Beautiful Things Of Decay

This is pure K&Z PWP (well perhaps a tiny bit of emotional plot ^^).

~{}~ signifies a change in time or perspective

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, these awesome characters do not belong to me in any way. They belong to Matsuri Hino, I just love to use them over and over... ;)

Summary: King Kuran owns a beautiful silver haired pet who has lost his will to live after being cruelly broken by his master. When the king realizes how close he is to losing his pet forever, will he be able to coax life back into his frail slave?

Rated M: implied non-con & violence, M/M lemon (if you're not into M/M, do not read)

Beautiful Things Of Decay

"Are you cold, my pet?" has asks in a soothing voice, running his hand through my hair.

"No... master." I answer. My voice has long ago turned quiet, I never speak loudly anymore unless he forces me. I am shivering to the bone as I crouch beside him. Yet I can't bring myself to answer his question truthfully. It has been too long now. I have crouched in his servitude for so long that I have no more hopes of being allowed anything else but what I am given. In the beginning, in the earlier times of my slavery I rebelled fiercely, I spat my anger back at this man, I cursed him with everything I had, I hoped then - in youthful folly - that my stubbornness would outlive his cruelty. I believed that my strength would outdo his and my persistence would grant me victory. I foolishly believed that - but not anymore.

"You are shivering, my pet." he casually states the facts to reveal my blatant lie. But no pain follows it.

He is in a caring mood today, it seems. At times like these he treats me like a child, or perhaps like a cherished lover, he respects my needs and almost... treasures me. In the early days that never happened. He was always harsh on me, raped me until my voice ran out of screams, locked me into a cold prison and left me in the dark... freezing, hurt, and thirsty - so terribly thirsty. It was not the rape that broke me, it was not the brutal pain that exploded inside me whenever he deemed his possession unworthy of his care - no, it was the thirst that drove me mad. I need his blood to remain sane, to stay alive. But he keeps me thirsty. Always thirsty. And the bite of that thirst is harsher than any drop in temperature could ever be. It is why I shiver incessantly.

I don't answer, but keep my face staring stonily ahead as I was trained to do.

He sighs.

As of late, he appears to be dissatisfied with me. Yet, not in the same way he was before. Months of his torment have brought me to the very brink of my existence. I was finally willing to die, but he pulled me back from that relief. When I woke, I could not speak, I could not move, I could barely think. I lay there like the broken puppet I was - without the will to live and without even the fear of his punishment. I think it scared my master. Deep down I know why he hurt me thus. Deep down I believe he cares for me - not like a person should care for another, no. I am not sure that he is even capable of that. But he cares for me like one might care about a possession. And the one thing he fears is to loose that possession. I should be nothing to him. My status in the vampire world is that of an outcast piece of filth. I have no dignity among their ranks and yet he still cares enough to spend so much of his time on me.

Yes, it scared him that I almost died. He, who is a king among his kind, should not be caring for filth like me the way he does. But when he felt my life slip away under his beatings, he changed his mind. He didn't kill me, but brought me back with his blood and has not brutalized me since. That is almost two years ago now. Instead, he takes me with him wherever he goes. Perhaps he fears that I could leave his side. But I know now that I wouldn't have the strength even for that anymore. I am now truly bound to him. It is his blood that keeps me alive, it is his will that forces my heart to beat and it is his wishes that occupy my entire purpose.

What he brought back from the brink of death was nothing but a shadow of myself. A servant. A puppet.

His pet.


I look down at the beautiful creature by my side. His even face is truly exotic and beautiful and his slender and lithe body is like a jewel in the dark throne room. Of course it is - I have staged it thus. All of my palace is dressed in black. All servants are to be clothed in black velvety robes to remind them that I am a darkness they all serve. I consider myself both merciful and cold. And the clothing of all my servants should always remind them of this. Though all of that is true, the main reason for their dark attire is that I want this one jewel that I own to be the brightest it can be in a darkest of places.

I let my eyes caress his beauty as I notice how he shivers. He is always malnourished because I think it makes him beautiful. His body is frail now, after being in my servitude for two and a half years, his skin is more pale than that of any other vampire. His lilac eyes stand out brilliantly against that pale skin like the most colorful ornament of my throne room. He is the only decoration I allow. On my orders, he wears nothing but a black collar and a velvet loin cloth. I had his silver hair grow long and in the dim light of these dark halls it glows most prominently. I have taken it upon myself to groom it for him, though I have servants by the hundreds who could do it for me. But I wish to have no one else's hands upon his body, so I do it myself. He is my pet after all.

