In Flames - 3. Chapter 3

He’d met Aris at a bar. A damn bar. Hindsight was a wonderful thing, and had he been to any other bar on any other night, maybe his life wouldn’t have turned out so badly. He’d been blown away by the man, by his good looks and fantastical charm, by his charisma and money, and his fake adoration of Atoki. It was so easy for him to be seduced by the older man.

That night he had gone home with the beautiful man in the suit, and they’d screwed all night long. Atoki had never had it better. In the morning Aris had bought him breakfast, all sweet and caring, loving and sincere. He had begged to see him again, and again. It was easy to fall in love with Aris.

Now Atoki wondered why he hadn’t seen it after their first fight, why he hadn’t run for his life back then, when a week into their relationship he had declared that he needed to back home and sleep in his own bed for once and Aris had slapped him, hard across the face. Afterwards Aris had cried, begged for forgiveness, been so sweet and lovely, and given him pleasure all night.

And then the casual cruelty had crept in. He would smack Atoki for seemingly no reason, then make up for it with kisses and presents. He started calling him degrading names during sex, and because the rest of the time life was sweet, Atoki put up with it. Aris had bought him diamonds and asked him to move in, when he did, Aris began to ban him from leaving the house on anything but the most simple errands. By the time Atoki had realised that he was being kept, it was too late.

He was trapped.

Sometimes, Aris was normal, sweet: a caring, conscientious and loving boyfriend. Often he was mad, raging, angry and hateful. His mood could switch in a second, an action that one day would earn praise would the next earn him bruises. Atoki learnt to keep himself ready, if not willing, but once Aris discovered that he was lubing himself up in case the other man wanted to rape him the second he walked through the door, he smacked him about and left him bleeding the bath tub when he’d finished.

Atoki went four times to the hospital for stitches, told lies to cover for the man who drive him, told of falling down the stairs, accidents with a cigarette (‘a dozen times?’ the nurse had asked him, not believing his story), tripping the street. The boy ate to keep up his strength and kept himself clean only so that his boyfriend could soil him. Atoki kept his mouth shut to avoid worse beatings.

The times when it was good made everything else so much worse. Aris would arrive home with flowers and chocolates, jewellery and presents. The man would dress him up nice and take him for dinner, call him the sweetest things and they would make love with passion and adoration. And all the time Atoki waited for the hammer to fall.

Atoki learnt to settle arguments by jumping the other man’s bones, by initiating sex he didn’t want because it was all he knew. He cut himself to dull the shame and pain, but Aris didn’t want a lover with scars, and beat him to within an inch of his life for it, all without ever once touching his face. Atoki had blown him with a throat raw from crying and screaming, and promised himself that never again would he allow himself to be so degraded.

Then it had been the fifth, and Atoki had never missed a year at the fire. He begged to go, knowing he would be refused. For the first time in a long time he’d fought back, landed a solid punch to Aris’s strong jaw, and earnt himself a split lip for his trouble. Aris had shouted and raged. Told him that he would suffer for his insolence. Raped him on the stone floor of the hallway, then left him half naked and bleeding to call and invite his friends over. Never before had he threatened to involve other people, but there, standing with his back to Atoki’s sprawled form, he began to chat genially to the man on the other end of the phone, as though the idea of whoring out his boyfriend to a group strangers was totally normal.

From somewhere, the boy had found the strength to stand, pulled up his trousers and walked into the rest of the house. ‘Make sure you clean up yourself for the boys!’ Aris had shouted after him. He’d walked to the kitchen, taken the cast iron griddle pan from the cupboard and walked back to where Aris was fiddling with the controls of the television and bashed him over the head with it.

And after that, as best he could, he had run from the house.

Now, Atoki stood by the river with the horse sized demon with the soft fur and strong horns and stared into the water. He wished he hadn’t told Vruuaska, wished he’d not said anything, and for a moment wished that the fire that simply killed him outright.

“You must be disgusted by me.”

“No. I am not.” The demon beast laid its great head along his chest, it’s breathing thrumming through Atoki’s body like the vibration of an earthquake. “I believe you did what you had to do to survive.”

“But…” Atoki dragged his hand over his eyes, feeling angry at himself that he was crying again.

“But without you, I would not be here, existing in this world. You are truly beautiful.”

Atoki looked into the flame eyes and felt something hot in his chest, a longing that he had not felt in months, a desire to earn and hold to respect of this…Demon.

Suddenly, there was a shadow of another person in front of Atoki, wobbling unsteadily right in front of him. This person seemed intent in staring at the boy.

“Are you OK mate?” The harsh, slightly hung over tones interrupted the moment made Atoki and the demon looked around. There was a man who had just come over the bridge, looking concerned and a bit hazy with drink and lack of sleep, who was clearly worried about the snivelling boy by the river bank. “Dude don’t jump.”

“Huh?” Atoki now realised that to the other man, he looked alone, lonely perhaps, because no one could see Vruuaska, “Don’t worry about me, off you go.”

The drunken man was obviously still liquored up enough to be suggestible, because he staggered off, vaguely singing to himself.

“I don’t know what to do Vruuaska. I have no money and no other clothes, nowhere to go home to, I can’t even go into town and buy painkillers.” Atoki looked at the water. Death by fire hadn’t worked, but now that the sun was coming up it was harder to think about being dead. “I think you’ll find that I am rather boring company.”

“Let me help you.” The big demon said, and Atoki was so tired and depressed, he simply nodded, and followed the lion-wolf with the horns and the fiery eyes in the direction of the town.

