Archive of Our Own

Dune did not like the capitol city. Yulie did not like the capitol city either. Unlike Dune, Yulie was excellent at pretending, and he could pretend to like the capitol. Dune could not.

Yulie wasn't able to pretend that he was all right with how miserable Dune was, which just meant that Dune's miserableness was obvious to anyone that met Yulie, which was a lot of people. Everyone seemed to know him, everyone greeted him, touched him, bowed at him, smiled at him. Dune hated it.

There wasn't a tree in sight of their window in the guest quarters of the palace, and this was making Dune twitchy.

"Whatever you keep looking for, it isn't there," Yulie said, approaching Dune from behind slowly, and making sure to speak while doing so. Otherwise Dune might get surprised, and surprises always ended in violence when Dune was involved. Yulie put his hands on Dune's arms, then his face into the hair at the top of Dune's head.

"D'you know what Kath would say right now?" Dune asked.

Yulie shook his head. "No, but why should I? You always know what Kath would say."

"He'd say that admitting you were wrong makes you beautiful," Dune said.

"What am I wrong about?" Yulie asked.

"You're not wrong about anything," Dune said. "I was wrong. I said I'd like to travel, and that was a dumb idea. I hate travelling."

Yulie smirked. "What is it, I wonder?" he mused. "The smell, the food, the people? There's such a large amount of things here that could set you off. It's difficult to tell which it is."

"I don't even know which," Dune snapped, tensing up for no good reason. Yulie hadn't even said anything wrong, and he still felt defensive.

Yulie held tight to Dune's arms, keeping him still. Sometimes Dune appreciated the way Yulie trapped him, keeping him from doing anything stupid. Other times it made him want to flee. On this occasion, both happened. He wanted to flee, and he appreciated being unable to.

"I said I was wrong," Dune said.

"You couldn't have known what it would be like," Yulie said.

"You're supposed to tell me I'm beautiful," Dune snapped.

Yulie took a moment to catch up with Dune's logic, but he got there eventually.

"You are beautiful," Yulie said. "Kath is right. It's a strength to admit when you have erred."

"It's not about the strength," Dune said. "It's about beauty."

"Dune," Yulie said in warning. "You are gorgeous, and you know that."

"It is getting to me the way they keep looking at me," Dune said. "Like - like they think you're nuts. And you are nuts, of course, but they're not allowed to think that."

Yulie laughed.

Dune turned from the window. Yulie released his arms to let him turn and face him. "I'm beautiful," Dune said forcefully. "Anyone who says otherwise is defying you, and therefore wrong."

"Andonian slave training has done wonders with you," Yulie said.

Dune shrugged, frowning. "I'm beautiful, I'm miserable, I hate it here, and I'm going to bed."

"It's afternoon," Yulie said.

Dune shook his head. "I'm going to your bed," he said.

"My bed is in Summer Hill," Yulie said.

"Your bed is where you're going to sleep tonight," Dune said. "And because you're a masochist, that's here in this shite-hole."

"Masochist," Yulie said. "That's a new one. Kath teach you that?"

"You did," Dune said. "From the book we read before we left."

"Ah," Yulie said, remembering. Dune had enjoyed that book, and he had been able to sit still for longer than usual when listening to Yulie reading it to him.

"I'm beautiful, I'm miserable, and I'm going to your bed," Dune said.

"You're making very little sense," Yulie said. "Perhaps a rest is in order."

Dune stamped his foot, ever petulant. "I'm beautiful," he repeated.

"You are," Yulie agreed.

"I'm so beautiful that you used to make me stare at myself in a mirror for ten minutes every morning and say, 'I'm so beautiful that my Master loves to look at me'," Dune said.

"I did, yes," Yulie said.

"And I'm miserable and I don't want to think about this place," Dune said. "And I'm going to go to your bed, where I'm going to wait for you like a good boy, and you're going to distract me, because I hate this place and you think I'm beautiful."

"Ah," Yulie said, and cocked his head to the side to look at Dune. "You can't possibly have expected me to realise you were flirting. You've got exactly the same look in your eye as you used to get right before you'd try to smack me."

Dune groaned. "I'll smack you if you don't fuck me soon," he said.

"You're not ready."

"Says you," Dune snapped. "I'm plenty ready. What do you know about readiness?"

"Plenty," Yulie said, and tugged on Dune's elbow. "Come to bed."

"Maybe I don't feel like it anymore," Dune said, standing his ground.

Yulie slowly cocked his head to the side. Dune wasn't sure if he was waiting to see if Dune would actually refuse to go to his bed, or if he was calling Dune's bluff.

"I don't know why I said that," Dune said. "I'd fuckin' never, I swear. I'm going to bed now."

Dune fled into the bedroom, annoyed with himself. It had been a stupid thing to say. He often didn't feel like being in Yulie's bed, but it was only ever for dumb reasons like not wanting to sleep right then or being uncomfortable because it was too soft.

Dune sat on the bed and folded his arms, flexing and unflexing his fingers, trying to relax.

Yulie followed Dune into the bedroom and sat in front of him. Softly and slowly, he put his hands onto the ends of the silken wrap around Dune's neck and raised them, forcing the carefully embroidered cloth into Dune's view.

"You're antagonistic by reflex," Yulie said.

Dune's initial response was to tense up and glare, but then he realised that was proof of Yulie's point. Time with Yulie and his excessive reading habits had changed Dune's way of thinking, and he could stop and realise what he was doing as he did it now.

Dune had changed. How could he not? The books, the way Yulie's mind worked, and ...

Kath. Kath was insidious. Kath had taught him that word. It was one of his favourites.

Yulie was right. Dune was antagonising reflexively. He'd been trying to flirt earlier, and he'd done it by stamping his foot and being insistent.

"I'm not doing it on purpose," Dune said.

"That's what reflex means," Yulie said.

Dune nodded. Yulie still held on to the ends of his wrap.

It was like a chain attached to Dune's collar, but not. The wrap would rip before it could be used to force Dune to do anything, but Yulie still grabbed it when he wanted Dune to stay still and focus.

"You haven't called me Master all day," Yulie said, soft and quiet, like he was speaking to a startled horse. Dune knew what that sounded like now that he had spent a lot of time around Yulie and horses.

Dune couldn't remember calling Yulie Master or not during the day. If he'd done it or not done it, it hadn't stayed in his mind.

"You hate it here," Yulie said, still in that tone. It was starting to do things to Dune - soft, sleepy, warm things. "I know this is torture for you. We'll be home before you know it, where things are easier, but I need you to call me Master here, Dune. I can't have you forget that here. There are too many people that would notice it."

Dune nodded. Yulie had only brought him to the capitol because he'd been doing so much better. He'd told both Yulie and Kath that he wasn't doing better - all his Masters and pleases and thankyous were all completely fake - but neither of them seemed to care. Yulie often responded strangely, but Kath's response was insane.

