasure of it and clasped the nape of Jakub’s neck in an iron hold – later. Tonight was first and foremost for Jakub’s benefit.

“…That’s enough,” he managed hoarsely, pulling Jakub away from his cock before he could climax. Jakub looked disappointed, breath coming short and lips red. Marcin felt disappointed – he loved to come down his throat, across that cherubic mouth and over his face, and Jakub relished it too: this sign of Marcin’s ownership. But Marcin would soon give him something just as good. “On your feet,” he ordered. “Take off your clothes.” Jakub’s eyes gleamed. He still preferred to be roughly stripped than to slowly expose himself before another man’s eyes: strangely, the one thing Jakub wasn’t was vain. Not about his looks, anyway. Nevertheless, he got to his feet in front of Marcin and began to undress. Marcin lounged there in his chair, still erect – how could he not be? – and enjoyed the view. Just once, as he was throwing aside his undershirt, Marcin saw Jakub glance off longingly at his sermon on the desk. “Hey,” said Marcin, not loudly. “Eyes on me.” Jakub was frowning as he turned back. “Step forward. Closer.” Marcin saw those eyes narrow as he placed himself between Marcin’s knees. “Stop thinking about it,” Marcin instructed him, feeling a rush of fondness at his stubborn look.

“I have.”

“If you’re not concentrating,” continued Marcin, ignoring that lie, “then how can I help you?” Well, for a start he could help Jakub focus. Stretching out one hand he touched his fingertips to that smooth soft belly, felt it quiver under his touch. Then down to the pale skin of Jakub’s thighs, down and down with no obstruction to the tops of his high boots. It was late autumn now, but at Marcin’s request Jakub kept his rooms warm and removed all underclothing when he came home. Back up again, very gently, grazing his nails from the tip of Jakub’s cock to the base. Jakub was half hard from sucking Marcin and inhaled sharply as he was touched. Still gentle, Marcin cupped his testicles in one hand.

“Mm…” Jakub’s moan was small and tentative. He repeated it a few seconds later, a little more urgently. Marcin smiled up at him and very slowly continued to tighten his grip. “Marcin…” said Jakub, in a suddenly hushed and wavering voice.

“Yes, honey?” There was no intent to hurt him, at least not at this particular moment. What Marcin wanted was his attention – and he certainly had it now. Jakub was staring down at him wide-eyed, hands clenched at his sides. He made no move to stop Marcin, no attempt to hit him, so once Marcin was sure his focus was total, he let go. Leaning forward, he kissed Jakub on his nicely padded hipbone, one arm sliding around his lower back. “There, that’s right.” He sat like that for a moment, enjoying the scent of him and Jakub’s hands in his hair. “Now just wait while I make myself comfortable.” He heaved himself out of the chair, pressing another approving kiss to Jakub’s lips before wandering through to kick off his boots and recline on his back in their bed. Well, Jakub’s bed technically, but these days Marcin shared it as many nights as he didn’t – his parents definitely thought he had a mistress. “Leave the boots on!” he called as he made sure the oil was within reach. “Come in and let me have a look at you.”

Jakub did so, and waited at the foot of the bed, regarding him with what felt like wary appraisal to try and work out what was coming next. Marcin lay back and let his eyes roam greedily, undoing his uniform coat and sash and setting them aside. Jakub naked was a truly magnificent sight. Every time he had the privilege of seeing it Marcin felt an echo of that first great shock, the guilty desire that had hit him when he’d seen Jakub that day in the forest clearing: when he hadn’t yet understood what was happening or what either of them wanted. Jakub was as small as ever, as soft as ever – softer, if anything, now that Marcin was feeding him luxurious treats and providing him with a carriage whenever he had trouble walking after their passionate and painful sessions. The only change was his skin: still smooth and porcelain pale, only now it was marked. It almost always was. No sooner did one set of bruises start to fade than Jakub would enthusiastically allow Marcin to inflict another. Having once feared himself for admiring them, Marcin now felt honoured to be able to create them, to leave a signature in Jakub’s flesh – a sign that he was Marcin’s alone. He loved to touch them, taste them, press them to make Jakub moan all over again. Just now there were faint marks on his biceps, his buttocks, his throat.

“I thought you wanted to help me,” said Jakub after a while of this observation. His voice had turned husky, aroused and very slightly desperate. “Aren’t you going to hurt me?” Marcin beamed at him.

“As soon as you’ve earned it.” He patted the bed. “Climb aboard and make me come.”

Jakub loved sex – Marcin couldn’t think of a man who loved it more, even outside the supposedly chaste ranks of the clergy – but he didn’t seem terribly enthused as he clambered onto the bed. Marcin directed him until Jakub was straddling his thighs. He was a tempting sight like this, kneeling above Marcin, legs spread and eyes flashing crossly.

“Here I am,” said Jakub, resting his elbows either side of Marcin’s head and bending to be kissed. “Yours for the taking – so take me!” God, Marcin loved to hear it! At this moment, however, it wasn’t what he was after. He kissed Jakub back with enthusiasm, then ran both hands down the sweet curve of his hips and told him:

“You get yourself ready, kitten. You’ve been too cooped up this past week, that’s the trouble, you and your desk and that bible. You need some exercise.” He reached out and grabbed the pot of oil, uncapping it for Jakub. His reward was an exaggerated sigh and some expletive-laden muttering under Jakub’s breath about nobles wasting the Church’s time. But as Marcin obviously wasn’t going to help him further, Jakub eventually dipped the fingers of one hand into the oil and stretched back between his legs.

This was quite the treat for Marcin: he rarely got to watch. Now he guided Jakub’s head down to rest on his chest, giving himself the best view of that lovely raised arse and parted thighs as Jakub opened himself up.

“Ah-ah!” cautioned Marcin. Jakub was being far too cursory – he had three fingers in himself already. “Explore yourself. Do it the way I do it: make yourself feel good.” His own erection almost brushed Jakub’s stomach, he was that hard. But Marcin was far better at waiting.

“…Don’t want to get myself off,” complained Jakub in warm puffs of breath against his chest, little moans of pleasure beginning to punctuate his mumbling as he reached that perfect spot inside himself. “Want you…!” Marcin smiled. He let his fingers continue their travels down Jakub’s spine and up again, that smooth, aesthetic arc, feeling the sweat break out against his skin: Jakub must be feeling very good now.

“If you want that you’re going to have to arrange it!” He patted Jakub’s buttock. “I won’t be doing a damn thing. You’re going to ride me ‘til I’m done – then we’ll see about you.”

“What’re you here for, then?” Jakub snapped at him, raising his head to hover over him. “I could use one of those perverted toys you bought and get the same effect!”

“I’m here to relax you.” Concealing a laugh, Marcin gave him a friendly slap on the back. Jakub curled his lip.

“You’re doing an amazing job.”

“Don’t dawdle,” Marcin encouraged him. “Get on!”

It was great fun to watch him. Left to his own devices Jakub was a physically lazy creature, and would much rather be tied up and hammered by a man than do any hard labour himself. Marcin let him line himself up, his plump thighs quivering as he held himself in the perfect spot to slide Marcin’s cock into his passage and very slowly sink down on it. Oh, it felt incredible as it always did. If anything, Jakub was even tighter than usual, he was concentrating so hard on finding the pleasurable angles by himself. Marcin just gripped him around the waist to help him balance and let him dictate his own pace.

“…Tell me,” he murmured once Jakub was gasping and grinding on his prick, that strange little face a mix of intense focus and tentative enjoyment, “what’s with this promotion anyway?”

“…What?” Jakub blinked down at him, hands braced on Marcin’s ribcage as he rode him faster. “What…?” Christ, he was so hot inside, so slick! It was taking quite a bit of Marcin’s effort to keep his own mind on the job.

“Why’s…it so important? Why’re you this flustered? I’ve never seen you this way…” Jakub stared at him as if he had two heads and screwed his face up in an adorable expression of incredulity.

“I’m…ahh…an ambitious man!” he reminded Marcin over the slaps of wet flesh on flesh. Marcin gripped him harder by the hips, hard enough to bruise: he looked forward to seeing the effect tomorrow.

“But you’re always so cool with your plans…your little schemes,” he managed. Jakub’s deadpan plotting was sometimes amusing and sometimes terrifying, but it was one of his signature modes. Whatever this was…wasn’t.

“Shut up, Marcin…!” Jakub sounded both angry and pleading now. It was obvious he wanted to speed up, to make them both orgasm and put an end to this enforced exercise, but Marcin was regulating his speed by the grip on his waist and wouldn’t let him. “…Please,” he entreated a moment later, “either let me go or fuck me! …I’m so close,” he whispered, and Marcin heard the charming sound of tears in his voice.

“You’re meant…to be getting me off, remember?”

“Marcin!”