I have listened to the secret whisperings of my subordinates. Yes, it takes a certain amount of wisdom and clarity to be a powerful authority. It takes cunning and knowledge. Admittedly, leniency is only to be used sparingly as a diplomatic measure, and the threat of fear is still the most effective measure against those who need to be disciplined. This is where most rulers fail. It is a delicate balance between fear and leniency that makes for memorable and efficient ruling. All of this is true. But to be adored and worshipped, one must make a show of these things and stage their magnificence for the audience.

That is why I have made this rare creature my pet.

There are stories about my pet that make fairy tales look like boring reports. And when I look at him I see all these things in him that inspire such tales. Of course, the fact that I hardly have to speak with him in public while he follows every unspoken wish without question has led to the most curious of speculations. I do not comment on these rumors as they serve well to cement my authority as a pureblood king. It is perhaps a bit frustrating that these fictional tales benefit me more than most of the things I truly accomplish. But it is always so with the masses. They need mystery, they need a topic of daily curiosity that sets their ruler apart from all others and defies explanations. Something of ageless beauty that inspires happiness, curiosity and wonder in any onlooker.

And this pet I own has such a beauty. With his former self it was a hidden beauty, but I have polished it and displayed it for the world to see - but not to touch.

I have heard them, these rumors, one farther from reality than the other. Some swear he is an enchanted princess that I have taken mercy upon, others vow to have seen him turn into a silver dragon that I ride on occasion. Then there are those who swear he is an assassin I have tamed for my own revenge upon those who defy me. I love these stories, they make me smile internally every time I hear them although I can never afford to show it.

There is hardly anything of importance going on today, so I chose to leave the throne room early. My shivering pet follows me with a bowed head. It used to bother me that his well-being never leaves my mind. He is my weakness in that regard. But since he never leaves my side I believe I can afford it, because I will always be there to intervene. If he were to be taken away from me I fear I would be lost. This beautiful creature that I own has in reality possessed me entirely, though I may never show that to anyone. I feel a bit sorry now that I had to break him. Yet with the power he has over me I cannot afford to have a stubborn petulent child dominate my decisions and choices, so I must make due with what small personality is left after I broke him.

It hasn't escaped me that he is without luster, that he has lost his will to live and that it shows more prominently on some days than on others. Of course I take notice of this, I notice everything about my pet. Toward anyone else perhaps, I have never changed, I am still the same regal pureblood everyone has always expected me to become. Vampires take pride in upholding traditional etiquette - the more stringent and professional the better. It is a cold world I rule, their eyes pry constantly on what I say and do except for in the privacy of my chambers.

My pet is the exception to this coldness - toward him I can show what I feel, even if it is only for a short time. Wearing the crown wearies me to no end. It is a tiring and troublesome affair to be king, yet my refusal to bow to anyone else leaves me as the only acceptable candidate for the throne. So I read their pointless petitions and solve their petty problems without a change in the mask I call my face. Only with my pet do I allow myself to smile.

I lie back against my favorite sofa, heedless of the price of the delicate cloth I wear. My gaze is focused solely on him as his trembling figure prepares to kneel at my side. Though he wears a collar I have no more need for a leash. Without a word spoken, he follows my will more often than not. I do not even have to give an order or trouble to use my powers on the blood in his veins. His body answers the unspoken calls of my will. In that regard perhaps the rumors are true - to a certain degree he is an extent of my will.

He follows my wish and seats himself into my lap. I pull him toward myself and let my fingers run through his hair as he leans against me. He is cold to the touch. I should really feed him, but he is so beautiful like this; so pale, so fragile, so afraid to ask for the affection he craves. I decide to tease him, nicking the skin of my wrist with the flick of a nail. I watch the lilac in his eyes struggle with the dark crimson. This is a part of his personality I have never been able to conquer. His inherent stubbornness to accept my blood has never left him, though the anger that always went with it has been muted ever since I bound him to myself.

My pet is well behaved, of course. His eyes flicker with crimson but fade back into lilac. He doesn't give in to the temptation unless I tell him to.

"Go on. Taste it." I say.

It turns me on every time I watch him lose himself to the vampire inside. His tongue slowly licks across my skin as he closes his now crimson eyes, savoring the taste I allow him to have. He looks almost innocent, like a newborn timidly tasting it's mother's nourishment. I can see his unsheethed fangs are aching to bite me, can hear his breath quicken at the taste of pure blood that he so desperately needs to keep from falling. I like to think that it is I who is in control, but at times like this I am not sure if it isn't him who has so much more control over his needs than I do.