'Of course it's fake,' Kath had said. 'Just because it's fake doesn't mean it isn't real.'

Dune looked Yulie in the eye. He'd only bothered to fight his reflex to look away with Yulie. Everyone else wasn't worth the bother, but not Yulie. Dune wanted to be able to lock eyes with Yulie.

"Master," Dune said. "Master, Master, Master -"

"You can't say it now and make up for it before," Yulie said.

Dune shook his head. "Kath says people make habits by doing," he said. "Master. Master, Master, Master."

Yulie smiled slowly.

"I don't even notice when I don't do it," Dune said.

"So much of you is reactive, Dune," Yulie said. "Most of what you do, or don't do, is because of something that happened before it."

Dune shrugged, then leaned forward until he was falling onto Yulie's chest, his arms still tightly folded. "I'd never not go to your bed," he said. "I swear. I'll forget what to call you, I'll do stupid shit, I'll swear, I'll bitch at you for not fucking me, but I swear I will always stay in your bed."

Yulie placed a hand on Dune's knee and the other over the middle of Dune's braided hair, halfway down his back. "I know," Yulie said. "Earlier, you were being reactive. Antagonistic. It's what you are."

Dune wasn't finished his slave training. When he had asked Kath when he'd be finished, Kath had wrinkled his nose, raised his eyes to the ceiling, and said, 'Huh. Finished. What a strange idea. That's not how that works.'

Dune had passed his training on beauty. He didn't believe he was beautiful, but he believed that Yulie believed it, which was apparently enough.

He'd passed his training on eye contact. He could suffer it now, and sometimes even enjoy it.

If he tried really hard, he could pass on his manners, but he rarely tried hard there. He didn't feel like it. Yulie usually didn't care, and neither did Dune, but they were in the Capitol and sometimes it was easier to please people than it was to deal with their bitching.

Master, Dune thought. It's not that hard.

Dune was struggling with his latest training. It was harder than all the rest. It would make his voice flee, his heart thump, and his muscles twitch.

"This is what I am," Dune started, echoing Yulie's earlier words, and it was too hard to keep going.

"And?" Yulie asked. The soft, horse-calming tone was back.

"And you keep me anyway," Dune finished quietly.

"I do," Yulie said.

If Dune stayed quiet, Yulie was going to say something, something like 'Good boy, Dune,' or 'Well done,' or, god forbid, 'I made such a good choice with you.'

"And yet you won't fuck me in the arse," Dune said quickly, preventing the praise.

"There's the antagonist again," Yulie mused.

"I'd be good for it," Dune promised. "I mean it, I'd be real good."

"You'd be excellent," Yulie said.

"I hate it here," Dune said. "You could distract me. I'd bet - I bet it'd feel really good."

Yulie turned his head, letting his cheek rest on Dune's temple. Dune could feel his smile.

"It would, I bet," Dune rambled. "It'd feel like, like, like being split open on heaven. Or, um, fucked by god. I bet - "

"Dune, stop," Yulie said, smirking.

"It'd feel so great," Dune said, antagonising. "You'd make me feel so good, it'd feel so fucking good. It'd be like, I don't know."

Dune looked for words, not finding them easily. He'd tried this before, and it hadn't worked then either. Yulie was immune to Dune's meagre attempts at seduction.

"It will happen, Dune," Yulie said. "It won't happen here. You hate it here."

"So do you," Dune snapped. "You're just a filthy good liar about it."

"Antagonist," Yulie mused again.

Dune sighed. He pushed his forehead into Yulie's shoulder and rolled his own shoulders, trying to relax them. "Master," he said. "Master, master, master."

Yulie stroked Dune's hair. Dune knew that it was meant to be comforting, perhaps even rewarding, but it just put him on edge. Yulie would touch the hair on top of his head, and the hair halfway down his back, but he never touched the hair near Dune's neck. Dune knew this, and he trusted Yulie never to hurt him like that, but still, he was on edge.

"It should happen here," Dune said.

"It absolutely should not," Yulie said. To anyone else, that would have ended the conversation. Dune didn't care.

"I want to," Dune said. "I hate this place, and you hate it too, but you brought me here."

"I was under the impression you would not have wanted to stay home," Yulie said.

Sometimes, Yulie was an absolute moron. Of course Dune didn't want to stay home.

"I'm your bed slave," Dune snapped. "You know what I'd be if you went to war? A cot slave. And if you were some soldier that didn't even get a cot in his tent, I'd be your tent slave. You brought me here because I belong in your bed."

"My bed is in Summer Hill," Yulie said.

"Your bed is where you sleep," Dune said. "I belong in your bed. You brought me, I belong here. You want me."

Yulie frowned, but he did not respond.

Dune sighed and flexed his fingers. He decided to try sultry again. It never failed, exactly. It never ended in his arse getting fucked, but it did always end up in sex. "You should have me," Dune said. "It's where I belong. I belong in your bed, with you. Under you."

"And if I want you above me?" Yulie asked, musing and unaffected.

"It doesn't matter," Dune said. "So long as you fuck me like you're supposed to fuck a bed slave, it doesn't matter."

"Dune," Yulie said firmly. "Explain to me why you think either of us ought to care about how I am supposed to fuck you."

Dune was caught out on that, stuck without any ideas at all. Yulie never cared what he was supposed to do. If he did, he'd probably have married some fertile young woman by now and made an heir rather than taking in all those orphans as wards.

Yulie thought it was mathematically stupid to place bets on one's own child being a good heir. He would much prefer to educate a bunch of orphans and pick the best one.

Dune kept telling Yulie that he was crazy, but Yulie never even got offended by it.

"It only matters because I say it does," Dune said. "I want it to happen the way it's supposed to happen. I'm your bed slave, you're supposed to fuck me, and if you did, I'd feel better. I'd feel good. You'd make it so good. You made everything else good."

Yulie shrugged.

"Sometimes, getting a point into your head is like hammering nails," Dune snapped angrily. "Into - into sand! You hammer and hammer and it doesn't matter because sand isn't going to take a nail in the first place."

Yulie raised an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting that my head is filled with sand?" he asked.

"Only a little," Dune said.

"A little full of sand," Yulie clarified.

"Just a bit," Dune agreed.

Yulie put his hand onto Dunes head to thread his fingers through the hair at Dune's scalp. "The things you get away with," he said wondrously.

Dune grimaced. "That's just it, though," he grumbled. "For everything I get away with, you'd think I'd be doing my job really fucking well, right?"

"Your job? And when, precisely, did I inform you that having sex with me was your job?" Yulie asked. "And penetrative sex, specifically? When did I demand that of you?"

Dune sighed. "You didn't," he said quietly, then knit his brow and scrunched his nose. "You did, though! You - it was implied."

