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welcome-to-the-whumpfest · 2 years ago

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Master’s Guest

Masterlist

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“Now, my little angel, I figured you’d throw a tantrum if I gave you coloring books, so I’ve given you some homework to occupy your attention.” Angel’s master gleams, his green eyes twinkling with charm. Angel scrunches up his nose, obviously annoyed, but, unfortunately for him, his master loves it when he makes those adoring faces, and his grin only widens.

Creep. The black-haired boy discards in his mind. Of course, his master hears every word and raises his eyebrow. “Do I really need to punish you right before our company arrives?”

Angel takes the workbook out of his master’s hands with a huff.

“That’s better, but I’m still sensing some attitude and you haven’t responded.

Stopping his inner voice from name calling, Angel clenches his fists and replies full of self-loathing sprinkled with annoyance. Good Lord! He’s annoyed, not hatefully raging against his master. Since when did he become so accustomed and naturally okay with this treatment? “You don’t have to punish me.”

“You’ll be good?”

“Yeah.”

“Angel.” It’s a warning whenever he uses his real name.

“I’ll be good…” A slight pause as what feels like bile rises in his throat when he adds, “Master.”

“Wonderful! See, you’re getting better; I’ll have to reward you sometime.”

Angel just glares daggers at him, but something behind his fiery eyes is tired and… empty – almost submissive. There’s no point in fighting seeing as his master keeps getting what he wants one way or another. He’s conditioning Angel, and it’s working. There’s a point to the endless beatings and the even more dreaded comfort. Everything is so tedious, and there isn’t a reason for Angel to resist, unless he’s trying to slow the process down – which he’s definitely done more than a handful of times. Still, there’s something keeping his master from taking the next step. Angel isn’t sure what it is, and he’s not certain he wants to find out.

“Now, my little one, don’t move from this seat. I also have one more thing for you to help you concentrate.”

For the love! Angel growls inwardly as his master reveals earplugs. Are you serious!?!

“Yes, dearest, I am. Look to your left.”

His master doesn’t even have the decency to let Angel put them in on his own. Instead, his head was forced to one side and then the other, his master’s fingers never leaving his skin. Directly before his master covered up the last of his hearing, he whispered, “Just remember I can hear every word you’re thinking. So, be good and respectful, alright?”

And just like that, all sound dissipates, leaving Angel with a symphony of his own heartbeat.

Angel’s master leaves him on the couch as he exits to another room. Finally looking down to examine the book in his lap, Angel realizes it is a workbook of some kind. Science by the looks of it. His master had already invaded his mind and is aware of his love and passion for science back when he was younger. When he had a possible future. When he thought he could get into a university without being caught. When he thought he had a chance as a disguised Ordinary.

It didn’t take long for Angel to figure out why he was given this “generous” task. He couldn’t hear anything, and yet his master wanted him to be focused on something else too. In other words, whoever this guest was, Angel needed to be present, but not “there.”

As he filled out the first question – a chemistry equation – he felt vibrations from the floor. Glancing up, his skin instantly pales, his hands freeze around the mechanical pencil, and his eyes widen like a deer in headlights as he is greeted by a round, distinguished face with a million-dollar grin.

The Collector.

The larger man gives a friendly wave in his direction before sitting down across from him in a recliner. He looks relaxed and far too happy to be here. Angel’s master follows him, carrying two glasses of what looks like tea and placing them on the antique coffee table between the two, before settling down on the couch so close to Angel that their arms are almost touching.

The Collector’s mouth is moving, but Angel hasn’t a clue what he’s saying. The two are involved in what seems like light conversation, and the younger desperately tries to assemble what they are speaking about. A shock ravages through Angel’s being as a familiar hand grips the back of his neck in a warning pushes down firmly, yet gently, forcing him to look down at his workbook. Understanding, Angel bites his lip and works on the next equation, his mind elsewhere. What could they possibly be talking about?

Is this just another way for his master to display the progress they had made together? Is he showing off how docile his seemingly resilient angel is turning out to be? The Collector was undoubtably one of the most successful and well-known Enchanters of his time, and the fact that he is casually sitting across from him and his master only causes him to grow more distributed by the minute. Anxiety threatens to infect his stillness, but Angel tries to push it away and instead answer the next question in the workbook.

The two are probably talking about him, which only succeeds in making him feel sick about the entire ordeal. Why does he even need to be here? It must mean they’re planning on hurting him, teaching him a lesson, or something!

Suddenly, an earplug is removed, and his master’s voice rings out, “Dearest, quit your overthinking. Your nervousness is unnecessary, and frankly, it’s distracting and exhausting. Stop it.”

“If you would stop listening to my thoughts, maybe it wouldn’t be so distracting.”

Before his master can respond, the Collector lets out a belly laugh. “I knew he would still be in there! I’ve missed that feistiness. Everyone else is so boring. You sure I can’t borrow him for a couple days? We’d have so much fun together!”

“I’m afraid not, but I’ll certainly consider it in the future. For now, my little angel has earned himself a punishment for backtalking which will be given later. Not while we have guests.” Angel hates how they speak like he isn’t here. “Where have your manners gone, little one?” His master actually looks disappointed as he stuffs the earplug back in.

Angel grits his teeth in frustration at the condescending remark but pushes away anymore retorts forming on his angered lips.

