Part One

I stood on the platform, under the spotlight and tried to make out the faces of the men and women who were currently bidding. I had always known that this day would come, but I wasn't truly prepared for the reality of the moment. Being trained to be a Personal Companion and actually being offered up on the auction block were two very different things entirely. I knew that this was where all those years of training were going to lead, but… I guess I never really let myself believe that my father would actually go through with selling his own son into slavery.

That's what personal companions are: slaves. Society may put pretty titles on the tradition in order to assuage their guilt and diminish their culpability, but the truth is that I was raised from the time I was seven years old to be a slave. I was taught every useful skill—everything from how to manage a household to how to give my master sexual pleasure—for ten years so that one day I could be put up for auction like a prized cow or an antique vase.

I vaguely recall a time before the training. I had a mother who loved me and doted on me. But she died in a car accident and life changed drastically after that. My father remarried and his new wife didn't like the idea of having me around, a reminder of his former life and competition for his money when he dies. Then I made the mistake of asking my father why I never saw two boys kissing on television and he was all too pleased to send me off for training as a personal companion, a PC. I went from being his beloved son Justin to being that worthless faggot boy in a heartbeat. I didn't even understand what was wrong with what I had asked; I was too young to understand about sex or sexuality or bigotry. But I was old enough to understand hatred and rejection.

Most PCs are carefully selected and recruited to go into the training programs. We are the best of the best. We are the smartest and most beautiful that money can buy. While I arrived at the training facility in an unusual manner—my stepmother was an old friend of one of the recruiters—I fit the criteria or else they wouldn't have accepted me. Most children are recruited between the ages of three and seven, so I made it just under the wire. They don't like taking children any older because it is more difficult for them to cut ties to their old life.

Once accepted to the training program, families were either paid a set fee or they retained a right to a percentage of the final sale price. If one could afford to wait for the auction, they could make a lot more money than they would if they accepted the dowry payment. As my father was rather wealthy, I knew that he had opted to wait for the bigger payoff. Sure it was a ten year investment, but the dowry was only a fraction of what the potential purchase price would be.

At the training center, the only contact we were allowed with the real world came through television and the internet, though even that was closely monitored. One of my peers was ejected from the training center for breaking the rules regarding online contacts. She befriended a boy on the outside and they had chatted online several times before she was caught. Personal companions aren't allowed to have relationships with anyone but our masters, our owners. Even friendships between trainee companions were strongly discouraged. She was sent away almost immediately, and since she had been sold to the center, her family was forced to repay the dowry they were given when she arrived. Rumor had it that she was not welcomed home by her angry parents and ended up on the streets, using the skills she had been taught in the center as a prostitute.

I know that if I had been expelled, my father would not have taken me back, so I believe there is truth to that rumor. But I made it through training and, days after my seventeenth birthday, was brought forward for auction.

Personal companions are not common. We are rare and we are expensive. Only the very wealthy can afford a PC. We are a status symbol. But no matter how rare and valuable we are, we are still nothing more than property, slaves bound to our owners and forced to provide for their needs, whatever they may be. There are laws to protect us, sure, but we are still nothing more than objects, pretty and functional, like a piece of art that will also do the laundry or give a blow job if you want it too. The blow job is more likely, though, since most owners have staff that is paid to take care of the more mundane chores.

I said that there are laws to protect us, and that is true. Unlike the slavery that was abolished during the Civil War, personal companions are protected by the same laws that oppress us. We are chattel and have no right to freedom. But we can only be sold once, and it must be between our 17th and 21st birthdays. I knew of a boy who had been scarred in a fire. He went to auction every month for four years and was never purchased. When he turned 21, they just set him loose. He was free. Of course, after more than ten years of training to be a slave, he had no idea how to survive in the world and we soon received word that he had committed suicide.

Once we are purchased, however, our owner cannot sell us. Legally. We can be gifted to another owner, but legally we are not to be sold again. It happens, of course, but usually in roundabout ways like under the table business deals. We aren't allowed to be rented out, but we can be asked to entertain our master's guests. We aren't whores, more like courtesans.

That night was my first auction. I'm not sure what I was looking for as I searched through the crowd of faces, but a part of me hoped that my father would be there to take me home, to say it was all a big mistake. Rationally, I knew it wouldn't happen, but…. Hope may be a useless emotion, but it is one that is difficult to overcome.

I knew that I would fetch a good price. I had been told over the years that between my looks, my skills in the bedroom, my intelligence and artistic gifts that there would be no way I wouldn't be snatched up right away. I don't say that out of conceit but because it was one of those things that I heard often enough over the years that I knew it to be the truth. The bidding began and I prayed that I would not be purchased by one of the female voices I could hear. I wasn't completely certain why the thought of being owned by a woman put me off, but it did. In fact my lessons on pleasuring a woman had always been much more difficult for me than those on pleasuring a man.

The opening price, standard for all personal companions, was soon doubled, and then tripled. I lost track after that. I know that even the auctioneer seemed surprised at how high the bidding went. I can admit to some sense of pride that I was so well sought.

And then the bidding was over and the auctioneer banged his gavel and I was ushered from the platform. I was not taken to my new master right away. We were compelled to wait until the financial transaction was complete. In fact, there were two others who had already been sold that night waiting in the side chamber with me. We were soon joined by one more. There were seven of us who were up for bid that night, so I must assume that three were sent back to the center un-purchased. I was glad I was not with them, and yet I was envious of them for having one more month of that familiar life.

When at last I was introduced to my new master, I didn't think much of him. He appeared to be in his late sixties and well dressed. He seemed pleasant enough but there was nothing about him that compelled me to love him or even like him. He wasn't good looking or ugly. He was just… there.

I followed him to the car and to my new life.

BJBJBJBJBJ

Living with James Marston wasn't bad. He treated me more like a pet than a servant. And sex with him was rather tame. He was one of those super rich men who liked to believe they are totally straight, but whose uptight wife would never dream of giving him head. So he bought me and I fulfilled the one duty his wife refused. In exchange, he gave me a small but comfortable room in the servants' wing and left me to my own devices. I was only trotted out when he wanted head or when he wanted to impress friends or business contacts with his wealth.

That was how I finally met Brian. I had been with Marston for two years at that point and was not surprised when he ordered me to come to his weekly poker game to entertain his guests. Like him, they were supposedly straight men who enjoyed receiving head from the pretty blond PC Marston had bought. I didn't really mind. I like giving head. The act of fellatio gives me a sense of power and control over my partner. It is a rare feeling to have in a life such as mine.

That evening, there was a new face among the familiar poker night attendees. Marston introduced him to his friends as Brian Kinney. He was in Chicago on business, attempting to woo Marston from his current advertising agency. Marston had invited him over for the game after a rather impressive presentation that day.

As soon as he walked through the door, I knew that I wanted that man to own me. It was one of the few times I allowed my training to fall away for a brief moment and make direct eye contact with a man not my master. He was beautiful, with a body like a Greek god and eyes that a man could drown in. He was intelligent and charismatic; he had those jaded business men eating from the palm of his hand within minutes and I would not be surprised to find out that they came to him within the weeks that followed to throw their business his way.

He was also a very good poker player, much better than any of the men in the room that night. I watched in fascination as he slowly routed each and every man there. And yet he did it in such a way that not one of them resented him for taking their money. And then Marston got a hand that he believed to be unbeatable and wanted to win something back.

"The rules state that you can only bet what you have brought with you to the table," Carl Green reminded Marston when he wanted to put an IOU into the pot. He just didn't have enough money to match Brian's bank at that point.

And then Marston's eyes turned to me where I was giving head to another of his friends who had already lost all his money to Brian. My eyes widened in surprise as I heard him say, "I'll put in the PC then."

Brian Kinney eyed me up and down as I knelt before this almost repellant man and I couldn't help but put my all into the task at hand. I wanted him to want me. I wanted him to accept the bet and win me. I don't know why, but there was just something about that man that called out to me.

The alcohol had been flowing freely, but I don't remember Brian drinking more than a couple bourbons, so I know he was sober as he was weighing his options. "Are you sure you want to do that, James?"

I knew that Brian didn't want to accept the bet. I wasn't sure if it was because he was afraid of pissing Marston off if he stole his prized pet from him or because he really didn't want me, but I know he wasn't given much choice in the end.

"I wouldn't have said it if I wasn't sure," Marston told him. "Win or lose, I don't welsh on bets. So, are you in or out?"

The undercurrent in the room was tense and even the man I had been blowing pulled away to go watch the exchange. I understood that to refuse the bet would be an insult and Brian knew it as well. "Alright," Brian finally said. "I'm in."

From there it was mere moments before they were laying down their cards. Marston had a full house, kings over threes. It was a great hand, but Brian had a full house as well, aces over sixes. He had won and I was in shock.

"Justin, go get your things together," Marston told me.

I very much wanted to stay and hear what the two men would say to each other, but I knew better than to disobey a direct order. I went to my room and began packing my clothes and art supplies. There wasn't much that I could call mine. In truth, nothing is actually mine, but there are things that were bought for my use and those were the things I packed into the backpack and duffle bag that I carried back to the den where Marston and Brian were waiting.

The other men had all gone by the time I returned. I was pleased to note that Marston was smiling good-naturedly and didn't look resentful over his loss. I wanted Brian to succeed and I knew that making an enemy of a man as powerful as James Marston could end a man's career. Brian seemed to realize this as well, because I could see relief behind his façade of good humor.

"You've been a good companion, Justin," Marston said as he patted my shoulder with fondness. "I'll miss having you around." Perhaps that was true, but I knew that there would be another PC to take my place soon enough, just as I had replaced the PC before me. Marston would soon forget about me because I was nothing more than a toy for his amusement.

"You have been a kind master," I replied with a small polite smile. "Thank you, sir, for everything you have done for me."