Yulie laughed. "When did I imply it?" he asked.

"When you bought me," Dune said triumphantly. "You bought me, you spoiled me, and you had me sleeping in your bed. Sure, you didn't say I was there to get arse-fucked, but you didn't have to, 'cause it was implied."

Yulie laughed again.

Dune bit his lip, released it, then bit it again, looking at Yulie with a concentrated gaze. The consistent eye contact only made Yulie feel an egotistical pride. He'd done that to Dune, after all. Dune's ability to look him in the eye was a direct result of Yulie's involvement in Dune's life.

Dune had finally figured out how to get through to him. "See, you did all this," Dune said, pausing to munch on his lip again. "This is prime bed slave treatment, right? It's all pretty fucking clear."

Yulie nodded. "The fact that I have always called you my bed slave is another clear indication," he said.

"But you're not treating me like one," Dune said. "Bed slaves are for fucking."

"They are not just for fucking," Yulie countered. "People fuck other slaves."

"People fuck whoever they want and that's not the point," Dune said. "Bed slaves get fucked by their Masters."

"Dune," Yulie said softly. "You're not ready."

"No," Dune said. "I mean, whatever, fine. I am more ready to get fucked by you than I am to be a bad bed slave."

Yulie frowned. "Dune, you are a terrible slave," he said. "I like you anyway."

"No," Dune said again, frustrated. "I'm a terrible slave in general, but I am a great bed slave."

Yulie sighed. "Meaning what, exactly?"

"Meaning I don't leave my Master's bed, except that time you cast me from it like an absolute monster," Dune said.

"Ah, so now I am a monster with a head full of sand," Yulie said.

"I'm doing my best!" Dune snapped. "I am willing and ... and ... sultry, and I cuddle up in your bed after and I ask you how your day was and I listen to you complain about Lord Severin and I never tell anyone what you tell me on the pillows and I never tell anyone that you don't fuck me in the arse and I don't flirt with other people and - and I have never tried to get myself a better, richer Master. They all do that - especially here, they do that."

"You know I would never sell you. Why would you even try to seduce someone else?" Yulie asked.

"Because I don't know you won't sell me," Dune said. "You are completely uninterested in using me like a bed slave. You use me like I'm a mouth slave, except one you like to watch moaning."

Yulie's immovability seemed to crack a little. "You think you're a mouth slave?" he asked, incredulous.

"You're not like other people," Dune said, taking the change in Yulie's demeanour as proof of a weakness. He was determined to exploit it. "The bed means nothing to you. You're weirdly into seeing your slaves happy, but not just me, it's everyone. You let me get away with murder, but you'd let any one of us get away with murder, that's just what you're like. You could fuck any slave you've got, so what makes me any different than a mouth slave?"

Yulie shook his head.

"You can have one of them, too, whenever it's convenient," Dune pushed. "You can just open up their mouth, shove in, and it's all fine. You're you though, you don't like it unless you've got a moaning little slut with you, so of course you'd teach me to like sucking cock."

"I did no such thing," Yulie said. "You taught yourself to like it."

"You made damn sure I knew exactly what it felt like," Dune said. "Of course I get off on it now. That's not the point. The point is you use me how it's convenient. Hands and mouths are convenient. The bed means nothing to you - having me sleep there is convenient because you like morning sex."

"Dune," Yulie said. "None of this makes any sense. I don't keep mouth slaves. And if you think mouth slaves don't get fucked in the arse too, you're definitely wrong."

"They get fucked how it's convenient," Dune said. "They oil themselves up just in case, and if they don't, they get ripped for it. And you're not fucking me because you know I've got a thousand fucking issues and you know it'd be inconvenient, so instead you fuck my mouth or my hand and any day now it might stop being convenient to fuck me at all so you'll be done with me."

Yulie sighed. "You are the least convenient slave I've ever met," he said. "This doesn't make any sense."

"None of it makes any sense," Dune said. "I can't be your bed slave, 'cause if I was my arse wouldn't be so fucking lonely. I can't be your mouth slave, because I'm inconvenient. What am I?"

Yulie frowned. "Does it matter?" he asked. "You're my slave."

"I don't fucking act like it," Dune snapped. "What am I?"

Yulie sighed and folded his arms, digging into his own skin with his fingernails. Dune took that for the victory it was.

"You're my bed slave," Yulie said.

"Can't be," Dune said.

"I am waiting, Dune, not denying it," Yulie said. "I will have you, just not yet."

"Why? Because I'm not ready? Or because it's inconvenient?" Dune asked.

Yulie sighed.

"I am not ready to be something other than your bed slave," Dune said. "And if I'm not getting fucked, I'm not your bed slave."

"You are not ready for this, Dune," Yulie said, shaking his head.

"Then I'm not ready either way," Dune said. "So shouldn't I at least get to choose which thing I'm not ready for?"

Yulie sighed again, unfolded his arms, and put a hand into his hair. He tugged on it hard enough to pull his head to the side.

Dune had seen Yulie do this often enough that he had serious concerns about the longevity of Yulie's hair. He'd tried to get him to stop doing it, and he'd seen Throren try to make him stop, but neither of them had ever gotten anywhere.

Dune reached for Yulie's hand and tried to pry it away. Yulie was stronger, and he simply refused to budge.

Dune huffed and decided to try something new. He slid his hand into Yulie's hair on the opposite side, grabbed, and pulled Yulie’s head straight.

Yulie frowned and looked at Dune with slightly confused eyes. "Bit harder," he said.

Dune gripped harder.

Yulie couldn't nod, so he hummed, assenting, and let his hand drop. "That's all I'm doing," he said. "Hair's not going to come out. I just grab it a little."

"You are so fucking weird," Dune said.

Yulie shrugged.

"And you're not allowed to pull my hair, ever," Dune said.

Yulie smirked. "Never," he said. "Your hair is to be cherished."

Dune frowned. This was about to turn away from a fucking conversation and into a hair conversation, which was not fair. He'd been making progress.

"Bed slaves are cherished," Dune said. "Masters are possessive over them. They sweet talk them. Buy them jewellery."

Yulie nodded, pulling on his own hair to do so.

"Mouth slaves are shared," Dune said. "They're household whores without a fee. I don't wanna be a whore. I don't wanna be shared. I wanna be cherished," Dune said.

Yulie sighed again. Dune had lost count of how many times he had sighed.

"You are cherished," Yulie said.

"Prove it," Dune said. "You know what they say?"

"What who says?" Yulie asked.

"Everyone," Dune said, and tugged a little on Yulie's head. "They say that if you get that close to someone, that you touch souls."

"Sounds like something only poets would say."

"How many poets d'you think I know?" Dune asked. "Everyone says stuff like that. Stuff like, 'Don't fuck the same whore too often, you'll get attached'. People think that fucking people makes you love them."

