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© 2007 by Onyx Tao

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Chapter Seven

Not Quite Anything

_ Crack! _ "Fifty-five." The coppery taste of blood in his mouth.

_ Crack! _ "Fifty-six." Another white-hot burn on his back.

_ Crack! _ "Fifty-seven." Jaws clenched shut, he would not scream!

_ Crack! _ "Fifty-eight." Two more! Stay focused. Silent!

_ Crack! _ "Fifty-nine." Just one ...

_ Crack! _ "Sixty," Breaker finished with relief. Erik said nothing, not trusting himself to speak just yet, and certainly not the howls of pain he'd repressed. He hung between the two posts, his full weight suspended on his arms and shoulders. That didn't hurt as much as his back - not yet, but he thought it might, in time. Somehow, he'd managed not to scream during the whipping. Lord Green had ordered Breaker to skip the last fifteen strokes if he could manage to stay quiet.

The posts themselves looked innocent; he'd passed them a hundred times in the garden, framing the entrance to a small open area set about with tall flowerbeds. He'd thought they were decorative, until Lord Green had ordered Breaker to flog him. He'd had no idea where Breaker and the other two servants were dragging him, until they'd slipped the chains onto the restraints and then around what he'd thought of as _decorative_painted posts.

He'd left a significant amount of blood there, and it certainly felt like he'd left a lot of his back, too. Erik had nearly bit through his lip, but somehow, he'd managed to take the blows. He'd never been whipped before, not in Celtia, not in the Army, and he spared a moment to hope it never happened again.

"You need to stand, if I'm going to let you down," Breaker said. "Otherwise you'll just fall down, and you don't want that."

No. He didn't. Breaker lifted him - carefully not touching his back - back upright, and began unbuckling the heavy cuffs on his arms. He hoped he was imagining the trickling feel of blood oozing down his back, but the sensation was too strong to be his imagination. He brought his left arm down, grateful that the weight was off it. The cessation of pain was almost pleasurable itself, and he groaned a little as his right arm joined it. One of the other servants began wiping the post down - the droplets of blood came off the pale green paint easily. Once the chains were removed, there'd be little trace left of the whipping.

"Come on," said Breaker. "Let's get inside, and I can get your back cleaned up. Let me ..." and the human got under Erik's left arm, and hoisted him up, taking at least half his weight. "There."

Erik accepted the support silently; he needed the help to get back into the house.

Breaker didn't say anything more until he was halfway through cleaning Erik's back; Erik was sitting facing the back of chair in a bathing-room, and Breaker was using a soft cloth and a basin of lightly salted water. It stung, but Breaker was taking it slowly.

"I promised myself I wouldn't say anything," Breaker started. "But ... it's really hard."

"I know," Erik said to the man behind him.

"But running away ..."

"I think of it as escaping ," Erik said quietly.

"Breaker, what are you doing?" the deep voice of Lord Green interrupted. Both Erik and Breaker jumped; Erik grunted as the sudden movement sent new waves of pain across his back. How did he just appear like that? The room only had one door; it hadn't opened. Had it? Usually Erik could tell when Lord Green was nearby ... maybe his back had him distracted?

"Seeing to ..." started Breaker, but the minotaur interrupted him.

"Did I ask you to do that?"

"No, Master," said Breaker, and then - bravely, Erik thought, at least for Breaker - "You didn't need to."

The black minotaur nodded. "Good answer," he said approvingly. "But I will tend this one myself."

"Yes, Master," Breaker said, moving away from Erik.

"You are not needed," Lord Green added. "Find something useful to do."

"Yes, Master."

The minotaur watched Breaker leave the room, and then - he was where Breaker had been, standing behind Erik. The human braced himself - but Lord Green's touch was at least as careful as Breaker's had been - and ...

The burning ache of the welts, the sting of the broken skin and salt, began to fade, welt by welt as the minotaur's surprisingly gentle touch traced the welt marks. Here and there Erik felt a tickle, and then nothing as the minotaur's attention moved on.