“No.” Marcin strengthened his hold, muscles tensing in his arms until Jakub was forced to stop moving, Marcin’s cock buried fully inside him. Jakub clutched him around both wrists and dug his nails in – but now their different lifestyles told, and Marcin wouldn’t be budged. “Not until you tell me.” With a snarl through gritted teeth Jakub threw his head back. It didn’t do him any good. It wasn’t doing Marcin much good either – his cock was throbbing, badly needing release – but he would have this out of him.

“Tell you what?!”

“Why you’ve been so upset,” Marcin said in as kindly a voice as he could manage in the circumstances. Jakub glared wildly at him, breath coming short, the pink flush of arousal and anger spreading down his neck to his chest. “Why this damned audition for a minor promotion is stopping you eating properly, sleeping properly. Because I want to help you.” Jakub sneered down at him. “Because I love you!” He heard Jakub suck in a harsh breath. Then, as if Marcin’s last words had enraged him utterly, he dug his nails still deeper into Marcin’s wrists and ground out:

“Because, you patronising shit, I’ve never achieved anything! And I want it!”

“…What d’you mean?” Marcin barely heard the name-calling. He couldn’t tell at all what Jakub meant.

“Every time I tried,” Jakub went on in a poisonous tone, “that fucking imbecile would do something to stop me!” Ah. The poison wasn’t for Marcin, then.

“You mean your brother?” Marcin had seen them in action back in Adamczycha: to say they’d been an ineffective team was an understatement. Jakub just pulled a face at him.

“Of course not, he’s useless, that’s all! No!” One hand connected with Marcin’s chest in a surprisingly powerful slap, and Marcin was so taken aback that he let go. Jakub immediately began moving again, and as if this wasn’t the weirdest conversation one could ever have mid-fuck he burst out: “My father!”

“…Oh,” said Marcin, his chest still stinging. Jakub hit him again, sunk down on him again. Marcin tried to ignore the sensations and pay attention: he wanted all of this out of Jakub.

“Who else could be so stupid?” growled Jakub tearfully. “To thwart my plans to support him without even knowing he was doing it, without even seeing me?!” Another closed-fist blow to Marcin’s chest. “Stupid enough to ignore the one child of his who only cared for his interests!!”

“…Oh, sweetheart.” Marcin had known Jakub was bitter – the whole village must know by now – but after all this time he still hadn’t understood just why. Jakub had never volunteered the information and he’d never dared ask.

“Don’t pity me, you ass!” cried Jakub, and rode him even harder. He groaned and went on: “And it’s…it’s so hard to get anywhere in Warsaw, there are too many other damn people here doing exactly the same…!” Marcin was taken aback again: he knew living in the capital excited Jakub. He just hadn’t thought, being a lifelong city dweller and prominent citizen himself, what it might feel like to suddenly become a small fish in a huge pond.

“…You’re right,” he said encouragingly.

“I’ve been trying so long,” Jakub told him, fingers now biting into his shoulders as he leaned forward instinctively to find a better angle. “So long, and at last I’m starting to get somewhere…! If I can…” He bit his lip. “If I can pull this off it’ll be the first thing I’ve ever won!”

“You won me…” Marcin wanted to kiss him, to embrace him and tell him how very special he was: half mad and deviant and very possibly evil, but never, ever average. Never a loser: Marcin’s devotion was proof of that! Jakub just choked out a laugh and moved faster, Marcin’s hands merely guiding him now as they rested on his arse.

“…You own me,” he gasped. His booted thighs clenched tighter on Marcin’s hips. Marcin couldn’t tell from his voice how he felt about that statement. “Is that winning…?”

“Of course it is!” How could Jakub think otherwise?! It was hard to talk rationally while he was creating such a frenzy of pleasure between them, but Marcin summoned all his fortitude and managed: “I wanted you to be mine because I love you…! You made me love you, Jakub – I didn’t mean to, I just couldn’t help myself! You own me, too!” Jakub fixed him with an intense stare as he spoke, those blue eyes enormous and shining with furious unshed tears. “…That’s why I have to make sure you’re happy,” Marcin told him hotly. “Because I can’t do without you! Isn’t that winning?”

“…Yes,” said Jakub hoarsely, and then he did begin to cry. It was quite silent, and he didn’t stop moving. Through his tears he shot Marcin a rather terrifying smile and announced: “But I’m going have this job, too!”

“…You’ll have everything you want,” Marcin promised him rashly. For starters he began to move himself, rolling his hips up into Jakub in the perfect way to stimulate that spot. Jakub bit back a sob as the feeling took hold, and half collapsed onto his chest. “That’s right, sweetheart.” He had to let Jakub know that it was safe to let go, that he could trust Marcin understood what was best for him. Projecting as much warm confidence as he could manage, Marcin closed his free hand around Jakub’s prick, and speaking into his dishevelled black hair told him: “First you come for me.”

“Ahh…”

“Yes…yes…” Jakub was letting himself be moved now, no longer violent or frantic. “Yes, good boy, you can do it…!”

Jakub could do it: just another moment and he let out a high, wavering cry and came hotly between their bodies. Marcin spared some brief gratitude to his past self for having months ago begun renting the entire second floor beneath Jakub’s rooms, precisely so he could cry out like that in safety. Then he closed him in both arms and went about pleasing himself. It didn’t take long, not with Jakub still pulsating around him with the force of his orgasm. Once he was done he let Jakub sprawl limply over him with his entire bodyweight and held him tight. Jakub was still crying: Marcin could feel the slow leak of tears against his chest. But crying didn’t always mean with Jakub what it meant for ordinary people, and Marcin wasn’t distressed by it now. He remained inside him for a while, until Jakub began to swipe at his cheeks to dry them, giving Marcin a suggestive wriggle at the same time. Marcin lifted his head in both hands.

“You did so well.” Jakub just nodded. “Feel better getting it all out?”

“…Maybe.” But not enough for him yet, thought Marcin. He had known it wouldn’t be. He petted Jakub’s hair, pushed his fringe back from his forehead, and kissed him there.

“Then let’s relax you some more.” Jakub gave him a look that was positively grateful – and Marcin loved him more than ever.

**

He spent a couple more hours giving Jakub exactly what he wanted, what he’d asked for, the pain and pleasure he needed to really unwind. Tonight that involved a complex system of ropes tying Jakub to himself – arm bound to arm in a single column behind his back, bootless calves trussed to his thighs, his knees spread apart with a brass bar – and to bits of the bed. Marcin had taken another tip from Janusz and invested in yards of that expensive red silk rope: Janusz was a crude bastard but he had a flair for the dramatic, and as he’d rightly said Jakub did look spectacular with the dark, rich colour biting into his white skin – a circle of rope around his neck, the crimson popping like a line of blood against his short black hair. Right now the neck was just for show: Marcin had some other tricks up his sleeve.

Jakub being Jakub was ready for another cock immediately. To Marcin’s good fortune, these days it was easier for him to get his breath back and take his time before fucking Jakub again: ever since he had endured the embarrassment of procuring the ‘rich widows’ toys’ Jakub had once told him about – back when Marcin had still been shockable. Thinking he might as well get it over with all in one go, he had had a variety custom-made for Jakub’s satisfaction, and at considerable expense. They hadn’t even tried them all yet. As Jakub was currently very stressed, and consequently demanding, Marcin used the big one.

“Oh…” whispered Jakub hungrily as he brought it out for inspection, “yes, Marcin, that one, quickly, please…!” It was shaped like a phallus and larger than Marcin could personally boast of – luckily he was secure in himself – made from some kind of polished ivory. Hollow in the centre, it had a small flap in the widened base for pouring in hot water to warm it. This Marcin diligently did, then coated it well with oil and parted Jakub’s buttocks to ease it into him. Jakub gasped at the size of it, but he softened his muscles under Marcin’s praise and instruction as inch by inch it was slowly seated inside him.

“That’s my competent little cleric,” Marcin told him with a smile and a teasing kiss. “You’re so good, taking all this for me!” Jakub nodded. He was breathing carefully, leaning into Marcin’s touch as he cupped his cheek. Marcin heard him swallow as he added: “Now let’s see how well you take this.” Another arrangement of the red rope, this one a finer gauge. They’d done it before, and he’d scarcely started before Jakub had figured it out and was giving him the worried little whines and huge, beseeching eyes. Of all the things they did together he seemed to find this one of the hardest to take – even his first time with Janusz he had protested it, and that had been a much simpler restraint.

“Marcin…”

“I know, honey. But it’s so good at stopping you thinking.” A clever coil of rope ran loosely around the base of Jakub’s erection, each end affixed to a different point: one to the footboard of the bed, the other to the rope around his neck. Janusz had shown Marcin how to do it near the end of their session with Jakub that summer. Marcin had initially been reluctant, but Jakub had begged so prettily when it was on him that he’d come round to the idea and learned how to do it properly. The upshot was that every time Jakub moved, the rope would tighten a very little. Marcin could adjust the slack at the footboard end, but Jakub had no control over it – the only thing he could do was keep still.