"People are consistently idiotic," Yulie said.

Dune twisted the hand in Yulie's hair. "Cherish me," he said.

Yulie gave Dune a cold look. "I know that you're manipulating me," he said. "Trying to tug on my heartstrings."

"Trying to tug on your hair," Dune said. "If you're right, and I'm not ready, then you can say 'I told you so', and I promise I won't get mad."

Yulie chuckled. "You will get mad," he said.

"Yeah, but I won't have a leg to stand on, 'cause I said I wouldn't," Dune said.

Yulie sighed. "This is a bad idea," he said, which sounded like capitulation to Dune, so Dune rewarded him with a kiss.

The movement meant he pulled on Yulie's hair at the same time, and Yulie's hot breath exhaling in a growl told Dune that he didn't need to apologise.

So he did it again, then again, until finally Yulie pushed him onto his back. Dune hit the headboard on the way down, not too painfully, but suddenly and unexpectedly. Yulie rarely ever made mistakes. He was co-ordinated and purposeful, and the only reason he might not be was the hand Dune had in his hair. So Dune pulled a little harder.

"Too hard," Yulie said, but his voice was dark and rich. It reminded Dune of the honey Yulie had him try when they stopped at a town on the way to the capitol.

"Hive's in the buckwheat field," the trader had said. "You won't find a darker honey. Good for colds. Bit of an aftertaste."

Yulie had told the trader he would be needing a bulk supply.

"You don't normally like sweet things."

Dune loosened his grip on Yulie's hair. He didn't like sweet things, but Yulie liked when Dune liked sweet things. Especially, Yulie liked when Dune did sweet things.

Dune trailed his fingers through Yulie's hair, playing sweet, then grabbed and tugged, then released and twirled his fingers again.

Yulie released Dune's mouth and pressed their foreheads together, staring.

"Cherish me," Dune said sweetly.

Yulie pressed their lips together again, so Dune squirmed his legs apart and opened his mouth, then grabbed Yulie's hair and pulled.

Yulie stopped the kiss to moan into Dune's mouth. Dune smirked. "Push it," he said.

Yulie shook his head, so Dune pulled his hair again.

"Roll over," Yulie said.

"Cherish me," Dune repeated.

"Hell in a teapot," Yulie snapped. "What do you think I intend to do, hmm? Not?"

Dune laughed. Yulie took advantage of Dune's distraction and loosened grip to pull his head away. He sat back, unbuttoning his shirt with the frustrated, shaking fingers of a man who wished getting undressed was less of a hassle.

Dune laughed at him, unwrapped the silken wrap from his neck and set it tenderly on the nightstand, then simply pulled his own shirt over his head and got to work on his trousers. They were easy to get open, but impossible to bring down his legs, because Yulie was in between them.

"Roll over," Yulie said again, his hand on Dune's hip, encouraging it to lift.

Dune went, and Yulie edged out of the way just enough to let Dune's leg swing over him. Before Dune was even finished rolling over, Yulie had his hand on his trousers and was pulling them down.

Dune laughed at him again. "Eager, much?" he teased.

"You have been taunting me with this for months," Yulie said.

"You've been denying me for months," Dune snapped. "And I am calling your bullshit. You're eager 'cause I was pulling your hair, not 'cause you want my arse."

"I can be eager for two reasons," Yulie said.

Dune gasped and pushed himself onto his elbows to turn and look at Yulie. "You admit it! You like having your hair pulled!"

"You sound surprised," Yulie said breathlessly, and wedged a knee between Dune's, forcing them to part further.

"Wasn't expectin' you'd admit it," Dune said mildly.

Yulie put a hand lightly on Dune's thigh, then pushed it up to rest on his cheek. He squeezed lightly, watching Dune's flesh give and mould under his touch.

"Lie down and relax," Yulie said.

Dune lay down and took a breath. Laying down was fine, getting his backside fondled was fine, but relaxing? That was probably impossible.

Yulie had very good fingers. Dune couldn't know for sure, but Yulie seemed like he was more precise than other people were. If Yulie wanted to trail his fingers down between Dune's cheek and thigh in such a way as to make Dune shudder, that was what would happen. Yulie would never press any harder or softer than precisely what he meant to, and so when he simply touched all the sensitive spots, Dune presumed he knew exactly what he was doing.

It was amazing how much more sensitive Dune's thighs were than his backside was, and amazing how quickly the whole area became even more sensitive than it usually was. Dune assumed that Yulie was doing it on purpose.

"Push it," Dune said.

Yulie snorted out a laugh. "You've convinced me to do this earlier than I wanted to. Don't think you'll get me to rush it."

Dune sighed and decided to throw caution away and try being sultry again. He tilted his hips back and lifted his arse as best he could with his leg trapped under Yulie's weight. "Cherish me," he whined.

Yulie put both hands on either side of Dune's hips, inhaled, held his breath, and exhaled. "Stay there," he said, and removed himself from the bed.

Dune stayed, fidgeting, while Yulie retrieved oil from their chest. They'd used it the night before, because Yulie refused to stand a dry hand on his cock if oil was an option.

Dune fidgeted more, and let his bottom lip make its way into his mouth.

Yulie returned to the bed and put his knee between Dune's again, then put his hand on Dune's thigh and slowly nudged his other knee between Dune's. There wasn't enough pressure to push Dune's legs further apart and make room for him. Dune had to do that himself.

"How - um, how wide should my legs be?" Dune asked, feeling like an idiot, because he'd never done this before, never even seen it done, and he actually had no idea what it was supposed to look like. People talked, of course, but people often didn't include Dune when they talked. He'd heard talk of men needing to be on all fours, which made logistical sense, but Yulie'd told him to lie down and relax, and people weren't lying down or relaxing when they were on all fours.

"However wide you like," Yulie said. "Once I start, you just move however makes you more comfortable. You might prefer having one leg hiked up, or being as you are. It doesn't matter which."

Dune interpreted this as: feel free to squirm.

"How much does it hurt?" Dune asked.

Yulie had been opening the bottle of oil, but at this he promptly screwed the lid back on and set it down on the bed.

"What?" Dune asked. "Why? It's just a question-"

"Quiet, Dune," Yulie said.

"No," Dune said, and twisted his upper body to look at Yulie. "I asked a fucking question, that's all-"

Yulie leaned over him and pushed on his shoulderblade, pressing him back to the bed. "Quiet, and that's an order," Yulie said firmly.

Dune grabbed at the pillows and contemplated throwing them just to relieve some stress, but he managed not to and shut his mouth.

"Who told you it was going to hurt?" Yulie asked, after a few seconds of failing to word what he wanted to say.

Dune shrugged. "I dunno," he said. "Everyone."

"Everyone?" Yulie asked.

