Chapter 4: The Unwanted Reward
The cabin door swung open with a thud, letting in a slash of late afternoon light and the smell of cold pine and blood. Varek stood silhouetted in the frame, a gutted deer slung over his broad shoulders, its glassy eyes catching the dying fire. Kaelen, who had been kneeling by the hearth adding a log, flinched and dropped the iron poker. It clattered on the stone.
“Up,” Varek said, his voice a low rumble. He shrugged the carcass onto the heavy wooden table with a wet, final sound. “Clean your hands. Then come here.”
Kaelen scrambled to the basin, scrubbing his slender fingers until they were raw. He kept his eyes down, his heart a frantic bird against his ribs. The memory of the night before was a physical ache, a deep, stretched feeling that made every movement a reminder. He approached the table, the metallic scent of blood filling his nose.
Varek was washing his own hands, methodically, up to the elbows. He nodded at the deer. “A clean kill. She didn’t suffer.” He dried his arms on a rough cloth and turned. His gray eyes swept over Kaelen, not unkindly, but with that same relentless assessment. “You’ve been quiet today.”
“Yes, sir,” Kaelen whispered.
“Good.” Varek reached out, a calloused thumb brushing a smudge of ash from Kaelen’s cheek. The touch was so unexpectedly gentle that Kaelen’s breath hitched. “Obedience has its rewards. Come.”
He led the way to the bedroom. The barred window cast long, grim shadows across the bolted bed. The sleek silver collar still sat on the nightstand, its blue lens dimmed. Varek didn’t look at it. He pointed to the bed. “On your back. Legs apart.”
Trembling, Kaelen obeyed, the rough wool blanket scratching his skin. He stared at the iron bars on the ceiling, bracing himself. He heard the click of a glass vial, the slick sound of oil.
Varek’s weight dipped the mattress. His hands were warm and sure as they pushed Kaelen’s thin thighs wider. He examined him, his expression unreadable. “The machine did its work. You’re open. Good.”
Kaelen squeezed his eyes shut. He felt the cool, blunt tip of the speculum being carefully withdrawn. The relief was immediate, a cessation of that constant, metallic stretch. Then came the heat of Varek’s hand, a single oil-slick finger circling his loosened rim.
“Look at me,” Varek commanded.
Kaelen’s eyes flew open. Varek was watching him, closely, as he pushed the first finger inside. It was a slow, inexorable invasion, but so different from the machine. This was living heat, a deliberate pressure. Kaelen gasped.
“Does it hurt?” Varek asked, his voice oddly soft.
“N-no, sir.”
“Good.” He began to move, a gentle in-and-out that made Kaelen’s toes curl. “This is what you get when you’re good.” A second finger joined the first, stretching him further, a burn that bled into something else. Kaelen’s hips gave a tiny, involuntary jerk.
Varek’s mouth quirked, almost a smile. “There it is.” He scissored his fingers, working them deeper, curling them just so. A broken sound escaped Kaelen’s throat. It wasn’t a sob. It was something shatteringly weak and wanton.
“You like that,” Varek stated, no question in his tone. He added a third finger, and the stretch was profound, filling, a raw ache of sensation. “Your greedy little hole is sucking me right in. Clenching like a bitch in heat.”
The filthy words, paired with the devastating tenderness of his touch, unmoored Kaelen completely. Tears welled in his eyes. His cock, untouched, was hard and leaking against his stomach.
Varek leaned close, his breath hot on Kaelen’s ear. “You want more, don’t you? You want me to fuck you proper.”
A whimper was his only answer.
Varek’s fingers plunged deeper, fucking him with a steady, punishing rhythm now. The wet, obscene sound of it filled the room. “I can feel you trembling. Your insides are pure, hot silk.” He changed the angle, grinding the heel of his hand against Kaelen’s perineum. “But you’re not ready for my cock. You think you are? You think you could take it?”
“I… I don’t know,” Kaelen choked out, his hands fisting in the blanket.
“You’re not,” Varek said firmly, his pace never faltering. “This is your reward. This is all you get. My fingers in your slutty, stretched cunt. And you’ll fucking thank me for it.”
The pleasure was coiling, tight and unbearable, a knot being wound at the base of his spine. The shame of it, the sheer degrading intensity, fused with the physical sensation until they were inseparable. He was babbling, “Thank you, sir, thank you, please—”
“Please what?”
“Please don’t stop.”
Varek growled, a low sound of satisfaction. He hooked his fingers, dragging over that devastating spot inside him again and again. “Come on, then. Come on my hand like the good, spoiled boy you are.”
It ripped through him with silent violence. His back arched off the bed, his mouth open in a soundless cry as his cock jerked, spilling streaks of white across his belly and chest. The waves seemed endless, wracking his slender frame, his channel pulsing wildly around Varek’s buried fingers.
Slowly, Varek eased them out. He watched, fascinated, as Kaelen’s hole fluttered, open and spent. He wiped his hand clean on the blanket beside Kaelen’s hip.
Kaelen lay boneless, tears streaming into his hairline, utterly ruined. Varek leaned over him, blocking out the light. He pressed a dry, firm kiss to Kaelen’s sweaty forehead.
“You did well,” he murmured. Then he stood, buckling his belt. “Clean yourself up. There’s venison to prepare. I’ll expect you in the kitchen in five minutes.”
He left the room. Kaelen listened to his retreating footsteps, the deep thud of his boots on the wooden floor. The ache between his legs was a hollow, yearning thing. The praise echoed in his head, more devastating than any command. He wiped at the mess on his stomach with a corner of the blanket, his hands shaking. The glowing blue lens on the collar seemed to brighten, watching, as he forced his trembling legs to stand.