And with that, I followed Brian out the front door of Marston's mansion and to the waiting hired car.

Part Two

Brian was silent the entire ride to his hotel, but the moment we entered his suite he swore. "What the fuck am I supposed to do with a personal companion? God damn rich fucks buying and trading people like property. Fuck!"

I just stood in the entryway and stared as he continued to rant for more than ten minutes. He tossed back several shots of bourbon from the suite's bar and paced the room. He was beautiful like this, like a caged tiger, and I couldn't help but long to sketch him with that fire in his eyes. I didn't mind that he apparently didn't want a PC. I didn't take it personally. He didn't know me. I thought that given enough time, I could prove to him how good it would be to keep me around. And in the meantime, I kept silent and observed my new master.

"Well, what are you doing just standing there?" Brian finally asked once his ire had run out.

"I was waiting for your instructions, sir," I said demurely, my eyes once again cast to the floor but I peeked up in time to see Brian roll his eyes at my response.

"First of all, the name is Brian. Use it," Brian said. He sat down on the suite's sofa and patted the cushion beside him. "And you're Justin. Justin what?"

"Justin Taylor," I told him as I obediently took the seat beside him. He put his arm around me and pulled me close to his side.

"Well, Justin Taylor, if nothing else, you are beautiful," Brian told me before he claimed my lips in a heated kiss. It had been some time since I had been kissed. At the center, they put more emphasis on other aspects of pleasing one's partner and Marston and his buddies had never been fond of touching me other than to get their cocks sucked. But Brian was a master at kissing. He put our instructor at the center to shame. I wondered idly whether he was better than any of the other sex instructors. I wanted to find out.

When he broke the kiss, Brian looked into my eyes. "Tell me Justin, when was the last time you had a hot hard cock up your ass?"

I blinked at him with a mixture of lust and wonder. I was still dazed from his kisses. "Never."

"Never?" I could tell Brian was surprised.

I shook my head. "Marston never wanted that. He only ever wanted me to suck his cock. I'm very good at that. And at the center they taught us how to prepare for penetration, but part of the value of a new companion is his or her virginity. I have never been fucked."

Brian's eyes held a light that I recognized as arousal, but he didn't continue kissing me. "How old are you?"

"Nineteen," Justin said. "I had my birthday a few weeks ago."

"And you've never been fucked," Brian said. "Such a shame. Maybe we'll have to change that."

"Now?" I asked.

Brian shook his head. "Not tonight. I'm in no mood for the patience it would take to make it good for you."

"My pleasure or comfort doesn't matter," I murmured, though secretly I was thrilled that he would consider my feelings and comfort over his own needs. I think that was the moment I fell in love with Brian Kinney. "I'm here for your pleasure."

"Yeah, well, fuck that," Brian said as he stood up and began stripping. "I get no pleasure from hurting a partner. I will let you suck my cock, if you'd like." I nodded eagerly. "Then, get naked and get into bed. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow and I want to test that mouth of yours out before I sleep."

And so I gave head to one more man that night, but this time I put everything into it and when Brian's come flooded my mouth, I came as well for the first time ever with another human and without a single touch to my cock. Brian seemed to find that hot and smirked at me before kissing me again. Afterward, Brian pulled the blankets up over the two of us and he held me until I fell asleep. Another first for me.

BJBJBJBJBJ

"You heard me Cynthia, I need another ticket for the flight home," Brian said. He was on the phone when I woke up the next morning. "It doesn't matter why he he's coming with me, just get the fucking ticket. The name is Justin Taylor."

"The airline will need to know my status," I reminded Brian.

He rolled his eyes at me but said into the phone. "Tell them he's a PC." Brian looked a bit irritated as he listened to whomever was on the other end of the call. "Fuck you, Cynthia. It wasn't my choice. I'll explain when we get in. And we got the account, thanks for asking."

He hung up the phone and stared at me. I was naked, not having bothered to dress after rising. It seemed pretty pointless when I wasn't sure what he would want of me. Besides, any modesty we might have learned as children was quickly forgotten once we were taken to the center.

"Get showered and dressed. We've got a flight in three hours," Brian said. "We need to leave in the next thirty minutes if we're going to make it on time."

"Yes, Brian," I said obediently and headed back to the bedroom to gather my clothes. I wasn't at all surprised when Brian followed me into the shower. His hands were all over me and I relished the feeling of his touch. But when he fell to his knees and began to suck my cock, I was both confused and exhilarated. They had not covered this in our training. Brian truly seemed to get off from giving me pleasure and when I came in his mouth, he was on the brink of coming as well. Only a few quick sucks from me and he was over the edge.

"That's the way to start the morning right," Brian smirked as he got to his feet and quickly finished his shower.

BJBJBJBJBJ

I had never flown anywhere before, but I knew that there were procedures that had to be followed for PCs like me. Brian was required to show my identification papers several times and, because of the GPS microchips that were implanted in my neck, hip and foot, we could not go through a normal security check. Apparently that was a good thing, since the line for PCs and their owners was almost empty. Of course, while most people went through a simple metal detector and x-ray machine, I was forced to submit to a strip search. Brian wasn't very happy with that, but he kept his temper and we were soon on our way to the gate.

Having spent most of my life behind closed doors either at the center or Marston's mansion, I had never seen so many people in one place before, so the airport was a real experience for me. My eyes were constantly trying to take in every new detail that I came across. Again, once at the gate, we were given special consideration and were boarded before the rest of the flight. By the time we actually made it onto the plane, I think my brain was in overload.

"There were so many people," I said with wonder.

"And they were all staring at us," Brian muttered. "You'd think you had a sign on you announcing your status."

"I think the lady at the desk out there spoke loud enough for most of the airport to hear," I said.

Brian snorted with amusement. "She was a bitch."

"She's not used to meeting a PC," I said. "Most people never do. We are rather rare and most people who own one keep them safely locked away."

"Sir, would you or your companion care for a beverage while we wait for the rest of the passengers to board?"

Neither of us had noticed the flight attendant's approach and Brian frowned at her. "Coffee." He turned to me. "You want anything?"

"May I have some juice, please," I asked him.

"You can have whatever the fuck you want," Brian told me.

"We have orange, apple or cranberry," the flight attendant told Brian.

Brian rolled his eyes and looked at me expectantly. I bit my lip. It was considered impolite for a stranger to address a person's PC directly and my training had taught me that I could neither address this woman nor make choices for myself, so I said to Brian. "I would like cranberry if you permit, Brian."

Brian huffed in annoyance. He turned to the woman who was still standing there awaiting Brian's instruction. "You heard him! Cranberry juice!"

Once she was gone, I timidly said, "She was only following protocol. She's not supposed to address me and I'm not supposed to address her."

"That is going to get very irritating," Brian said.

I bit my lip nervously. "I'm sorry Brian."

Brian sighed. "It's not your fault. This is all just seriously fucked up." He accepted both his coffee and my juice from the attendant and then handed me my drink. "I think you're going to have to educate me on what is proper 'protocol' for owning another human being."

"If that is your wish," I said. He glared at me but then nodded so I began to explain to him while the other passengers boarded. "Well, though I am now your property, there are certain protections in place for PCs. I cannot be sold again, but I can be gifted and only to one with the means to properly care for me. I am not allowed to speak to anyone else, and I am obligated follow no one's orders but yours, though you can temporarily assign another person to act in your absence. I cannot be rented out like a prostitute, but my services can be offered to others for free."

"I know most of this," Brian said. "I was talking more about this interacting with other people shit."

I nodded. "Okay. Well, as I said, I am not allowed to interact directly with another unless they are acting as your representative. For instance, in the two years I lived in the Marston mansion, I never once spoke to any of the servants or Mrs. Marston. I did speak with those men Marston had me service because, for that brief time, they were acting as his representative."

"I think I get it," Brian said. "It's bullshit, but I get it. And no one is allowed to approach you directly. Are these laws or just suggestions?"

"Um…" I wasn't quite sure I understood what he was asking, but I attempted to answer anyway. "It is the way I was taught. I do not believe there are laws against me speaking with another person, however."

"Good," Brian said. "In that case, we're going to come up with a few rules of our own, because I don't plan on being your go between forever."

"I don't understand," I said.

Brian sucked his lips between his teeth and then rolled his eyes. "Do you want to spend the rest of your life in my loft, never going anywhere?"

"Um… If that's your wish," I said.

"That wasn't my fucking question, Justin," Brian said. "What do you want?"

I thought about that. "I have enjoyed seeing other people today."

"Alright," Brian said smugly. "Then you're going to need to acquire a few skills. The first is the ability to talk to a waitress or flight attendant for yourself. I give you my explicit permission to order whatever the fuck you want when we eat out or whatever. Indefinitely. I'll let you know if I change my mind."

"But… won't they be uncomfortable talking to me?" I wondered. "That flight attendant certainly seemed like she would have been uncomfortable breaking protocol like that."

"Fine, if they know you're a PC, I'll speak for you," Brian conceded. "But, if they don't know what you are, you speak for yourself, okay?"

"Okay," I said. I had not even been with Brian for a day yet and he was already turning everything that I had been taught at the center upside-down.

"And when we get to Pittsburgh, you'll speak for yourself with my friends," Brian said. "I doubt a single one of them would know enough about PCs to even think to be offended. In fact they'd probably be more offended if you refused to speak to them directly."

"You'll tell me who that list includes?" I asked.

"I'll introduce you," Brian confirmed.

We were quiet for a time as the plane took off, but there was a concern that had been nagging at my mind since I heard Brian ranting the night before. "Brian, may I ask you a question?"

"Sure," Brian said. "In fact, take that as a given as well. I don't need to have every question prefaced by you asking permission."

I nodded. "I know you weren't very happy about winning me last night, but does that mean you'll be giving me away? I'd hate to learn all these new rules only to have to unlearn them later."