Dune shrugged again. "Like, it hurts everyone the first time," he said. "And, some people say it hurts every time?"

Yulie sighed deeply. Dune wondered how many times he had done it in this single evening.

"You won't be getting hurt tonight," Yulie said.

Dune fidgeted with his toes, feeling the blanket underneath them. It was soft, but not the blanket he was used to, the one that Yulie kept at the foot of his bed.

Dune hated this place.

"So everyone's lying?" Dune asked.

Yulie's breath was deep, but not necessarily enough to qualify as a sigh. "A person who is rough or impatient may cause pain to a person who is unused to the act," he said.

Dune stared at the pillow beside him. It was over-embroidered, and he didn't like it.

"So, a person who is not you would make it hurt the first time," Dune said.

"Probably," Yulie conceded.

"But not you."

"Not me, no," Yulie said.

"Because you're going to cherish me."

Yulie sighed. "Yes," he said. He trailed his hand softly down Dune's back, to the groove beside his spine, then to the divot in the small of his back. Softly, sweetly, lovingly.

Dune filed the sex misinformation away in the portion of his brain that Yulie liked to stuff full to bursting with information that didn't fit. "Okay," he said.

"If it hurts, you tell me, and I find a way to make it not hurt," Yulie said.

"'Kay," Dune said. "There's lots of ways to make it not hurt?"

"Most of them involve patience, and most people are impatient," Yulie said.

"But not you."

"Not me, no," Yulie said.

Dune turned his head the uncomfortable amount necessary to look at Yulie. "Okay," he said, and let his head rest back down.

Yulie touched him again, hands teasing the sensitive skin between his thighs, trailing over the scars on his back, teasing the sides of his ribs.

Only when he was satisfied that Dune was hypersensitive all over did he pick up the oil again.

"Are you ready to start?" Yulie asked.

"Not according to you," Dune said, and looked over his shoulder to poke his tongue out.

Yulie raised an eyebrow. "Answer the question," he said.

Dune took a deep breath. "Yes," he said.

While Yulie opened the jar, Dune came back to himself.

"Master," Dune said. "I meant yes, Master."

"You try so hard," Yulie said.

"And fail so bad," Dune said.

"And yet I'm still utterly obsessed with you," Yulie said.

Dune smiled. Being obsessed was the only way to explain Yulie's actions toward him from the moment they had met, and it was so, so safe. Dune had never had anyone pay such a ridiculous amount of attention to him. It was simultaneously too much scrutiny and incredibly comforting.

Obsessed men didn't sell their toys, and Dune didn't want to be sold.

The first touch of oil was cold.

"You missed," Dune said.

"I did not," Yulie said.

"Oh," Dune said, fidgeting with his fingers. He twitched as Yulie's fingers travelled up, leaving a smearing of oil from where they had begun beneath his balls and over his hole.

"So I need to be oily on the outside?" Dune asked, because the alternative was letting Yulie focus on the fact that he was flinching, and he was flinching a lot.

"Anywhere there might be friction," Yulie said, and rested his dry hand on Dune's lower back. "You need to relax."

"'m relaxed," Dune said.

"I don't believe you," Yulie said.

Dune took a deep breath, the way Kath told him to whenever he went off on a tangent and ranted too much. Deep breath. Be so busy breathing that you can't be talking.

"Better," Yulie said.

It wasn't easy to stay still and relaxed when Yulie was literally playing with his arse. Dune didn't appreciate the way Yulie's fingers were moving, just ... acquainting themselves ... with one of the most sensitive parts of his body.

Yulie kept his touch light, the way he did when he was building up to something. That light touch was the not yet touch. The just feel this for as long as you can stand touch.

That touch meant settle in. Dune should have figured when Yulie started with light touches on his thighs.

Dune took deep breaths, and Yulie rewarded him with firmer touches, then a dip of his fingertip, just slightly inside. Dune flinched and had to breathe deep again.

Yulie opened the oil bottle and tipped it so that a little more got onto his fingers. "Ready?" he asked.

Dune nodded, but he was trembling, and scared that Yulie would take his trembling to mean that he wasn't ready. "Yes, Master," he said.

Yulie brought his fingers back, stroked around once, then placed one into position. He pushed it so slowly that at first, Dune thought he wasn't moving it at all.

At first it was just pressure, then his hole caved around that pressure, and then there was a fingertip inside him, and Dune was absolutely stunned. He wasn't sure what he'd expected, but all he felt was a finger in a sensitive spot.

Yulie put slow pressure on the finger, no longer pushing in but around, testing Dune's rim with such weak, patient movement that Dune worried he might start having feelings if Yulie kept being so gentle.

"Pretty sure you're meant to go deeper," Dune said.

Yulie shook his head. "Are you trying to tell me how to do this?" he asked.

Dune bit his lip and shrugged.

Yulie went deeper. Dune was half overwhelmed, because there was a finger inside him, and half underwhelmed, because this was nowhere near as big of a deal as he had been led to believe. It was just a finger in a ridiculously sensitive spot that didn't normally cater to fingers. Dune flexed his toes and tried to resist the urge to bounce his feet.

The finger moving slowly and rhythmically was fine, but when Yulie tugged at Dune's rim, it kind of sucked. It didn't hurt, but it was uncomfortable.

Yulie started teasing with two fingers, one fingertip inside, the other pushing beside it, and when Dune's rim gave against the pressure, the tugged open sensation persisted.

Two fingers were harder to manage than one. Dune wasn't really surprised. He took deep breaths and tried to focus on the breaths.

"You need to relax," Yulie said.

"I am relaxed," Dune said.

Yulie shook his head. "Clench for me," he said.

Dune frowned. He couldn't see how that would help. "Uh, do I have to?"

"Slowly," Yulie said.

Dune hadn't been completely lax the whole time. He'd been clenching and releasing. He wasn't totally able to control it, it was just happening.

"Would rephrasing it help?" Yulie asked.

Sometimes it did.

In the early days of Kath being insidious, Dune would say something, and Kath would interject by saying the exact same thing with a bunch of different words. Kath's words were usually bigger, but Yulie sometimes understood Dune's words better after Kath had said them in three or four different ways.

Dune said things in different ways all the time now, and often he could luck into a phrasing that made Yulie understand.

Sometimes Yulie did it back.

"Maybe," Dune said.

Yulie was still and tense while he thought up different ways to say it. "Clench, then unclench," he said. "No, too similar. Ah, try this one. Feel these?"

His fingertips moved a tiny bit.

"Never stopped feeling them," Dune said.

"Hold them. Embrace them."

Dune smirked. "Cherish them?" he asked.

"Perfect," Yulie said.

Dune didn't really know what this might achieve, but he did it anyway. The whole area was ridiculously sensitive, and clenching made everything tighter and even worse.

"As tight as you can without hurting yourself," Yulie said.

