Succession (30 page)

“Really?” Sascha’s eyes widening in excitement.

He doesn’t move, though, and I realize he’s almost too excited to comply. He probably doesn’t think I’m up to it, but he’s right, it will be a good distraction. I’ve been forced to do far more demanding things with far worse injuries. I don’t mind the excuse to get out of bed, either. When I start moving off of the bed, Sascha rushes to do as I asked.

Sascha is leaning across the edge of the bed, resting on his elbows, and he shivers as I pull the shorts down over his ass and around his ankles, leaving him to kick them off and out of the way. I leave him like that, naked and waiting, as I strip off my own clothing. Cash has bandaged me up so well that I still feel clothed, but the rustle of fabric still stings over the raw skin. I’m naked very quickly, and I press my body against his, pressing my erection against his ass to make it clear what I’m doing.

“Fuck me,” he whispers. He’s not begging yet, it’s more of an idle statement.

“I will,” I remind him, pulling away after a moment and resting his hand against my ass. “But didn’t you say you wanted a warm-up first?”

I hear Sascha draw a breath. I’ve scratched and bitten and pinched him before, I’ve fucked him hard enough to give him the pain he craves, and I’ve been there when Cash has hit him, but I’ve never really hit him during sex. I lean over him, feeling his heart racing.

He turns back and looks at my face, smiling at me. “Yes, please?”

I bring my hand down lightly on his ass, smiling in spite of myself when I hear him let out a soft sigh. I don’t understand it, but I know he likes it, and I like being able to make him feel good like this.

“Harder?” Sascha suggests, wriggling his ass around a little bit more to entice me.

It works, and I comply with his demands. I hit him a few more times, hard enough that my hand cracks against his skin, making him rock forward on the mattress.

“God, yes,” he mumbles, thrusting a little, clearly enjoying himself.

A few more slaps, and I see his skin starting to redden. “That feels so good,” he whispers, relaxing as I continue.

I’m acutely aware of the size of my hands, it’s like they’re covering his entire ass. I hit him rhythmically, carefully, working all over his ass and a bit down to the tops of his thighs as well. When I break the pattern, I pause to press my body close against his again. My hands reach around to position him, one tight around his waist, pulling him up, the other around his cock, stroking it, making him feel good.

He lets out a little sound of appreciation and thrusts into my hand, his ass making contact with my body. I can feel the heat I generated, and I’m pleased that he’s enjoying it so much. He lets his head fall back against my chest, and I reward him by dropping my lips to his neck, grazing my teeth against his skin.

He probably wouldn’t mind if I bit down; he’d probably love it, but I’m just not into it. Cash might enjoy marking him up, but it just doesn’t sit right with me. Besides, there are other things I can do with him.

I remove my arm from around his waist, and I work my fingers carefully into him. He grows more excited as I stretch him. The position is a little awkward, but it allows me to keep him close as I touch him while still not requiring me to bend or twist very much. He doesn’t seem at all turned off. From his reaction earlier, he likes the thought of me bending him over the bed and taking him.

It’s not long before I do exactly that, spreading his legs apart and rubbing between them. The friction against makes him whimper, and I can tell it’s a good sound.

“Ready for me?” I tease him. It’s not just teasing, though, I want to make sure he’s ready, willing, agreeing. Unlike Cash, who likes to just shove it in whenever he’s ready, I like to make sure. It’s a courtesy too few people make good use of.

Sascha clearly doesn’t need any time to adjust, and he arches his back up at me. “Yes! Sy, I can’t wait to feel you fucking me!”

I laugh as I start to work my way into him. I take my time, drawing it out in agonizingly slow thrusts. I know he likes to be made to wait, and the way he squeezes around me confirms it. When he tries to push back against me, to take me at his usual pace, I grip him tightly by the hips and pin him in place, immobilizing him. He stills in my hands, submitting to my will. It’s amazing what the slight show of force does to him.

