Succession (20 page)

I blush. It’s not that I never see him; I see him every day. But I miss the constant connection that we had in the detention facility, the closeness. I miss the thought of touching him, feeling him touch me, because we don’t anymore. Sy is exceedingly professional, especially when Cash is around, and it leaves me confused and longing.

“Go get him,” Cash says suddenly, pushing me off the side of the bed. “Tell him to come here, that I have a question for him.”

I look at my master nervously, wondering what sort of scheme he has planned now.

“That’s an order.” The fact that he’s grinning makes me a little more calm.

Still, I trust that when he gives me an order, he expects it to be followed, so I hurry out, walking down to Sy’s room where I find him lounging casually, watching a video on his tablet.

“Hey,” I say, taking in the nearly empty room. Cash has offered him whatever he would need or like to decorate with, but as usual, Sy seems ridiculously content with what was provided.

“Hey there, pretty boy,” he says, stopping the video to smile at me. “Looking for trouble?”

“Cash wants you,” I explain. “He said he has a question for you.”

Sy is on his feet instantly, despite our master’s frequent reassurance he can be casual. Sy seems to reject anything casual. If the rioters came to our door right now, he’d be ready for them. I think the formality makes him more comfortable. He even stops to straighten his collar and flatten the creases on his pants before following me out. Still, as he walks past me, he touches my shoulder, reassuring me.

I follow him back to the bedroom, where Cash is still sprawled out on the bed, lazy and comfortable. I suppose he should be; everything here is his. The house, the bed, the two other people standing in his bedroom. He beckons me over with his finger, and I come like an obedient pet.

“Sascha said you had a question for me, sir?” Sy asks, somehow managing to sound proper and respectful despite the fact that he’s prodding Cash to speak.

Cash waits for a moment, irking me, because I know he’s making Sy uncomfortable. I’m just about to jab at his chest to get him moving when he pops the question.

“Syrus, would you like to watch Sascha strip?” Cash offers, calm, like he’s inviting Sy to watch a movie.

Sy thinks about it for a moment without letting the shock show like I would have. I would kill to be as cool as he is.

“It would be enjoyable, sir,” he replies, but he glances at me.

I recall their previous fight over me and my consent, and I decide to contribute before it can escalate again. “I don’t mind.” I’m embarrassed to say it out loud. “Actually, I’d enjoy it. I’d like it.”

I can’t help but feel a little bit like a whore again. It comes and goes, but this triggers it. I feel Cash rest his hand on my lower back, and I know he understands. It helps, because I know he doesn’t think that way about me.

“All right,” Sy says, looking as out of place as I feel.

Cash sits up, easing me onto my feet. He summons Sy closer, pointing at the bed. “Sit,” he orders, then glances at me. “And you—put on some music. Pick something you can move to. Something to drown out those sirens. You know what I like.”

Low beats, dance music, electronic noise created in labs. We both like it, and no matter how terrible it is as actual music, it’s a great background for stripping, and an even better precursor to sex. I go to where both of our tablets have been dropped on top of each other, as careless as Cash and I fall into bed together, and I connect mine to the speaker system that is integrated into the walls. The music fills the room, and I turn to look back at the two men in my life.

I’m a little dismayed to see how stiff and uncomfortable Sy looks, sitting on the very edge of the bed. I glance at Cash, prompting him with a glare to make things better. I know he’s not exactly the best candidate, but this is his job. He’s our master.

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” Cash says. “Sascha’s going to strip for me either way. I just thought you might like to watch. I know for a fact that he doesn’t mind. Unlike you, he has no problem telling me when he doesn’t want to do something.”

I laugh because it’s true. It wasn’t at first, but it became that way quickly, and now I wouldn’t hesitate to tell him no if I didn’t want to do something in bed. “I’ve only told you I didn’t want to do something a few times,” I remind him, taking my place in front of the window where I know he likes to watch me strip.

“That’s because you’ve only ever not wanted to do something a few times,” Cash smirks. “You like it as much as I do.”

Sy seems to relax, just a little, and actually rests his weight on the bed instead of hovering over it. I suppose that a chair might have been preferable; the assumptions that are made when being invited into a bed probably aren’t the best, but the way the bedroom is set up makes sitting in the chairs awkward, and he definitely wouldn’t have a very good view. Besides, I think this is Cash’s strange attempt to ease tension between them.