I fear to fail every time he teases me like this. As usual, he allows me a few drops from his wrist and no more. It never satisfies, it only wakes an uncontrollable monster inside me that demands nutrition. Yet, somehow the fear of his punishment always lets me conquer that monster again and I submit to his game. He plays with me, like any master would play with his pet perhaps, and I faintly remember that I should be hating him for the way he humiliates me. But I cannot find it in myself to do so. My pride is gone and without it, his humiliation and mockery of me are nothing but the attention of his that I need to give my existance purpose and meaning.

I taste his pure blood - a gift of his, as he claims. To me, his blood is a poison that tastes sweet and keeps me alive, even as it chains me to his will more and more every day. Every drop of it that I drink keeps me from falling to insanity and yet it also gives him another part of my soul that he can devour. It makes me crave his affection and long for his touch, though I now know that they never ever fully satisfy me. He plays with my body, rouses pleasure unheard of inside my veins, but still my heart is always cold now. All of his superficial care cannot wash away the fact that I am only his toy and he bears no true love for me.

Nonetheless, I cling to his affectionate care, I crave every touch he grants me as he kisses my cold lips. Their gentleness is just a mockery of kindness, a faint illusion of real love. He wants me to warm up, hopes to find the same spirit inside me that has always spited him before I was broken and cold. I would try to make my master happy, after all it is now the only purpose I serve. But I do not have even that strength anymore. I am an empty shell in his hands, a shadow of my former self and I can only satisfy his needs physically. If he wishes to have someone to break he must find someone else. This is all I am. This is all he has left of me.

He has taken off his white gloves now and I am graced with his real and physical touch. I feel his perfect fingers slide along my spine, leaving a warm tingle down my skin. Though he has called me a piece of filth more than once before, he doesn't wear his gloves when he touches me. It is always skin on skin, I am always directly under his control. A thought of his makes my arousal come alive and I know his mind is preparing my body. My entrance moistens itself for him, becoming pliant without my intervention and before his fingers slip beneath the loin cloth I am ready for him.

I know he does this not truly to prepare me, but to watch me, to satisfy his own hunger for control over me. He slides his fingers deep inside me and makes my blood boil with a flick of his thoughts. I hear myself moan, the wanton noise escaping my lips and his eyes darken as they ravish my body. The pleasure I feel has nothing to do with my body's reaction to his intrusion - I have learned this long ago. It is his way of caring for me. He knows he is using my body, but at least he makes it bearable and sometimes even very pleasurable for me. I moan again involuntarily as he moves his fingers inside me. His eyes are dark with hunger as they watch me. He is always like this, watching me, toying with me until he finally graces himself to enter me. I already know that I will come more than once before his hard and throbbing arousal will even enter me.


I love watching my pet come over and over again. I feel him become warm in my hands, his blood responding to my will as he shudders through his climax. Still, his pale cheeks are hardly even pink and his eyes are glassy as he moans in ecstasy. He is truly malnourished now. I must feed him for fear of loosing him to the Level E state that always threatens him.

I can also feel that he needs more closeness, that he is starved of gentleness even more so than he is parched by thirst. I must have truly destroyed him if it is so blatantly obvious. His former self would never have lowered himself to show any signs of being clingy or fragile. But that spiteful pride is long gone. He needs care now. And above all, nourishment. So I take pity upon my pet. It has been a long time since I allowed this, but I deem it the right time to let him drink from my throat. I pull him closer toward me and guide his lips toward my clavicle.

"Drink from me."

His mouth lowers itself to my throat without question. A flicker of sadness floats through me as I realize that Zero Kiryu, the hunter that my pet had once been, would never have given in so easily. Yet I wanted to break him and I enjoyed it greatly. Too bad his will was no stronger, I resign in my thoughts. But I am somewhat surprised when he hesitates. His tongue slides across my skin tentatively and I shiver involuntarily. He hardly ever shows initiative. He is my pet and always follows my orders, so I am pleasantly overwhelmed as he - for once - doesn't obey instantly. It is perhaps just feeble attempt of disobedience, yet at the same time also a most enjoyable one. He sucks my skin softly and I cannot believe how turned on I am because of it. I had almost forgotten that free will had its benefits as well.

He keeps teasing me and I do not stop him, though he is technically defying my will. Yet I can't bring myself to interrupt such a sweet disobedience.

By the time my pet finally sinks his teeth into my sensitized skin I am entirely unable to hold back a moan.