I take my time, making my way slowly inside of him, letting him get used to the pace, watching as he relaxes and commits himself to going slowly. When I’m buried deep, I change course, starting to pound rapidly in and out of him. He gasps, breathing quickly and clutching at the sheets. The jarring thrusts remind me of the beating that I took earlier, but I don’t slow down. It makes me feel alive, challenges me, and I thrust harder. It’s good that I’m holding him up, because his feel must lose their grip on the floor. I hear him scramble for a minute, but I hold him tightly by his hips.

That, and my cock seems pretty effective at holding him up.

Just like when I was hitting him, I fall quickly into a rhythm, moving fast and hard, and then slow and careful, and then faster again. When I have him gasping for breath and nearly unable to move, I reach my hand around him again and grab his cock, pulling him close and jerking it at the same time, bringing him to orgasm in seconds.

I last only a few seconds longer, holding Sascha’s body tight to mine as I come, making him gasp. When I gently release my hold on him and pull out, he’s left trembling, facedown on the bed. I leave and return with a towel, not surprised to find him exactly where I left him.

I pull him up on the bed with ease and hand him the towel before getting into bed myself, lying carefully on my stomach again. The lingering pain that the painkillers didn’t erase seems to have given way to the pleasure I felt inside of Sascha. I feel great, sated and relaxed, and Sascha gives me a proud smile.

“I guess your little distraction worked,” I comment, idly petting his hair as he cleans himself up. “I feel great.”

Sascha slides up to rest next to me. He looks pleased, accomplished, and I have no doubt that he is relieved that I’m not angry at him, even though he should know I wasn’t going to be, anyway.

“I’m glad.” His tone conveys his utter sincerity. “Do you want company today?”

“Isn’t that what I’m getting right now?” I point out, reaching an arm out to pull him close.

He grins. “Yeah, I meant later.”

I like that he checks. I often prefer to be alone; I’ve been allowed the privilege of downtime so rarely, and I often feel out of place when Sascha and Cash are working. It’s getting better, but they live in such a different world than I’m used to. Sascha always asks how I’m not bored, but I appreciate the ability to be bored. It means that I have no demands on me, no threats to watch out for.

“I’m probably going to take it easy today. You’re welcome to join me, but I know Cash has left some work for you, so don’t avoid that. Besides, you get bored watching videos pretty quickly, and I don’t have nearly the sexual stamina as you do.”

That makes him blush. I’m certain he really could go again, even though we just finished. I’m reminded that I’m considerably older than Sascha, and while I was being trained to kill and guard, he was being trained to give—and have—multiple orgasms.

“I might request your help in changing bandages later, though,” I add. I realize that it could come out accusatory, make him feel guilty, but that’s not my intention. I don’t blame him; I just can’t reach my own back to bandage it.

“Of course,” he replies, a flicker of guilt crossing his face.

I don’t hold it against him, but he clearly blames himself. I run my hand through his hair, like I used to at the detention facility, like I’ve seen Cash do. For as logical as Sascha is, it’s not always logic that is most convincing to him. He leans into my touch and I hope he forgives himself.

Chapter 26
Sponsorship

Weeks of planning go into the sponsorship event that Edson advised. While Sascha researches the best possible attendees to invite, I handle the details. I busy myself finding an appropriate venue, arranging for food and entertainment, and preparing a brief presentation to inform my future business partners of the benefits they will receive as a result of sponsoring Michaud & Torenze in our new re-education center empire. It’s strange to be doing all of this when I know I might be going to prison, but my lawyer keeps assuring me that this will not happen. I actually start to believe her.

By the time the event occurs, I am amazed by the sheer number of people who’ve actually agreed to attend. I’m certain that many are here just to see what this whole thing is about; a few more may have joined as a result of Oliver’s connections. He’s been somewhat removed from the process until now, but when it comes time to secure sponsors, he’s suddenly interested.

“After all, who’s going to continue after you and Kristine go to prison?” he teases.

I wonder just how serious that threat is.

Still, he’s by my side as we take the stage at the event, calling the audience’s attention and beginning our presentation. Sascha has helped me put together a video of what we’re offering, the ways the re-education centers will change and the ways they’ll stay the same. Most of the industry ties will remain, but there is no guarantee that anyone’s contracts will be the same with Michaud & Torenze as they were with the Miller System. Many of the same players will be involved, and that’s obvious from the mix of attendees we’ve gathered.