Brian sighed and leaned back in his seat. "Well, for the time being, I'm going to have to keep you. Marston was pretty adamant about that. And if I ever do give you away, I'll make sure that it's to someone I trust to take care of you properly. Alright?"

I nodded again. The truth was I didn't really want to go to another master, though I couldn't say why. I hadn't had any bad experiences to be afraid of, though we had all heard the stories about masters who had mistreated their PC. The truth was I just wanted to be with Brian. I didn't want to even think about him sending me away some day.

Part Three

Brian, as I discovered, didn't just work for an advertising agency; he was the owner of Kinnetik, Pittsburgh's newest agency and one of the best up and coming agencies in the country. He had built the business up from nothing over the past year and was now starting to get some of the biggest clients in the country. Like Marston Pharmaceuticals. His offices were nothing like I would have imagined, but they seemed fitting for Brian's brash and flashy demeanor. They were bright and modern and totally unique. When he mentioned that the building used to be a bath house, I wasn't really surprised.

I met Cynthia, the woman who had made the airline reservations and who was Brian's assistant. I also met Ted Schmidt, the CFO for Kinnetik. Brian didn't bother to introduce me to any of the other employees. But I was told that I was to address both Cynthia and Ted directly.

We were at the office for a few hours while Brian went over the meetings he had with Marston with his people. I stayed in his office and took out my sketch pad to begin drawing Brian. I had been itching to do so since first laying eyes on him and that was my first opportunity. I'm not sure how long Brian watched me after he returned, but when I looked up, he was standing in the doorway to his office and just staring at me.

"Yes, Brian?"

Brian shook his head. "You draw?" I nodded. "You any good?" I handed him my sketch pad and he accepted it. He flipped through the pages, sometimes only stopping for a second before moving on and sometimes pausing to consider whatever drawing he had found. "You interested in doing something with your talent?"

My eyes widened. "Like what?"

Brian rolled his eyes. "I own an advertising agency. What do you think?"

"I don't know anything about advertising," I said slowly. "I've only had lessons in the more traditional art forms: drawing, painting, sculpting."

"So we'd train you," Brian said with a shrug. "But it's up to you. If you'd rather spend all day scrubbing the toilet at the loft, that's up to you."

"I'd love to learn more," I said in a rush. "Anything you want to teach me."

"Let's go talk to Jim in the art department," Brian said. "And bring your sketch book."

We spent more than an hour talking to Jim about what I could do for the department and setting up a schedule for me to take lessons with Jim. I already knew how to use some of the graphic programs that Kinnetik used, but I had never had any formal training with the programs and it had been two years since I'd had access to those programs, so Jim wanted to tutor me to get me up to speed. He did say that he thought I had a real gift. That made me very proud, but more than that, I thought maybe I could make Brian want to keep me if I could do something great for his business.

BJBJBJBJBJ

We walked from Kinnetik to a diner nearby where Brian said I would meet more of his friends, those on the list of people I should feel free to address directly. It was already past dinner time and we hadn't eaten anything since grabbing a quick bite at the hotel that morning, so I was more than ready for food. I wasn't sure what to feel about meeting more of Brian's friends, but Cynthia and Ted seemed to take my presence in stride, and I was hopeful that the others would as well.

Again, as we walked, I took the time to look around me and observe all of the people and places we passed. The street we were on, Liberty Avenue, seemed to be teeming with men. There were a few women, too, but they were outnumbered probably four to one. And the most amazing thing about all of the people there? The men were with men and the women with women. At the center we were taught about both heterosexual and homosexual practices, but we were also taught about the prejudices of the majority of society. I had never imagined that a place like this, where men could openly kiss each other on the street, existed.

Brian led the way into the Liberty Diner and I followed closely on his heels as I had been trained. When Brian stopped, I stopped.

"Why's that twink following you?" I heard someone ask, but with Brian standing in front of me, I couldn't see to whom the voice belonged.

Brian noticed where I was standing and huffed with annoyance before pulling me forward to stand beside him. "Mikey, this is Justin. Justin, this is my best friend Michael. He's on the list."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Michael," I said quietly, without letting my eyes rise to meet his.

Michael stared at me and then turned to Brian. "Is this kid for real?"

Brian huffed in annoyance. "Mikey, Justin is a PC. My PC."

"A… a PC?" Michael said in wonder. "But… but you…"

"Yeah, I know," Brian said. "Leave it. He's here now, so get used to it."

Before Michael could reply, a very loud redheaded woman approached us and enfolded Brian in an apparently unwelcome hug, though he didn't push her away; he just looked very uncomfortable. "Hey Deb."

"Brian, I'm so glad you're home!" the woman said. "And who is this hot little number?" She looked me over. "Haven't seen you around before Sunshine."

"Debbie, this is Justin," Brian said.

"His PC," Michaels put in wryly.

"His PC?" Debbie asked. "Brian Kinney what have you done now?"

"It wasn't my fault," Brian said and amazingly the strong and confident man I had begun to know suddenly resembled a teen trying to justify himself to an irate parent. I later learned that Debbie really is like a mother to him so I suppose that it was a fitting response. "I was playing poker with a client and he insisted on putting Justin into the pot. I couldn't very well tell him no. The man is worth billions and his business will make Kinnetik a household name."

"You will not mistreat this boy," Debbie said fiercely. "If I find out that you have…"

"Don't worry," Brian huffed. "I'm not going to beat the kid into submission. I'm not like that, and I'd think you would know that." Debbie looked duly chastised and so Brian continued, "Besides, he's already too submissive as it is."

All eyes turned toward me then. Not because of what Brian had said—or not only for that reason—but because my stomach growled very loudly.

"Sorry," I muttered.

Brian rolled his eyes but Debbie got all motherly and ushered me to a booth and forced me to sit before she turned accusing eyes on Brian. "Did you not feed the boy? Well, he's going to eat now!"

A menu was shoved under my nose as Brian slid into the booth beside me. Michael took the seat across from us and he and Brian chatted while I looked over the selections. "Excuse me, Brian?"

"Yes, Justin?" Brian said with a smirk.

"You said I can have whatever I want?" I asked. I was used to just eating whatever was given to me. The idea of choosing for myself was still rather foreign to me.

"That's what I said," Brian confirmed.

I went back to looking at the menu and was almost overwhelmed with all the choices. When Debbie returned a minute later, I waited for Brian and Michael to order simply because I had no idea what to select. But then she turned to me and I had to make a choice. "Um… I can't decide. Everything looks good."

"Just pick something," Brian said.

I nodded and blindly pointed to something on the menu. I looked down and nodded again. "I'll have the cheese burger and fries. Oh, and a strawberry milkshake. With whipped cream. And a side of onion rings. Please."

"You got it, Sunshine," Debbie said with a smile.

Brian and Michael returned to their conversation and I attempted to follow what they were discussing, but it was mostly about people I had never met or things I didn't understand. It was easier to just watch the people in the diner in their unusual clothes and with their open affection for each other. I don't just mean sexual things. They bussed cheeks or hugged when they said hello or goodbye. They touched each other when they talked. They did things I had never seen men do together. Marston and his friends were always careful never to even look at each other in a way that could be considered anything but detached.

"People on television don't touch each other like this," I said distractedly, unintentionally drawing Brian and Michael's attention to me.

"What do you mean?" Michael asked.

I blinked and looked at him with wide eyes. "Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt."

"It's fine," Brian said. "But what did you mean?"

"I just mean that the men on television never kiss or hug each other like these men do," I said with a shrug. "This is nice."

"That's because Hollywood is made up of a bunch of homophobic breeders like the rest of the country," Brian said.

"Is everyone here gay?" I asked.

"On Liberty Ave? Pretty much," Michael said. "It's a place we can come and be ourselves. The rest of this city is pretty homophobic though."

"It's nice that this is here, then," I said.

"Does that mean you're gay?" Michael asked.

"I'm a PC," I said as if that explained everything. In my mind it did. As a PC, my preferences were not a consideration. I performed for my master or mistress and his or her guests no matter what.

"If you weren't a PC, would you rather have sex with a man or a woman?" Brian pressed.

"I…" I couldn't conceive of being asked a question like that and it confused me.

"How about this, do you remember a time before your training?" Brian asked. I nodded. "And do you remember thinking about kissing anyone?"

I shook my head but then nodded. "I didn't think about kissing someone myself. I saw two boys kissing in the park one day and asked my father why boys never kissed on TV. That's why he sent me to the center. But I remember thinking that those boys looked a lot more interesting than any of the people I had seen kissing before that."

"And in your training, did you like the training with men or women better?" Brian asked.

"Oh, with men, definitely," I said. I paused then. "Does that mean I'm gay?"

"Probably," Brian said with a shrug. "That's a good thing if you're going to be living with me."

I could see that. Brian didn't come across as blatantly gay but there was something about him that made it very clear that he was.

"With all the men who come and go from your loft I'd think even a PC would be shocked," Michael muttered.

"Jealous Mikey?" Brian teased with a smirk.

"No," Michael pouted but it was obvious that he was. Whether or not because he wanted all those men or because he wanted Brian for himself wasn't clear, but I figured it was probably a little bit of both. "Besides, I've got David now."

"How are things with Dr. David?" Brian asked.

"They're great," Michael gushed and set off on a long involved tale about the last date he and the other man had shared.

When the food came, I set to work eating it. It was absolutely great. At the center we were always given very healthy, low fat meals. At the Marston mansion, it was the same, though the house keeper would sometimes sneak in a bag of greasy kettle chips or a candy bar for me. We never talked, but I think she felt sorry for me or something. But this… this was greasy beef and cheese and mayonnaise all on one unhealthy sandwich. And the French fries and onion rings were loaded with more grease and fat. I couldn't hold back the moans of pleasure as I scarfed down every morsel of food set before me.