“How can I?” asked Jakub pitifully after this command – he hated being prevented from coming. He was trembling all over already with the effort of not moving. Marcin hushed him, stroking his cheek.

“Just try for me. You know I won’t let any harm come to you.” Jakub sniffed and nodded again. “I’ll keep you safe – leave it all to me.” With another kiss from those anxious red lips Marcin returned to Jakub’s bedroom cabinet and retrieved their old favourite. Jakub eyed the flogger with a combination of excitement and fear. Normally it wouldn’t faze him, especially this one with its luxurious tail of velvety suede strips. But with the slightest movement drawing that cruel rope tighter, Jakub must know he was in a world of trouble.

Marcin was sure he wouldn’t even have to strike him with it to achieve the desired effect. He began very lightly: trailing the flogger’s ends in feathery caresses along Jakub’s shoulder where he lay on his side, his collarbone, the curve of his waist and hip, the soles of his pretty feet. Jakub wasn’t exactly ticklish, but he was exceptionally sensitive to delicacy – Janusz had been right about that, too, the bastard. Marcin could hear Jakub’s stifled whimpers as he tried not to twitch or shift under those tantalising touches. He bent over him, flogger whispering between his legs and over the base of the ivory toy. While Jakub was fiercely concentrating on withstanding that, Marcin’s free hand pinched his nipple hard. Jakub yelped and flinched – then let out a frustrated little whine as the rope tightened. Just a part of an inch, but how many more times before it really made itself felt?

“Not thinking about sermons now?” inquired Marcin with a grin.

“…Please, Marcin, please untie it…!”

“No.”

“I’ll do anything,” Jakub promised him. His voice was unsteady.

“Not yet.”

“I hate you!” said Jakub passionately, and shuddered with pleasure as Marcin stroked his prick and squeezed his buttocks together in one hand. He soon realised that pleasure was as dangerous as pain in this situation and stilled himself, gritting his teeth. Marcin kissed him on the shoulder and carried on.

Jakub had himself well braced the first time Marcin really used the flogger: he didn’t stir an inch. Marcin was impressed as always, and made the second stroke across his backside harder. That got him a fervent moan and the bare hint of a writhe, but nothing more.

“You’re amazing,” Marcin told him, and for a change began to fuck him slowly with the dildo. He thought Jakub might need some help resisting that, and held him down with his free hand so he wouldn’t be able to move much even if he wanted to. Going by his noises – not the delightfully lewd sounds of the oil-slicked toy thrusting in and out of him but the gasps and groans – Jakub was enjoying the physical sensations of it, but presumably not the potential risk of pushing his hips back to get more of it. He remained as still as he could as long as he could. But as soon as Marcin released him his body betrayed him and the rope tightened again.

“Nng…!” Satisfied, Marcin returned to the flogger. Jakub wasn’t easy to triumph over: he could stand a lot. In the next quarter-hour Marcin got only two more movements out of him, but by that time he judged Jakub had had enough for it to be effective. He was hard as a rock, the rope tight enough to cause some pain, and he was crying again from the confusion of all the sensations he had to cope with: the tension of bracing against Marcin’s next attack, the ache in his bound limbs, the great fullness of the toy inside him, the constriction around his cock. The flogger probably didn’t feel like much compared to all that, but he was losing his ability to restrain himself.

“All right, darling,” said Marcin affectionately. He took just a moment to stand back and admire the wonderful artwork he and Jakub had made between them. “You’ve done brilliantly.” Jakub’s eyes begged him – he was silent now – so Marcin cast off the rope at the footboard, and as soon as Jakub could safely move he began to flog him in earnest. Jakub cried out with such relief that Marcin wanted to untie all the ropes and embrace him right there. He didn’t: he needed to push him a bit further.

Jakub came without his cock being touched, after one almighty swipe from the flogger followed by Marcin lying down behind him to knead his bruised buttocks and kiss his neck, pressing himself against Jakub’s trussed body tightly to let him feel his warmth and presence. Marcin naturally was hard again himself following that spectacle. Quickly he untied Jakub and straightened out his limbs, kissing him every place the ropes had touched. Jakub made no move to help him but lay there in that dreamlike state Marcin had been aiming for all along. Marcin slowly drew the dildo out of him, pressed himself against Jakub’s sweat-soaked back, and replaced the toy with his own aching prick. He clutched Jakub tightly against his chest, and with the fingers of his free hand filling Jakub’s mouth he fucked him slowly and lovingly until they both climaxed again.

“…You did even better than I’d hoped,” Marcin murmured against his ear, pressing leisurely kisses to his cheek, his jaw, his neck. Jakub’s hands were clinging to his forearms. He didn’t speak, but when Marcin asked him if he was relaxed he gave a sleepy nod. That being the goal of the entire exercise, Marcin was satisfied.

He would normally bathe Jakub now, tend any hurts he had suffered and bring him food and drink if he wanted it. Tonight… Well, tonight had had a practical purpose. It wasn’t so much about that emptiness Jakub was always trying to elude…but then perhaps it was. Marcin had never really understood what he meant by it, but had known enough to assume it was connected to his past life in Adamczycha. Perhaps what Jakub had let slip while he was riding him explained that empty feeling just a little bit: that Jakub, blunt and outwardly chilly creature though he was, felt the lack of a parent’s love somewhere deep enough that it had left a profound void within him. Fucking was a demented way to try and fill that void, but Jakub was the strangest person Marcin had ever met. And if he could help him stop feeling it, he’d do everything in his power to make it happen.

“Go to sleep,” he whispered. “I’ve got you. We’ll stay just like this.” He hadn’t yet pulled out of Jakub, and though it was hot and sticky and they were both very tired he decided he wasn’t going to just yet.

“Mm…” mumbled Jakub indistinctly, but he nestled his head closer to Marcin’s.

“I do love you,” Marcin told him with the gentle fervour of a bridegroom. No response. Well, good: no response from Jakub was the ideal state in which he could end this particular night. Lying together still joined, Jakub tranquil and unmoving in his arms, he fell asleep.

Jakub woke with the usual aches and pains. They weren’t so intense today – Marcin hadn’t done too much to physically hurt him last night – but still he welcomed them: they were a reminder that Marcin had been with him, had cared enough about him to try and give him what he needed. As he stirred he felt the weight of arms around him, warmth against his back and soft breath on the nape of his neck. Marcin was still with him. For a good minute Jakub allowed himself to bask in Marcin’s presence and the solicitude that was so very typical of him. Jakub had fallen asleep last night without feeling hollow at all. His body still remembered being filled up – it had slipped over into his dreams.

He was mid-yawn when it came back to him: dear God above, his sermon was today! As his muscles began to tense he heard Marcin mumble something sleepy, and felt those strong arms close around him like a vice.

“No, you don’t,” muttered Marcin, and kissed the back of his neck. Jakub was about to struggle free and rush off to wash and dress when there came the unmistakable sensation of teeth at his nape – not hard, but Marcin didn’t have to bite hard. It was one of the gestures that had managed, since they began this, to claim Jakub’s attention and make him feel entirely controlled. It was by far the most intimate way Marcin could do it: Jakub felt he had never been this close to Janusz even when the man was inside him. And it was maddeningly effective. “Now listen,” said Marcin quietly, in that low voice he used when he wanted to make doubly sure Jakub would knuckle under – and dammit if it didn’t work nine-tenths of the time! “You’re going to be amazing.” The fingers of one of those clever hands spread against Jakub’s chest, measuring the pace of his heartbeat. “I’ll see you to the Archcathedral in plenty of time, and I’ll be right there watching you.”

“…All right,” said Jakub.

“But to be extra sure,” Marcin continued in the same tone, “I want you to promise me now that you’ll do exactly as I say today. All day.”

Before Marcin had sulked his way through their educational session with Janusz in the summer, Jakub would have scoffed at such a suggestion. Even two months ago he might have baulked at it. But now…now Marcin had become so good at managing him, and though Jakub grudged admitting it so trustworthy, that the urge to obey him felt innate. Often Jakub wouldn’t be in the mood to do so – and still he would be met by that persistent voice in his head, assuring him that acquiescing to Marcin would make everything all right. The most exasperating thing was that it almost always did. Today, though, today might be the most important day of his life so far – a pivotal step on his road to the Papacy! He needed to be focused to the breaking point! So it was with some consternation that he heard himself murmuring:

“…Yes.” And there it was, that feeling, the serenity that flooded him as he placed himself in his owner’s hands. Just now the serenity was in combat with some extremely pressing anxiety, but it was still enough to make him loosen his tense limbs and exhale shakily into the pillow.

