DemoGrassi

eleven

WARNING: mentions of rape

They start out fairly far away from each other.

Sure, they are still close — Scott wants to be there in case Mitch needs something — but they aren't touching at all.

This lasts about five minutes.

Eventually, Scott speaks up, his voice small and scared. "M-Master?"

"Don't stutter," Mitch commands without looking away from the screen. He doesn't see Scott flinch. "Yes, sir. Sorry. But I just — I was wondering if I could hold your hand," Scott says softly. Mitch finally looks over at him, dark eyes filled with confusion and worry. "Yeah, of course. Is everything alright?" he asks, holding his hand out to Scott. Scott eagerly takes it and holds it tightly, not answering the question at first.

"Well, I just . . . I was so scared, sir. I thought — I thought he was going to take me away. And I don't — I don't want to go away."

Mitch's expression softens, and he scoots closer to Scott, letting the bigger man cling onto him and hide his face in his neck. "It's okay, Scottie. I won't let them take you away," he murmurs, running his hand up and down Scott's back. Scott makes a small sound and pushes himself impossibly closer to his master, needing his comforting touch.

They continue to watch the movie — well, Mitch does — in silence.

Scott still sits with his head in Mitch's neck and his arms clinging to him, making sure he doesn't leave. Mitch keeps his arms wrapped around his slave, holding him tightly to reassure him that he won't leave.

It's so quiet that Mitch thinks Scott has fallen asleep, but soon the silence is broken by soft sobs. Mitch is immediately concerned, pulling away just do he can see Scott's face. "What's wrong, hun?" he asks softly, and Scott shakes his head, looking away to hide his tears. Mitch frowns, gently lifting Scott's face up with his fingers to look into his eyes. "Scottie. What's wrong?" Scott whimpers and hides his face in Mitch's neck again, and Mitch instinctively wraps his arms around his torso.

"I felt so powerless." Scott's voice is so soft Mitch isn't even sure he said anything.

"When, sweetheart?"

"At the — the store. When the man t-t-touched me."

"Aw, honey. I'm sorry I didn't get there sooner. I'm sorry I left you alone in the first place." Mitch's voice breaks as well — he's mentally scolding himself for letting Scott get hurt.

Scott looks up at the sound of Mitch's voice breaking to see tears streaming down his master's cheeks as well. He clambers off of Mitch's lap and pulls Mitch into his, tucking Mitch's head into his neck.

Just like that, the roles are reversed.

"Don't blame yourself, Mitchie." Then, as an afterthought, "Can I call you that?"

Mitch laughs weakly through his tears. "Yes."

"Okay. Don't blame yourself, Mitchie. You saved me. I wouldn't be here right now if it weren't for you. I would be stuck in that man's room being forced to do things that I don't want to think about right now. You saved me."

"But if I hadn't left in the first place, you wouldn't've even had that guy come and touch you like that."

"Master. Please. It wasn't your fault. He probably would've come anyway; he didn't know who you were so he thought he'd fight you for me or something."

"But I —"

"Master. I'm sorry for interrupting, but it wasn't your fault."

Mitch just lets out a small sob and curls deeper into Scott's chest. "I'm glad you made it home, Scottie. If you had been taken . . . I — I don't think I could ever forgive myself." Scott smiles slightly despite the situation. "I'm glad, too."

They fall into silence once more, the only sounds being the quiet murmur of the TV in the background and Mitch's sniffles.

"Sir?" It's Scott who breaks the silence.

"Hmm?"

"Why did you pick me?"

Mitch gently pulls away to look at Scott, a confused frown on his face. "I don't understand."

"When — when you were buying slaves. Why did you pick me?"

"Why wouldn't I pick you?"

"There were plenty others who were better than me —"

"I'm going to stop you right there, hun. You're perfect. All of you were perfect, and I wish I could've taken you all, but Father only wanted me to get a new personal slave to replace Lizzie. I was pushing it by getting you, even — he wanted me to have a female. I can't imagine how much he would've freaked if he saw me with fifty slaves behind me."

Scott looks down at his hands and arms, subconsciously tracing the various scars littering his skin. "But we're not perfect," he whispers, so quiet Mitch has to strain himself to hear him, "we've been beaten, we've been raped . . . There are so little kind masters out there. Many of us have been to over ten houses before we finally found a master that liked us enough to keep us forever. It's hard, Mitch. Being tossed around like you're nothing but a ball in a children's game. Being punished if we make one tiny mistake. That's — that's why I don't want to leave you. Because I don't feel like nothing here."

Mitch swallows the lump in his throat and blinks away the tears forming in his eyes at Scott's words. "I don't want you to leave either, Scottie," he whispers, searching Scott's deep blue eyes.

It's then he realizes how truly beautiful Scott's eyes are.

The beautiful blue irises sparkle in the light, filled with a deep sadness that makes Mitch's heart wrench and some other feeling Mitch can't place. The pupils are surrounded by flecks of gold within the blue, a darker blue-gray outlining it all. Mitch could stare in them forever.

Mitch's breath hitches in his throat, but he forces himself to ask a question. "Please tell me you weren't — they didn't — you weren't raped, were you?" he breathes, almost crying at the thought of his poor Scott being raped. To his relief, Scott slowly shakes his head, still not looking at his master. "No. I wasn't. It was usually girls, but sometimes — sometimes men were raped too," he says, and shudders. "I — can we not talk about this right now? I don't — I can't —"

"Of course. We don't have to talk about this if you don't want to. Just . . . Let's finish the movie, okay?"

Scott makes a small sound of agreement and tucks himself into Mitch's side again — somewhere during the little chat they had Mitch had gotten off of Scott. Mitch smiles down at him, and Scott returns it sadly.

Neither of them actually finish the movie. They spend the rest of it mulling over the other's words.

When the movie ends, they both jump at the sudden silence. 

Mitch realizes what happened first and turns the TV off, getting up and stretching. He turns to Scott with a small smile on his lips. "Let's go get some food, yeah?"

"Mitch? Can we — can I do it? Like . . . Can we eat in your room? I don't really want to see anyone right now."

At Mitch's raised eyebrow, Scott hurriedly continues. "You would go up now, and I would go get you food from the kitchens and bring it up to you." Mitch's expression softens, and he nods. "Of course."

Mitch turns to walk out of the room, Scott watching him go. Suddenly, he turns around to add one more thing. "Ask for Chinese," he says with a grin. Scott smiles weakly and nods. "Yes, sir." Mitch winks at him before leaving the room.

As soon as he's gone, Scott lets out a shaky breath, biting his lip and closing his eyes to breathe for a second. The day's events flutter around his brain, driving him nuts. He pushes those thoughts aside and heads off to the kitchen.