"How the fuck can you eat that shit?" Brian wondered out loud.

I shrugged. "Never had anything like this before, but it tastes really good." Brian's dry turkey sandwich reminded me of the food I had always eaten before, so I asked, "Why would you eat that when there are things like this to choose from?"

"Because this isn't loaded with saturated fat and cholesterol, not to mention how many calories you have just consumed in a single fucking meal." Brian said that and then stole one of my onion rings.

I began to feel a little guilty and decided that the next time we ate at a restaurant, I would just order whatever Brian ordered.

"Leave the kid alone," Debbie scolded Brian. "A burger every once in a while won't kill him. In fact, he could use a little meat on his bones." She turned to me. "You enjoy your food Sunshine and don't let this asshole upset you."

I gave her an uncertain smile. While I appreciated the sentiment, I really didn't want to displease Brian. I was relieved when Brian paid the bill and we were able to finally leave.

BJBJBJBJBJ

Brian's loft was a lot different than I expected. There were no walls except those that enclosed the bathroom. I wondered where I was going to sleep if there was only one bed. I knew we had shared the bed at the hotel, but I didn't think Brian was the type to share his bed with anyone on a regular basis. I was both right and wrong. Brian never shared his bed with anyone for anything but sex before me, but he made it very clear that night and every time I brought the subject up subsequently that he wanted me in his bed.

Brian showed me where I could store my things and then he was done being the gracious host. He took me into his arms and kissed me. It was like no kiss I had ever experienced before. It was hot and needy and passionate. I knew this was not just a kiss, but foreplay. And my body seemed to know that as well, because I hardened almost immediately. Pressed so close to his body, there was no way that Brian couldn't know it as well.

"Do you want this?" he asked.

"I want this," I said, completely honest. "I want you."

"Good," Brian said.

He slowly stripped the clothes from my body, taking time to explore the flesh that he exposed. It was unlike anything they had prepared me for at the center. His lips and tongue traced trails over my exposed flesh until I felt like my legs were going to give out from under me.

"On the bed," Brian said. His voice was a whisper of hot breath at my ear that sent shivers up and down my spine.

I was totally naked as I lay down on the bed. The quality of the sheets and duvet was obvious but I spared no thought for them as I watched Brian strip. His body was glorious, a masterpiece. Had it been a sculpture, it would have been on display in the Louvre. He was all lean muscles and smooth flesh. I thanked every god I didn't believe in for making this man my master.

And then Brian was above me, his body moving over mine and all thoughts of anything but pleasure was burned away in the fire that seemed to consume us. I was taught how to give pleasure, but I was never taught how to receive pleasure, at least not to the degree that Brian was capable of giving. If I hadn't already fallen in love with the man, I would have fallen then. There is no doubt in my mind. He was gentle and patient with me as he slowly prepared my body to receive him. This was familiar and yet still foreign. I had been taught how to prepare myself, how to enjoy the pleasures of the prostate with toys, but to have another person's fingers there was something new and so completely erotic that I didn't know how to handle it. I felt like my body would shatter into a thousand pieces from the pleasure.

Brian grabbed a condom and rolled it onto his cock, and then he pushed my knees up and hooked my legs over his shoulders. I was limber from years of yoga and dance lessons and this position was no bother, but the way his weight pressed me down into the bed made me feel small and fragile. The way he caressed my cheek with the back of his fingers just before he enter me made me feel precious. Then he was pressing inside. It didn't hurt, not the way it had the first time a trainer had used a toy on me, but Brian's cock was thicker and hotter than any toy I had experienced and it burned just a bit. Even so, the feeling of fullness and the connection between us was worth any small discomfort.

When Brian started to move, I was lost to the feeling of friction and heat and pure unadulterated pleasure. He was able to find my prostate almost immediately and began an assault that brought tears to my eyes even as my body spasmed from the torturous pleasure. My fingers scrabbled for purchase on Brian's broad sweaty back and I'm sure I left more than one scratch there in the heat of the moment. Brian never complained, nor did he stop his skillful manipulation of my body.

I came hard from his cock's consistent brushes against my prostate and Brian never once faltered in his thrusts. He kept right on teasing and torturing me with the changing rhythm of his thrusts. Then his hands began to tease and torture other parts of my body. He pinched and caressed my nipples until both they and my cock were at full attention once again. And then he began to stroke my cock.

Coming a second time was almost painful, but my balls tightened and forced out as much semen as they had the first time. Only when I was completely spent and boneless beneath him did Brian reach for his own orgasm. He bent me literally in half as his mouth sought mine and we shared a sloppy and needy kiss. His rhythm was lost as he plunged into me, his body stiff with the orgasm that overtook him. Even as he was coming down from his pinnacle, Brian's hips moved, slower and gentler as he milked his cock of every drop of come and prolonged his pleasure for a few moments more.

Eventually, Brian pulled out and I was able to unbend. He tied off the condom and tossed it into the trash before lying beside me. I wasn't all that surprised after the night before when he pulled me into his arms, my back pressed to his chest. And that is how we slept.

Part Four

I learned very quickly that Brian Kinney was insatiable. That first night, he woke me three times to have sex. Not that I minded, but after the third time, my ass was getting pretty sore. And in the morning, he reached for me in the shower and blow jobs led to another round on the bed before we were finally able to get dressed and head out for the day.

I wasn't sure why Brian was taking me with him to the office, but I wasn't complaining. When I did ask, Brian said, "I already have a housekeeper. What else would you do at the loft all day?"

I shrugged. "What will I do at Kinnetik?"

"You'll learn from Jim when he has time," Brian said. I already knew that much, but I held my tongue. "And when you aren't doing that, you can run errands or work on your art."

So that was what I did. I spent most of the morning working on sketches while Brian worked. He sent me to the diner to pick up lunch for us. And then I spent a couple hours working with Jim in the afternoon. We went home late in the evening and Brian ordered in food despite my protests that I could cook for him. And then we fucked like rabbits until late in the night. The next day was a repeat of that.

And then Friday came and the routine was tossed aside. The first change came when Brian decided that he needed a break about half way through the morning. I followed him out to his Corvette and we drove to an art store. Brian looked around the place before looking at me in the eye. "Get whatever you need to set up a studio."

My eyes went wide. "But I…"

"Justin, get the fucking supplies and equipment you need for a studio," Brian ordered and so I obeyed.

It took almost an hour to pick out everything. Any time I tried to select anything but the best, Brian would be right there to put it back and put the more expensive item into the cart. When we went to the counter to pay for everything, Brian set up an account for me and found out that the store would deliver so that I would always have whatever I might need. After that, he took me to a computer store where he ordered a top of the line computer and print station for my studio and a laptop for my personal use. He set up an account for me there as well.

"I thought I was going to work for Kinnetik," I said once we were on our way back to the office.

"You are," Brian said. "But you, Justin Taylor, are more than a just an advertising hack. You are an artist. So you'll work for Kinnetik sometimes, but you'll also work on your own art. Since I don't have room at the loft for a studio, and I wouldn't want all that shit at home anyway, I'm setting up a studio for you at the office. Cynthia said the furniture was being delivered this morning."

Brian went back to work after we returned, but Cynthia showed me to the studio. It was a fairly large room on the third floor. That floor wasn't used for much of anything, but Brian had renovated it with the rest of the building in the hopes that he would expand eventually. For now, I had a fairly peaceful space to work. Since it was a corner room, it had lots of light through the two walls of windows. There was a computer station, still empty, set up along one wall, several storage cabinets and a work table against another wall near the sink and a sofa, chair and chaise near the windows. All the furniture was sleek and modern and the walls were a soft gray. It was a perfect space to work.

With a wide smile, I began to unpack the bags and boxes of supplies and equipment that Brian had purchased that morning.

"We need to get a phone up here," Brian said from the doorway.

I hadn't really noticed the time passing, but the sky was now dark outside the windows. "I'm sorry. Time got away from me."

"Sorry's bullshit," Brian said. He pushed off the doorsill and walked into the room. I had rearranged things a little and had set up my easel in the center of the room. The canvas stretcher was on the workbench and I had stretched a few canvases for future use. After arranging all of the supplies, I hadn't been able to resist the urge to begin painting. The outline of a portrait was now on prominent display on my easel and Brian looked at it.

"It's just a rough sketch right now," I murmured, embarrassed to have Brian see my work in progress.

"It's fucking amazing," Brian said. "And it's going to be even more amazing when it's done." He didn't wait for me to respond. Instead, he turned to face me. "You should clean up. We're meeting the boys at Woody's for drinks before we go to Babylon."

I opened my mouth to ask what those places were, but then closed it. I'd find out soon enough. I quickly cleaned up my brushes and was soon ready to leave. Brian had watched my every move from the comfort of the chaise.

"Come here," he said once I was finished.

I walked closer to him and stood beside the chaise within reach of his long arms. Brian tugged the button on my jeans loose and then unzipped the fly. In moments, he had my jeans around my knees and my cock in his mouth. Just like the first time Brian had sucked my cock, I was amazed at just how incredible the heat and suction felt. I was even more amazed that a man as strong and powerful as Brian seemed to enjoy giving me pleasure in such a way. My body is his, to be used for his pleasure, but it seemed like he got almost as much pleasure from sucking my cock as he did from me sucking his. It was a strange and marvelous thing. And he was so good, it was no wonder it only took a few minutes before I was coming, releasing my load into his willing mouth. Afterward, he kissed me and the taste of my spunk on his tongue was one of the most erotic experiences of my life up to that point.

"Can I…?"

Brian shook his head. "Not now. We have to go back to the loft and shower and change."

I nodded and redressed quickly so as not to make my owner wait any longer than necessary.

