11 A.M.

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At eleven a.m., like clockwork, Adam’s phone buzzed on his nightstand and he reached for it, smiling. He’d been laying awake for an hour, waiting for this call. Now that he allowed it, every single day at eleven a.m. on the dot, he got a call from his Bull.

All part of Elias’ training, of course.

“Elias,” he answered, smirking when he heard a breathless little gasp instead of a proper response. “Darling, are you somewhere private?”

“Yes, Mother,” he said, his voice unsteady and breathy. Adam could hear him struggling and asked, “How long have you been holding it in for this time, Elias?”

“N-ninety minutes, Mother.”

“Good boy,” Adam crooned, grinning at the helpless moan he got in return. “Put your earpiece in, like I showed you, and turn the screen on.”

There was a soft rustle, a shuffle and chorus of wrong buttons being stabbed at with a slippery, frantic finger, and Adam’s screen flickered to life, showing him Elias’ flushed, sweaty face. Continue reading

Good Boy

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Adam tapped his toes restlessly on the floor, finished reading the file, and flipped it closed with a definitive, “No.”

“You can’t veto this, Adam, it’s too much money,” Bea said, her arguments already in order because she knew him too well to think he’d take this case without argument.

“You’re right, it is too much money,” Adam said, reminding her, “There’s no way he can afford my rate for the night! And I can’t clear my schedule—”

“The Mistress cleared it for you and, actually, he can afford your rate,” Bea said, frazzled and weary. “He’s part owner of some kind of cloning patent. He can afford you all night every night until you’re too old to do this shit anymore.”

“Part owner of a cloning patent?” Adam hissed, incensed. “And that’s made him nouveau riche, has it? You know, that’s part of what’s wrong with today’s medical field, Bea, it’s all—”

“Write an article,” Bea said, interrupting his tirade. “I don’t give a shit how he gets his pay, Adam, as long as the House gets its cut.”

Adam flipped the file back open, snorting at the name the House had given his potential patron.

“Elias the Bull, honestly,” he said, skimming the contents again. “This is insane, Bea! All of this?”

“All of it.” Continue reading