Break the Chains Read online

  Even if the worst happened and he was infected, it wasn't like they had long to live anyway. He'd made his peace with that. Avery withdrew his fingers and Conrad felt them being replaced by Avery's cock, the head pressing against his hole, his hesitation only serving to tease Conrad. Conrad gasped as Avery's cock breached him, his own dick impossibly hard and leaking beneath him. He gave it a couple of strokes to endure the burn as Avery penetrated him, burying himself to the hilt.

  Conrad was sure the assembled thought it shameful to be fucked by a slave, but Conrad felt complete, like Avery's cock filled up the gaps and spaces in his soul. He grunted as Avery started to thrust into him, needy and desperate because of the drugs, and Conrad held nothing back, quite happy to display his enthusiasm at getting fucked by the man he'd wanted all along.

  The Master looked pissed, and it only made Conrad ridiculously happy. He felt free, and if he only got this one chance to be fucked by Avery, it was worth it, worth all the risks, worth everything he'd given up to love this man the way he did.

  "You better come in his hole, you slut," the Master growled, pointing his gun at Avery. Avery pulled out and flipped Conrad over to face him, lifting his leg and thrusting back inside him.

  Conrad cried out, loving the sensation of being fucked senseless by Avery, his black hair slick against his forehead and tears brimming in his eyes. Conrad saw a thousand emotions in his gaze: guilt, lust, sorrow, love. He tried to convey the same in return, wishing for telepathy so he could tell Avery it was all right.

  Avery was close to orgasm, he could tell. He felt Avery start to withdraw, but the Master's bouncer moved in and pressed him back against Conrad. Avery came with a defeated cry, spilling inside Conrad, his body twitching as he unloaded. Conrad finished himself off with a couple of strokes, hoping he provided the onlookers with the show they wanted as he came all over his stomach, gaze locked with Avery as he fell over the edge.

  Avery pulled out, seeming to crumple. He shoved the bouncer off him before kneeling on the floor, defeated. Conrad's lightness in the aftermath of sex deflated. The Master came over and inspected his ass, smirking as he saw cum leaking out from between his buttocks.

  "Get the fuck out of my house," the Master said.

  Conrad dressed as quickly as he could. Avery was unresponsive, his head bowed to look at the floor. "Come on, Ave," Conrad whispered. "We need to go." Avery stirred a little at that, allowing Conrad to pull him to his feet. Conrad scooped up their clothes and gave the Master a hateful glance. He said nothing as they dressed. Conrad grabbed his hand and led Avery to the car. He maintained their silence as they drove home, his afterglow dissolving into a deep, impenetrable darkness.

  Avery

  Avery longed for death.

  The one thing he'd sworn he'd never do—no matter how safe Conrad could make it—and he'd been forced into it at gunpoint. Worse was that he'd loved every moment of fucking Conrad. He'd seemed so willing, so eager, and yet so ashamed that Avery had been reminded of the bus.

  He hated himself for making Conrad go to the party. What had he been thinking, trying to goad Conrad into killing him when the time came? He'd nearly broken the man. Now he might have given him a life-threatening illness to go along with it.

  He sat in the car, wordless as they drove home. There was nothing he could say. Sorry wouldn't cut it.

  He felt even worse when they got home. He couldn't get his legs to move—an uncommon side effect of the libido enhancing drug he'd been given, and not the first time it'd had that effect on him. It would wear off in a few hours and he explained as much to Conrad. Conrad scooped him up with worry in his gaze, carrying him into the house and setting him down on the couch. Conrad draped a blanket over him and kissed him on the forehead before going upstairs to take a shower.

  It was probably pointless—the damage had already been done. It almost felt worse to know that Conrad still cared about his own life so much. He pretended to be asleep when Conrad came down and his heart sank when he heard the clink of a pill bottle in the other room.

  Conrad had forgotten to take his PrEP. Fuck. Avery held back the urge to scream his lungs out, to bawl like a baby, grab a gun and go back to the mansion to kill the Master. He'd endured so much over the years and prevailed through it all, but the times he'd been forced to harm others were the ones that brought him closest to breaking point. He dug his nails into the soft couch, wanting to hurt himself, but not wanting to bleed all over the furniture. Conrad had dealt with enough of his bodily fluids for one night.