I start by moving to the music, gently swaying and twisting my hips. I enjoy it, dancing, moving like this, knowing I’m turning them on. I liked dancing when I was younger, the few times I snuck out and went to illegal underage clubs, but after the brothel the thought of performing for someone made my stomach churn. It was debasing, then; I knew I looked awful, and it was just a precursor to sex I didn’t want. But I want it, now, and Cash doesn’t debase me, he values me. I can only guess that Sy feels the same, because it doesn’t seem like anything could make him feel that way about me.

I remove my shirt, carefully playing with the hem, teasing with little bits of skin here and there. I’ve been facing away from them until now, looking at the closed blinds and missing the skyline that usually serves as a background. Now I turn, looking first at Cash, taking in his sly smile. He always looks so content while he’s watching me.

I play with my shirt a little more, slipping it over my head and tossing it aside before turning to Sy. He doesn’t look as uncomfortable as he did a minute ago, but I can’t tell if he’s enjoying it or not. His face has that stone expression that he gets when he doesn’t want to reveal more about himself, like he might be hurt if he actually reveals that he likes something. I take a few more steps toward him, swaying my body back and forth and smiling, hoping to get some response out of him.

I don’t fail. He smiles and leans back a little, looking embarrassed in a way I’ve never seen from him. It’s not a bad thing; at least, I don’t think it is. I think he likes it, which encourages me.

I move my hands to the waistband of my pants, trailing my thumbs around the inside. I pause at the button, then take a few steps closer to Sy, thrusting my hips out at him, glancing at him with a questioning look on my face. I toy with the button again, glancing at him, prompting him as I nearly straddle his legs.

Finally, he gets it, reaching out and unbuttoning my pants. I keep eye contact with him, trying to encourage him. He eases the zipper down, almost chaste, like he’s hesitant to touch me. I’d push farther, if I knew he liked it, but I’m not sure. I keep rolling my hips just inches away from his legs as I slide my pants down, leaving me wearing only a tight, black pair of underwear.

I try to keep things balanced, making my way over to Cash, smiling when he sits up and slides over to the edge of the bed to meet me. We’ve done this before, plenty of times, and he knows the game. He reaches out, capturing my hips in a firm grasp, and pulls me close, forcing me to straddle his knee. I let out a small sound as I feel him making contact with my cock, and it’s all I can do not to throw myself on top of him and beg him to fuck me.

I don’t, though, because I am still putting on a show.

Instead, I grind against him, keeping it slow and smooth and not as stimulating as a certain part of me would like. He reaches back to cup my ass possessively, lifting me up onto my toes and tipping me back, keeping me off balance. I know he won’t let me fall.

After a few moments, he lets me sit up again, and I slide off his leg, dipping my hand down into my underwear, touching myself. It feels good, but I don’t let it feel too good. After all, we’re just beginning.

I glance over at Sy, who’s watching with wide eyes. He’s never really seen me touch myself, and I can tell it’s affecting him nicely. I slowly strip the underwear off, toying with my cock as I do, swaying to the music. I’m naked, finally, and I make my way over to Sy, curious to how he’ll respond.

Again, he leans back like he’s afraid to touch me. I come up between his legs, pressing my body against his, and I lean over, nuzzling up against his neck.

I whisper in his ear, “Is this okay?” I doubt Cash can hear, although I’m sure he would be fine with the question if he could.

“I think so…” Sy says, but he seems uncertain.

Cash does pick up on that part, and he looks at both of us with a worried expression. “Syrus, is there something making you uncomfortable?”

Leave it to Cash to be disgustingly transparent.

Sy gulps a little; the question has made him less comfortable, instead of more. “I don’t want to do anything that you would disapprove of, sir.”

“I invited you in here,” Cash reminds him. “If you or Sascha do anything I don’t like, I’ll tell you. Right now, I just want you to enjoy yourself. Sascha’s having fun. Follow his lead. You have my permission to touch him. He’ll tell you if he doesn’t like something.”