"How did you break your ribs?" the minotaur finally asked, in a curious voice. "It looks like a fall," he added. "Except ... did you fall on your side, perhaps?"

"Yes," said Erik shortly.

"It didn't heal correctly," said Lord Green, disapprovingly. "It wasn't splinted properly."

"It was splinted," Erik said.

"Then the splint came off too soon," the minotaur answered. "Or it wasn't put on correctly in the first place. There's a crack, and it will break again if you hit it the wrong way."

"I'll be careful," Erik said.

The minotaur just grunted, and kept doing ... whatever it was he was doing to Erik's back, which was feeling better and better as the pain of the whipping ebbed away. "There," Lord Green said. "I'm going to fix the rib. Hold still; this is going to feel strange, and if you jerk at the wrong time, it complicate matters unduly." Erik felt a pressure within him, and then - it felt like something was pulling on his lungs, and there was a faint twinge, of bone grating on bone.

"There," Lord Green said, sounding satisfied. "It may be a little sore over the next day or so, that's a consequence of its having healed wrong originally."

"What did ... what did you do? Master," Erik added, suddenly remembering the honorific, but unable, at that last moment, to keep some of the bitterness from leaching through.

Another grunt answered him; and the minotaur sighed. "More to the point is what am I going to do with you, Slave. You're fortunate that I caught you before you ran away."

"Escaped. Master," said Erik.

"Escaped? Escaped what?" growled Lord Green. "You're not ..." the minotaur stopped suddenly. "So you think you're imprisoned," the minotaur continued, more thoughtfully. "Odd." He sat down on the commode. "Why do you think that?"

"What?"

"Why," the minotaur said, with a touch of irritation, "do you think you're imprisoned?"

"I ... I can't leave, can I?"

"Of course not."

"Then how is that not imprisoned? Master?"

The minotaur sighed. "Were you imprisoned when you were in your Army?"

"No," said Erik.

"No," repeated the minotaur. "And could you just walk off and leave?"

"No," said Erik again.

"No," repeated Lord Green. "So ... is there some difference that seems ... different between here and there?"

"I chose to join the Army."

"And did you know, at that time, the Imperial Army practice for defeated prisoners was enslavement?" said Lord Green.

Erik was silent for a minute. "I guess."

"Is that a yes or a no ?"

"Yes."

"So ... did it not pass your mind that you might be treated similarly?"

"No," said Erik defiantly.

The black minotaur's nostril's dilated. "Whether you thought of it or not - is it reasonable?"

"I gue ... yes, yes it was. Is."

"Good. Are you going to start acting like a slave instead of a prisoner? "

"I'm not a slave!"

The minotaur's nostrils dilated again, and he stood. "Enough. Understand, slave , if you had run, you would be tracked down, even if I had to do it myself. Even if I had to ask another mage. And when I had you, you would be altered so that you would find running to be impossible . Consider life with your tendons cut, so that walking becomes impossible. Or imagine yourself blinded." He paused for a moment. "I would not have to ask with any other slave, but you do seem to have the strangest ideas, even for a feral human. Do you doubt anything I've told you?"

Erik shook his head.

"I require an explicit yes or no. " Lord Green said.

"No. I ... believe you."

"Is mutilation a sufficient motivator for you to remain where you are instructed to be?" the minotaur continued.

"Yes," Erik said.

The minotaur looked at Erik steadily, and reached out, taking the human's head in both hands.

Erik didn't feel anything; the light just vanished.

"I will restore your vision at some point," the deep voice rumbled, "when I think the reality of the consequence is clear." There was a long pause; and then an irritated sigh. "No, that won't do after all, will it? Here," and Erik felt the minotaur's hand brush against his forehead, and the light returned.

Erik said nothing.

Lord Green just shook his head. "Stronger steps are required."

Erik looked at the minotaur with alarm. The minotaur just smiled at him, a tired, weary smile that did nothing to relieve him. "Yes, you're scared. Not withstanding that I've fed you, sheltered you, protected you, healed you, ... you still react to me with fear and alarm, abnormally so for even a feral ..." the minotaur's voice trailed off. "You still expect hurt ," the minotaur continued. "You're going to need to unlearn that."