I am sure this will be the final choice I make. Drinking his blood from his neck will take away the last shreds of myself that I had. It will cement his ownership and I will lose myself entirely to pleasing him. There will be no more 'me' after this. Only him. So for once I choose to take it slowly, to savor the last thoughts I have that I can call my own. For once I decide that I want to feel his skin with my tongue, to explore it softly with the senses of my body that I have obviously only borrowed from his hold. I find it strangely enticing that I can actually enjoy this, that I am already so deeply entangled in his will that I enjoy giving him this pleasure. That pleasing him makes me happy and grateful. I fear there is no hope for me. And yet, he is right. I can feel the madness close at hand. He has always teased me with my thirst, but I am so close to falling now that this is the only way I can be saved in his eyes.

Surely, in the eyes of a hunter the only way to save me is to grant me a swift death. But this mighty vampire king has chosen to keep me as his pet, and he will not give up his possession to grant me the death that my lost pride might have demanded. Instead, I will be swallowed up in everything he is, I will become a part of him and in a sense I will die, because once I have started to really sate my thirst, there will be nothing left of me anymore. My lips are still nipping his perfect skin as a tear crawls down my face for what I am about to loose. And yet I cannot help feeling relieved that this will be the end.

So, reluctantly, I sink my teeth into his soft and perfect skin to finish this cup of poison. I have always only had mere sips of it, but this is the day that I will empty it and cast myself into an abyss from which I will never return.


My pet's sweet desperation hangs in the air as he drinks. He has never before cried without me inflicting pain. It strikes a chord within me that I do not understand. Curious, I explore his mind when he begins to feast on my blood and at first I put it off thinking that perhaps it is the fear of falling to Level E that has him draw my blood so sweetly. But as I explore the insides of his thoughts I finally understand the extent of what is happening. I hadn't realized I was already so close to incorporating his will. While he drinks I communicate with him, promising him sweet nothings, but all my soothings are in vain because he knows that all these promises are empty. To him this is the end and while he is desperate and hurt by it, I can also detect hints of relief as well.

It pains me for some reason. His relief at not being sentient anymore. It is perhaps the greatest disobedience he is still capable of. That hurts me more than anything. Admittedly, he is right to label me a cruel master. I have been cruel to him. Still, it makes me unhappy to realize that even this small refuge that I have from the bleakness of my duty is contaminated with the facade I have put up between myself and the world. But I decide that I refuse to loose him to my duty. I don't want him to become a mere extension of my will, I don't want him to be nothing but an empty shell. It is for purely selfish reasons that again, shortly before loosing him, I change my mind.

I make a foolish choice. In this instant I make a choice that is motivated by total selfishness and that alone. Gently, I sink my fangs into my pet's body, tasting him for the very first time. His taste is heavenly. I refuse to let his personality go - his sweet tenderness before he bit me was a glimpse of everything I have been longing for. Of many things I do not understand because they defy my control. I want more of that, but he needs his to have free will for that, he needs to be a seperate entity to be able to make a choice of wanting to grant me his tenderness or not. I have already broken so much of him I just can't let him disappear entirely.

Thus we form a bond. It is something unheard of among vampires. A pureblood has never bonded with a Level D so close to falling to the lowest of the low. The reason is simple: my life span is now tied to his, our hearts will beat as one and I will feel what he feels and hear what he thinks. We will not be equal of course - it is in his nature to submit to me, but I will be gentle on him from now on. I must care for him now, really care for him. Though I will never be allowed to declare this openly, it is as it is: my Level D pet is now my mate for life.


The instant his fangs break my skin we are connected. Not just our bodies or our minds. No, our souls connect. I have never cried so desperately. I have never felt so lost and so loved and the same time. I cannot understand why this is happening. It makes no sense in my mind that he is doing this. All of a sudden it is crystal clear between our minds. I am not only a pet. All of a sudden I can feel that he truly has feelings for me. They may be selfish, they may be twisted and possessive - but they are there. And not deeply buried, either. I had never expected this...

My aching heart sobs instantly. I am overwhelmed and confused by this closeness and this insight into the man I have only ever understood as being cold, calculating and possessive. His existence burns through me with an almost painful pleasure, he is possessive and all-consuming, his dominant hold on me never once leaving me with a doubt as to who is the master of this newfound bond. My body will never be able to truly defy his will, but my heart has readily accepted this newfound place for me that he has created. I am his. Every fiber of my being. Every breath I breathe. Every heartbeat of my life. And though it has been like that for the past two years already, it is now a completely different feeling. Because I mean something to him. Because he cares. Because...