“That’s my good boy,” said Marcin warmly in his ear. Damn that phrase! Jakub heard but couldn’t prevent his minute whine of pleasure at being approved. Then Marcin was rolling him onto his back and smiling down at him. He always looked annoyingly good in the morning: well-rested, bright-eyed, hardly any stubble, and his curls a charming tangle. He kissed Jakub gently. Then the kisses moved lower.

Once Marcin had sucked Jakub into a boneless orgasm, not allowing him to move or reciprocate, he picked him up and took him through to the small bathing chamber, where an early-rising servant had filled the tub. The soaps and lotions Marcin used to wash and shave him were far too luxurious for a boarding house like this one, but no-one had ever said anything – with the amount Marcin was paying for these two floors and the privilege of privacy, who would dare? Jakub was worrying mentally, going over his sermon again and again in his head, but physically he was cosied and relaxed by the expensive scents and Marcin’s massaging hands.

“Mmm. You smell delicious,” Marcin informed him into the crook of his neck, and led him out naked to break his fast. He watched Jakub eat a pastry and drink some small beer with satisfaction written all over that handsome face of his: from being petrified at Jakub’s tastes in the early days of their connection, he had finally got around to smugness at being able to command him. The fact that it made him even seem more good-looking was of considerable irritation to Jakub on a normal day, but he couldn’t find brain-room for it just now. “Right, then,” Marcin said once he’d returned them to the bedroom. “Let’s have a look at you.”

“Fine.” Jakub stood there while Marcin drew back the curtains. This had become a ritual: Marcin like to examine him in the daylight, to check his injuries and treat them if necessary. Jakub knew damn well that he also loved to gloat over the marks he’d placed on him. Well, perhaps that was natural: Jakub loved it too.

“Not bad,” said Marcin happily, tutting at Jakub as he craned over Marcin’s shoulder to try and get a look at his sermon script. He tapped Jakub on the cheek, reclaiming his attention: once you were staring into those strikingly light eyes, thought Jakub as he did so, it was rather hard to look away. “How do you feel here?” Marcin patted Jakub’s backside, a fingertip lingering in the cleft between his buttocks. “That was the big one you had in you last night.”

“I’m fine.” Jakub was tender there, and he could certainly feel it. But it was what he liked.

“Good. Then go and lie on the bed, please. On your belly.”

“What for?”

“You’ll find out in a minute. Go on. You promised to do as I asked.” With a meaningful sigh Jakub went. He was surprised, though: Marcin didn’t usually fuck him again once they’d bathed, not unless he was in the kind of mood where he literally couldn’t keep his hands off him. Today Marcin was too collected for that. He had returned to the living room, whence came the sound of rustling. When he came back his hands were behind him. Lounging on his stomach with his chin propped in his palms, Jakub gave him a narrow look. “This,” Marcin explained, “is to help pull your focus. If you overthink things once you’re up there you’ll start second-guessing yourself, and that’s never a good look for a preacher.”

“Could you please be less cryptic?” Marcin huffed out a breath of laughter. He climbed onto the bed and knelt over Jakub, pinning him down with his weight so that all Jakub could see when he twisted were Marcin’s knees.

“You’ll understand soon.” The next moment Jakub felt a hand slide around his neck. It was a familiar and even desired feeling: Marcin had grown expert at controlling his air in the most pleasurable way, and he liked to leave bruises. For an instant Jakub felt his breath come short as Marcin squeezed. Then the hand was replaced with something narrower, but just as flexible and just as unrelenting.

“What–” His words were cut off as he felt a strap tighten at the back of his neck. He took a deep breath: Marcin couldn’t start messing with him today of all days! “Not now,” he said hurriedly, trying without effect to buck Marcin off. “Tonight if you want to, but––”

“Mm. Not enough yet,” said Marcin calmly. “Your neck’s smaller than mine.” And the restraint around Jakub’s throat tightened even further. “There.” Marcin’s deft fingers secured the whatever-it-was. To his horror Jakub thought he heard the snick of a lock. Quickly he tried to speak, to scold him – this was really too much! But he couldn’t. “You can talk,” Marcin told him, evidently divining what all the wriggling was about. Jakub shook his head: he could feel that strap pressed unforgiving against his adam’s apple. “Yes you can – if you take it slow.” Marcin sounded as if he knew just how it felt! What could he know?! “Rushing your words is a common public speaking problem,” Marcin informed him cheerfully. “Especially when the speaker’s nervous. I’m the one who has to announce his Majesty, of course I know that.” He slid the tip of his index finger from Jakub’s chin to the hollow between his collarbones, measuring an unhurried pause before his next sentence. “Listen. This thing is tight enough that if you do speak too fast you’ll lose your breath – you won’t get the words out. So instead you’re going to be purposeful and measured: a dignified orator. Then you’ll be fine.” Jakub tried to swear at him and failed. For a moment he could hardly draw breath. But the son of a bitch was right: when he forced himself to slow down he found he could take in air.

“How can I do that…when I am nervous?” he demanded, wanting to spit the words but unable to. Another absurdly long breath. “This is making me nervous…!”

“If you want your sermon to be a success, you’ll do it.” Marcin ran his fingers over the strap again. “You have no choice.” Jakub felt him shift backwards, moving his weight off Jakub’s hips to kneel between his legs. His hands now freed, Jakub tugged at the thing around his neck. Even without looking he could tell it was a dog collar – and it was locked on. And Marcin meant him to wear this while he delivered the most important sermon of his life?!

“…You absolute bastard,” he managed at a glacial pace.

“That’s to help you speak well,” said Marcin, fiddling about behind him and not sounding the least bit offended. “And this is to stop you fixating on it.” Jakub felt an oiled finger stroke softly around his entrance. He bit his lip: his buttocks ached fiercely from being flogged, and his passage was still sensitive from that massive ivory nonsense Marcin had bought him. As far as Jakub knew, most people used leather toys stuffed with rags – everyone except the very wealthy. Marcin must have spent a huge amount of money. He’d probably been terribly embarrassed. Jakub tried picturing the transaction to make himself feel better as Marcin’s finger slid inside him. He was going to be fucked, then? Not a bad way to help him relax – but he couldn’t be late to the Archcathedral!

“Just…” He coughed as the collar pressed down. “Just hurry up,” he said slowly.   

“Don’t worry,” replied Marcin, the idiot. Then something nudged at Jakub’s opening. It most certainly was not Marcin’s prick. Jakub gasped and began to cough again. “Just a bit more,” Marcin said reassuringly. Jakub felt the stretch while whatever it was grew rapidly wider and wider as it eased into him.

“Marcin…” Then it narrowed again abruptly and sat neatly inside him. He could feel the flare of the base between his legs. Oh. That was what it was: he recognised it now. Jakub knew where it was kept in its gilded case. He’d even put it in once or twice, to get himself ready after work for when Marcin came back late from the Castle. But Marcin surely couldn’t… “No,” he said immediately, as he realised what was being asked of him.

“No?” Marcin’s hand touched his back very gently. Then Jakub remembered what he had promised him not an hour ago – oh, why in God’s name had he promised that?! He wanted to curse Marcin roundly, but if he got started he’d never be calm enough to call him all the names he wanted to before that blasted collar choked him! “That’s my sweet good boy,” said Marcin when he didn’t speak. Jakub sighed into the bedclothes at the effectiveness of the phrase. “I’ll let you have a look,” Marcin offered, putting both hands under his shoulders to lift him. “Then we’ll get you dressed – and off we go.”

“Don’t baby me,” snapped Jakub, or tried to. He’d spoken too fast and the last word came out in a breathy squeak that made Marcin laugh warmly and tousle his hair. He set Jakub on his feet.

“We’d better check you can walk,” he said. “I tried the collar on to gauge the effect, but I didn’t try that.” Jakub sniffed: he had walked under worse circumstances! Even after that day with Janusz and his men. An insignificant plug inside him wasn’t about to… Oh, but it did feel strange. Marcin slid an arm through his and helped him shuffle along until he’d worked out the trick of making his gait look somewhat normal. Then he stopped him and turned him to face the one mirror his rooms possessed. “How’s that, then? Nothing the cassock won’t cover.”

Jakub stared at himself, and for an instant felt light-headed at the thought of standing before the Bishop and an entire congregation – knowing he looked like this. The base of the bulbous toy wasn’t visible at all, at least until Marcin nudged his suddenly weak legs open to show him. Jakub tried to regulate his breathing: he couldn’t afford to fall down. Because that was the real issue here – that collar. He slowly approached the mirror to get a good look at it. It was less than an inch wide, slim and elegant, and the finely stitched leather was supple, oiled black against his naked throat. But it was sturdy leather. Jakub touched it again: he’d never be able to break it, and he wasn’t about to let a knife anywhere near his neck. It was padded inside with something very soft. On the outside was a narrow silver plaque engraved with a string of letters. He tried to twist the collar so he could read it in the mirror, but it was too tight.