BJBJBJBJBJ

I got my opportunity to reciprocate for Brian in the shower. And then he fucked me against the shower's glass wall. Brian was a huge fan of shower sex. We ended up being half an hour late meeting his friends, but they seemed to expect that from him.

I had met both Ted and Michael before, but there were a couple other men that I'd never seen before at the table when we arrived. "Justin, this is Emmett Honeycutt, another of my friends on the list. And with Michael… who are you?"

"David Cameron," the handsome man said, annoyance clear in his voice. Since I knew that Brian had met the man numerous times, I could understand his annoyance. He stood and offered his hand to me. I paused and looked to Brian for guidance. No one touched a PC without an owner's permission.

Brian rolled his eyes. "David, Justin is my PC."

"Oh," David said with some surprise. He dropped his hand and smiled at me a little nervously. Then he turned back to Brian. "Most people don't bring their PCs to bars."

"I'm not most people," Brian said haughtily.

"You can say that again," Emmett and Ted both said and then laughed.

"You should get a collar for him if you're going to take him in public," David said.

Brian almost growled at the other man. "He's not a dog."

"I'm sure David didn't mean it that way," Michael said quickly, attempting to placate his friend.

David was silent for a moment, but then nodded. "No, of course not. I merely meant for his protection."

I sat and watched the power play between Brian and David as their eyes met and held for long moments. I wondered what sort of background this man had that he had such clearly defined boundaries for PCs. What he suggested was not out of the norm for PCs. In fact, we were taught in our training that many owners liked to display their ownership with collars or bracelets baring their names.

"What do you think Justin?" Brian finally asked, turning to me. "Do you want a collar?"

I opened my mouth then closed it again. I glanced at David and the others before turning back to Brian. "I do not like anything so tight against my neck, but I will submit to your wishes, Brian."

"Not a collar then," Brian pressed. "Would you feel more secure with some sort outward sign of your ownership?"

I was getting used to Brian's way of treating me as almost an equal, but in that moment I felt like I was in way over my head. I had no idea what he wanted me to say. "I… There are times when it would be prudent, I suppose."

Brian looked deep into my eyes and I felt like he was trying to read my soul. "Then we'll get something for you. Not a collar, but something. You can wear it when you feel it would be prudent."

BJBJBJBJBJ

On the walk from Woody's to Babylon, Brian held back and explained to me a little bit about how things would be at the nightclub. That Brian was a predator did not surprise me. That he would feel the need to continue hunting for tricks even with owning me now didn't really surprise me either. There was a small part of me that seemed to swell with jealousy and hurt—Brian was everything to me; how could I not be the same for him?—but the majority of me was too well trained to feel anything about his sexual exploits. A PC is property. We are not people, no matter how Brian might like to pretend when it came to my art or Kinnetik. I had no rights over Brian, and he had every right to do what he pleased.

"No one, and I mean no one, is to fuck your ass," Brian said. "That's mine and mine alone, got it?"

"Yes, Brian," I said meekly, still not quite sure why I was even there if Brian was going to be off fucking tricks and he wasn't going to loan my ass out to others.

"You can dance and have fun," Brian said. "You can even pick up a trick if that's something you want. You can blow him or he can blow you. You can even fuck him, but no one fucks you but me."

Oh. So I was to be allowed to join in Brian's debauchery. I wasn't sure whether that was something I wanted or not. I didn't have much time to consider it, however, since we had arrived at the club and Brian was ushering me inside. He bought me a drink from the bar and then we both watched the men dancing. There were plenty of hot men displaying their bodies as they danced, but not one of them could compare to Brian. We had another drink while Brian talked with his friends and then he dragged me onto the dance floor.

I had never danced to club music before. All of my training had been more formal—ballroom, ballet, a little tap—but my dance instructor had done a few lessons on more erotic dances meant to please an owner with exotic tastes. This wasn't all that different. I let my body feel the music and began to move. Brian seemed pleased with me, and that was all that really mattered.

When Brian slipped away with a stranger, I noticed, but did nothing to stop him. I didn't even pause in my dance. It was so freeing to be on that dance floor. Dancing was one of the few times when I felt truly free. I was able to leave the realities of my life behind and get lost in the rhythm and movement, lost in the music. I could pretend that I was just like all these other men, out for a night of fun.

When Brian slipped behind me once again, I noticed and began to dance with him. I had no idea how long he had been gone, nor how long I had been dancing. I was sweaty and tired but so fucking alive that nothing else seemed to matter. Brian took my hand at some point and led me from the dance floor. We had more drinks and Brian gave me a pill of some sort, transferred from his tongue to mine in a heated kiss. Then we were back on the dance floor.

The night became a bit of a blur after that. I remember Brian whispering in my ear and pointing out several of the hotter guys. I must have picked one because we ended up in the back room. I remember sucking him and then fucking him. Brian was right there beside me, whispering in my ear the entire time. He had a trick of his own, but he seemed more interested in what I was doing than in the blow job the guy was giving him. My first time fucking anyone outside of the training center and it was in the back room of Babylon, high as a kite with Brian whispering in my ear. It was hot and dirty and nothing like I had imagined it would be.

There was more alcohol and more men, but they seemed to all blend into each other after a while. And then we were headed home and this I remember clearly. We had barely made it through the building's front door when Brian pushed me up against the wall and kissed me like he would die if he didn't have me right then and there. Somehow we made it onto the elevator and up to the loft, leaving a trail of clothes behind us.

Sex with Brian is always amazing, but that night it seemed like there was something more. I don't know if it was the drugs or Brian, but every touch felt like fire branding my skin. When he thrust inside of me, it felt like we were actually melding into a single being. I was reminded of the Beatles song that goes: "I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together." They were high too when they wrote that, I'm sure.

Part Five

"We're going shopping," Brian announced over breakfast at the diner the next morning. Well, afternoon. "You need to dress better if you're going to be following me around all the time."

He made it sound like he didn't want me to follow him, but it was his decision to bring me along with him all the time.

"Yes, Brian," I said dutifully.

Brian rolled his eyes. "I hate it when you say that. It sounds like… like you've got this whole other subtext going on in your head that is anything but agreeable or respectful."

"I'm sorry," I murmured.

"Sorry's bullshit," Brian said and took a drink of his coffee. He looked at me for a long minute. "You'll look good in Hugo Boss and Ralph Lauren. I think your ass is too round for Armani though."

I blinked at him. I had no idea who or what he was talking about.

"Never mind," Brian said with a wave of his hand. "You finished here?"

My plate was empty but for the wheat toast that had been slathered in too much butter. After my stomach ache from the greasy burger, fries and onion rings, I had been a little leery of greasy foods. Brian approved of my healthier choices so it was a win-win situation. I nodded and soon we were headed for some of Brian's favorite shops.

Movies at the center were carefully screened before we were allowed to watch them, but one of the newer dorm monitors had once let us watch an unapproved movie called Pretty Woman. He was fired soon after that. At the time, I remember thinking that the girl in the movie was lucky to have a choice whether or not to sell her body, and I knew that her happy ending would never happen for a PC. But, there was one thing about that movie that I really liked: the shopping scene, the one where the guy takes the whore shopping and plays dress up with her. That afternoon with Brian, I got to live out that scene.

For hours, he sat and watched as I tried on outfit after outfit. Most of the clothes, while designer, were more casual than what Brian wore every day. He said that was because I would be playing with my paints and he wasn't going to put me in a suit for that. He did buy me a couple suits, too, for special occasions. And just like in the movie, Brian was fawned over by the clerks as they did everything in their power to convince him to buy more.

After arranging for the tailoring on the suits and several other pieces, Brian took me to a jewelry store. There he led me over to the small display of PC ornaments. There were collars, necklaces, bracelets, anklets and even rings. Brian nixed the rings right off. "Too much like a wedding ring," He grumbled. And he had already said I wouldn't have to wear a collar, so we skipped over those. The bracelets, necklaces and anklets were all pretty similar and not very appealing. And then I spotted something that I liked.

"What about those?" I said as I pointed out the items that had caught my eye.

"The cuffs?" Brian asked. I nodded and he asked the clerk to let us see them. They weren't bracelets. They were actually cuffs to be worn around either the wrists or upper arms. I tried several sets on and liked a most of them, so Brian made the final choice.

I ended up with a set of wrist cuffs. They were solid platinum about two inches wide. They had a hinged opening and were locked into place with a special lock that looked almost identical to the hinged side, giving the cuff a sleek look. The only embellishment on the cuffs was a band of black platinum at the top and bottom edge of each, the black platinum name plate that now had Brian's name etched into it and a small solitary ring on the underside that could be used to link the cuffs together. They were simple and beautiful.

I wore them out of the store and when we arrived back at the loft, Brian linked the cuffs together behind my back and we tried out a new kink. I rather enjoyed being that helpless for Brian. Then again, I always seem to enjoy when Brian fucks me.

BJBJBJBJBJ

"So, Justin, how is Brian treating you?" Debbie asked.

Brian had sent me to the diner a few weeks later to pick up lunch for us and I was waiting for our order to be prepared. I knew that Debbie was like a surrogate mother to Brian, but I was still a little uncomfortable with her boisterous nature and bluntness.

It was strange the way Brian could easily adapt to the posh societies where PCs were common, and yet still hold onto his roots, whereas Debbie and Michael, among others, could never seem to understand the reality of what I was. Debbie always wanted to treat me like some poor lost soul. It wasn't that I didn't appreciate her concern, but it made me very uncomfortable when she asked me anything about Brian. He was my master, my owner, and my loyalty was to him above all else.

"He has been very kind," I said. It was true, at least in my mind. The longer I was with Brian and around his friends, however, the more I realized that my definition of kind and theirs would never be the same.

"You know you can tell me the truth, don't you Sunshine?" Debbie said with a frown. "I'll do whatever I can to help you."

I frowned back at her. "I don't need help. Brian is very kind to me and I would think that you, of all people, would know that he would never mistreat me."

