Out of the Embers

Iason ignored the harsh, poorly veiled warning of these words, Raoul's gently concealed threat against Iasons 'pet, in his care and property. He knew it would do no good at the moment to attack Raoul, for his speech ran true. And he had the backing of Jupiter, something Iason could not claim for himself at the moment. There were definite dangers and disrepute abound, especially when dealing with the supercomputer, Jupiter.

Iason felt these words, their implications with a strong but wearied heart. Would it be like last time, before the fire, when he'd tethered dangerously on unseen lines with his Pet? Jupiter had made her displeasure known even then, but he'd kept her at bay with his clean record. Now he was not as sure he had the same liberty. What now... He would have been able to go forward with his remembrance and contemplation but his nerves were shot and... and something less too...

"Ooh," the Blondie gave an involuntary moan.

All went silent in the room as Iason pitched forwards, the grand stature of the Blondie giving way to him falling afront. Commotion rang out as the two inside reacted. Raoul gave a deep startled gasp and went to Iason's side at once. His hands were fratically pressing at various point of his body while his face remained a mask of cool Blondie reserve. The technician responded more professionally, speaking into a receptor built onto the lapel of his uniform. In a clipped professional voice, he called for assistance.

Next he made his way to the set of Blondies, one convulsing, and the other hunched over him as though a shadow. He edged Raoul back as much as he dare, Am being of more stature than he, and assessed Iason Mink. One hand at his chest, the other between the tensing shoulder blades, his ear pressed to the pale skin, where he paused, listened again, and stood back. Into his lapel he called off the code he'd order just moments ago, and instead ordering a small indecipherable treatment.

Raoul, calmed in the presence of a professional taking over, turned at the man, his lips tightened and drawn paler over his ivory Elite skin. "What are you doing?" he demanded, seemingly ready to lunge at the tech for his alleged inactivity.

"He's stable; I see no need for an entire team," the tech stated, attempting to struggle out of his formidable grip with unsuprising failure, "It's only a natural result from the stress he's sustained since he awoke. And, " he seemed to stifle a sniff of sorts," not returning to bed rest even when clearly recommended."

"Fluids will cure him," the tech added in defense of his change of program," at least briefly, until he recuperates from the amount of antagonism he's inflicted." His tone indictated that even medical technicians were not susceptible to bais.

"This 'antagonism'" Raoul said with a sneer of contempt," was what I was trying to keep away from him. As his Proprietor, this is exactly what I was selected to take care of for him."

"My understanding is that the patient's Pet had something to do with this," the attendant stated boldly, perchance not realizing his foolishness.

"If not for your lax security then he would have never been permitted in here!" Raoul all but bellowed, his temperament taking over, the abrupt nature of the attendant consuming any tactful restraint he normally weilded with grace and Blondie stength levelness.

"According to what I heard," the man replied back in a low tone, seemingly unafraid of where he might be heading," it was your task to keep the creature restrained within the confines of your own home. Why you have failed at that is beyond me. What my concerns are is the well-being of Patient Mink."

Raoul took a meaning step around towards the other side of the bed, before Iason's paled voice reached him. "Leave your tender pride be, Raoul. Allow him to practice his craft and then tend to your own bruised pride."

"Very wise Sir Mink," the technician replied in distracted gratitude.

"And you do well to remember that you hear nothing that is said within these walls, save for my medical care." Iason softly retorted, his attention turned there.

"But... of course," he fell to his task after his stumble. He reached for a derma-fold injection, a micro syringe that left no impression and the pain of a scratch as it did its work. "This is a light sedative, this time guaranteed to put you in the state of rest you need. "

"If I need this," Iason stated as he drifted off. His eyelids grew dense as he struggled against the lethargy plaguing his body and the added influence of the narcotic.

"You do, sir," he replied softly as the great Blondie eased out of his thoughts and the conscious world. He fell back into peals of darkness.

Raoul watched as the technician rechecked his friend’s vitals, after it was clear Iason had fallen into deep slumber. He wrote a few things on a local pad, and stood.

"How long would you recommend before he actually fully... better?" Raoul asked him," Ready, I mean, for the reconstructive surgery. "

"Just what's on the list. There is no way to rush this procedure. Added with the requiem Lady Jupiter has concerning him, nothing can be further rushed than already is."

"I understand." Raoul also stood," Please, take care of him. I must leave now."

The technician merely nodded, and Raoul went swiftly to the door. Riki was waiting outside at the door, tension in his features. Raoul, with a simple look on his face only directed at the mongrel, moved past him, a brief turn of the golden head assuring that Riki wasn't trying to sneak back to Iason, or dally in any sort of way.

After a moment spent looking at the closed entryway, Riki moved in step with the Blondie.