“What does it say?” he asked after a careful breath. Marcin’s reflection smiled in the happy way that made his eyes crinkle, the way that warmed Jakub even when he didn’t want it to. Coming to stand directly behind him, Marcin leaned down and touched his lips to Jakub’s throat above the collar, placing both hands covetously around his waist.

“Property of M.J.,” he said, and laughed against his skin. Jakub felt himself shiver all over. He hoped it was the tickle of Marcin’s moustache and not the effect of those words: a statement set in silver that he was a possession, Marcin’s closely guarded possession – and if anyone were to tug down his collar today they would know it. He and Marcin spent enough time together! It wouldn’t be hard to guess. Marcin’s nose nuzzled his neck. “You don’t mind?” he said coaxingly. “You’ll wear it for me?” Jakub took a shuddering breath past the collar and reached up to touch Marcin’s face.

“…I’ll wear it. And if I don’t get this promotion I’ll kill you.”

**

A little while later they were dressed and in Marcin’s carriage, which he usually left at the nearby livery stable when he spent the night and thought Jakub would need a lift. Jakub had managed the stairs with his assistance – his unbelievably smug assistance – but had had to be helped into the vehicle. He could feel that thing inside him: every time he breathed, every time he moved. He couldn’t help the nagging feeling that it might slip out, and despite the chilly weather Marcin hadn’t allowed him to wear underclothes, only his shirt, cassock and cloak. His fine purple surplice had been sent ahead.

“It won’t fall out,” Marcin had assured him, as if he knew anything about it! “But if you’re worried you’ll just have to focus on holding it in.” Jakub was focusing on it, so much so that he’d almost left the notes for his sermon behind. Marcin had fetched them, and now they were safely tucked into Jakub’s cloak. Thank Christ he knew them by heart! He’d barely been able to give them a thought since Marcin had filled and collared him. “Can you sit?” Marcin asked him as the carriage door closed. Jakub tried.

“…Not straight.” Marcin shuffled along the seat, adjusted his sabre, and patted his lap.

“Lie down until we get there. Fifteen minutes, perhaps. There’s not much traffic.”

“Will we…” Jakub slowed down. “Be on time?” It would never do to be late, but he didn’t fancy asking the coachman to go faster: the bumping of the carriage was making it uncomfortable enough already. Marcin nodded and gestured to him, so Jakub carefully eased himself down across the seat and laid his head in Marcin’s lap. He adjusted himself so the collar didn’t put too much pressure on his throat, then exhaled deeply. Marcin’s hand came down to stroke his hair. Jakub heard him start to hum: he had a low, tuneful voice. The rocking of the carriage seemed almost soothing now that Jakub wasn’t sitting on his behind. After just a minute his eyes began to fall closed. Jakub was puzzled. It was almost the same dreamy feeling Marcin helped him achieve when they played together hard – but Marcin had barely done anything this morning. Still, for just those few minutes Jakub felt safe.

When they reached the Archcathedral Marcin directed the driver round to the back, so that Jakub might stun the congregants with his entrance at the beginning of the service instead of wandering past half of them before it began.

“This had better go well,” Jakub told him once he’d been helped to sit up. Marcin beamed.

“It’ll go well. You’ve got the goods.” He straightened Jakub’s hair for him, then cupped his cheek and gave him a calm looking over. “I know that Bishop – and I’ve got a feeling he’ll really like this.” Jakub attempted a huff, which became a cough, and then Marcin was kissing him, one hand spread across his high white collar where the leather lay below. Jakub was giddily trying to get his breath back when he heard: “Trust me: you’re going to win.” He nodded and let Marcin assist him out of the carriage. And he was just beginning to fret over greeting the Bishop when he remembered, all at once, everything he had told Marcin last night. His family, his father, his anger, his pain: Marcin knew everything.

It was with a head quite empty of anything as petty as promotion fears, therefore, that Jakub walked inside.

**

“My children,” began Jakub from the magnificent pulpit, gazing down at the well-dressed throng beneath him. He had never preached to such a crowd. His voice travelled better than he had expected: the Archcathedral had been skilfully constructed. He was almost shocked by its ringing tone. And he might have forgotten what came next altogether if he hadn’t been concentrating so fervently on being able to breathe instead of worrying about a speech in which he was word-perfect. The next line – a reminder of the story of Job – came out a little high and weak: he had taken in air too quickly, and had to stifle a cough. The congregation was watching him with what he felt to be a judgemental interest. Jakub breathed out through his mouth, then in again as steadily as he could, and continued speaking. Better.

As his homily unfolded he forgot about the crowd, forgot all his weeks’-long worries about the sermon itself. There were only four points of importance in his consciousness at present. The first was the collar, of course, but he couldn’t pay too much attention to his breathing because of the spectre of the Bishop, sitting in the best pew below him. The elderly man had his hands steepled in front of him – Jakub couldn’t tell what he was thinking at all. That was the second. The third was the niggling awareness of the plug inside him, and what people would think if they knew about it – never mind what God thought about such shenanigans in His house, it was far too late for that – and what would happen if it were to slip out of him right here in front of everyone. He was certain he’d gone scarlet, but there was nothing he could do about it. The fourth…the fourth was Marcin. Marcin, who after Jakub’s indiscretion last night now knew more of the hurt inside his heart than any man living. He was sitting further back than the Bishop with a group of other young nobles. And yet his bright gaze reached Jakub across all that distance: loving, disapproving – typical Marcin, he detested the bloody parts of the Scriptures – and immensely proud. His attention flustered Jakub, but it calmed him too, cocooned him in affection. He could almost feel Marcin’s hand in place of the collar at his throat. And somehow it guided him to the end.

Between all these pressures and the fiery subject of his sermon, which had required some quite dramatic flourishes that left him close to losing breath altogether, Jakub was almost tearful as he descended from the pulpit in relief. An auxiliary bishop took over the routine remainder of the service. With unaccustomed feelings of gratitude Jakub let himself be escorted down the western transept – he couldn’t look at the faces of the crowd – and into a set of chambers not open to the laity. There he was given a goblet of wine by a subdeacon, and politely entreated to refresh himself while he awaited the Bishop.

Jakub pottered around the room once, then went to stand by the fire. He couldn’t drink any more freely than he could breathe, so he sipped at the wine and hoped the aftermath trembling in his limbs would hurry up and cease. It seemed an age before the door opened and the Bishop sailed in. To Jakub’s immense pleasure he was smiling: he had seen the man bark at underlings and knew he had a temper when he was displeased. Now he looked positively genial.

“Well done, Father,” he told Jakub loudly, clasping him by both arms and nodding, peering into his face and nodding again. “Well done!” He did look almost too like a tortoise, thought Jakub for the dozenth time, and might have laughed if the collar hadn’t threatened to strangle him.

“Thank you, your Excellency,” he said instead, in a necessarily small voice.

“Quite the rousing subject,” the Bishop told him. He patted Jakub’s bicep, appeared to give him an appreciative sniff – Marcin’s extravagant soap – then took his arm firmly and pulled him over to a couple of comfortable chairs: comfortable, at least, on any other day. “They won’t fall asleep in church with sermons like that!” Jakub attempted to preen, but he was too nervous about sitting down to manage it. The Bishop was waiting, however, and he had no choice. Stifling a tiny whimper he took his seat: oh, he could feel it pressing into him! He leaned as far as possible onto his left buttock, towards the Bishop’s chair, and hoped it made him look attentive. “Did you drink your wine too fast?” asked the Bishop, gesturing to a lurking servant to pour them more. “You look rather flushed.” Jakub took a cautious breath.

“It was just…the honour of being allowed to preach for you,” he said slowly.

“Pish!” replied the Bishop with a flap of his hand, looking pleased. “My dear boy, it was a pleasure to watch you.”

“Really?” Jakub tried to force down the hope blooming in his stomach – he wouldn’t allow it, not yet! What he had told Marcin in his fit of frustration had been true: he had never been allowed to win at anything.

“You’re a competent lad in your daily work,” the Bishop went on, leaning over to pat him gently on the knee. “Cool and collected. I wouldn’t be considering you for the job otherwise. But it’s the contrast that impressed me in your sermon. You surprised me: so honest and youthful! A powerful text, but spoken meek as a lamb before your elders. Humble, though not unfeeling. The way your voice trembled, I could feel myself hanging on your words – so moved in your innocence by the spirit of God!” Jakub blinked at him, and went from wanting to kill Marcin, as he had earlier that morning, to merely wanting to maim him. “You’re still blushing,” the Bishop added with a patronising and affectionate look. Jakub was beginning to understand what Marcin must have meant when he’d said he knew the man, and to get an inkling of what exactly he had enjoyed about that sermon. He hadn’t known the Bishop’s tastes ran that way! Why hadn’t somebody told him earlier? The Bishop beamed at Jakub. “Most of your colleagues have lost the ability to be moved at your level. You must have been terribly nervous, but there was no need, I assure you. A charming sight.”