"How?" Erik said.

"Hush. I'm thinking out loud, not talking to you." Lord Green said, after a moment. "Winter ... but that could be months, and ..." the minotaur paused. "No. Fog, maybe ... but ..." The black head shook slowly. "No. And the worst part of is that he'd be right." The minotaur got up, turned around, looked at Erik, and then looked back at the door. "But even so ..."

"No," the minotaur said, again, shaking his head. "If I'd been a little less attentive, just a little less distracted, I wouldn't have noticed your squirreling away food. Or the missing road pass." His muzzle twisted in frustration. "A bothersome dilemma."

The human said nothing.

Lord Green merely stared, out the window towards a tree. Erik heard a faint buzzing sound in his ears.

"Lord Green?"

"Hush," the minotaur said distractedly, not even objecting to the use of his name, and the buzzing continued. Erik wasn't sure of how much time had passed, but it seemed like a while before Lord Green shook his head and glanced back at the human. "All will be ready," he said. "Come." The minotaur rose, and, when Erik didn't immediately move to follow, cast an irritated look backwards. The human rose into the air, and drifted after the minotaur.

Lord Green walked quickly through his home; Erik drifting along after him. They quickly reached a door near the minotaur's study - one that had always been locked when Erik was wandering about the house. It opened with a soft click for Lord Green. Stairs led steeply down; the passage was wide for Erik, but Lord Green filled it almost completely as he descended with the human in tow.

"Where ... where are we going?" Erik finally asked, as the minotaur faced a heavy black stone door at the bottom of the staircase. "Master," he added, because he hadn't said it for a while.

Lord Green ignored him as the stone door opened, and the minotaur stepped out into it - into air; the door opened almost twenty feet above the floor. The room was a huge spherical bubble, the upper walls and ceiling rough stone, and the floor and lower walls carefully polished. Ten heavy bookshelves were set against the wall on a wooden ledge built out from the stone walls about a quarter-way up the bubble, leaving a fair amount of space in the bottom. Gnarled knobs of polished glass or quartz, placed strategically around the chamber, gave off a strong whitish light.

The stone in a twenty-foot circle directly at the bottom had turned bright, daffodil-yellow in a rough circle, and Erik found himself descending directly to the center.

"Stay," Lord Green said, as he himself descended almost regally to the wooden ledge, and immediately pulled out a couple of the books. Erik got back onto his feet, looking around the room, and -

"I said _ stay _ !" snapped the minotaur, angrily. "And take that breechcloth off."

Erik only considered not doing it for a moment, but whatever the minotaur was doing, Lord Green seemed pretty intent, and this didn't seem like a good moment to press the minotaur. A moment later, Erik stood naked on the cool yellow stone. Lord Green had replaced one book on the shelf, and taken out two others, checking something intently before putting them both back, turning around. A clicking sound, and other noises. Every now and then Lord Green peered over the edge, as if to be certain Erik was, in fact, staying in the center.

"There," the minotaur said finally, and walked calmly off the ledge. Erik expected him to fall for a moment, but Lord Green simply sunk slowly to the bottom. He was carrying a number of things - candles, a long, polished sword, and a golden cup. "Slave. I need you to hold this - you'll be expected to drink from it. Don't spill it."

Eric took the cup dubiously. "What's in it?"

Lord Green just sighed. "Well water, violet oil, rose oil, and euphoric essence. Now, do you know any more than you did before?"

"Not really," the human said.

"Exactly. So be quiet and let me get this ready." The minotaur put the candles around the rough outline of the yellow blotch, and lit them. "There." The minotaur paused. "Do you know what cedar smells like?"

"Yes," said Erik.

"Good. Tell me when you smell cedar - the candles are scented with it. I can start then."

"Start what?"

The black minotaur just looked at the human disapprovingly. "Questions. Always _ questions _ . As if the answers would mean something to you. They wouldn't. Just be ready."

"Well, if I'm supposed to drink ..."

"You'll know when you're supposed to drink."