****

Dreams plagued Iason. Images of his childhood, his early entrance into Elite society, his acquisition of pretty lean Pets, temptations of appealing flesh, and finally Riki. Riki had been a new trinket to observe, tease. Tease himself and the mongrel, both at the same time.

The fiery spirited young man had amused him in the beginning, his angry facade in the wake of a powerful Blondie intoxicating. Other pets had coyly showed deference, kneeling and simpering at his feet. Riki had fought against his control, refusing to broadly show off his goodies to a voyeuristic Iason. And especially so when other pets had flaunted shamelessly.

It had appealed to Iason on so many levels... now what was there?

Riki loved having Iason pay him attention, at the end of their relationship, before the bazen finale. He hid it, held back by some slum notion to never give oneself up to a socially superior power, but Iason saw it in the way that Riki responded. He played under Iason's hand like a fine tuned, handsomely crafted instrument. The way Riki reached towards him before remembering himself and pulling back.

Now... where did they stand?

One of the greatest tools Iason held over his pet was gone. An elongated extension, a medium which Iason strung with fine long hands. Of course, he liked to think the enjoyable wild base sex they enjoyed was only a small part of the affections his pet shared for him.

Was there hope for his reattachment? Iason liked to think so but the harsh reality loomed. Just how able was that region to be saved? It had been a long term since the incident happened; scar tissue and the body’s frantic attempts to save itself by shutting of anything that wasn't vital to essential survival. While Riki’s mongrel pride might insist it was important, Iason himslef knew he'd rather have a live, penile lacking lover than one that was dead but intact.

But... how would things be now? Once, and if, he recuperated fully, would Jupiter allow him free reign with his Pet? Could he even be called such a thing? A Pet, traditionally, was there for the visual enjoyment of the Master and his guests; all those whom he'd have partake of a Pet's youthful pleasures.

For Riki not to be fully male... Silly. Female Pets performed just as well, through the assistance of clear or strobed implements. Iason allowed himself a feeling of amusement to pass. No, Riki's performance for others wasn't what he wanted.

What mattered was how he pleased Iason.

Where that would take them now Iason didn't know. In the beginning of their intimate relationship, he'd teased the mongrel with aphrodisiacs and other Pets to tempt the flesh. Never once did he let the mongrel fulfill his needs unless it was for Iason's viewing pleasure. Even then the mongrel would be reluctant.

"How can you do this," Iason had asked leisurely of his Pet, once long ago," Try so hard for so hard to release on your own accord but wilt when from under my hand?"

That earned him a glare of the vicious sort, and a return to a stubbornness not seen for weeks.

All that had truly changed after Iason took the dark haired captive into the bedroom. It actually had to. In his bedroom exploits with his pet, Iason was pleased with a smooth entry and ah, transaction. Pet oil was harsh and mixed generously with small grinding pebbles that made entry painful for both parties. This assured that Pets wouldn't get too eager and go off on their own without their Master's consent.

Iason, after a difficult experiment with the standard Pet oil- involving a swearing, sweating, teary-eyed, and furious Riki, took a different approach in acquiring a slick substance to use for easy entry. It involved a length of cord and a firm grip on a set of darkened flushed knees.

Blondies were proportionally bigger in comparison to the average human and mongrel, and for what Riki shouted about against his hard girth, he moaned easily with the length of Iasons tongue. Using skills that had only picked experience in watching Pets play together and his own attempts to suck from a stubborn straw as a youth.

With a mouth full of hot white, he turned the sated prone Pet over. He moved without resistance. Breathing deeply against the exertion, Riki's head turned off to the side slightly, his eyes watching as his blushing cheeks watch for what happens next. The Blondie hadn't swallow, he could see, nor had he spit out.

Instead his cheeks were almost obscenely puffed, holding in a supply to what was to happen next. Strong arms holding his hips, dragging them vertical, upward, and parting flesh. Leaning in deep he releasing the spending in his mouth, forming a small trial dripping from his lower back right to the spiral. A few probes of his pointer middle fingers, to ensure the makeshift lotion took inside, and Iason was ready.

Ignoring the faint bemoaned whine from below, Iason took position, and enjoyed the penetration without gritting ground stones in the formula.

And so it continued. It would start out in much the same way, and as it progressed, they lost the cord, and Riki eagerly presented himself. Sometimes Iason would offer a limber hand if he was feeling less than amorous, and nothing more than a blunt entry after.

He recalled the story to Raoul at one point, and the buttery haired Blondie had looked revolted.

"Why not just use a bottle of the cooking oil?" he questioned, disturbed at the manner of activity occurring.

Iason had given a sporting laugh. "Why? Waste good sherry olive oil?"

This had been, of course, before he'd fallen intensely for his Pet. When things had still been euphoric of state.

Before, Iason thought now, as he pulled back into reality an indiscriminant amount of time later, it was all a dream...