"You love me..." I whisper, looking up from where I was feeding from my master. I press closer to him, hoping beyond hope that I haven't mistaken this, hoping that it is true and fearing that I could be wrong...

His fangs slide from my skin and his head lifts from where he had been feeding from me right above my madly beating heart.

He is beautiful, my master. He is. Of course, all purebloods are and I know this. I have seen them all. But he is the most beautiful of them. He is so perfect that it almost hurts to look at him. My heart skips more than just a beat as his eyes rest on me.

"Yes." he answers in a deep and quiet voice. "I do."

I swear I couldn't look away even if I wanted to. He cups my face, then traces my jaw line with his finger. He threads through my long hair, his expression somewhere between possessive and appreciative. It makes me oddly happy to feel like he desires me - not as a toy but as a...

I don't allow myself to continue my thought as I blush, lowering my gaze to his throat.

His wound slowly closes where my teeth broke the perfect milky skin. Still, the dark crimson sliding sluggishly down his chest and into the fabric of his shirt is captivating not only because of the allure of its scent. I follow the pulse of his blood upwards to where his sensual mouth is swollen in return from the taste of my blood. He has never asked me to kiss him, always he has either crashed his lips onto mine or plunged his tongue into my mouth - he has forced his kiss on me, but not the other way around. He has ordered my lips onto just about every other part of his body, one in particular - but he has never ordered me to kiss him.

I decide I want to. I really want to. And I know that it is truly my own will. He is not forcing me to want it. It is I who wants to kiss him. And I know that he knows this, too - that he has been waiting for this. That he is curiously watching me, amused at my behavior. So I kiss him. Very gently. I press my lips softly against his as his arms fold around my back. He answers my kiss and I am fascinated that he is actually capable of being gentle.

"So... you're mine...?" I ask shyly.

His laughter rumbles against my body. His arousal presses against my thigh and his hold tightens around me.

"Some king I am... to belong to my own pet..."

But he doesn't deny it.


Yes, I truly belong to my pet now... A thought that should be troubling my mind with endless worry, and yet the ever present voice of reason is silenced in my head. I capture his lips again and again, making them redder and more swollen every time I do so. But I can't help myself - his kiss was so sweet that I want to have that again and again. He is alive in my arms now. He responds to every touch and it is the cutest thing I have seen in a very long time. He is sweetly determined in his actions and yet almost clumsy with his touches. But it is all well worth it. His lilac eyes are brimming with emotion, all his attention is focused on me. His adoring gaze is a gift, I realize - a gift I had nearly destroyed forever.

But now I want to see it in him, all of it. I want to see him smile and laugh. I want to see him tremble and cry. And I want to see him come.

I have always loved to see his face when he comes, because I enjoyed the power I have over him as my pet. Because I can make his body coat itself with cum for me, because I can make his body tremble from head to toe in anticipation for my cock and because I can make him scream in pleasure with just the slightest breath of air. Because his pleasure is a toy in my hands and I can make him come for me whenever I want to.

I had once thought about making him put on a show when I invite the greatest leaders of the world to my throne room. I had envisioned him moaning and writhing on the table before all their eyes and coming at just the sound of my voice, soiling himself in his pleasure before them all at my command. I have never done it - he is, after all, my most beautifully sculpted piece of jewelry in the throne room. It wouldn't do to ruin that image... But I cannot deny that I love this power I have over him. I still do. But now I will certainly keep his pleasure all to myself.

I want to see him come. But for another reason this time. I want to be a part of it when he is at the summit of satisfaction. I want to be the reason for everything he is and does. I want to be what he adores. I will dominate him, but I swear to myself that I will also cherish him.

I mold my lips onto his in a long, deep kiss. My tongue explores his mouth and I feel the urge to nick his tongue with my teeth because he tastes so good. His moan turns me on unbelievably. I can feel his arousal hardening and I break the bloody kiss to see his throbbing flesh rise, lifting the velvety loin cloth and exposing itself perfectly to my view. The evidence of his earlier climax is still dripping from between his thighs. I trace my finger across his quivering tip and his strangled groan is music to my ears. His hips thrust against me in need. But I am still fully clothed. Usually, I'd just tear off my clothing and take him on the spot. Instead, I want him to participate.

"Undress me." I whisper into his ear.