"All of this?"

The minotaur just shook his head. "Yes, no, it doesn't matter. Drink as much or as little as you want. Probably all of it. Maybe not. You'll know . Trust me." The minotaur groaned. "Yes, I know, you don't, can't or won't. Pretend you trust me."

"Well, could you pretend I'd understand what you're doing?"

The minotaur just shook his head. "No," he said, taking off his own shirt and trousers. The breechcloth came to the minotaur as he reached for it, and all the discarded clothing flew up to the wooden ledge. "Do you smell cedar yet?"

"A little," Erik said.

"Good." Lord Green said. He brought the sword up slowly until it pointed directly at the human, who backed away. The minotaur held it pointing at Erik for a moment, and then dropped it, walking to the left two steps, raising the sword again, dropping it, taking two more steps to the left, raising the sword, and continuing to work his way around the circle, patiently.

Erik could feel something building. He shifted, facing the minotaur and the pointed sword, shifting a tiny bit each time Lord Green moved a little. He could almost ... almost hear something. Something low, something like the buzz he'd come to associate with Lord Green's magic. A silence, like the silence of rocks about to fall, or the quiet of ... of ... no, it wasn't quiet , it was a not-sound, almost deafening.

And it just got not-louder and not-louder until E rik's ears felt like they would implode under the terrible weight of the building silence . The very air shimmered under the overwhelming quiet of ... of whatever it was. Maybe Lord Green was right not to have explained whatever this was to him. Erik wasn't sure he wanted to know.

He was suddenly aware - very aware - of the heavy golden cup in his hands. The cool liquid in it. It seemed to ripple with the not-sound of Lord Green's steps, the rise and fall of the sword, the slow progression of the black minotaur around the circle, the dimming of the lights ... it wasn't his imagination. The room was dark, the minotaur proceeding around the circle barely more than a dark blotch against the darker stone wall.

What was this in his hands? A cup? It was ...

It was important, somehow. He had to ...

Had to ...

Had to drink. Yes. He remembered, now, he had to drink.

Erik lifted the golden cup to his mouth, and spilled a little of the liquid into his mouth. The liquid was cold, almost freezing, even though the metal of the cup was warm in his hands. At first it tasted like water, and then like flowers and then ... like something else, that stirred a faint memory in his mind, fresh-cut pine and something smokier, muskier, something exhilarating. He swallowed, and let more flow in. It was the same - and different. Stronger, more powerful, and yet more ephemeral at the same time. He swallowed quickly, drinking more, gulping the liquor down, until the cup was empty, and then it dropped from his hands.

The light had returned; and it was brighter - much brighter. It dazzled his eyes, twisting around and somehow he'd lost his sense of balance - the floor rushed up to hit him - or it would have.

He was caught, warm black-furred arms surrounding him as he heard a metallic clang from ... from ... he knew what it was from, he just ... it was ...

He had a moment to look into the black minotaur's face before darkness swallowed it, and him.

He awoke in a familiar place; he didn't remember it, nor how he got there, nor ... nor anything, really, and that should have bothered him, and he knew it should have bothered him, but it didn't, and that didn't bother him either. A warm arm, covered with fine fur, cradled him, and he could hear a rumbling deep sound. A voice, someone's voice, someone ... someone important. He cuddled up closer to the smell of pine and musk, felt another arm fold around him.

Safe. He felt so safe . He reached out, tried to take hold of what was holding him, but he couldn't quite reach it. More rumblings, something reached out, put his arms down by his side. Safe . That was ... different. He hadn't felt like this in ...

In ...

When? He couldn't remember. It didn't matter, either. He just relaxed, and let himself enjoy the rhythmic up and down motion ... oh, that was it, he realized, in a far away not important kind of way, he was being carried. Him! Carried. He tried to say something, say how much he liked it and wanted to thank ... but all that came out was a garbled sound, more like a loud contented coo than the words ... what words? What did he ...