Dune could clench only a little harder than before. He wasn't sure whether he'd hurt himself if he tightened further, but he was sure he'd get close.

"Relax as much as you can," Yulie said.

Dune did.

"Again," Yulie said, and Dune obeyed. "Relax again."

Dune had no idea what they were doing.

"When you tense and release, you can force yourself to relax further than you could if you tried to release alone," Yulie said. "Pay attention to it. It's a muscle. You can learn to control it."

Dune rolled his eyes. "Says the control freak. Bet yours opens and closes on command."

Yulie shook his head. "Not quite," he said.

Dune frowned. Something in Yulie's tone was off. "Oh my god. Oh my god, have you done this before?" Dune asked. He tried to turn, but Yulie had him reasonably well pinned with a hand on his lower back and two fingers inside him. As it was, he could only crane his neck and try to move his own shoulder out of the way.

"Stay lying down," Yulie said. "Stay relaxed."

Dune let his head fall back. "What was it like?" he asked.

"Too quick," Yulie said. "And too rare."

"Rare?"

"It's not something I can have in my reputation," Yulie said. "Some men would mock me for it. It cannot be in my reputation if I don't do it, so I don't do it."

Dune was almost distracted enough by this concept to forget about the fingers in his arse. Almost. Yulie never moved them quickly, so they often seemed still. If Yulie kept them still, then Dune might have been able to forget about them.

Dune clenched, then relaxed, then clenched again, and when he relaxed, Yulie sped up.

"Trying to relax here, and you go changing it up on me," Dune grumbled.

"My pressure was the same, your resistance changed," Yulie said. "You relaxed."

As always, Dune wanted to argue. He refrained. He was getting pretty good at refraining, lately.

"Thought you were s'posed to stretch me," Dune said, and inched his thighs a bit wider, trying to settle into a more comfortable position. "Here I am, doing all the work."

"It is a lot of work," Yulie said.

"I cannot believe you," Dune said. "Who was it? Who managed to get you to spread 'em?"

Yulie shook his head. "Don't remember his name," he said.

"You don't even remember his name?" Dune asked incredulously.

"I was curious about the act, not the man," Yulie said.

"Oh my god," Dune said, then let out a deep, sudden noise of discomfort.

"Too fast?" Yulie asked.

"Yeah," Dune said. "I - it's fine, I'm just, I dunno how to explain it."

"Slow down?" Yulie asked.

"Yeah," Dune said. He munched on his lower lip for a while, while Yulie slowed his pace to a snail's crawl. "It's like you're touching me in a really sensitive spot or something," Dune said. "No idea why that might be a little overwhelming," he added sarcastically.

"Who would have thought?" Yulie said tonelessly.

Dune had the feeling that if he turned, he'd see Yulie looking at him with that proud look he got whenever he caught Dune obsessively staring at his embroidered wrap. If Dune turned, he'd have to deal with Yulie's feelings, which would mean that Dune would have to deal with his own feelings. Dune didn't turn.

Dune managed better when Yulie was slow. Yulie hadn't hurt him, not once, and as he tried to relax, it did get easier.

It was just ... a lot.

Dune was half hard at most, and he wasn't really sure why. He knew that Yulie would like it if he got hard and went all gooey and moany the way he did when Yulie took him in his mouth, but he had no idea how this was supposed to get him there. He'd do it, because he was sure Yulie would like it and because he wanted to be ... not exactly a good slave, but he wanted to be good enough.

Just enough to get kept, and no more.

Dune was weirdly okay with it all, even though it wasn't that arousing. It felt close and intimate, and he didn't hate it. He thought he might even be able to get used to it.

"You're relaxing better," Yulie said, and ruined Dune's relaxing by drawing attention to it.

Dune started again. "Trying," he said.

"You're doing well," Yulie said. "You're sensitive."

"You've got fingers in my arse. 'Course I am."

"More sensitive than most," Yulie said.

"Is that bad?" Dune asked.

"No," Yulie said. "It's very, very good. It's what I'd hoped."

Dune refused to acknowledge the traitorous little part of himself that absolutely melted at the praise. The rest of him tensed up reflexively, preparing to fight back, assuming he was being lied to.

"You are so difficult to soothe," Yulie said.

Dune tried to relax again.

"The sensitivity might make this even harder for you," Yulie said.

"I'm fine," Dune insisted. "I'm not that sensitive."

"Your entire body is shuddering."

"Is not," Dune snapped, and refused to admit that his body was shuddering, even to himself.

Yulie knew better than to try to convince Dune of obvious facts when Dune was choosing to be obnoxious. "At any point, you can tell me you're not ready," Yulie said.

"Doubt I will," Dune said. Even if he was shuddering, which he wasn't, he was more ready to get completely and utterly wrecked by whatever the hell Yulie thought would wreck him than he was to be a bed slave that wasn't getting fucked.

Dune would be fine if Yulie fucked him when he wasn't ready. People who weren't ready got fucked all the time. Dune did not want another Master, not ever, and bed slaves convinced their Masters to keep them by convincing them that their arses were one of a kind and a perfect fit.

"All right," Yulie said softly, quietly, like he was speaking to his most favourite of pets.

Yulie was using the horse hushing tone again, and Dune was even more susceptible to it than he had been before, because apparently having fingers in his arse made everything more intense. Who would have thought?

Yulie crooked his fingers inside, just enough to brush softly against a place he hadn't touched yet.

Dune very nearly vaulted off the bed. He considered himself lucky not to have made a noise, because he had no idea what the noise would have been had he made one.

"Sensitive?" Yulie asked.

"Cockuncle," Dune called him, realising his breaths were extremely fast. "You know I'm sensitive."

Yulie rested his hand more firmly on Dune's lower back, not pushing him down, but offering some resistance if Dune were to buck away again.

Slowly, Yulie teased near the same spot again. It was slow enough that Dune could feel it coming, knew it was going to happen, but it still shocked him enough that he wound up testing Yulie's strength when he jumped.

"Is it a good sensitive, or a bad one?" Yulie asked.

"Uh," Dune said, because he hadn't had the time to figure that out yet and he actually couldn't figure it out, because Yulie had fingers inside him and it was just slightly too hard for him to form a coherent thought. "Don't know," he said, and it came out shaky, but he refused to acknowledge that because then he would have to acknowledge that he was shuddering.

"Tell me when you figure it out," Yulie said, and went back to slowly, maddeningly touching Dune, just like he would when he touched Dune on the sensitive tops of his ears, or his sides under his ribs, or the tip of his nose or the backs of his fingertips, or the underside of his balls.

Dune knew this touch. This was Yulie's sensitising touch. This was the touch Yulie gave when he wanted Dune to get even more sensitive.

It was overkill.

