Nero

"I'll come back to chat later, when you're in a better mood," Xanders says, with a smile that's cold, brittle. "Then we'll try this again."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Yeah, he wants to be in charge. "Daddy, please don't go," I say, trying to sound like I'm reluctant to say it. "I really, really need to piss."

"That's cute," he says, considering me for a moment. "I think I like that. Has anyone ever told you you're adorable when you beg? Try again. Put it all together, and let's see how that sounds." He stands up.

"Daddy, please help me piss," I say, mostly to get it over with.

Only my voice is a little raw, and I can feel my skin heating up. I've trained myself not to blush, but something about begging Daddy to help...

He seems to like it too, judging from the way he has to adjust his cock in his pants. He goes over by the door and gets a big bottle with a wide mouth that looks like it's been made for just this occasion and returns. "Here we go." He sets it next to me and unfastens my pants, fishing in my boxer briefs to pull out my semi-erect cock as nonchalantly as if he's tucking hair back behind my ear.

I bite my lip and try to will my cock to calm the fuck down. Xanders is barely touching me, but his fingers feel so hot against my skin. I tell myself to just piss, get this over with, and wait for an opportunity to escape.

He pushes the head of my cock down into the bottle, holding it there with an amused glint in his eyes. "Does piss play always get you hard, or is it just looking into my eyes, little cub?"

"Guys touching my dick does it for me," I answer cheekily. I close my eyes and focus on relieving myself. I have no idea how long I was out, but it must have been a while.

When I'm finally done, he pulls the bottle away and screws the cap on, all without a single flinch—like he does this all the fucking time. He leaves my cock out of my pants, though.

"So let's get started," Xanders says, setting the bottle by the door then coming back to sit beside me. "Simple things first. What's your name?"

That's probably the least simple question of them all. I give him a smile, though, and say, "Nero."

"So, Nero," Xanders says, shaking his head slightly as he settles back in the chair. "Who do you work for? Generally speaking?"

"I freelance. Generally speaking. I have a website and everything. It's five bucks per contract, ten if my client needs a rush delivery." I wonder if he's recording this conversation. I should have paid more attention to what I was saying earlier, although I was—am—still a bit woozy.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to undervalue your worth?" Xanders asks. "You're worth at least seven dollars, given your accuracy and aim in that failure of a hit." He tsks at me.

He's clearly trying to provoke me. Anger doesn't get you anywhere, though. Anger is for when you're with people you can trust.

"I'm still building my portfolio. I hear working for exposure is a great way to gain a reputation and find paying clients."

He snorts at my joke, and I have to admit he does look good with that small smile.

It really is too bad I'm supposed to be killing him, not fucking him.

"Sounds like you'll have one hell of a resume when all this is over. Sniping, bombs..." Xanders pauses, considering, and I can't tell if he's being genuine or simply playing me. "But you said you didn't do bombs, didn't you? Neither do I."

Which reminds me of why I'm chained up here, with my back all torn up from shrapnel. "Yeah." I avert my gaze. "Some wires must have... gotten crossed. Pun intended."

Did my client betray me? But they couldn't have known where I'd be. They couldn't have predicted when I'd make my move. If it wasn't them—no, even if it was them—it would mean they somehow managed to gain a lot more information about me than they should have.

I'm fucking careful. I don't make mistakes like this.

I need to contact Corbin. He can help me make sense of this.

Right after he lays into me for fucking up the way I have.

"Hmm. Well, from where I'm sitting," Xanders says, "it seems like someone tried to kill both of us. If I let you go, you'll probably try to kill me again, which is obviously problematic and not ideal for me. Right now, no one knows if you're alive or dead. That's a pretty good place to be in when you're trying to hunt down someone who set you up."

It takes me a second to realize what he's suggesting. "You want... you want us to team up? I should just forget my contract and work with you instead?"

It's a fucking stupid idea. I can't trust Xanders. He'll probably use me and kill me once he's gotten what he wants.

But I'm also injured, and tired, and sore, and the thought of going back to Corbin in this state only fills me with dread.

"It's either that or I just slit your throat," Xanders says matter-of-factly. "Because I'm not cutting you loose only to have you come back to try to fulfill that contract. I could blow your brains out, but my housekeeper would definitely not appreciate that mess. Not that blood is much better, but that's their preference."

I laugh at the threat, not because I don't believe him, but because I would have done the exact same thing. Only if our positions had been reversed, I probably wouldn't have bothered with the interrogation or the piss play; I'd have murdered him on the spot.

I smile up at him. "Sure, Daddy, why not. I promise to be very obedient so you don't have to hurt me."

He smirks back at me. "Don't be too obedient. I'd hate to not have an excuse to spank you before the end." He gets up. "Get some rest. Your back is fucked up," he says more briskly, his tone far more businesslike. "Think about what I said and make your real decision in the meantime."

I watch him leave the room, then try to get more comfortable on the bed with my cock still flopping out.

Xanders thinks I was lying. But I wasn't. I'm not stupid enough to reject an offer like that.

I can't get my revenge on whoever did this to me if I'm dead.