It slipped away again, and he squirmed a little, just to feel the strength and - yes, the arms tightened a little, not to hurt, not to crush, not even to restrain, but just ... just to be certain he wouldn't fall, or get loose. He wanted to cry; nobody had ever done that for him. It was overwhelming; he tried to talk again and found he couldn't. Something wiped tenderly at his face, a wet cloth, getting wetter.

He was crying, he realized, he was shaking with his tears, and somehow he managed to choke them back as the deep rumble soothed him, told him ... told him ... he couldn't understand what is was saying, but ultimately it didn't matter; the voice was there, he was there, and he was safe. That made him cry again; he couldn't help it. He'd never, never felt safe before. Not when ...

But the memory slipped away, and he blinked, suddenly aware he couldn't see. Shouldn't that ... no. Blurry images appeared, eventually, of a dark, black muzzle, huge brown eyes looking into his, and ... this was the source of the voice, the soothing ... yes. He relaxed as he heard it again, speaking, not to him, but to ... to ... ordering ... commanding ... but ... the words all tangled in his head; he couldn't understand them. He should, he realized, he should understand them. He knew them! They were familiar, words he used - or at least he thought he used - every day! Only ... he couldn't actually remember using them. And ... if he used them, shouldn't he know what they meant? He tried to shout, but all he heard was a howl. He flailed around for a moment, before the arms tightened gently again, and the low soothing voice made those worries go away. Worries were silly. Silly. He was safe. Safe. Safe . _ Safe _ . The arms cradled him, the pine-musk of minotaur surrounded him, and a wave of exhaustion crashed over him, dragging him back down to sleep.

He woke back up as the black minotaur - Lord Green, his mind whispered - laid him down on the huge bed in the minotaur's sleeping chamber. "Ah," whispered the black minotaur. "Good. Waking back up? Feeling better after your nap?"

He - Erik, _ Erik! _ - struggled to understand the words. It was still hard, very hard to make sense. The minotaur talked so ... quickly . Even ... even if he was speaking Latin. No. It wasn't the minotaur that was fast, it was Erik - _ Erik _ - that was slow. Yes! He was Erik. Slave Erik! Yes!

No ... slave Erik wasn't right ... but ... it would do ...

"Here," the minotaur said, scooping Erik up into his arms. "You'll be hungry; you've been asleep for quite a while."

Slave Erik tried to say something as a warmed rubber nipple - a bottle? - gently wedged his lips apart. "Here," the deep rumble said.

No, he said, or tried to say, but what came out was just a burble. And ... a drop of milk hit his tongue. It was sweet, with an unusual heaviness that tasted ... good.

Really good.

Really, really, good.

He began suckling at the bottle; and was rewarded with more warm milk. It was satisfying in a way that ... that he didn't want to think about. Just as he didn't want to think that he was being held like a baby in the huge minotaur's arms, and the minotaur was feeding him from a bottle. He didn't need to think about that.

He could just enjoy the feeling.

The minotaur leaned over him. " Xevian ," the minotaur whispered in low, soft tone. "Until I say otherwise, I am Xevian to you."

That meant something, slave Erik remembered, something important, something that he needed, but, but, but ... it slipped away. He concentrated on the milk, finishing the bottle. "Good Baby," Xevian said.

Baby? Baby? _ Baby? _ Was that ... was that what he was? A baby? Had ... he wasn't one before ... before ...

Wasn't he a slave ? Was he? That had seemed wrong ...

Was he baby Erik ? He was drinking out of a bottle. He was being held. Was this ... he was oh he was ... wearing a diaper. He flushed red. Why was the minotaur doing this to him?

"What is it, Baby?" the voice wasn't accusing, wasn't anything but the same deep rumble that had been so soothing a moment ago, and it still filled Erik - baby Erik - with terror. The grip on him tightened, the minotaur - Lord Green - Xevian - peering down at him with something like concern. "Still hungry?"

He might not be able to speak, but he could shake his head.

"Stomach ache?"

Baby Erik shook his head no .

"Wet diaper?"

Baby Erik shook his head no ... and then realized that he was wet. The red flush turned into a bright scarlet.