  A tiny sob escaped him, and he clamped his mouth shut, but it was already too late. Conrad came over and knelt beside him, stroking his hair.

  "I don't know what a typical guy would feel about all this, but I know I don't regret a thing. I've taken a lot of risks in my life, for far dumber reasons. I want you to know that no matter what happens, I don't hold you responsible," Conrad soothed.

  "I know you forgot to take your PrEP," Avery whispered.

  Conrad sighed. "I'd forget my head if it wasn't screwed on."

  "This isn't funny, god damn it!" Avery snapped, tears leaking from his closed eyelids. "I never wanted to hurt you. Not in a million years! Why did I make you go to that party?"

  "I needed to see, Avery. You were right. I was living in denial about slavery. I saw what happened to you as isolated events, horrors inflicted on you and only you. I never wanted to admit that the Circle is a whole culture of inhumanity and subjugation. If you go back to that life, you'll never find another kind Master, because they don't exist. The Circle does its best to force out members who don't share their lack of ethics."

  "I don't know what to do, Conrad," Avery admitted.

  "Hush. Don't panic, Ave. We're not out of options. The doctor told me about a post-exposure drug that has to be taken within 72 hours of intercourse. I don't know if they'll give it to me since I'm already on PrEP, but it might be worth a shot."

  "Go to the hospital," Avery said.

  Conrad shook his head. "I'm not leaving you home alone right now. It can wait until the morning."

  Avery insisted. "No, it can't. Please, go."

  Thunder rumbled over the house, the waiting storm clouds finally unleashing their heavy payload. Rain splashed against the windows.

  "I don't feel good about leaving you here."

  "I won't do anything stupid. I promise." Avery took Conrad's hand in his, squeezing tightly. "I'm sorry."

  "You have nothing to apologize for, Ave. I'm the one who should be sorry." Conrad stood up. "I'll be back in a few hours. If you need me, call me. Wait for me, okay?" Conrad grabbed his coat. Avery waited for the front door to click before he burst into sobs. His heart ached, his soul hurt, and all he wanted to do was let it out until he couldn't cry any more. He couldn't bear the thoughts that crept into his mind: Conrad, his eyes begging for permission. How hard he'd been the whole time, his moans and grunts as Avery fucked him even as he was delivering a possibly-fatal payload. Conrad's desperate attempts to flip it all on its head had failed, but he'd tried so hard to take the edge off.

  But it hadn't worked. The Master had won—he'd taken their love and turned it into something tawdry, something that would always be intertwined with his memories of the Circle, with slavery. He'd been forced to fuck Conrad whether Conrad wanted it or not, and nothing Conrad could say would make that burden easier to bear.

  Yet he'd been so willing, so tender, even beneath the jeering gazes of the Circle's elite. If he'd only acted like he'd wanted it, then Conrad deserved an Oscar for his performance. Avery balked at calling what they'd done rape. The Master had wanted it to be an act of sexual violence, and yet Conrad had gone out of his way to consent the best way he'd been able to in the crowded hall. He'd spread himself wide over the couch and even jerked himself off to orgasm.

  Avery couldn't figure Conrad out for the life of him, but he knew the warmth that spread through his veins even now held the man in a higher regard than possibly anyone else he'd ever met.


  The thought that he might have given Conrad HIV was a wet blanket, dousing his fire. He'd never wanted to do Conrad any harm. He'd taken great pains to protect Conrad from his own desires, even though he'd jerked off alone at night wishing he could fuck the man he loved. If they'd fumbled, slipped, and regretted it later, that would have been one thing, but Conrad had let him in with his eyes wide open—knowing the risks. Not that they'd had much choice. Refusing the forfeit might have led to the termination of his Circle membership, regardless of dues paid. When it came to the lesser of two evils, perhaps Conrad had kept a clear mind and made the right choice. It killed Avery inside to think he'd put the only lover who'd ever cared for him at risk.