Sy turns red at the clear instructions, but he nods, turning back to face me. I smile at him, hoping I can encourage him. I can feel his cock growing hard where I’m pressed up close to him, so I know he’s interested. I’m surprised to realize that he’s nervous, because he is so rarely nervous. His hands come up, lightly touching my sides, running up and down over my hips like he’s afraid he’ll break me. I sigh, enjoying the touch, the way his hands seem to cover so much of my body. I catch his eye and he smiles, looking shy for a minute. I pretend this is our first time ever touching each other, and it isn’t very hard to pretend, because this is the first time we’ve touched each other for real, not for someone else’s enjoyment or to prove a point.

Well, Cash is enjoying it, but that’s different.

I grind against him, his clothes rough against my bare skin, but I don’t mind. I want him to be a bit more assertive with me; maybe not as rough as Cash is, but he’s barely touching me, and I want more. I take his hand in mine and press it firmly to my chest, pulling it down, giving him the idea of what I want before letting his hand go. He takes the hint, touching me firmly, trailing his hand down to almost touch my cock, then backing off.

I whine, because I really did want that.

Cash laughs and I remind myself to tease him more on his next turn. I keep moving against Sy, slithering my body over his, wishing he were naked so I could feel his skin. I’m not sure whether I should ask him or not.

The song changes and I take it as my cue to disentangle myself from Sy, pleased when I see that he is flushed and excited. I make my way over to Cash, and I’m barely within arm’s reach before he grabs me by the arm and pulls me down on top of him, kissing me roughly as he holds me in place by my hair. I probably should be embarrassed to enjoy this so much while Sy is watching, but I really can’t feel anything other than turned on.

After Cash breaks off the kiss, leaving me panting and dizzy, he pushes me to my feet again.

“Undress me,” he orders, his voice deceptively soft. I take my time, pleased by the knowledge that he gets frustrated when I take too long. Unbuttoning his shirt is an agonizing process, and I slide it over his shoulders, down his arms, teasing him. I wonder if Sy enjoys the show as much as Cash enjoyed watching him and me. I hope he does.

As usual, Cash loses patience by the time I reach his pants, and he bats my hands away and strips them off in seconds. Now that he’s naked, his cock seems so demanding, pointing up at me. I take it in my hand and just hold it, not stroking him, just teasing as he tries to maintain his composure.

“You’re a fucking tease, Sascha,” he mutters, making no move to correct that.

I smile, squeezing a little, resisting the urge to make him moan by jerking his cock like I usually do. The sharp intake of breath lets me know I’m on the right track.

“Syrus, come here,” Cash says, his voice still breathy. He’s looking at me when he says it, which is perhaps why he misses the nervous look on Sy’s face.

Ever obedient, Sy moves across the bed, closer to the head of the bed where Cash and I are situated. If it were me, I would have crawled, but Sy somehow manages to just slide over, his sturdy body somehow so graceful. He stops a few inches from Cash, a solid, emotionless expression hiding the apprehension that his body shows.

“Is there something you would like me to do, master?”

It’s a simple question, but I’ve long realized that few things are simple with Sy, and Cash knows it as well. Sy addresses Cash as “master” much more frequently than I do, which fits with how proper he is all the time. Right now, it signals something else, and Cash notices it instantly. He extracts himself from the haze of sex we are lost in and looks seriously at Sy.

“I wanted you closer so I didn’t have to yell over the music,” Cash explains, his voice calm, yet a little apologetic. “As you can see, we’ve moved past stripping, and I wanted to make it completely clear to you that you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. You don’t have to join if you don’t want to. I do hope you enjoyed yourself, enjoyed Sascha. I would personally appreciate it if you decided to stay, but I hope you don’t feel pressured. That was never my intention.”

Sy nods, considering it. “If I stay, would you like me to take off my clothes?”

I can’t detect an emotion from him; his question seems routine.

“It’s up to you,” Cash shrugs. “It might be more enjoyable if you do, but you choose to do what you’d like.”

Sy nods again, not making a movement either way.

“I think you should,” I say playfully, leaving Cash for a moment to crawl over to Sy. I reach him, and I place my hands on his legs, marveling at the strong muscles I can feel even through his clothes. “Come on, the atmosphere here is way better than the detention facility!”