"No, I think that is the problem," Xevian said quietly. "Or at least part of it. If it helps, Baby, you won't need the diaper for long, another few days, no more."

Hearing that made Erik feel ... strange. On the one hand, he certainly wanted control of his bodily functions back, but on the other, he felt the loss of something important, something that he wanted . While he was trying to figure out exactly what he thought, Xevian had expertly laid him out; and was - Erik looked up in utter humiliation as the minotaur calmly cleaned him, tossed the soiled cloth away, and wrapped him anew in a clean blue-dyed cloth. "There."

It was too much for him; Eric - baby Erik , his mind supplied - started crying again. Xevian sighed. "I should have expected this," he said softly. "It's all right, Baby. Everything will be back to normal in a few days. This doesn't last that long." He smiled down at the human, and picked him up, cradled him against his shoulder, and patted his back. "It should be long enough, though."

How long Xevian carried him Erik wasn't aware; he'd drop off to sleep, and then awaken and find himself - and Xevian - somewhere else. Lord Green's study; the gardens, once - horribly- a room full of other humans - men - who had watched silently when Xevian changed him.

In front of them.

Erik wanted to die; anything to avoid this. At least ... at least there was no laughter; perhaps they were as intimidated by the black minotaur as he was. Or something. Or ... was he? Intimidated by ... Xevian? Lord Green? Why ... why was his Master doing this to him? What ... what had he done? Had he done something? There was something ... his Master was angry ... but ... why couldn't he remember ?

Lord Green had simply done what he'd done so many times before - lay him down on his back, and he'd found himself not-quite able to move, arms at his side, not quite responding, not able to roll over, barely able to thrash his legs - although the minotaur had just grabbed them and lifted to clean him, and re-diaper him before lifting him back up to carry him. And Lord Green - Xevian - just picked up where he'd been instructing them, and Erik drifted off to sleep again.

He woke briefly in the evening for another change, and a bottle of warm milk. He wondered briefly, in some half-asleep corner of his mind, why he was sleeping so much ... he shifted, in Xevian's arms. There was something comfortable, comforting, about the minotaur, about the pine-resin tang surrounding him. Xevian reclined in a deep chair, talking to ... somebody that Erik couldn't hear. He didn't follow the conversation; it was all Greek, and far to fast for his muzzy mind to follow. All he had to do was suckle at the bottle, and enjoy the feeling of the warm, creamy, slightly sweet milk, and the fond caress of the minotaur as he drank. Erik lay there, content and happy, and again drifted off to sleep as the minotaur read papers.

He woke again to darkness outside the huge glass windows; the inside was lit with the same crystal knobs that he'd seen ... he'd seen ...

Where had he seen them? Somewhere ... not just in Lord Green's - Xevian's - chambers. Somewhere ...

A chamber ...

A yellow circle ...

The memory slipped away as Lord Green changed him yet again. He still blushed, but it was easier, certainly much easier than with the audience. Why ... Baby Erik wondered suddenly, why would Xevian do this himself ? Wasn't this why Xevian had slaves? Hadn't ... hadn't he been one? He had, Baby Erik knew suddenly. A bad one. He'd been bad . Baby Erik didn't remember why, or what, but ... he twitched, as an almost-memory came flooding back - hanging in space, his back on fire, blood spattering across - across something ... he'd been punished. It had hurt. Baby Erik felt his eyes tearing but somehow he choked back the sob that would have started him crying again. His brief hope that Xevian - Master - wouldn't see it was quickly dashed.

"What's wrong," asked Xevian, surprised. "You're dry, clean ... fed ..."

Baby Erik nodded, still swallowing the sob, but ... it burst out. The memory of the agony on his back flooded back to him, along with the shaming certainty that he'd deserved the punishment. He'd been bad ... Master - Xevian - was so good to him and ... and ... he'd been bad.

The sob burst out, and baby Erik began bawling, the memory of the pain combined with the shame of being bad . And ... Master knew it. He had to know, had to ..

Have had him punished. He must have disappointed Master badly. He didn't even notice Xevian holding him, telling him it would be all right, that it was all right for him to cry but nothing was going to hurt him, not now, not now, all was well.