The Collector and his master continued to talk for quite a while. Angel refrains from watching them and instead makes great headway in the workbook. He decides to focus on his task, seeing as trying to decipher what is being said would be futile. It isn’t until he causally glances up while turning a page that he notices the Collector’s eyes on him. There is an excited look in his eyes and an eager smile to his lips. A shiver runs up Angel’s spine, but he darts his eyes back to the book, very aware of the eyes on him.

After a brief moment, his Master wraps an arm over his shoulders, of which Angel tries to lean forward, causing the arm to fall down his back and away from him. This doesn’t stop his master from returning the touch to the back of his neck again. Angel moves forward again, in a casual show of defiance, but to no avail as the hand remains firm on his neck, gripping it slightly, but not weakly. Angel frowns down at the workbook and tries to ignore the touch. There’s no point in shaking the hand off, even as humiliating as this is.

As Angel finishes another problem, a cool, calming sensation seeps into his neck, reaches towards his shoulders, and down his arms and upper back. Its like water, flowing gently yet rapidly. Looking towards his Master, Angel’s blood freezes. Sure enough, both his Master and the Collector are staring at him – the Collector looks like a starving man staring down his next prey (ready to pounce) and his Master has an eagerness in his deep green eyes that Angel can’t help but feel trepidation sprint through his veins.

Angel jumps up from the couch and whips his head directly back at his Master, taking his earplugs out in seconds and the workbook falling onto the floor, forgotten.

“Angel.” There’s that warning tone again; Master looks disappointed.

“What are you doing?” Angel bites back, anger masking his fear.

Before he can respond, two muscular arms reach from behind, and cross over his chest, slamming his smaller body against the larger man. Without having to think, Angel’s natural instincts kick in. Immediately he starts fighting against the arms capturing him, he kicks back directly where he knows he can hurt the Collector. The gigantic man laughs behind him before lifting the younger off his feet, as if he were trying to crack his back. Because of the sudden sensation rushing through his arms, Angel finds himself unable to summon enough strength to be much of a force against the Collector.

“Get off!” Angel growls. In the back of his mind, he knows he can use his Advance to get the greasy hands off him, but it would be foolish to do so when his Master is so near.

“Angel, settle down.” His Master’s green eyes stare at him, commanding with just a look, “Everything is going to be alright.”

“Yes, little one,” The Collector chuckles directly behind his ear, “This isn’t going to hurt.”

Carefully, Angel’s Master approaches him and leans forward, kissing his sweat dampened forehead. That’s why I should be scared, isn’t it? Angel stares into his Master’s calm face.

No dear. It’s going to feel so good. Don’t worry.

“Don’t touch me.” The strength in his voice is fading.

“Hush, little one. Just breathe.” Without further warning his Master reaches out his hand and cups his angel’s cheek. Stuck between two Enchanters, Angel helplessly stares into those green eyes, apprehension and terror racing through his own crystal-like orbs. Nothing happens at first, but then a cool cleansing feeling reaches into his neck and down his spine. Unable to stop a sigh from escaping his lips, Angel starts to sag in the Collector’s arms. There’s a slight vibration behind him, assumably the man’s weak attempt at concealing his satisfied laugh.

Angel’s Master reaches out to grab both sides of his little one’s face as he slowly allows the spell to overtake the fragile and exhausted frame. “Shh, shh, my sweet one, just relax. Let it take you.”

Overwhelmed by the calming sensation, Angel slips into a blissful state, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, and his body slumping against the Collector, the big arms the only thing holding him up. His Master keeps speaking in a soft and gentle manner, “You’re doing so well. I’m so proud. The Collector has come to help me find a simple way to reward you. You receive so many punishments, now that you’re getting better I think it’s time you feel a sweeter sensation.”

“He’s so calm.” The Collector breathes, amorous with the feisty one’s sudden surrender. “I’ve seen this spell on others, but there’s something special about him. Can’t quite put my finger on it.”

“I’d agree with that. Let’s let him sit down for a moment.” Carefully the Collector helps Angel to the couch, sitting down first and bringing the smaller one onto his lap.

“You don’t mind me getting so intimate with your sweetheart?” The Collector chuckled, placing his chin over the hardly conscious one’s shoulder.

“Be my guest. There are limits, but I’m sure you know them.” There’s a hint of hostility, but it disappears with a twinkle in his eye. Angel’s Master sits next to them and grabs his little one’s hand and forearm. “Can you hear me, my little angel?”

“Yes, Master.” His voice is weak and dazed as if being hypnotized.

Perhaps a part of him is.

“Good, my dear, and tell me how you feel.”

No answer. Completely overwhelmed with his nonstop pain and aches dissipating, Angel is left confused and exhausted. He doesn’t want to speak; he wants to fall deeper into this sensation and drop down. His closed eyes wince slightly as if trying to conjure up an answer before going slack against the Collector’s chest again.

“Wow, this really took it out of him.” The Collector chuckles.

Angel’s Master just smiles as he gingerly pushes his little one’s bangs out of his face. Eyes shut and face relaxed, Angel looks younger. Hardship doesn’t weigh on him when he’s like this. It’s like he’s free, momentarily, but still, obviously comfortable.

His Master hasn’t seen him comfortable in a very long time.

Perhaps this reward is for both of them.

“My angel, you may stay this way, but first you must thank the Collector for his generosity in coming all this way and finding the spell.”

The same, emotionless and trance-like voice escapes Angel as he melts onto the Collector’s lap, “Thank you.”

“Oh course, little one. This was well worth it.” The Collector lets the sleeping angel fall back and disappear into his darkened world of bliss.

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