“…Thank you, your Excellency!”

“Well,” said the Bishop, tossing off his drink with a happy sigh. “What do you say, Father Adamczewski? Would you like to be my episcopal vicar?”

And there it was: hope fulfilled – a feeling Jakub had never experienced in his life before. Well. Perhaps once. He remembered Marcin’s face, the security of having those lovely eyes fixed on him; the promise in the grip of Marcin’s hand. And it was, after all, thanks in part to Marcin that he could smile breathlessly at the Bishop and say:

“Please, your Excellency. It’s what I’ve always wanted.”

The Bishop waved away his thanks in a manner that said he could stand to hear plenty more. Jakub knew how to perform: he knew how to please a powerful man. God knew he’d had enough practice – and that was thanks to Marcin too. With an effort he rose from his chair, then sank to his knees beside the Bishop’s. Reaching for his white-gloved hand, Jakub gave him the big, innocent eyes that Marcin loved and was rarely fooled by. They’d fool this one, though. With a smile that said he was thoroughly besotted, the Bishop placed his hand in Jakub’s. Jakub bent his head and kissed his ring, hiding his own smile of triumph: that was for Marcin’s eyes alone.

Praise God in Heaven, he had won!

Marcin refused to take Jakub home right away. In a rare generous humour, he felt that he wanted to show Jakub to the world. In normal circumstances he detested sharing him at all – he’d like nothing better than to have him to himself entirely. But Jakub victorious was so blindingly beautiful that he ought to be displayed in a public collection, not shut up in some miser’s private gallery. Marcin had known he would get the job, or at least had been pretty certain, Jakub’s clerical and oratorial talents being considerable and Marcin’s uncle’s gossip about the Bishop being what it was. The blushing and slight hoarseness and barely perceptible trembling during the sermon had been the icing on the cake. Marcin hadn’t heard of the Bishop actually taking advantage of any pretty young priests – rumour said he just liked their company a little too much and tended to spoil them – but it might have been another story if he’d known what was going on under Jakub’s cassock. Marcin grinned greedily to himself. He would allow Warsaw to enjoy Jakub’s glowing face and shining eyes, the proud lift of his chin and the new lightness in his step. The rest…well, that was just for him.

He took Jakub to one of the more respectable taverns for some lunch and a celebratory drink. It was as much a trial as a pleasure to Jakub, he knew, but that was part of the fun: forcing him to sit at a table and pretend he wasn’t filled up and aching with it; watching him break his cake into tiny pieces and take genteel sips of wine so he could swallow safely. It was an unadulterated pleasure for Marcin. Never before had he so loved the feeling of controlling Jakub – because today his control had done Jakub some good. Marcin sat smiling at him over the table, their ankles tangled together. And when Jakub slid a gloved hand unsteadily across the wood and touched his fingers, Marcin felt his heart flood with contentment. Jakub’s hand was still quivering: stress, overexcitement, wine – either way, it was getting too much for him. Time to take him home and celebrate until both of them were too relaxed to move.

**

The first thing Jakub did once Marcin helped him upstairs was not, surprisingly, to demand the plug be removed from his backside. The first thing he did was sink to his knees at the private altar in his living room, bow his head, and silently pray.

“What was that for?” asked Marcin, who had made it a policy not to interrupt while Jakub was actually being pious. Jakub inhaled without rushing – he had obviously grown used to the collar.

“I was thanking God for getting me the promotion.”

“Oh.” Marcin grinned at him, then grasped him by the hair and twisted him away from the altar. Jakub attempted to yelp but had to stop and cough for a while. It was satisfying: not to stop him speaking completely, which was fun if elementary, but to control his very manner of speech. When Jakub glared up at him he asked: “Isn’t there someone else you ought to be giving prayers of thanks to?”

“…You mean you, I suppose,” said Jakub in an irritated but necessarily measured voice.

“Certainly. Don’t tell me the Bishop didn’t like that trembling sweet-voiced performance!” Jakub gave him a massive eye-roll in lieu of a sarcastic comment. But then his face softened and he stopped pulling against Marcin’s grip. He sighed very quietly, and when his eyes next met Marcin’s the look in them made Marcin catch his breath. Jakub reached up, eased Marcin’s hand away from his hair, and to Marcin’s shock and delight took it in both his own hands to press a kiss to it. He knelt there for a long moment, dark head bent over Marcin’s knuckles as if he really was praying – as if Marcin was as sacred to him as any of his saints. “Jakub…” Marcin said gently. When he didn’t answer Marcin turned his hand in Jakub’s, laying it against that pale cheek.

“Thank you, Marcin,” said Jakub in the smallest and slowest of voices. Marcin felt a thrill of protectiveness and ownership as Jakub leaned into his palm. “For thinking of me.” Jakub touched his high collar: they both knew what lay beneath. “Even if it was in this heretical way.”

“I always think of you.” It was merely the truth. Marcin recalled again what Jakub, through his tears of anger and what felt like heartache, had told him last night. “I want you to win,” he told him fervently. “Always. I’ll do whatever it takes to help you.” At that Jakub’s eyes filled again: possibly tears of embarrassment that Marcin remembered that very vulnerable moment, but hopefully of pleasure. “And you did win. On your own merits, you know that perfectly well. I just made extra sure.”

“It…was quite effective,” admitted Jakub. He sniffed, but managed one of his wicked little smiles for Marcin – who was suddenly in a far more carnal mood than a spiritual one. Because Jakub was not a meek and humble innocent: he was Jakub. And that was exactly what Marcin wanted.

“So,” he suggested, slipping his hand down to Jakub’s throat and encircling it over the fabric, “shall we celebrate?” Jakub’s breath started to come faster – inadvisable with that collar on, Marcin had experimented on himself and knew that if he got too excited it would begin to choke him until he managed to calm down. He gazed into Jakub’s anxious eyes and breathed slowly and audibly. After a few moments Jakub’s breathing calmed with him.

“Please,” Jakub said faintly. “…I want it.” Unable to prevent his own foolish smile, Marcin drew him to his feet. There was no other word for it: Jakub was perfection. In love, at least. And, thought Marcin as he cupped Jakub’s face in both hands and bent to kiss him, it was time he got his reward.

The first thing Marcin did was strip him: in the bedroom mirror, from behind, tearing off his cloak and cassock in the rough way Jakub preferred and unlacing his boots. He traced a finger along the high collar of his white undershirt, just brushing his skin. Jakub was watching their reflections avidly, and when Marcin tugged the shirt over his head it was clear he was already becoming aroused. Marcin touched him lightly all over, admiring his curves, his smooth skin, his bruises. He slid the gloves off reverently. The collar looked fantastic against that delicate white throat, the gold cross hanging beneath it until Marcin removed the chain and set it aside. Jakub was working hard to keep his breathing steady as the touches grew more intimate. When Marcin’s fingers traced the outline of the plug that still filled him, Jakub’s eyes fluttered shut. Marcin was glad he had bought it: there was something wonderful about being able to slide right into him with no preparation. But he wasn’t ready to remove it quite yet. He liked how careful it made Jakub, the toy and the collar between them.

“Kiss me…” whispered Jakub, tipping his head back onto Marcin’s shoulder. Yes, thought Marcin, they should take this slowly. They had all the time in the world. He scooped Jakub up in his arms, enjoying his stifled squeak, and settled them both in the chair beneath the window. Jakub wriggled and gave some cut-off little noises of complaint as his bruised and plugged derriere made contact with Marcin’s lap. Delicious. Marcin shifted him to a more comfortable position in his embrace, then took a long, luxurious look at him. He loved to regard Jakub in broad daylight, especially naked. But Jakub soon slid an arm around his neck, and with an imperious frown drew him down to kiss him.

“That’s my clever kitten,” murmured Marcin between caresses. “I’m so proud of you!” He kept his kisses light: if they became too passionate and intense Jakub would struggle to breathe, and his lips felt so good Marcin wanted to keep on like this forever.

“You’re a condescending fuck, aren’t you,” Jakub replied against his mouth, still in that effortfully measured voice. Marcin chuckled.

“Still, I’ll bet that old tortoise was imagining you like this all through the service…” Jakub tried to laugh at that and had to break off.

“…He does look like one, doesn’t he!” he said when he’d got his breath back, and grinned at Marcin. With a welling of affection that took his own breath away, Marcin touched his cheek.

“I love you like this.”

“Like what?” asked Jakub, who seemed to enjoy hearing that word, although he had never said it himself. Marcin understood why – understood even better after last night. And he knew Jakub cared for him.