Eventually it was the tone, the deep, comforting rumble, that penetrated baby Erik's misery and allowed him to stop crying. The soothing reassurances continued while Xevian wiped his face, and then kissed him.

And after ... after ... oh, he wanted to remember what he'd done, almost as much as he wanted not to know what he'd done, to deserve that. But obviously Xevian - Master - had forgiven him. Forgiven. Erik sighed as the crying bout finally receded.

"There," said Xevian quietly in a voice that, however soft, still vibrated in baby Erik's bones. "All better. No need to cry. You're starting to remember, that's all. It will all come back, don't worry. It's just that you needed some time without it. I just hope ... I hope it will be what Baby needs." The minotaur smiled at him, and baby Erik hoped, too, it was what he needed. Master thought so. Master Xevian . The thought relaxed him; Master wouldn't let anything hurt him. He'd said so.

Master Xevian patted him one more time, then lay him down on the bed, and got in himself. He pulled baby Erik over to him. "There," he whispered, the rumble sending a thrill down the human's back, and Erik curled up next to the minotaur. He was sleepy still, and the warm milk had just made him sleepier. The minotaur next to him was warm, but not quite as hot as Erik was, making him wonderful to snuggle against.

Erik squirmed up to Xevian, found his hand, and worked his mouth over the minotaur's index finger, and began to suckle gently on it. The minotaur let him, resting his hand on Erik's head, and just waiting for Erik to fall asleep. "Goodnight, Baby," the minotaur said under his breath, so low that only baby Erik could hear it.

When he woke, the finger was gone, and so was the minotaur - Erik whimpered, and found that Xevian had just rolled over, onto his back, and Erik rolled over, too, nestling his head into the minotaur's arm. The rich smell of minotaur musk and pine made him feel awake, truly awake, for the first time in ... he wasn't sure. A day? Two days? What was in that milk that Master Xevian kept giving him?

Or was it the milk? He remembered something else. But it didn't matter; he was here, Master was here, and for the first time, he could ... he moved gently, not wanting to wake Master. Xevian, he was Xevian. Master Xevian.

Erik sighed as he managed to move quietly down the front of the minotaur, the smell of musk and pine getting stronger until he found the source of it between the minotaur's spread legs. Erik breathed in the scent; it was intoxicating. He wanted to rub his head into his Master, he wanted his Master's scent on him.

He wanted to taste it ...

He needed to taste it ...

He couldn't stop himself; he touched his tongue to the tip of the huge length laying against the minotaur's thigh. The taste was better than the scent; rich, pine, salt, seed, musk, and male, achingly potently male ... Erik began to lick the length, slowly, cautiously, making his way up, towards the base, smelling the maleness of his Master's sack, touching it gently with his hand, lifting it to his mouth.

The taste, the feeling of the thin skin against his cheeks, on his lips, against his tongue. He wanted Master so badly, he wanted Master's flesh in his mouth, wanted to please Master - anything. Anything, to please Master. Xevian was responding, even in sleep, the softness of his flesh filling out, becoming harder, slowly, as Erik continued to worship his Master with his tongue. The scent and taste of his Master filled the human slave; he couldn't imagine not having this, not being able to touch the strength and majesty of the minotaur. Even sleeping - and perhaps even more, sleeping, the powerful form of the male was laid out for him to adore.

Xevian was fully erect now, and the minotaur was growing restless as Erik's slow worship had its effect. Crystal fluid gathered at the tip of Xevian's shaft, and Erik touched his tongue to it. Salt and pine rewarded him. A long, thin line glistened in the moonlight as Erik drew back, looked up into the still-sleeping face of his Master. Erik bent back down, determined to show his Master just how much - just how grateful he was. It was a struggle, but if he tried, he could manage to get his mouth around his Master; just barely, but he could. Slippery with Erik's own hunger and the slick crystalline drops now leaking from the hard shaft, he took inch after inch, slowly working his way down.

