“There. Uhm, right there is fine, Mr Sable,” I near-groan. He looks at me, puzzled, because he’s standing just inside the shop door.
“Here?” He tilts his head, brown locks caressing the collar of the shirt that shall not be mentioned. “Right here?”
“Yes.”
“You want to teach me about chocolate right here, Mr Bennett, sir?” Oh, for fuck’s sake, what’s with the Mr and the sir? Like one isn’t more than enough. This isn’t a bloody Dickens novel.
“Yes,” I bite out.
“But—”
“Look, Mr Sable. If you’re going to argue with me on your very first day of work, we might as well just terminate our relationship right now.” Yes, Easter, for the love of anything holy or unholy, let this boy go this very minute.Do it!But then it starts, a small quivering movement at first, at the right corner of his mouth until small waves of tremors move along his full bottom lip. He just manages to suck a small whimper back into his mouth before it escapes.
“Please, Mr Bennett, sir.” He looks at me, genuine despair in his pale eyes. “Please don’t fire me, sir.” He takes a step forward, and I automatically take one back, bumping my back against the counter, sending my favourite porcelain bowl—containing my preciousporcelana—flying to the floor with a loud crash. Shit. I really fucking liked that bowl. “Oh no,” he cries out, his gaze dipping to the floor, his eyes tracking the beans scattered everywhere. “Oh, no! I’m so, so sorry, Mr Bennett, sir,” he stutters as he drops to the floor.He drops to the goddamn floor.My floor. Scrambling forward on his knees—on his fucking knees—he crawls along the hardwood floor, his slim fingers impossibly white against the dark-washed boards. Clawing his way forward, he looks up at me. “Please, Mr Bennett, sir. I’m so, so sorry.” He picks up a fragment of the bowl, cradling it in the palm of his right hand. “I’ll replace it. I promise. Just…” he hesitates as two fat tears make their way down his red-stained cheeks. “Just, please don’t let me go.”Don’t let me go.Fuck.
Something shifts inside me at that strangled plea.Don’t let me go.Something unfamiliar but not entirely unpleasant tugs at my heartstrings, like determined fingers pulling at the strings of a harp. A strange tune moves through my body, a long-forgotten melody, soft strokes from a distant room, beckoning at me.Don’t let me go.Realisation strikes as Benjamin reaches for the first bean. Well, two things at once, actually. I know what thatBstands for. With absolute unwavering certainty, I know what it stands for. And second, there’s no way I’ll ever be able to let him go. Not when I’ve finally found him. Because there’s no doubt, is there? It’s him.
“Stop!” I order, the words slamming into Benjamin like a massive wave. He stops, his hand hovering just above the cocoa bean. Holding his breath, he remains frozen on his knees in front of me.
“Sir?” he whispers, his traitorous tongue peeking out, the tip swiping along his bottom lip.
“That’s not how you pick up aporcelana, is it?” I say with an edge to my voice that makes my own skin crawl. What the bloody hell? However, Benjamin shakes his head eagerly, brown curls tumbling onto his forehead.
“No, sir,” he rushes out, eyes wide, pupils blown black.
“Go ahead then. No time like the present.” I nod at the floor.
“Yes, sir,” he sniffs, eyeing the closest bean. And then he moves. Clasping his hands behind his back, knuckles white, he bends towards the floor, the tip of his nose brushing against the hard dark wood. Something explodes inside me, maybe, possibly, my heart or my brain, as the flames reach my loins, my cock swelling in my pants. I’m going to go to hell for this. I am. But I just can’t seem to help myself. Not when he’s on his knees for me like that. I can’t.
“Sir?” he whispers, his mouth hovering just above the cocoa bean.
“Do it,” I rasp, barely hanging on to my last inch of restraint, my balls heavy, my cock throbbing. It feels like the floor is opening beneath me, the walls of this century-old building dissolving into thin air; everything I’ve ever known to be true is now slipping through my fingers. I hold on to the edge of the counter, my fingers digging into the surface, as my world tilts, up becoming down, and down becoming up.
Benjamin opens his mouth, his lips quivering, his clasped hands twisting behind his back. Then he closes the gap between his face and the floor and sucks the bean into his mouth. A guttural groan leaves my lips, my balls drawing up, as my left hand flies to my crotch, squeezing my cock. I just manage to stave off my orgasm.Just. Benjamin doesn’t move as his mouth closes around theporcelana; the outline of his frail shoulder blades visible behind the thin fabric of his shirt like small bony wings. He’s shivering and oh soverybeautiful. I somehow always knew that he would be. Beautiful. But not like this. Not this broken and perfect at the same time.Perfect for me,my heart sings greedily.