"The fact that he fucking owns you is mistreatment," Debbie declared. "It's not right."

"What is right and wrong is subjective, but this is reality—my reality," I told her angrily. "And of all the people I might have ended up with as a master, I think I got rather lucky having Brian. I would appreciate if you did not insult him in my presence."

I took the bag of food that the other server was holding and quickly handed over the money Brian had given to me before storming out of the diner. I was furious. How dare she? I knew that speaking out like that could get me into a world of trouble, but I couldn't help myself. I knew how lucky I was to have Brian. Not only was he not cruel to me, but he treated me with kindness and respect. He let me work. He gave me gifts and clothes. And he made my body feel things that I never dreamed possible. Sex was not a chore with him but something I craved like the very air I breathed. He could be so gentle and caring in his uniquely gruff way. And to hear someone say anything bad about him angered me. That it was one of his closest friends, his surrogate mother, made me see red.

I was still seething when I walked into Brian's office to deliver his lunch. Of course, he noticed. "Justin?" I knew what he was asking, and I knew that I was required to answer, but I really didn't want to tell him why I was upset. So I pace for a few minutes without answering, until he came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me. "Justin, tell me what happened."

I sighed and leaned into his embrace. "Debbie said some things that I didn't like and I… I told her that she was wrong and not to say things like that anymore."

Brian turned me in his arms and lifted my chin so he could see my face. "Let me guess," Brian said with a rueful smirk that I knew hid a depth of hurt that Brian would never willingly reveal. "She asked if I was mistreating you." I nodded. Brian pulled his lips between his teeth and then grinned at me. "You told her off?"

I smiled sheepishly. "I don't think it's right for her to say things like that about you. She should know better."

Brian chuckled. "Come sit down with me, Sunshine."

I followed Brian to the sofa and let him pull me onto his lap. He kissed me long and hard. When he finally released my lips, he whispered into my ear, "Thanks."

"For what?" I wondered.

Brian leaned his forehead on my shoulder and shook his head. "For thinking I'm the best thing to happen to you."

"But you are," I told him.

Brian looked up and then nodded. "Maybe. But you deserve so much more than this. You know that, right?"

I shook my head. "No."

"Yeah, you do," Brian said. "I know that we're both stuck with the way things are, but if I could… No, that's not true." He shook his head. "I'm a selfish bastard."

"Why would you think that?" I asked.

"Because I'm glad that you're my PC," Brian said quietly. "I'm glad that you're tied to me and have to like me."

I paused and then corrected him, "I don't have to like you; I have to obey you. I like you because you're not like any other master I've ever met or even heard of. I like you because you are kind to me and treat me like a person instead of a pet or possession. I like you because you make life fun and exciting. And I like you because when you fuck me you make me feel so fucking good I can't see straight."

Brian kissed me again and this time I knew that we would not stop until we were both naked and sated. I learned very quickly that Brian does not express his feelings in words, but with his body and actions. I could live with that.

BJBJBJBJBJ

Weeks and months passed as Brian and I learned to live with one another. It might seem like it would be easy for him, since he could just order me around, but in truth, Brian hated ordering me around. He also was not used to sharing his time or space with anyone. He was not used to taking care of a house plant, let alone another human.

In many ways, I think it was harder for him to adjust than it was for me. I knew my place and knew what Brian expected of me. Even though my life was different than I had been trained to expect, the basic principles of what I was taught still held true. Brian gave me freedoms and privileges, but they were his to take away and I never forgot that. Brian gave me gifts and clothes, but they were his possessions not mine, like accessories for a doll. Brian treated me like a person, but there were enough people around to remind me of who and what I was that I was never in danger of forgetting my place.

David was one of those who liked to remind me of what I was. He didn't like the fact that Brian treated me like a person. He never came right out and said so, but every time he would come to Babylon with Michael and see me dancing or tricking he would get this look on his face that was unmistakable. To him, giving me freedom like that was about as tasteful as letting your dog pee on the living room floor and hump your guests.

He and Michael made a good couple since Michael was another who liked to remind me of my place. He didn't care about what was tactful or polite; he was more concerned by the fact that Brian seemed to always want me around. He was jealous of every second of attention Brian gave me. He would never say anything in front of Brian, however; he saved his venom for when we were alone. Then he would unleash his scorn. His favorite insult was to remind me that I was nothing but a trumped up whore. Too bad that his insults didn't cut the way he intended. I had long ago accepted who and what I am. And David's disdain meant nothing as long as Brian was pleased with me.

Then David and Michael hosted a political fundraising party for State Senator Diane Baxter who was running for the US Senate and they neglected to invite any of Michael's friends, or even his mother. It was rather obvious to anyone involved that it was because both David and Michael felt that they were too low class for such a thing. That anyone could think that of Brian amazed me. He knew how to fit in with captains of industry when he chose; there was no way a political party would throw him. Vic was a kind and gentle soul most of the time. Ted might be a little awkward, but he was a really nice man. In my experience, being pleasant and courteous went a long way in being breaking down class barriers. Emmett might be about as flaming as one can get, but he too knew how to tone it down and use charm and politesse to win over people. Debbie was the brashest one of the bunch but her heart was so big I couldn't believe that anyone would take offense with her.

So when Brian decided that they should crash the party, I was not surprised. That he wanted me to crash with them was a little more surprising, but not really. Everyone dressed in their most flamboyant clothes and prepared to turn the polite little party into a rave. Brian decided that he would dress me up to fit my role. He bought me tiny black leather hot pants that barely covered my ass and a chest harness to which he could attach a leash. The only other things I wore that evening were my cuffs. Brian, on the other hand, pulled out some outlandish pink and purple paisley shirt that even made Emmett pause. It was tailored perfectly to his body and even when he was trying to be gaudy he looked hot.

We arrived at David's house and took over the party. I'm not sure exactly what went on between Michael and his mother, or the politician for that matter, but I know that Brian spent most of the party dancing provocatively with me and making out whenever and wherever the mood struck—which was pretty much all the time. At some point, however, he left me to my own devices.

"I need to give a check to Senator Baxter," Brian said and then kissed my neck. "Stay out of trouble."

I decided that a trip to the rest room was a safe way to stay out of trouble. Boy was I wrong. The downstairs bathroom was occupied so I wander up the floating staircase to the second floor. The bathroom was easy enough to find, but getting out of and back into those shorts was difficult and it probably took a little longer than it should have. The raging hard on I had been sporting all evening thanks to Brian's constant touches and caresses didn't help matters any. Eventually, however, I was able to do what I needed to do. I washed my hands and then opened the door to find Michael standing there.

"You fucking whore!" He shouted at me. "What are you doing up here?"

"I apologize," I said with the demureness required of me though inside I was seething. What had I ever done to this man? "I was simply using the restroom."

"You have no right be up here," Michael said with a growl.

"I'll just return downstairs," I said evenly, but before I could go further than a foot, his hand was on my arm, holding me back. His grip was so tight I was sure that there would be bruises.

"You think you're so great, but you're just a fucking whore," Michael said. As I said, he really wasn't very imaginative with his insults.

"Of course," I said and pulled my arm away.

"What's going on here?"

I turned to see David on the stairs. Great, just what I needed: two of them ganging up on me.

"I found this thing lurking around in our private rooms," Michael said smugly.

I rolled my eyes but said nothing to defend myself. David was not on the list of people I was free to address directly and I wouldn't want to if he was.

"You have no business up here," David said snidely and grabbed the same arm that Michael had grabbed a few minutes earlier. He dragged me to the stairs and pulled me down them. I almost tripped twice, he was pulling so hard, jerking my arm when I didn't move fast enough for his tastes.

"Get your fucking hands off my PC." Brian was standing at the bottom of the stairs and I felt relief wash through me. "I never gave you permission to touch him."

David shoved me towards Brian and I tumbled to my knees at Brian's feet. "Your PC was trespassing."

Brian looked down at me before reaching down to help me to my feet. He ran a gentle hand over my arm where bruises were already beginning to form. "You okay?" I nodded. "What happened?"

"I needed the restroom and the bathroom down here was occupied," I explained.

Brian nodded to me and then turned his eyes back to David. "I could have you arrested for damaging Justin."

"That thing had no right to be in our personal space," Michael said snottily.

"He," Brian said, emphasizing the pronoun angrily, "was simply using the rest room. That does not constitute trespassing, nor does it give either one of you the right to touch him. If you have a problem with Justin, you come to me. You do not address him directly, nor will you ever touch him again, do you understand me?"

"Is there a problem?" Senator Baxter asked as she approached us. Most of the guests had already gone home by that point, but those who remained were all focused on the drama going on between Brian and the hosts of the party.

Brian's glare never left Michael and David as he answered. "There's no problem. Is there Mikey?"

"You keep your whore out of my home and away from me and we won't have any problems," Michael said coldly. I noticed Senator Baxter frowning but kept my mouth shut. I had already caused enough trouble for one night.

Debbie scowled at Michael as she came over and handed me my coat. "Let's get you home, Sunshine. Come on Brian. Let's go."

Debbie, Vic, Ted and Emmett ushered us both outside to the waiting cars and soon we were on our way away from that horrible party and those awful people. I was shaking from the emotional scene and a little bit from fear. Brian had asked me to stay out of trouble and what do I do? It wasn't really my fault, I did nothing to provoke their ire, but at the same time I felt like my mere presence in Brian's life was all the provocation needed where Michael was concerned.

Brian slammed his fist into the steering wheel and swore. "Fuck!"

"I'm sorry," I murmured.

"Sorry's bullshit," Brian said. "Besides, you aren't the one who should be sorry. Those fuckers! How long have they been treating you like that?"

"Always," I said quietly.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Brian demanded.