He wasn't quite sure when Master woke; but by the time he reached halfway - and as far as he could go - he knew the minotaur was aware. He paused, and started back up, trailing his tongue on the sensitive underside.

Xevian gave out a low rumble of pleasure. "Good boy," he said softly. "That's ... that's very nice. Very nice indeed, Baby. No. Not Baby. Boy. Yes."

Boy, thought Erik, pleasuring his Master. He lay down, resting his arms on the minotaur's massive legs, concentrating on pleasing - he wanted his Master to feel good. He wanted his master to be proud of him. He wanted ...

He wanted his Master's seed; proof that his Master was truly happy with him; proof that he had something to offer his Master who fed him, who changed him, who protected him, who ...

Erik almost stopped suckling at his Master when the thought hit him.

Who loved him.

It struck like a thunderbolt; it explained ... it explained ... he couldn't remember what it explained, not everything, but he knew, he knew, he knew why Master had carried him and fed him and changed him when he was soiled, and held him when he was crying and reassured him when he was afraid and embraced him while he slept. Master loved him; Xevian loved him, and this was how he was showing his poor human boy who wouldn't, couldn't have believed the words. Maybe this was the only way Master could show his Slave, his Boy, any human.

It made Erik want to redouble his efforts, to bring his hands over, to hold his master's tightening sack with its two precious fleshy orbs with reverence. Xevian himself, unaware of his Boy's new understanding, groaned happily under his ministrations nevertheless. A hand placed itself gently on the back of his neck; not hard, not pressing him down, just acknowledging him, acknowledging the gift Erik was giving his Master, the gift of his own desire to please his Master.

Seed erupted into Erik's mouth with a quiet, deep, heartfelt sigh from the minotaur. Hot, pine-salt laced with musk and a metallic edge flooded the human. He drank reverently, deeply, not too fast, not even as fast as it poured in strong heartbeats, jetting into him, small trickles running down the length into the heavy hair of the minotaur. Erik let them; concentrated on savoring the moment and his Master's pleasure that, somehow, wonderfully, was his own. And then, as Xevian softened, Erik licked down the shaft, tracing the remainder of the seed, taking it into himself. This was his Master's pleasure, his Master's essence, and Erik wanted Xevian to know - to see - the deep respect he had for his Master, the love he'd discovered for his master, reflected in him.

He crawled to the side, up to the waiting minotaur, and tried to tell him. I love you. But the words wouldn't come; his tongue was still tangled in whatever the minotaur had done to him.

"There, there," Xevian crooned. "What a wonderful boy you are," and smiled at him.

It was torture; knowing, and not able to say it. Xevian, Master, thank you! Too complex; all he could manage was a slight cough.

"Words will come, Boy, don't rush them. It's all right; I know. It can wait," Xevian said, and of course Master was right, of course it could wait but ... but ... Master had done so much . Erik was almost burning with the need to tell him it had worked; he understood; he was sorry he hadn't known; how could he, Master , how ... how ...

"Da .." Erik managed to force out, and the smile dropped from the minotaur's face.

"What?"

"Dah ..." he tried again. "Da ... Daddy!" Erik managed to get the word out, and having said it once, it was easier to say again. "Daddy! Daddy!"

Xevian looked utterly baffled ; Erik wanted to cry, wanted to laugh; he set his head down on the minotaur's broad chest, shaking with all the things he wanted to say, wanted to confess, but all he could do was whisper "Daddy!" to his protector and god. He was sure it wasn't the right thing; but ... but it was the best he could offer. Please, please, he thought. Please ...

It took a another moment or two for the understanding Erik hoped for to reach the minotaur, but the smile on Xevian's face was everything Erik had hoped for. The minotaur sat upright, pulled Erik up into his arms, and kissed him, the huge minotaur tongue questing deep into the human. Erik just wanted to melt against his Master; melt into him, let his Master take him, become part of him.

"Daddy," he managed to say again, with a breath of air following the kiss.

"Yes," the minotaur said. "You understand. Good."

Erik snuggled up, truly happy, for the first time, against his Master ....

No.

Against his Daddy.

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