The way he moans I fear that he must be close to coming a second time. It takes him a moment to catch his breath and I let him. I don't want this to end yet. He is adorable like this - panting with pleasure, his pale skin blushing slightly. Then, with shaking hands, he unbuttons my shirt. I watch his face as he traces his fingers over my body, relishing the fact that I allow this. He chooses to suck on my chest before slowly traveling down. When he gets to the belt of my slacks he's back to familiar territory. He knows what I like and what I want. With well practised ease, he deep throats me without warning. And I nearly come because it's so good.

I slide my hands through his long silver hair and he knows what I want to say. I want to be inside him when I come. With a last hard suck, he pulls his mouth from my cock and kisses me again. I swear his mouth is so good that it makes my salty precum taste sweet. I pull his pliant body on top of mine and guide my cock between his cheeks. Then I plunge him onto myself and my throbbing cock presses deep into his hole. He strains a groan from his sweet voice. I know I am hurting him a bit right now, but I also know that he doesn't care. It's in his eyes and his touches and in his willing body that I am giving him just what he wants, so I don't stop.

Though he is on top of me, I can tell that he is unused to participating in our coupling. I decide to guide his body lifting it over mine and pulling him down as I drive up into his hot and tight hole giving us both fulfilling pleasure. He is a pretty sight and I decide that I like him on top of me like this. I watch every twitch of his body and every expression on his face as he begins to learn what feels good in this position. And yet, I cannot go long without needing to entirely possess him, so I pull him down to me and kiss him.

I go slow and deep, his lips fused to mine, one hand in his hair and one on his ass. But I quickly get bored with the slow pace. Instead, I sit up swiftly only to press him into the couch restraining his wrists. He appears neither surprised nor displeased by this. It seems rather that this familiar position is more to his liking. He parts his legs a bit wider as I thrust in deep, slamming into his pleasure center with full force. His entire body trembles around me, his hole tightens unbearably and then relaxes a fraction before I plunge in again.

His eyes are on fire with emotion and the lilac color is alive and adoring of me. Just this expression of his makes me want to come hard inside his tight ass. But I restrain myself wanting this to last a bit longer. I try to give him pleasure as well by not plowing into him with full force, but his moans turn me on too much to be able to think clearly anymore. The sounds of his pleasure merge with the sensation of his entire body shuddering around my cock. It doesn't take long and I slam into him at inhuman pureblood speed. I can smell the scent of his fresh blood as something tears inside him, but he moans in deep pleasure because my will doesn't allow his body to feel pain right now.

But the scent of my mate's blood overwhelms everything in my mind. I cannot contain myself and want to taste him again. Without warning, I bury my fangs in his soft throat. He comes instantly with a hoarse cry. I have heard that blood tastes sweetest when it boils with pleasure at climaxing. But those words are hollow compared to what it truly tastes like. This entirely defies description. All my taste buds explode with his flavor. No nectar or sirup could ever compare to this. I know I am already addicted to it. Hungrily, I spill his blood and lap it up as I pound into his shuddering and trembling body. Nothing has ever felt this good. I thrust in deep a few more times before I let the pleasure wash over me and release deep inside my mate.


Still shaking with pleasure after my climax I lie still beneath my master. I am too tired to move though I am sticky all over. Sluggishly, his cum trickles from between my legs but I do nothing to prevent it. He used to punish me for letting that happen. But now I do not have to fear punishment. Instead, his fingers trace my skin, dirtying themselves with my sweat and cum as they raise trails of goosebumps.

"Are you cold, my pet?" he askes in a soothing voice running his hand through my hair.

"No... master." I answer quietly. I am too tired to speak louder than a murmur. His beautifully perfect face smiles at me and it makes me blush, because now I know how much of his attention I truly have. In his court, this king grants direct eye contact to only his most loyal and trusted followers, never to lesser subjects. Even I who is his mere pet was trained to follow that superior bearing. I may never look another in the eye while in the throne room.

He is the king, those lower than him must deserve his attention. Just his glance is a precious honor. To then deserve emotional display or even verbal praise one must be outstanding in his eyes. Few ever get to see that. Some have fought, killed, lost everything and died for this king without once receiving a glance when in his presence. And here he is smiling at me. Embarrassed, I burrow into his perfect chest. His warm arm wraps around my frail body.

"You are shivering my pet." he says casually. I am unable to answer because my eyelids are falling closed. But before I slip into dreams I feel his lips catching mine. He may be my master, he may have been cruel to me before, his pace of love making may be rough and possessive but his kisses are sweet and honest.

I know that now.

With a smile on my lips, I let myself drift into slumber, his hands still threading through my hair. I don't mind being a pet anymore.

Not, if it is his black velvet collar I wear.