I shrugged. "I… I'm not…" How could I explain to the man who treated me just like a normal person most of the time that I don't have the right to complain about how free men talk to me? "It wasn't my place."

"It is your place," Brian said heatedly. "I may not like the law, but the law says you belong to me. If someone is mistreating you, I have the right to know that. From now on, you tell me when someone is being rude to you. Even if you think they have a right. Even if you think I won't like it. Got it?"

"Yes, Brian," I said, and there was a small pleased smile on my face. Brian wanted to protect me and that made me feel very good.

"If either Michael or Dr. Dick approach you again, you walk away; you do not address them," Brian said. "You tell me and I'll deal with them. If I'm not around—fuck, I need to get you a phone—if I'm not around you call me."

"Yes, Brian," I said and my small smile got just a little bigger.

Part Six

I'm not sure what precipitated Senator Baxter's visit to Kinnetik, but Monday afternoon Brian called up to the studio and told me he was bring up some guests. I appreciated the warning as it gave me a few minutes to clean up a little. By the time Brian entered with the guests, I had been able to cover my clay sculpture with a wet cloth, put the excess clay away, and was in the process of washing my hands in the utility sink. I paused when I saw who was with Brian. Senator Baxter was there with her assistant and a pretty blonde reporter and a cameraman followed behind them.

"Justin, I would like you to meet Senator Diane Baxter and her assistant James Clark," Brian said.

The Senator smiled at me and held out her hand. I looked to Brian and he nodded, so I politely shook her hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am," I said.

"Why don't we all sit and get comfortable," the senator said. We sat around the seating area, Brian and I sharing the chaise. The reporter and cameraman set up in one corner and when they were ready, the Senator began. "Justin, I wanted to ask you a little bit about your life. You see, I've been campaigning to improve the rights of PCs for the past decade, but the truth is that not many people understand the issues. They believe that since there are a handful of laws on the books to protect PCs that there isn't need for more. Honestly, I'd do away with entire system if I could, but unfortunately we're just not to that point yet."

I nodded and said, "What would you like to know, ma'am?'

"Well, first of all, can you tell me where you came from?" the senator asked. "Before the training center."

I nodded. "I'm originally from right here in Pittsburgh. My father is a wealthy business man. I think he owns some sort of electronics store. I'm not sure, though. I was pretty young when I was sent away."

"You father was wealthy?" Brian asked with surprise. Most PCs were from poorer families who needed the money. I knew from talks with Vic that Brian's own family had been approached by a recruiter when he was a child, but his mother's strict religious beliefs prevented her from selling him just as they had prevented her from getting an abortion when she was pregnant with Brian. Vic said it was the only thing Brian was grateful to his mother for. I was grateful too. Brian's childhood might have been shit, but at least he was free to do and be what he wanted now. And he was free to own me and take care of me.

I nodded to him. "I don't remember much, but I know we lived in a big house and there was always money for art, music and dance lessons. My mother used to drive me around town all day long before I started school."

"How did you end up at the center?" the senator asked kindly.

"My mother died," I said. "And my father got remarried. My stepmother didn't want me around. My father would have kept me anyway but I said something that made him think I was gay, so he finally agreed to send me to the training center. My stepmother knew one of the recruiters."

"How was life at the training center?" the reporter asked.

I glanced at her and then to Brian. Again he nodded his permission for me to answer. "It was tolerable."

"It was different from what you knew before though," the senator prompted.

"Very," I told them. "I remember school before. We would have story time and snacks and played games. We were encouraged to make friends with the other children. There were no games or stories at the center. Our days consisted of lessons, physical exercise, and meals. We were kept separate from other trainees as much as possible and when we were together, any sort of interaction was discouraged. Emotional outbursts were not tolerated."

"What do you mean?" the reporter asked. "What sort of emotional outbursts?"

I shrugged. "I remember that when I first got there, I used to cry a lot. I was scared and I missed my mother. Each time I would cry, I was locked into the meditation room. That's where they sent us to think about our behavior."

"What was this room like?" the senator asked.

"It was pretty small," I told them. "More like a large closet than a room really. And there was nothing in the room. The walls were painted black and when the door was shut, there was no light. I hated that room. At first, each time I was sent there, I would cry even more and a couple times I hyperventilated and passed out, but they never let me out until I had calmed down and had time to consider my behavior."

"How long did that usually take?" the senator asked.

Again I shrugged. "A few hours, once almost a day."

"And this began when you were how old?" the reporter asked.

"I was one of the older trainees when I was sent," I said. "I was seven. I learned fairly quickly how to avoid the meditation room."

"I'm sure you did," the senator said with a kind smile. "You seem like a very intelligent young man." I gave her a smile of thanks. "What sort of lessons did you attend at the center?"

"Well, there were the traditional subjects," I said. "Math, English, science, languages, computers and history. Our trainers also tested us for any special gifts and talents and we were allowed to take extra courses in those areas. I took art lessons. We were also given courses in etiquette, social discourse, social dance, erotic dance, and the various courses on sexuality, but those didn't start until we were twelve."

"So you were at the center for ten years, not allowed to interact with your peers or have time to relax?"

I nodded. "Our schedules were very full. We were allowed an hour each day to watch television that had been approved by the director. And once a week we had a movie night."

"So you've never had a friend?" the reporter asked and I could hear pity in her voice that I didn't like.

"I had a friend once," I said. "It was before the center and her name was Daphne. We used to play together in the sandbox at the park when we were toddlers. And we were in kindergarten and first grade together until I was sent away. Sometimes we had sleepovers. I sometimes wonder what happened to her."

"You were sold on auction, were you not?" the senator said.

"My first auction," I said with some pride. It was a sign of a PCs value how quickly they were sold at auction.

The senator stated how much money I was purchased for and I nodded. Brian looked surprised, but didn't comment. "And you were bought by James Marston, according to the public records."

"That is correct," I said.

"How long were you with Mr. Marston?" the senator asked.

"Two years," I told her. "He was a kind owner. He never beat me or mistreated me."

"What was your life like there?" she asked.

"Mr. Marston was happily married and had a full household staff, so my duties were not very taxing," I said. "It was rather boring at times, to be honest. Mostly I was expected to entertain the occasional guest."

"That is how you met Brian, is it not?" the senator asked and I wondered how much Brian had told her before coming up to the studio.

"That's correct," I told them. "Mr. Marston had some friends over for their monthly poker night and Brian was there."

"You were traded that evening as part of the poker game," the senator said. "Were you upset by that?"

I glanced at Brian. "No. I saw Brian and… he is a very attractive man." The senator laughed at that as did the reporter and Brian. "Besides, it is not my place to approve or disapprove of my owner."

That sobered them. "How has life been since you've come to live with Brian?"

I smiled than. "Brian has been rather wonderful, actually. He gave me this studio to use for my art and he has allowed me to work with his art department. He takes me dancing. He does not lock me away in his home. He takes me out and I have seen more of the world in the last six months than I had in my entire life before this. But more than that, Brian protects me, not just from people who would hurt me physically, but also from those who would say hurtful things."

"What is your relationship with Brian like?" the reporter asked. I looked to Brian and he smirked at me before nodding.

"It's quite wonderful," I said. "He never makes me have sex with anyone I do not wish. He allows me to choose if and when and with whom I have sex. He has only one rule and that is that only he is allowed to penetrate me."

"We'll edit that out," the reporter murmured to the cameraman. "But you do have sex with Brian?"

"Of course," I said with a frown. Then I got where she was going with her questions. "But never against my will. Brian always asks if it is what I want before we do."

"And if it isn't what you want?" the senator asked.

I shrugged. "I have never not wanted him to give me pleasure. Unlike most men, Brian is very concerned with my pleasure. Why would I not want that? Besides, Brian is quite beautiful and skillful."

"I said before that you are a very intelligent young man," the senator said. "According to your sale records, your IQ is in the stratosphere. Did you know that?"

"I know that there are requirements for intelligence and appearance to be recruited," I said. "I know that I surpassed those requirements, but beyond that…" I shrugged.

"If you weren't a PC, what do you think you would have done with your life?" the reporter asked. "With all that talent and potential, it seems a shame that you have been stifled by your position in society."

"PCs are not permitted to think of such things," I told her reprovingly. Sharing thoughts like that would be grounds for a prolonged stay in the meditation room. "I am simply grateful for the opportunity that Brian has given me to utilize my talents."

The senator turned to Brian then. "Brian, I was witness to a disagreement the other evening over Justin. Can you explain what that was about?"

Brian frowned but nodded. "We were at a party and Justin went to the restroom on the second floor of the house we were at because the guest bathroom was occupied. The hosts of the party took umbrage to his presence and manhandled him. I was rather angry not only because they laid their hands on a person who cannot, by law, protect himself, but they continually treat Justin like an object instead of a human being."

"You seem like an unlikely person to own a PC," the senator said.

Brian shrugged. "As you said, I won Justin in a poker game. I have never once considered buying a PC, but it would have been rude and bad business for me to turn down Marston. So I ended up with Justin."

"You seem to have pretty strong feelings about PCs," the senator said.

Brian nodded. "I was recruited, but luckily my parents declined to sell me into slavery."

Everyone in the room seemed to flinch at Brian's use of the word slavery. Despite the fact that PCs were in fact slaves, no one in polite society acknowledged that fact out loud.

"Justin is not a dog or an inanimate object," Brian continued. "He is a human being who has been forced to live a life that was not of his choosing. He is bound by laws that obstruct his freedom. Rather than enjoying his childhood, Justin was brainwashed into believing that his only value is to serve others. He is a brilliant young man and a brilliant artist and yet when other people his age were going off to college and going to parties and deciding what they want to do with their lives, he spent two years moldering away in some mansion. And Marston is a good owner by anyone's standards. There are some sick fu– bastards out there. An owner can beat his PC to death and all he would face is a fine and a slap on the wrist."