Oliver and I go through our speech, answer a few questions, and then break off to mingle with the crowd. Everyone, even those who seem to be there as a spectator sport, seems interested in meeting with me. I have a feeling it has more to do with my temporary celebrity status than anything else, but many guests surprise me with legitimate business questions.

The most surprising guest is Emile Argova. He was not invited; I assumed that Argova would have let me know if he wanted to attend a public event of mine. Perhaps this is his way of letting me know.

He waits until Oliver is busy with someone else, and he comes over, taking me by the arm like he’s an old friend.

“Cashiel,” he says, smiling. “It’s nice to see you again. I must say, you look better in this context.”

Last time I saw this man, we were in prison together.

“Likewise,” I agree.

I must not hide my surprise very well, because Argova smiles at me. “Ms. Edson’s high quality legal defense has benefitted us both,” he explains. “My case was dismissed. Seems someone lost some of the evidence they were going to use. It’s a pity, really. Our legal system is just so overworked.”

I nod, not entirely sure of what to say.

“I was pleased to hear that you were interested in setting up a relationship,” Argova continues. He glances at Sy, who’s standing just a few feet away from me, one eye on me, the other on Sascha, who is unobtrusively spying on as many people as possible. “You reward loyalty. I like that. Your man will be safe.”

“Thank you. I appreciate all your help.”

Argova shakes his head. “It’s nothing, I assure you. I like to see the best candidate succeed. The Miller System is becoming outdated faster than it can be fixed. In with the new, I say.”

I nod, waiting for him to make a proposition, to ask about sponsorship, to tell me exactly what his business is, if he even has a legitimate business.

“Have you had luck today?” he asks, instead.

“Yes. We’ve had a few interested parties agree to join. Our corporate partnership options are particularly popular, and my partner has invited some strong investors. He has years of history in the industry.”

“And years of history with the Miller System,” Argova observes.

“Is that a problem?”

Argova just smiles. “You’re the star of this project, Mr. Michaud. Mr. Torenze is a useful tool. I’m sure he’s funded this event, and you’re right, he’ll help you with connections. I wish you and I had established a relationship years ago; you’ll find my connections go a bit higher.”

I give him a questioning look.

“Mr. Torenze has worked with my family for many years,” Argova explains. “He’s been very successful in arranging partnerships between the Miller System and my family’s organization. However, we’re moving in some different directions, and we’d like a new face to go with those associations. Yours, to be specific. We’ve established ties with some of the up-and-coming politicians in the region, and we’d like to extend those ties to you. That’s why we were so interested in furthering this relationship. Some of those parties are in attendance—I hope you don’t mind, but I brought along a few additional guests.”

How he contacted these people, or how he got them through my guest list, is beyond me. Still, he’s powerful enough that I don’t question it.

Argova leads me over to a small crowd of people, capturing the attention of someone I am unfamiliar with. “You might recognize Mr. Lemoya,” he introduces us. “He’s a senator; not from here, but a few districts away. He’s interested in one of the state leadership positions. Mr. Lemoya, I’d like you to meet Mr. Michaud. He and I share some business interests, but I think the two of you might have some shared political goals. After all, you’re both interested in improving the resources of Nitorra.”

The senator describes his political platform to me and I listen attentively. I’ve known that the Miller System was flawed, but I haven’t kept up as closely with the politics of the Demoted System. At both the government and business levels, there is an interest in shifting toward something new. Even those who are satisfied with the Miller System are looking to shake it up, to give the public something new to attend to. A policymaker, recently involved with Miller System and looking for something better to replace it, joins our conversation.

Argova amazes me with his connections and his social finesse. For someone who essentially crashed my event, he conducts himself like he’s the host. As the event continues, he introduces me to business contacts, smiles when I set up meetings, and quietly tells me inside information that I commit to memory. His contacts cover a wide range of personalities from business, policies, and government. Of course, they are so often one and the same. He even introduces me to the state head of media information, who I can’t believe is attending my event.