“Happy.”

“…I suppose I am,” said Jakub past the collar, and flung both arms around him. The embrace quickly grew heated, and when Jakub began stirring in his lap in a more deliberate, tantalising way Marcin swallowed heavily and said:

“Let me spoil you.” Jakub nodded eagerly. Marcin hadn’t needed to ask, he just liked seeing the greedy shine in his eyes. Heaving Jakub up again, he placed him on the bed. Spoiling him was of course a bit more involved than spoiling a normal person: Marcin told him to stay put and went to get ready.

He closed the curtains tight and shut the door to give the place some mood – the strange paintings of saints that decorated Jakub’s rooms didn’t really do it for him amour-wise and it was better to keep them shadowed – then lit a number of candles and placed them strategically around until Jakub’s skin gently glowed. Jakub was lounging on his back watching him impatiently. When Marcin scooped up several coils of the sturdiest red rope his eyes began to gleam in the warm light.

“What’re you going to do?”

“You’ll find out,” said Marcin, trailing the end of a rope across his belly. “And you said you’d do anything I ask today, so just lie there and keep still.” Jakub narrowed his eyes but didn’t put up a fight as Marcin tied each limb to a corner of the bed, pulling gently until the ropes were taut and he was stretched and spread and helpless. Now that he was free to use him as he pleased, Marcin spent some time attacking the most sensitive parts of his body with lightly teasing fingertips, the silk tassels on his uniform sash, even the feather of Jakub’s quill. Jakub quivered all over, sighed and gasped and moaned. Not the hint of a laugh – he really wasn’t ticklish. Marcin gave up and instead kissed his way from Jakub’s toes, over his thighs and up his torso to his throat. By that time Jakub’s breathing had become unsteady and it was obvious he was beginning to find the collar a trial. Fetching the small silver key, Marcin slid a hand into his hair and gently raised his head to unlock him and remove it.

“…Wait,” said Jakub with an effort. He glanced away, blushed prettily, then gazed up at Marcin. “Don’t.” An enormous smile made its way across Marcin’s face.

“You like it,” he said softly. Warmth bloomed in his chest. Jakub had once been so stand-offish, displaying his independence through his disdain for other people and their ability to help him – even Marcin had been little more to him than a handy toy. And now Jakub was content to lock this collar around his neck, this thing that said he belonged to Marcin? How far they both had come! “Thank you, sweetheart,” Marcin added, and bent to give him an upside-down kiss. “That makes me very happy too.” Jakub shrugged as best he could but looked pleased. “I’m just going to loosen it a notch.” Marcin adjusted the collar quickly, then locked it again. Christ, what if Jakub would consent to wear it every day?! A possessive thrill dizzied Marcin at the very thought. “Because soon you’ll be gasping.” He kissed Jakub again. “You might even need to scream for me…”

“Will I…?” Jakub asked him hopefully. Marcin slid a fingertip under the collar and tugged at it. Jakub moaned.

“Let’s find out.”

He left the plug inside Jakub: he thought it would be fun to see if he could come all by himself from what was about to happen to him, and it was always easier for Jakub to climax when there was something in him. Marcin picked up what he needed and carried it carefully to the bed. As the light moved closer Jakub’s eyes shone, the blue receding until they were two circles of black ink, each glowing with a soft flame.

“You’ve been asking me to do this for a while,” Marcin said, sitting down on the edge of the bed and stroking Jakub’s arm, having placed a bowl of cold water and a cloth on the table nearby. “I thought we could try it today.” Jakub stared at the lit candle in his other hand: a long, sturdy red taper. A rising excitement showing in his face – and his stiffening prick – he nodded quickly.

“Yes.” He was breathing freely without obstruction now, and just as well: his narrow chest had begun to rise and fall rapidly. “I’ve been asking for ages.”

“I had to do some research.” Marcin smiled at him. Jakub gave him a look as if to say ‘of course you did,’ then went back to ogling the candle. He had been asking for some while – nagging, even. But Marcin hadn’t been about to put fire anywhere near his most precious possession without the proper preparations, not even when Jakub had snipped about going home and getting Janusz to do it instead. Books didn’t have much to say on the subject. In the end Marcin had visited a chandler, and learned that if he wanted a candle that wouldn’t cause real damage when melted he would need a mixture of beeswax and other oils, one that would melt at a low temperature. Well, here it was, courtesy of that industrious shopkeeper. And now Jakub could find out if it was worth the wait. “If you don’t like it,” Marcin instructed him, “you’ll tell me to stop.”

“I will,” promised Jakub hurriedly. Marcin wondered if he really would, but the candle was starting to pool wax and he needed to decide where to begin. “Ahh…!” Jakub hissed sharply as a drop of molten liquid hit the inside of his splayed right arm. Marcin, watching, saw it harden quickly. The faster it hardened the less it would burn: he’d spent a yelping evening at home practicing on his own arm, and while he couldn’t take any pleasure in the sensation himself, he suspected Jakub would.

“How is it?” he asked. Jakub shrugged, so Marcin did it again, a few more drops across his shoulder. He’d moved the candle slightly closer and they took longer to set, the hot wax sticking and inescapable even as Jakub twitched. “You can feel good from this?” Jakub was still hard.

“…I’m not sure yet.” Jakub swallowed, eyes fixed on the moving candle. “But I want to know. Keep going.”

Now Marcin was moving into new territory. He’d been too squeamish himself to try it anywhere more delicate. But here was Jakub’s lovely, defenceless body spread before him like a canvas – a canvas literally begging to be painted. Marcin kept the candle well away from Jakub’s head, but let the wax fall in a stripe down his white sternum. It smoked and pattered onto his skin, the red line disconcertingly like a wound – Janusz would love this, the bloody maniac. Jakub gasped and whined as it hit but nodded Marcin onwards: down towards his belly, so soft and pale, and when several drops pooled there together Jakub cried out and wriggled uselessly in his bonds.

“Want me to cool you off?” Marcin demanded, slapping his cheek to get his attention. “I’ve got water here.” Panting, Jakub shook his head.

“More…”

Careful to keep the candle far enough away from Jakub’s skin, Marcin complied. For a while he drew scarlet patterns on his stomach and torso, until the wriggling ceased and became light flinches as Jakub got used to it. Lower again: to Jakub’s inner thighs, bared and available where his legs were spread wide. The bedcovers were going to be a bit of a mess, but that was what Marcin paid Jakub’s landlady so much rent for. The higher up Jakub’s inner thigh the wax travelled, the sweeter his cries. Marcin could see his fingers and toes flexing, clear liquid leaking slowly from the tip of his cock. Oh, he did like it.

“Think you can come for me, sweetheart?” Gently he pressed the base of the ivory plug against Jakub’s hole. It was too wide to slip inside him, but there was no doubt he could feel it: he let out a delightful groan. “Without anything else?”

“I…”

“Nothing else,” said Marcin, dropping into his lowest tone as he allowed another spattering of wax to fall. Jakub moaned. “Just the heat…and my voice.”

“…More,” breathed Jakub again. He sounded desperate now, his cock straining. “Anywhere, Marcin, you can put it anywhere…!”

“Seriously?” Jakub gave him a frantic nod. Marcin considered his delicate spots, and which would be least likely to hamper his daily activities if he did get hurt. His palms and the soles of his feet, they were out, and Marcin wasn’t about to go turning him over and retying him just to get at the small of his back. So with a critical eye on the candle’s height, he tilted it cautiously, and allowed a single drop to fall onto Jakub’s exposed testicles.

“Aahh!” Jakub’s back arched off the bed. Marcin was watching his flushed face, too, and saw his eyes open wide. Jakub pressed his lips together, then parted them again, and to Marcin’s amazement gasped: “Yes, yes, Marcin, more…! Please, it feels so good, I’m getting close, I…!”

“Good Lord.” Still, Marcin loved to be begged. Just now Jakub looked as beautiful as he had ever seen him, and he wanted more. Marcin did as he was asked, letting the hot wax plaster this most intimate, private place as he talked to Jakub soothingly and held him down. Jakub whimpered, writhed sinuously in a way that made Marcin wish he was inside him right now. He looked and sounded as if he was getting close, but still he couldn’t come. Perhaps he would need some more conventional touch after all – they were still so new at this. Marcin thought about pinching his pretty pink nipples, sucking and biting at them, even clamping them as he’d learned to do that summer: Jakub was exceptionally sensitive there. He was blinking back tears now, pain and pleasure and frustration over his elusive climax. Well, thought Marcin, it was worth a try.