  His tears finally dried up. His eyes were sore, and his head pounded like a drum. His heart felt like it had been hollowed out with an ice cream scoop, his emotions dead, his mind a blank slate.

  Sweet oblivion claimed him, exhaustion winning the battle.

  Conrad

  The waiting was the hardest part, according to the song playing through tinny speakers in the hospital waiting room. How appropriate music could be, at all the wrong times.

  Conrad paced the room before sitting down. He picked up a magazine and flipped through it, then gave up after reading the same sentence five different times. What was he doing here while Avery bore the guilt and the pain of the Master's forfeit all alone? He'd long since acknowledged that Avery's life meant more to him than his own, and yet his actions indicated otherwise. But he had to stay healthy if he was to take care of Avery, didn't he?

  Not to mention that being diagnosed as HIV positive would probably break Avery more than it would affect him. He'd lived the risky life for a long time, indulging in sex with anonymous partners, his drunkenness leading to low inhibitions and few precautions; not to mention Abby's job and habits. The odds had always been against him. He'd been ready for positive test results for a long time, but he'd always gotten lucky. The bullets seemed to bounce off him, and he'd never had more than a bout of the clap while others around him sickened and died. If the tests came back positive, he'd just follow Avery's lead and take the drugs. He was lucky to have lasted so long that treatments had come so far.

  He felt more than a little guilty about that. He was tired of guilt, how it seemed to fill him up, displacing the pleasures of life that should have filled his veins. He'd had a full cup of wine for so long, in his own way. His financial coffers had always been empty, but he'd been blessed with a wife he'd loved, a daughter he cared for, and a sex life many folks would have killed for. He'd had an interesting career, even if it had gone down in flames.

  Now he held the heart and soul of a man in his calloused hands, a gift so precious he couldn't even describe how it made him feel. 'Love' didn't seem like enough. They were bound together, not by chains or collars, but by an invisible cord. Avery needed him, but he needed Avery just as much. A therapist might have called it co-dependence, but he'd never believed that to be a bad thing. Relying on others was an act of trust, and he trusted Avery with his heart as much as Avery trusted him with his.

  But how could he say 'I love you' when he'd broken all his promises? He couldn't save Avery. The best plan they'd come up with ended in their mutual demise. To love was to hold Avery in greater regard than he held himself, and while he did, he couldn't prove that with his actions.

  Even being here seemed like a betrayal of that ethos. While Avery lay in the darkness, he scrambled to save himself, leaving so many things unsaid. Not that words could make it better. He'd promised he'd never force himself on Avery, and that promise had gone down in flames. Avery hadn't even been able to get hard for him. He'd needed a wretched chemical. Still Conrad had loved every moment. His self-loathing had never been as strong as it was in that instant.

  "Mr. Fisher?" A middle-aged woman called from a doorway. "Come this way, please." He followed her like an automaton, going through the motions of having his blood pressure and pulse taken, and relaying a fictional sequence of events from the evening without a hint of self-consciousness. They'd gotten drunk and carried away. Yes, he knew his partner was HIV-positive. No, his partner wasn't trying to infect him intentionally. They'd just been two idiots unable to hold back their lust.

  He wished that had been the case.

  Conrad walked away with a prescription and an eye-roll from someone who could never understand what it was like to be him. He drove to a 24-hour drive-thru pharmacy, filling his scrip and enduring a young guy's ever-so-convenient use of latex gloves to hand out his prescription. He made sure to force a cough and watched the guy cover his nose.

  People were unpleasant when you really looked at them, but these minor things seemed absurd when he'd seen humanity's true nature at the Circle party. His mind was still processing the horrors of severed heads being carted back to the mansion like trophies, of slaves being hunted down like animals. People cheering in the darkness as their black hearts took joy from the suffering and pain of others. If that was what being human really meant, then he wanted out. No wonder Avery looked at his filthy hands like they were the hands of a saint. A crooked cop probably seemed like one compared to people who killed and raped for sport.