Dune eventually managed to calm his reaction enough to lie there and take the touch. It wasn't easy, as the more he was able to lie still, the closer and firmer Yulie's touch got and it only got more sensitive as Yulie stopped edging near it and got right on top of it.

Dune counted four little soft prods of it before he had to squirm. His cock had stiffened up and was trapped in an uncomfortable position. He had to shift himself up to free it.

"You can push back on me," Yulie said. "If I don't get the pressure you want, you can control the pressure that way."

Yulie's pressure was utterly maddening, soft and teasing, so Dune tried pushing back on him to see if something harder was any less insane.

Nope.

Harder was more insane.

Dune was out of breath and his heart was racing, but he refused to acknowledge that he was shuddering. Yulie didn't stop.

"You are utterly beautiful like this," Yulie said, prompting Dune into tensing up and letting out a high pitched, uncomfortable whine, like an animal caught in a trap.

Dune wondered what Yulie was seeing that was beautiful. His scarred back? His messy hair? His backside? Yulie's own fingers, partially disappeared?

Yulie could see almost everything, and this was Dune's worst angle. His best was head on because Yulie was weird and liked his eyes. This angle had his lash scars in it.

Yulie was insane.

Dune was either insane too, or about to go insane, because Yulie had once again changed what he was doing, which wasn't fair. He was slowly thrusting his fingers in then dragging them out again, hitting that spot hard along the way.

Dune was quite possibly going to die.

"Oh no, don't hold it in," Yulie chided mildly, as Dune choked on his own moan.

"Didn't mean... to," Dune said, refusing to hear the hitching in his own voice.

"Feels good?" Yulie asked.

"'s a lot," Dune said.

Yulie didn't stop, the asshole.

"Could just keep going," Yulie said. "There's no reason to push too far at once."

"What?" Dune asked.

"Want to come?" Yulie asked. "It can be arranged."

"I ... what ... no," Dune said. "You were gonna fuck me."

Yulie slowly withdrew his fingers. "You aren't ready for that, but you weren't ready for this, either," he said, then he put the fingers back inside, forcing Dune to accommodate too much, then nothing, then too much again.

Dune whined.

"What do you want?" Yulie asked.

"'m fine," Dune said, ignoring how his voice did not just break, it shattered. "You sh-should fuck me."

Yulie withdrew his fingers, placed a third at Dune's hole, and pushed with barely enough pressure to get in. It inched inside as Dune clenched and forced himself to unclench around it.

"Slowly," Yulie said, withdrawing exactly how he said. Dune held his breath when he heard Yulie applying oil to his cock, and stayed totally still when Yulie leaned over him, positioning himself.

Dune was completely still, and not shuddering, not at all, not even a little bit.

Yulie held himself up with one hand planted beside Dune, his other hand angling his cock to Dune's hole. He pushed in with exactly the same pressure as he had with his fingers - barely any.

When Dune relaxed enough, that pressure let Yulie in deeper, and when he tightened it wasn't enough to move through. It didn't really hurt, but it smarted a little, like it was too much.

Which it kind of was, Dune reasoned. It was a cock going inside his arse. Too much was accurate, if anything.

Dune's erection flagged, which actually wasn't so much of a problem. Dune wasn't asking for this because it turned him on. He would be fine if he got nothing at all out of it.

But he wasn't getting nothing at all out of it.

He was curling his toes, trying not to thump his feet, and alternating gasping with holding his breath, because it was so much, and Yulie wasn't exactly the largest man in the world. He was average. So it wasn't the size that was so much, it was something else.

That something else was the fact that there was a cock going up his arse, clearly. That was a lot to take, regardless of cock size.

"Hush," Yulie said, in that stupid horse-soothing tone, and Dune broke out into a whine because those were Yulie's balls against him and he was breathing so hard and he'd only just realised that Yulie was holding himself up and over him, their lower halves pressed together in the closest way two people could press, but Yulie was holding himself away from the danger area that was Dune's neck.

Yulie didn't even try when it came to Dune's neck. Dune whined again. Yulie had to know what going near Dune's neck would do while he was worked up like this, so he was keeping away. Yulie wouldn't hurt him like that.

And, just like that, Dune was forced to acknowledge the feelings. He hated acknowledging the feelings. Life was so much easier if he just pretended he had none and snapped at everyone.

"Ready?" Yulie asked.

Dune could hardly talk, which meant that he had time to think about what he should say. "Y-yes, Master," was what he stuttered out, and it earned a soft hitch of Yulie's breath.

Yulie was gentle with him, but he also had unrelentingly good aim, which meant that the sensitive spot inside of Dune was overstimulated constantly. Dune questioned calling it a sensitive spot, because he was sensitive everywhere.

Dune got hoarse before he realised that he'd been making enough of a racket to make himself hoarse. He blamed Yulie.

It took a while to get hard again, despite the fact that every other symptom of arousal was there. He was hot and flushed everywhere, a bit shaky (but not shuddering), and he was making the noises he usually made that would make Yulie look at him like he was something delicious, then Yulie would try to taste him.

Dune was in a weird place where he wanted to come and was almost ready to, but he was struggling to stay hard. Overwhelmed seemed like the right word, at first, but it wasn't enough to describe it. It felt like understatement.

Yulie was ridiculously gentle with him, like he was made of paper. Yulie pushed inside him so gently and sweetly that Dune could hardly even describe it as thrusting. Yulie treated Dune like he was going to burst into tears at any moment and need to be comforted, and that treatment forced Dune to acknowledge the feelings again.

Dune was barely able to move, pressed against the bed as he was, but it was easier to handle if he swayed in time with it, tiny little movements that simultaneously enhanced and dulled the extreme sensation he was feeling.

He felt wetness under his face and quickly turned his head the other way, lest he be forced to admit to what his eyes were doing.

A little longer, a slight quickening of Yulie's pace, and Dune was about fed up with it all. He wanted to come - badly - and he needed Yulie off him. If Yulie stayed close, Dune was going to ... something. Something horrible. There would be feelings.

Yulie halted and touched one of Dune's elbows, hooking his fingers in the crook of it and tugging until Dune straightened his elbow. Yulie pulled his arm until it was by his side.

"Touch," Yulie said, almost an order and almost a question, his voice broken and desperate like a man who was only half as broken as Dune felt.

Like a man who had his cock inside someone else.

Dune squirmed his hand underneath himself and flinched at his own touch, sensitive even to himself.

Yulie started up again, slow and gentle and Dune was just about ready to scream. He started winding up to do it, opened his mouth and inhaled a deep, shuddering breath - no, not shuddering - but what came out was barely more than a whine.

To get at his cock, Dune had to tilt his hips a little, which let Yulie go deeper. Dune groaned at it, because deep was actually kind of nice, in a too much sort of way.

"Close?" Yulie asked.

"Th-think so," Dune said, but he wasn't actually sure. He had no fucking idea.