*

Vruuaska left the boy for a little while in a public toilet, locked into a stall and the beast walked into the town’s shopping district. It was nothing to simply walk into shops, choose items from the shelves and cabinets and walk out with them. The human mind refused to acknowledge his presence, and so it was easy to steal clothes, food, drugs, toiletries. He wasn’t sure exactly what Atoki would have chosen, so he went by what other people, obviously hung over from the night of The Fifth, were choosing. He found carrying everything in his teeth difficult, but it was the work of a moment to push the solid boundaries of his body in order to change shape. He carried the shopping back to the public bathrooms looking a bit more like a human, but not much.

This new body walked on two legs, but kept the paws, the jointed legs, the fur, and the tail. His chest was broader, better defined as a person, and his muzzle was shorter, more rounded, his hands with fingers and opposable thumbs. The horns were smaller, better suited to his new stature and his thick ruff was still in place, spreading across his head and down the back of his neck and shoulders. He summoned a sort of short wrap around his hips and kept his tail low and out of the way. The transformation was good and Vruuaska was pleased with this other shape, which was much more obviously male in appearance.

“I have things for you Sire.” Vruuaska dumped the contents of his arms in the sinks and on the surface and then took the only chair in the room and jammed it under the door handle. “We’re alone.”

The boy came out of the stall shaking and smelling of acrid fear and dark shame. Vruuaska wanted to wipe the feeling from him, but wasn’t sure how. The boy stared at him in shock.

“I’m sorry,” Vruuaska remember his different appearance, “I had to carry things. Should I change back?”

“No. It’s fine.” Atoki began to sort through the stuff that Vruuaska had bought, and located the items that could count as breakfast; chocolate, juice, crisps, a sandwich and a blueberry muffin. He gobbled it all up, then washed down the lot with a big handful of mixed over the counter white painkillers. “God, I’ve taken more ibuprofen in the last nine months than I should have taken in a lifetime.”

Vruuaska leant against the counter and watched the boy who had summoned him. He was angry, a hot ball of rage and hate inside his chest when he had listened to Atoki talk about the man who had beaten him. He felt possessive over the boy, this small, waif thin creature, who had brought him into solid existence. He hated that someone else had touched the boy when he hadn’t wanted it. Now he observed Atoki through half shuttered eyes, forcing himself not to look to closely at the beautiful figure. It was easy to see that under the bruises and the swelling around his jaw and eye, he was truly beautiful. If Vruuaska could do anything, he was going to make sure that no one ever touched his Master without permission again.

On the other hand, and Vruuaska wished quickly that he himself had chosen to wear something a bit more robust, as Atoki stripped wincing out of his clothes, revealing the pale lines of his body. Naked but for a pair of silk looking boxers, he washed in the sink with the soap and wash cloth that Vruuaska had stolen. The demon stared at the boy who had summoned him, ignored the bruises and the marks of his beating as Vruuaska, watched the muscles beneath his skin, the beauty of how he would be if he was healed, the way his blond hair fell over his eyes. That surfer boy hair was as soft as his own fur, and Vruuaska found his fingers moving in the short fur over his abdomen. He wasn’t exactly sure why, or what the tight, hot sensation in his lower belly meant, but it felt nice. He wondered how his Master might look when he was happy. Vruuaska had never seen him smile.

“Thank you,” Atoki’s hazel eyes were watching him in the mirror, “I wish I could do something in return for you.”

Vruuaska smiled at him in the mirror. “I would love to see you happy.”

Atoki’s laugh was like a short bark.

“Happy? Fuck…” He moved quickly, half dressed in the jeans that the demon had lifted, and dropped to his knees in front of Vruuaska’s paws. “How about I make you happy instead?”

Nimble fingers slipped the wrap from his hips, closed around the hard length of his red cock as Atoki began to lap at the pointed tip.

“Wh-! W-w-wait!”

But Atoki wasn’t listening to him, and used skills that no self-respecting twenty year old should have known to swallow his length whole in one go, hand on his hips, his mouth sucking and wet as though his life depended on his skill with his tongue.

The boy was talented, amazing, and simply the idea of being pleasured by his Master made Vruuaska feel a sort of dizzying high. At the same time, Vruuaska didn’t understand, had no idea how the pleasure was formed, knew he wanted it to continue, but not like this. The boy was on his knees because he thought it was the only way he could show his appreciation, the only way to keep Vruuaska from kicking off at him.

Because good things always turn bad, and anything you love can be taken and made to hurt you…

Vruuaska found his master’s words in his head, unbidden, and pulled away from the hopeless feeling.

“No!” He grabbed Atoki’s shoulders and pulled the boy physically off him, “Don’t.”

“But…” Atoki looked like his world was about to fall apart, like he was disgusted with himself but it was the only thing he knew, “I’m good at this…”

Vruuaska gathered the boy into his arms, pulling him against his chest, holding him there in a tight hug.

“I know that. But you don’t have to do that for me. I will never hurt you.”

“Aris used to say that. He used to say ‘I’ll never hurt you again’ and you’re a demon, how can I expect you not to lie?” Atoki tried hard not to let out a sniffle.

The demon lifted Atoki from the floor, holding him under his knees, cradling him against his chest, stroking his hair with his cheek.

“I will never hurt you. I haven’t yet, and I never will. You’re my Master, all I want is for you to be happy. If it made you happy, I’d have let you finish, but you weren’t doing it because it made you happy.”

“I’m your what?” Atoki murmured, but Vruuaska didn’t answer him directly.

“I will not abandon you or beat you. I will not leave if you do not pleasure me all the time. I just wanted you to smile Sire.”

Atoki’s arms closed around his neck, and the boy pressed his face into the demon’s thick ruff.

“You really won’t lie to me?”

“No. Never. Come, let us finish getting you dressed.”