  The rain returned, as heavy as before, the storm rumbling around for another pass over the valley. Conrad had the late-night streets to himself. He might have lingered, if not for the thought of Avery suffering alone, bearing a torment he shouldn't have to carry by himself. Conrad stepped on the gas pedal, hoping the cops weren't lurking around. Tonight wasn't the kind of night where he wanted to give a cop a blowjob to get out of a ticket.

  He pulled onto the street and parked haphazardly, not caring if a trash wagon took out his mirror. Avery was the only thing on his mind as he ran through the rain, fumbling with his key in the lock. He finally found the right one and opened the door a crack, entering the gloom of his house. He closed the door behind him and wiped his face on his sleeve to clear the rainwater that was obscuring his vision.

  "Avery?" Conrad crept into the living room, but the couch was empty, the blankets discarded. He was about to go upstairs and check Avery's room when he saw the back porch light was on. He strode through the house in a hurry, his mind flashing with dark images of Avery hanging from a rope. He crashed through the door and let out a sigh of relief as he saw Avery standing in the low light, watching the rain fall. He looked oddly at peace, the strain gone from his face, though his eyes were red and bloodshot. Conrad drew closer.

  "I'm sorry," Conrad said, breaching the silence. "What I did to you was unforgivable."

  "What you did to me?" Avery turned on a dime to look at Conrad. "I might have given you HIV and you're worried about me?"

  "I wanted it, Avery—I've wanted you from the moment I laid eyes on you. In better circumstances, yes, but I'll take what I can get." Conrad shook his head. "I can't stop thinking about how you couldn't get hard—thinking that I raped you back there. You couldn't say no. In that house, you were a slave, and our survival depended on you following my commands."

  "No," Avery said. "You don't understand what happened at all. In that house, we were both slaves. Circle member or not, the Master claimed his dominance over you and made you bend to his will. He wanted you to believe that you were raping me, and he wanted me to give you HIV. He couldn't harm us directly, but he wanted to prove he was the alpha male, and he did, surely as if he'd bent you over and fucked you himself."

  "Luckily for me I don't give a shit about his games. He can make me kneel, but I don't respect him, and I never will."

  "I'm sure he humiliated you. He proved he was the alpha dog."

  "I know I'm not, Ave. I figured that long ago, and I'm fine with that when the alphas of this world are animals like him. I'll keep my soul, even if that means I have to live on scraps for the rest of my life."

  "I don't understand you, Conrad."

  Conrad smirked. "I'm not even sure I understand myself half the time." He turned Avery's face in his hands. "Look at me, Avery. L
ook me in the eyes." Avery gazed up at him, his irises huge as saucers in the low light. Conrad seized his lips, kissing him tenderly at first, then deeper as lust took over. Avery relaxed in his hands, his tongue soon wrestling for dominance with Conrad's. They parted, gasping for air as a flash of lightning lit up the sky.

  "I don't deserve to say 'I love you,' Avery, but I do." Conrad held Avery close, planting kisses on Avery's throat and trying to ignore the metal collar. "Tell me what I can do for you, and I'll do it. Anything in the world."

  "If I asked you to kill me, would you?" Avery asked.

  "If that's your wish, I'll get my gun." Conrad's heart lurched. He'd not expected Avery to bail on the time they had left, and it stung. He wasn't ready, but he would do it. He'd said the words, confessed his feelings. Fulfilling his promise was the only way he could earn the right.

  "Wait." Avery grabbed Conrad's arm, pulling him back. "I didn't say that was my wish. Not yet. Not when we still have time." Avery seemed to pause, and Conrad imagined he could feel his mind turning. "I'm not used to being asked what I want. Even before I signed the contract, my life was already proscribed. I would inherit the company and follow in my father's footsteps. I've never had choices. Signing my life away was the only choice I ever made for myself and look how that turned out."

  "Take your time," Conrad said. "It doesn't have to be sexual, or relationship oriented. If you want to hit up a fast-food joint, or want me to cook for you, I'll do it—though I don't recommend my cooking. If you want me to lick your feet and be your slave for a day, a week, a month or for life, I'll do it. I just want to know what you desire, in your heart of hearts. I feel like all we've done all this time is talk about what I want. You've spent your whole life doing what other people want."