The instant the wax hit his left nipple Jakub yelled aloud in what Marcin recognised as grateful shock. God, it looked like it hurt! All four limbs were tugging against their bonds, Jakub’s hips bucking as if some kind of merciful invisible angel had hold of his cock and was finally giving him what he needed. Marcin let the wax trail across his heaving chest. He moved the candle a fraction closer, and as the molten wax coated the other nipple he was thrilled to witness Jakub orgasm, lovely mouth slack, head thrown back and semen shooting across his ribs and chest, adding white adornments to the red. Marcin stuck the candle unceremoniously back into its holder on the table and blew it out. He leaned over Jakub, swirled his tongue across the head of Jakub’s cock – he could feel him shudder – then self-indulgently licked the seed off him all the way up his body. The wax tasted odd under his tongue, but he loved the taste of Jakub.

“Did you enjoy that?” he whispered against Jakub’s lips, taking his face in both hands. There were tears beneath his fingers, but he felt Jakub manage a tiny smile against his mouth. “I can’t believe you came that way, you’re incredible, you know that?”

Jakub sucked in a shaky breath, then gave him a contented hum. Six months ago Marcin would have been asking Jakub what he wanted to do now, what else he needed. He’d learned a lot since then, he thought, kissing him softly – and what Jakub did not want in these moments was to make decisions, to be responsible, to take action. No. What he needed was to have someone he could rely on to take action for him, to know what would make him happy and be able to achieve it: to do everything his family, his ridiculous father, had been unable to do for him. And Marcin was the man to do it. He was the only one who both could and would – and that was why Jakub rightfully belonged to him!

“Marcin…” said Jakub in a small, plaintive voice.

“I know.” Marcin took him by the collar again, gently this time. “I’m going to fuck you now.” That got him an excited little whine. “I’ve been dying to since this morning, Christ, Jakub I want you so badly…!” Jakub didn’t even upbraid him for blaspheming: he must need Marcin inside him just as much as Marcin needed to be there! He shook out each arm and leg as Marcin untied it, reaching out for him, and Marcin bent over him to kiss his lips. Jakub was struggling with the buttons of Marcin’s jacket, trying to strip him with uncoordinated hands. Once Marcin had helped him remove it all Jakub slid both palms up his chest as though he couldn’t go another minute without touching him.

“I suppose…we should celebrate you too,” Jakub muttered in his ear, clutching at him.

“What for?”

“…For helping me,” Jakub said even more quietly. “For seeing me.” Marcin held him close. He was being so incredibly sweet that Marcin’s sensible side became mildly paranoid that this was some kind of bid for him to do something completely outrageous, some perversion Marcin had never even imagined. But Jakub only pushed his face into Marcin’s shoulder and closed his legs around him.

“I’ve already got my reward,” Marcin told him, charmed. “It’s you – an obedient you.” And he couldn’t wait any longer: he needed to be even closer. Walking his fingers down Jakub’s back, he parted his bruised buttocks and took a gentle hold of the plug. He felt Jakub stiffen for an instant, then deliberately relax against him as he slowly eased it out. The next thing he knew, Jakub had taken his right hand and was directing his fingers inside him with a sigh.

“I need it…” He arched up against Marcin. “I’ve been aching here all day, feeling it, wanting it to be you…!”

That was simply too flattering for words, or at least Marcin couldn’t think of any in his sudden ravenous state, so he just grabbed Jakub by both calves and pulled him bodily over to the side of the bed. Seating himself comfortably he lifted Jakub into his lap: legs spread, back pressed against Marcin’s chest, looking directly at the mirror. Marcin slid one arm around his waist and with the other groped on the bedside table for the oil. A quick coating and he was ready. Jakub himself had been ready for hours, for so long that he was squirming and undulating in Marcin’s lap, trying to impale himself on his erection. Marcin helped him: he’d worked hard enough today.

“Ohh…” moaned Jakub with fervour as Marcin slid easily into him and started to move him. He was trying to do his bit, Marcin could feel it, to ride him as he had last night. This was quite adorable, though Jakub was clearly too enamoured of their reflection in the mirror to go at it with his usual expertise: he let Marcin lift and penetrate him, watching his rolling hips and parted thighs, the red patterned across his skin like bloodstains. Marcin knew him well enough to guess it was a look that fulfilled a number of Jakub’s more violent fantasies – to look like a slut who would allow a man to do whatever he liked with his body, up to and including bloodshed. Well, so long as Jakub was safe and happy Marcin would indulge his fancies.

“You like what you see?” he demanded in a low, guttural voice, fucking him slow and hard, sliding one hand up to finger the leather around his neck. “You’re a whore, Jakub Adamczewski, my whore – hurt by me, marked by me, collared by me… You’re mine.” He closed his hand on Jakub’s throat, not too tight but tight enough. “Is that what you wanted?”

“…Mm-hm!” replied Jakub, unable to say anything else as Marcin squeezed with one hand and forced his arse down hard with the other. Marcin moved him around until he found the right angle, then commenced attacking that special place inside him. Jakub whimpered with feeling, both hands clinging to Marcin’s constraining arm, and as the hand around his throat tightened even further his expression in the mirror turned blissful. Marcin sped up. It was hard not to lose himself in the ecstasy of being inside Jakub. For as long as possible he took note of the movements of Jakub’s throat under his palm, the ripple of muscle around his cock as Jakub drew close to climax – but then he was coming himself, for one blinding instant losing track of everything but pleasure. He heard a high little noise spill from Jakub’s lips, abruptly stifled. When he came back to himself his hand was clamped across Jakub’s windpipe hard enough to cut off his air completely, and Jakub was shuddering violently against him and around him as his own full-body orgasm hit.

“God above, honey, that’s beautiful…” Marcin said breathlessly. He let go of Jakub’s neck slowly, feeling him start to breathe again under his hand. Jakub was panting and shaking all over, so he wrapped both arms around him and held him, lulled him, until little by little he came back to himself. Marcin didn’t need to ask if he was all right: he could see that he was, more than all right, at least in Jakub terms. He praised him instead, reassured him, told him he needn’t think at all. “A bath, I reckon,” he said at last, and covering Jakub with a blanket for a moment went to yell for a servant to see to the tub. It was an odd hour for a bath, but this was an odd household. Anyway, he was paying enough!

“…Ouch,” was all Jakub said when Marcin lowered him into the steaming water and climbed in behind him with his soaps and oils and paraphernalia. It wasn’t really a complaint. In fact, it sounded complacent. He leaned his head back against Marcin’s shoulder and sighed.

Marcin did most of the chatting during the long and laborious process of getting all the wax off Jakub’s skin. Jakub made sleepy little comments, but they were lacking his usual sharpness: he’d had it all fucked out of him. By the time Marcin was washing his hair and massaging his scalp he had become almost nonverbal.

“And what would the episcopal vicar like for dinner?” Marcin asked. Jakub just hummed and said Marcin could choose. He seemed quite remarkably contented. Marcin hopped out when the water grew tepid, then lifted him from the tub and dried him inch by inch. “We’ll take a nap, then, and eat. We can go out later if you want, gaming or whatever – it’s your day. But,” said Marcin, giving him a smile as he dressed him in a fresh white nightgown, “I think you’d rather have a quiet evening with me.”

“I wouldn’t mind that,” Jakub allowed. His voice was hoarse from being choked, and going by his smug expression he liked the sound of it. Marcin saw his eyes drift to the small table that held the bottles, and the collar he’d removed to save it from a wetting.

“What?” enquired Marcin. Jakub gave him a bashful look.

“Will you…will you put it back on me?”

“God,” Marcin said throatily, and kissed him. “You do want to wear it for me! Have you any idea how happy that makes me?” It had been a fantasy – he couldn’t believe Jakub wanted to make it a reality! Jakub just swallowed and nodded. “It won’t be comfortable to sleep in,” Marcin told him, stroking the line of his throat worshipfully as he pictured him with it. “But tomorrow morning – every morning – I’ll lock you into it. And you’ll know who you belong to.”

“Yes,” breathed Jakub. His eyes were alight: he looked as enamoured with the idea as Marcin felt. Marcin cupped that precious face in both hands.

“And there’s nothing else I can give you right now? If you still feel…you know, empty?” To be sure, Jakub had been filled up all day, but even so Marcin hadn’t hurt him very much and they had only fucked once. Sometimes it took a lot more, and after last night Marcin knew why. He bent his head and gave Jakub another gentle kiss. Freshly washed and attired in angelic white, he looked quite radiant. Marcin was aware that beneath the cherub lurked a demon, but he didn’t care: he adored every part of Jakub.

“…Actually,” said Jakub slowly, arms wrapping around Marcin’s back, “I don’t feel empty.” He laid his damp head on Marcin’s shoulder, and Marcin squeezed him tight. “I…don’t feel empty at all.”

And at that Marcin clutched him even closer, with a feeling of vast, profound gratitude. Jakub might never be able to say that word normal people found so important. But surely that was what he’d meant. Cupping Jakub’s head in an attitude of simultaneous protection and devotion, Marcin whispered:

“I love you too.”