Who's Lower--A Whore or His Slave?

Samael lounged naked on the bed, his nudity barely covered by the sheets.

"Who's the whore now, ice boy?" he teased. His voice was low and rich, and reminiscent of melted chocolate. "I have you all to myself, now--I'm supposed to teach you, in fact. Your job is to do everything I say. I can't wait to put on your collar."

The tall and hunched over man felt his bare neck subconsciously. The idea of it collared both excited and horrified him. He backed up against the nearby wall, as far from the bed as he could be. He refused to look at Samael.

"Still you," Njall insisted, though he swallowed nervously. He sounded as cold as he looked and inevitably felt. "And if you think I'm going to do what you say, then you're just as stupid as you look."

"Just because you're as stupid as you look, doesn't mean everyone is," he purred softly, beckoning him closer with a finger. "Come on. If you're good, I'll be gentle when I fuck your brains out."

"No!" He replied instantly, flattening himself against the wall. "I'm not...I don't care what...I don't care what that midget says, I'm not fucking listening to you, or doing what you say."

He furrowed his eyebrows.

"...the fuck do you want me anyway?" he asked, frowning deeper.

He chuckled. "I have my reasons. Now get over here before I have to get you." He stood, revealing the whole of his slim physique. His pale skin was dotted with freckles, from his head to his toes.

"I'll whip you if I have to. I'm told I'm quite good at it." He smiled, revealing two small fangs among his otherwise perfect white teeth.

Njall felt his ears fold down against his neck as he swallowed. He tried not to imagine the whipping, or those small fangs on his neck. He also managed only a very small glance at the man's body.

"I'm not going to listen to you, you...gross, STD-ridden whore," he spat, though he didn't look at Samael.

Samael quickly pressed him against the wall with his body, grabbing him by the hair.

"You're as cold as ice, doll. Let me fix it."

"If you make me too hot, I'll die," he warned quickly, but warm beads of sweat had already begun to form on his face.

He ran his very warm tongue over Njall's lips.

"I don't have to make you hot--I can be kind. But you're being very disagreeable." He cupped his cheek in his hand. "You should feel lucky, right? Do you have any idea how much people have paid me to boss them around before?"

"A-as if I care," Njall replied, though the tips of his ears had began to turn quite red, as had his cheeks. "If you think I'm just going to let you...do...whatever it is you're planning on doing, you're wrong, you know. I have more dignity than you, whore."

He grabbed Njall's junk through his pants and squeezed, his smile fading slightly.

"I'm not a whore--I'm a performer. But you know that, you sissy, piece-of-shit nobody. You're just forgetting your manners."

He backpedaled immediately.

"Y-you're right, I'm really sorry, er, Samael..." he whimpered pathetically. His ears were pressed so tightly against his neck they dug into the skin.

He smiled again.

"Do you think I'm pretty...I'm sorry, I've forgotten your name. It starts with a 'J,' right? Whatever your name is, you think I'm pretty, don't you?"

"It's Njall, Ni-awl," he snapped. "And no, I don't think you're...pretty."

He frowned, though he was somewhat afraid to be feisty this time around.

"You're a bad liar," he replied, squeezing again. "Or, if you don't think I'm pretty, you're pathetic--I can feel you getting hard, right now. How pathetic is that?" He loosened his hold on Njall's genitals.

And that was precisely why he had been afraid. Even so, he was just glad when Samael let go of his sensitive bits. Yet, he could feel the shame wash over him, and he wished it felt more unfamiliar.

Njall knew the answer was to Samael's question was "very pathetic", as he knew that's what he was, but he wasn't about to admit it.

"You're some sort of incubus, you're doing...something," he insisted, hoping to cling to whatever dignity he had left. There wasn't much.

He laughed at that.

"You're finally catching on, huh?" He kissed him on the cheek. "I've been dying to get this close to you for a while--an asshole like you deserves a sore ass for at least a week. Me? A whore?"

He reached into his pants.

"How do you like being fucked? Go on, don't be shy--tell all."

Njall squirmed, hoping to discourage him.

"Unlike you," he began, clenching his teeth. "I don't like...this."

It was only partially a lie. The truth was, Njall had never had good sex. Nobody liked him enough, and the few times he'd gotten lucky, the other party had either almost died or lost interest after they realized how frigid he was. It had discouraged him from actively looking for sex for at least two decades.

"What a shame. The only person in the world who doesn't want sex with me is my official fuck toy. You have horrible luck, don't you?"

He pulled down Njall's pants and got on his knees, planting warm kisses on his stomach and stroking him with a hand.

Njall watched him, face red. He felt hot, which for him made him almost the same temperature as a normal human. Though he tried to look offended, his ears were no longer pressed deep against his neck, and they had moved into a much more relaxed position, betraying his true feelings.

"...you really...don't," he mumbled. "You...I mean...don't."

He licked the tip of his cock, running his tongue all over the head repeatedly.

"Funny," he said, kissing him along the shaft, "You don't feel so cold right now. It's like you want me to take you into my mouth."

Njall swallowed, feeling a bead of sweat run down his neck.

"...no," he insisted, but it was a quiet denial.

He patted him on the butt and stood, waltzing back to his large bed.

"Well, if you want that, you'll suck me off first, because it's the only way you're going to get anything."

Njall clenched his fists.

"No!" he shouted, and suddenly he was back to his regular, frozen self. He pulled up his pants and fixed them. "Fuck you, you fucking...no! I'm not...gonna...you're not gonna toy with me, you ass!"

He glared at Samael, willing himself to stay put and not join him on the bed.

He snorted.

"Was that rebellion, Njall? Do I have to put on your collar early?"

He reached for something on his nightstand, and dangled tauntingly in the air; it was a jeweled leather collar, and it looked very much like it was intended for a dog.

"Now, I told you to come over here and suck my cock."