On instinct, I push away from the counter. Bending at the hips, I hold my hand out in front of his mouth, palm up. Turning his face upwards, his eyes lock onto mine. He blinks once, a silent question lingering in the greyish-brown. I nod. His lips separate, saliva sticking to the bottom one. Then he sticks out his tongue, the precious bean resting on the soft pink cushion like an offering. I nod again and he bends his head and drops the bean into my palm. It’s wet and warm against my skin. Closing my hand around it, I reach out my other hand, hesitating.It’s still not too late,a distant rationalvoice whispers inside my head.You can still ask him to go. It’s not too late.
But the thing is, I don’t want him to. I don’t want him to leave now that I’ve finally found him. Because there’s no doubt. It’s him. I think I already knew it yesterday, my soul recognising him the minute he walked in the door, my mind only just catching up now. It’s him. It’s my—
“Thank you,” I say, closing the gap between my hand and his head, brushing my fingers through his soft, silky hair, petting him. Benjamin purrs, leaning into my hand, his head chasing my touch as I dig the tips of my fingers into his scalp.Lovely. He’s so lovely. I wonder if he feels it, too. The sudden shift. I think somehow, he must, the air sparkling all around us, the world as we know it now blown to smithereens. “Thank you,” I repeat, reluctantly removing my hand from his hair, a rogue lock tangled around my ring finger, the deep brown vibrant against my skin.
He smiles at me, his eyes shimmering, spilling over with joy at my praise. Oh, there’s no doubt. It most certainly is him. And so I tell him.
“Go on.” I nod at the floor, at the beans that are now only the second most precious to me. “Go on,Bunny.” Startled, he sucks in a breath, his eyes turning just a shade darker, his nostrils flaring. Pink watercolour spills from his cheeks down to his chin and further down his neck until it disappears behind the green. Then he collects himself, a shy smile coasting along his lips. Those two words, the best fucking words in the English vocabulary, spilling from his mouth, “Yes, Master.”
Chapter Four
Benjamin
My life is a dream. It’s a dream. Skipping down the pavement as the spring sun dips behind the tree line, I can’t stop grinning like a loon.Bunny.He called me Bunny, forever and always claiming that anonymousBfor himself. I’m Bunny. And he’s—my palm flies to my mouth, stopping a loud giggle—Master. Oh gosh, when he called me Bunny, I got instantly wet, like a faucet bursting, all my pent-up want spilling over. It’s tricky to skip when your dick is leaking into your pants, but I can’t exactly do my bunny hops in public. I’m not a weirdo. Well, maybe I am, but not in public… at least not for the most part.
I don’t know what comes over me when I walk into Mr Bennett’s shop, but it’s like Bunny wants to break free and come out and play and do other silly stuff. Not just bouncing around, but also nuzzling Mr Bennett’s neck or lying down and resting on top of his feet, purring like a good little pet. Oh, how I long to be a good little pet. Someone’s pet.Master’s pet.It’s getting harder and harder to contain myself around Mr Bennett, that’s for sure. Yesterday, I almost wiggled my nose in front ofhim, real bunny-style. Luckily, I managed to disguise it with a sneeze.
I turn down River Lane towards the communal allotment where Mr Harvey has his small plot of land and where I’ve been staying for three years now. You’re not supposed to live there; it’s just a small vegetable patch really, with a shed for utensils and gardening tools, but I’ve got nowhere else to go. Mr Harvey doesn’t mind, though. He’s really old, like before television old, and when I stumbled upon his small garden in a fit of hunger, I found it overgrown, weeds quickly taking over everything. The thing is, Mr Harvey didn’t get mad. Back then, three years ago, when I stole a carrot from his garden. I think that’s why I didn’t run like I usually do when people get mad. I just froze in the middle of his overgrown vegetable patch, nibbling on the earthy, crunchy carrot.
“You all right there, lad?” Mr Harvey squinted at me in the twilight. “Are you lost?” I just nodded furiously, the carrot crunching between my teeth. I was so hungry, and the garden was so full. I could tell even behind all the shrubs and weeds.
“I like your garden,” I squeaked, looking around. “It’s a little overgrown, but I like it.”