"Come for me," Yulie said.

Dune tried, and when increasing the speed of his hand didn't work, Yulie doubled down on his arse, absolutely destroying that sensitive spot, and then Dune prayed, because all that did was make his grip on his cock weak and ... not shuddery, not shuddery, Dune wasn't shuddering, and the pillow wasn't wet under his eyes. He grabbed it with his free hand and threw it from the bed.

Yulie didn't comment, he simply kept doing what he'd been doing the whole time. Dune choked out one noise every time he went deep, and a different noise every time he pulled out.

"Beautiful," Yulie said.

Dune's whole body, down to his toes, clenched and fought the compliment, refused to admit it and refused to believe it, and then he came, gasping and whimpering, twitching and feeble.

Yulie went on through it, and Dune twitched but didn't shudder underneath him, blinking as he stared at the mattress and pretended his vision wasn't fuzzy with tears.

Very little actually changed after Dune's orgasm. Yulie wasn't finished, and he took his sweet time. He always did. Dune was still so damn sensitive and he kept having trouble breathing, it was pausing sometimes, as though he was shuddering, but he wasn't shuddering.

Yulie finished inside of Dune with a breathless gasp. Dune closed his eyes and was finally able to relax.

He'd done it. He was a bed slave now, good and proper. His Master had fucked him just as he should, as was proper and expected. It was exactly what Dune had asked for.

Yulie lay beside him, breathing heavily, and Dune tried to match Yulie's breathing but he couldn't. Yulie's evened out and Dune's wouldn't.

He wasn't shuddering. There was nothing wet under his eyes. He was fine. This was what he wanted.

No matter which way Dune turned his head, he encountered a wet spot under his face. He'd run out of ways to deny it. He was crying, and he was shuddering.

Yulie hadn't caught his breath, but he turned onto his side anyway and put a hand on the middle of Dune's back.

His fingers were dry, and they moved slowly on Dune's skin, petting softly, because this was exactly what he had expected to happen.

"Come here," Yulie said, hushed and soft, barely audible over Dune's sobs.

Dune turned to face him and wriggled until he could put his face into Yulie's neck and hide.

Yulie rested his chin on Dune's hair and sighed.

Dune sobbed into Yulie's neck. "'m sorry," he said, shuddering in his breaths. "'m sorry, sorry, I'm not sad, 'm not," he begged.

Yulie trailed soft fingers up and down Dune's back. "Told you so," he said softly.

Dune curled reflexively, his knees coming up and his head going down to Yulie's sternum. "Dunno what this is," he said, trying to wrap his arms around himelf, but his entire body was shivering and weak. "'m not sad."

"You weren't ready," Yulie said softly. "I should have waited."

"You didn't do anything wrong," Dune said, stuttering and hating himself for it.

Yulie hummed. "Arguable," he said. "I need you to stay in tomorrow, can you do that for me?"

"Stay in?" Dune asked.

"Don't go walking in the gardens, or meet with the other slaves."

"Hate the gardens. They're paved," Dune said.

"Mmm," Yulie said. "Stay in, Dune."

"Why?" Dune asked.

Yulie took a deep breath, and Dune's head rose and fell with it. "Because you're antagonistic," Yulie said softly. "I have pushed you too far, and if you go out tomorrow, you might push back outside, where someone important might see you."

"Ruin your reputation," Dune said. "Don't wanna ruin your reputation."

"I don't want to be forced to punish my unruly slave, when I knew damn well what he's like and what might make him act out, and I did it anyway," Yulie said.

"I did this," Dune said. "You didn't want to."

"You think you could make me do something I didn't want to?" Yulie asked. "I did exactly what I wanted to do since the moment I first saw you. Frankly, I'm amazed I held out as long as I did."

Dune sobbed again. Yulie rubbed his back.

"Should have eased into it," Yulie said.

"You only did what I said," Dune said. His teeth clacked together.

"I've never let you dictate what I do before," Yulie said.

Dune shrugged as best he could, which wasn't much. He felt weak, like he was malnourished, tortured or sick. He'd been those things before, he knew what it was like. This weakness didn't belong here. The tears and the shuddering were also completely out of place. He'd shouldered time in the Stockade with less fuss than this.

Another wave of shuddering and tears crushed him underneath its vigour.

"Let it happen," Yulie said, his hand soothing on Dune's back.

"Not much else to do," Dune said, when he could finally speak.

Yulie stayed still and calm, his fingers tracing patterns on Dune's skin, for several minutes while Dune switched between calming down and sobbing uncontrollably.

"Did you get what you wanted?" Yulie asked. "You pushed for this - did you at least get what you wanted out of it?"

Dune had wanted to feel safe. He'd wanted to feel like Yulie had him in his place. He wanted to be loved and cherished, because good bed slaves sometimes were loved and cherished, at least as much as a Master was capable of loving his property.

But Yulie wasn't a normal Master, Dune wasn't a normal slave, and no good bed slave fell into tears after getting fucked. Instead, Dune was hypersensitized, focused on Yulie's fingertips on his back, and unable to ignore the shuddering or the tears.

He had feelings, and he had to acknowledge them.

Yulie had predicted this, and he held him through it. Maybe Dune wasn't a good bed slave, but Yulie had definitely cherished him.

Yulie also had feelings, and Dune had to acknowledge those, too.

"I think so," Dune said.

"That's good," Yulie said. "Before you agonise about next time, know that we won't be doing this for a while."

Dune nodded. No one would want a repeat of the weepy slave. Dune didn't want a repeat either.

"Next time, you'll be pulling my hair," Yulie said.

Dune was able to stop shuddering for long enough to laugh. "I can't believe you've been fucked," he said.

"You won't be fucking me," Yulie said. "You'll be fucking my throat."

Dune nodded. "'Kay," he said.

Yulie nudged him. "Try again," he said softly.

"Yes, Master," Dune said.

"There you are," Yulie said. "Come on, let's wipe you down. You've gone into a sweat."

Grudgingly, they left the bed to wash up. Yulie skipped dinner to stay with Dune, even though Dune had been supposed to attend with him.

The next day, Dune stayed inside, hated it, and went slowly insane. It was no worse than what would have happened if he had gone outside and been exposed to nothing but walls everywhere and half-dead plants. The only difference was that there were no people around to see him fuming. When Yulie came back from his day's meeting with the King, Dune was antagonistic and rude. He went to bed angry at everything and everyone, but mostly at Yulie.

The next morning, Dune woke up his Master by curling up against his back and snaking a hand into his trousers.

"You forgive me, then," Yulie said, sleepy and low, rich like buckwheat honey.

Dune nodded, tugged his Master by the hair until he went where Dune wanted him, and then he straddled his face and made sure to keep tugging on his hair.

Obedience wasn't that bad, really. The feelings were what made everything too much to handle.