I had never heard Brian speak out about PCs before and I was stunned. I think perhaps the others in the room were stunned as well because there was silence for long seconds before anyone was able to speak.

"If you feel so strongly against PCs why have you kept Justin?" the reporter finally asked.

"Because who knows what sort of person his next owner would be?" Brian said. "If he's with me, I can give him a certain amount of freedom and I can protect him from the worst of the crimes committed against PCs. Did you know that the average life span of a PC is 30 years? It isn't because they are unhealthy. 11% of PCs are killed by their owners or by someone the owner has named to represent him. 57% of PCs eventually commit suicide. That rate rises to 89% for those that do not complete training for one reason or another. Justin will not be among those statistics. I will make sure of that. Legally, I can't free him, but I can at least make sure he has a decent life."

Brian looked at me and smirked. "Besides, he's a hot little twink."

Part Seven

The rest of the interview went swiftly and then the senator asked me to show her some of my art, so I did. The camera followed us around as I showed her some of my completed canvases and sculptures that were waiting to be bronzed. Brian liked to tell me how talented I was, but I was a little embarrassed to have to share my work with the world like that.

When they finally left, it was well past the time we usually went home so Brian drove us to a restaurant for takeout and then we headed back to the loft. Over chicken curry and rice we discussed the interview.

"Senator Baxter wants to change some of the laws surrounding PCs in an effort to eventually abolish the practice entirely," Brian explained. "That's the reason I gave that check to support her campaign."

"I did not know you felt so strongly about my… situation," I said.

Brian shrugged. "Like I said. I might have been a PC myself if my mother hadn't been such a religious nut."

"I'm very glad that I ended up with you," I told Brian. "You are a very good man."

Brian snorted. "I'm a selfish bastard. Just ask anyone."

I shook my head. "Then they don't know you like I do. You are a good man Brian Kinney. The best man I have ever met."

Brian kissed me and that night I attempted to show him just how much I loved him through my actions and I think perhaps, he might have been expressing some of those same feelings for me. I felt like for the first time we were truly making love instead of just fucking.

BJBJBJBJBJ

The interview with Senator Baxter aired on the local news and then the national news. I was surprised, to say the least, that there was so much interest in my life. There were two outcomes from that day, however, that were totally unexpected to me. The first was the slew of phone calls and letters Brian received enquiring about my art. Suddenly, there were critics and gallery owners and private collectors all clamoring to see my work. I was sure that it was only because of the novelty of having art created by a PC, but Brian kept saying that it was because I was "fucking brilliant."

Either way, it didn't matter much to me. It was nice to have people admire my work, and it was even nicer to know that I was able to contribute something to Brian's income considering how much money he liked to spend on me. The money that my paintings and sculptures made went to Brian by law but that was all right with me.

The other bombshell that came from that interview took almost two weeks to arrive. Brian and I were at the loft, discussing the fact that Marston had been surprisingly understanding about his inclusion in the interview—in fact, he had offered the senator a generous donation for her election campaign—when a knock sounded at the door.

Brian and I exchanged a look before he rose to answer the door. "Can I help you?"

I looked over from my position on the sofa to see a young woman of mixed racial descent standing in the doorway. She said, "You're Brian Kinney. I'm… I'm looking for Justin. My name is—"

"Daphne?" I cried out as I rose from my seat and rushed over to the door. I froze a few feet away from this woman who used to be my friend. "Is that really you?"

"Justin!" Daphne said with a huge smile that I would recognize anywhere. She ignored Brian and any protocol and threw herself into my arms. The hug was tight and I felt her crying on my shoulder. For the first time since I was seven years old I felt tears well up in my eyes as well. "I thought I'd never see you again! But I never gave up. I looked for you and I asked my parents what happened but they would never say. Then when I went to college, my mom finally told me what happened to you. I thought… but then there you were on the TV and I had to come home from school and find you! It took forever to get through to Senator Baxter, but she told me where I could find you and so here I am. I've missed you so much!"

A single sob broke free and the tears that had been in check fell down my cheeks. For more than 12 years I believed that no one cared about me, that no one missed me or wanted me, but here was Daphne, after all that time. And she had cared all along. She had looked for me and had never given up on me.

Brian watched us with an indulgent smirk on his face, never once interrupting as he closed the loft door. And when the tears had dried, he sat and listened as the two of us caught up. We were like two little kids again, all of my training and all of those years of misery were forgotten as I reveled in the rediscovered friendship. There was no awkwardness and no hesitation on either of our parts. It was as if there had been no time between then and now.

Of course, eventually, we got around to talking about our current lives. "I'm so glad that you've been able to find some happiness despite what those assholes did to you."

"I'm very happy with my life right now," I told her.

"I'm going to Harvard," Daphne said. "I want to be a lawyer so that I can fight for the rights of those who are being exploited. It's inhuman what they do to kids in those places. It's brainwashing and slavery. And I just can't sit back and do nothing when other little kids are being stolen away from their lives to be sold like cattle to the slaughter."

After many long talks with Brian and Debbie and Vic, I wasn't surprised that there were people who felt that strongly against the trumped up slavery that was the PC market. Still, it made me feel all warm and loved to think that Daphne felt that way because of me.

"Thank you," I told her as I gave her another hug.

Daphne had to go back to school a few days later, but we spent most of the time she was home together and when she left again, it was with promises to email me and come back to see me over the summer break. Brian seemed happy that I had a friend, and encouraged me to keep in contact with Daphne.

BJBJBJBJBJ

In many ways, my life was blissful in the weeks and months that followed that interview. I was happier than I had ever dreamed my life would be. There was only one dark cloud in my sky: Michael. Brian may have stood up to the jerk for me, but he was still Brian's oldest friend and it seemed impossible for Brian to totally break all ties with the man. I hated to see Brian unhappy, so I was conflicted the first time Michael showed up at the loft to apologize to Brian. He never apologized to me. Despite what Brian had said, despite what I knew Debbie had said to him after the party, Michael didn't deem me worthy of an apology. But I decided that I just wouldn't pay any attention to the little bastard and it seemed to work. After a while, Michael became more pitifully amusing than anything else. After all, I had what he wanted and would never get: Brian.

But as time passed, things in the world began to change. First, the senator won her election and she made sure that laws were passed to protect PCs. Then the training centers were abolished so that no new PCs could be trained and the children who had not yet been auctioned off were given counseling and other assistance to help them find some sort of normal life. Finally, almost eight years after the now famous interview, PCs were granted their freedom. Again, we were given assistance to try and find normal lives, but it wasn't easy. Many PCs were so indoctrinated in their role that they could not survive in a world of freedom.

I was one of the lucky ones. Brian continued to push me to make more and more choices on my own. He urged me to find my own interests and identity. I continued to sculpt and paint and he continued to bank the profits from my work.

The day that the PCs were freed, Daphne called me from Senator Baxter's office. After graduating from law school, she had gone to work there as an intern and had worked her way up. She had played an integral part in the drafting of the law outlawing the enslavement of personal companions and declaring their freedom. It wasn't a surprise that the law was being voted on, but I never allowed myself to believe that it would ever pass. Many of the politicians in congress actually owned PCs.

"We did it, Justin," Daphne said when she called. "We did it. You're free."

"I… I'm free," I said in a daze. I don't remember much about the rest of our conversation. In fact I don't remember much about that day at all. My mind was spinning at a million miles an hour and I couldn't seem to make sense of anything. The only thought that seemed to get through the chaos was that I no longer belonged to Brian. And that thought was devastating in so many ways.

When Brian came home from work that evening, I hadn't moved from the sofa. I was still in shock.

"Justin?" I looked up at Brian and I'm sure that he could tell that I had been crying. He sat down with me and pulled me into his arms. "Hey, what's the matter? I heard about the vote. You should be happy. We should be celebrating."

I buried my face into his chest and began crying again. "I… I can't…"

Brian lifted my chin so that he could look into my eyes. "Can't what?"

I shook my head. "I don't want to leave you."

Brian frowned. "Who said anything about you leaving?"

That caught me totally off guard. Of course I would have to leave. Brian had never wanted a PC, but he got stuck with me and he kept me around to protect me. But now he didn't have to protect me, so he wouldn't want me around. Or so I had believed.

"Justin, you are free," Brian said. "If you want to leave, you are free to do so, but I'm not kicking you to the curb. In case it escaped your notice, I fucking love you, you twat."

I'm sure that my eyes widened comically. Brian had never once in the almost nine years that we had been together told me that he loved me. In fact, during our first year together, he had once expounded for two hours why love was bullshit and how he would never let himself be caught up in something designed to trap people into bad relationships. But here he was telling me he loved me.

"You do?" I asked inanely.

Brian huffed. "Yeah. Just don't expect me to say it all the time."

"When?" I asked.

Brian shook his head, but he was smiling. "I'm not sure. It might have been at the airport, when you were so filled with awe, or it might have been the first time you said 'yes, Brian' in that tone of voice that tells me that you totally disagree with me and are being completely disrespectful in your mind. Or it could have been the first time I fucked you. All I know is that I do and I don't want you going anywhere. But you get to decide now. Stay or go, love me or don't. You get to choose."

I nodded and suddenly the prospect of freedom wasn't as scary as it had been just minutes before. "I love you too," I told Brian. "And I know exactly when it happened."

"When?" Brian asked.

"That first night," I told him. "You held me in your arms like I was the most precious thing in the world. No one had ever held me like that since my mother died."

Brian held me even closer when he heard that. "What do you want, Justin?"

I had heard that question so many times in the nine years I had been with Brian, but never had it meant so much. "I want to be with you. Forever. I want to keep working on my art and spend time with our friends. And I want to come home to you every night and wake up in your arms every morning."

"Forever sounds about right," Brian said with a smirk which I proceeded to kiss from his lips.

The End