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On Hire	By : Czmadzia Category: +. to F > Ai no Kusabi Views: 4860 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Ai no Kusabi, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Language corrections were made by Shayne and Phaedra7veils.
* * *
Chapter 2
"What?!?" Katze's eyes flashed with disbelief, shock and something else. Disappointment?

Iason let this cry fade in silence. Repeating himself would be demeaning. It was enough that he put himself to the trouble of coming to this gloomy Midas apartment to pass this news in person. He only came to Katze's place when really necessary, mostly on business, so today's visit was an unlooked-for gesture of respect towards his former furniture.

Katze, sitting on the sofa beside him, was still staring at Iason as if he didn't really understand what he had just heard. But there was no doubt that he understood. Even judging by this reaction.

"Iason, please tell me that you are joking," his voice was a tone lower than usual.

"You know that I'm not joking."

"But that's ridiculous! What do you mean he asked you? What does he need me for? How could he ask anything like that at all?"

At the last question the dealer's voice trailed off. He could, of course he could. In the world they lived in a Blondie could do anything. Only this particular whim was completely unprecedented.

Iason smiled slightly. It was such a classic Iason smile that Katze's heart sank.

"Apparently Raoul feels a certain—interest towards you. That's what he called it. I don't exactly know what he wants, perhaps he himself doesn't know. But unless it interferes with your work for me, I have no objections. I think you should be flattered. After all, Raoul is one of the most powerful people in Tanagura. The fact that he took interest in a mongrel, much too old to become a pet and castrated... You have a chance to experience something new, Katze. Something completely new." Iason's lips curved in his characteristic smile again. "I wish you all the best – that's another reason for my decision."

Katze shuddered. He kept his head low for a moment. Then he looked at Iason and the Blondie saw heavy resentment in his eyes. And betrayal. And ire.

"Why do you think you know what is best for me?" the redhead sneered. "Why do you make such a decision for me? You didn't even try asking my opinion. It's been a long time since I belonged to you, Iason. You can tell your Blondie pal to fuck off."

He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth an instant before a strong hand fell on his cheek. His head was thrown back by the impact, but when he straightened again, Iason's face was unchanged.

"Don't you dare talk like that about a Blondie."

Katze smiled inwardly. Iason had reacted exactly as he'd expected.

"And the question of to whom you belong appears a little different to me. You belong to the one you depend on, the one who rules your life. You know perfectly well that you still belong to me."

Katze didn't try to deny it. He knew. Although by law this ownership had no longer any actual value – Iason couldn't punish him like an owner would punish his property, or dictate the disposition of his person in a typical master-like way – he could still pull his strings and send Katze back to the gutter in one day.

Well, it was Katze who was his most important string, but it was still rather certain Iason would manage to take everything away from him if he wanted.

Still, the prospect of landing back in the gutter wasn't that scary. The worst thing was that Katze would no longer be able to be close to Iason. And a seat at Raoul's feet was definitely closer to Iason than the gutter.

He shivered and remained silent. Iason nodded.

"I'm glad we understand each other. I'll tell Raoul you've given your consent. He'll probably call you later today."

With those words the Blondie got up and headed for the entrance without saying goodbye.

Katze didn't move. He sat, staring at one spot on the floor when the door closed behind his former master. And a quarter later. And half an hour later. His mind replayed only one thought. Iason had given him away. Iason had given him to somebody else!

* * *

Another half an hour passed when he was startled by beeping of a comm unit. He rose and answered the call mechanically. He twitched upon seeing the beautiful face that appeared on the screen.

"Katze, Iason told me that you already know about our decision," the Blondie stated calmly. "In that case I want you to move to my place this evening. Take only the most important things, later on you'll have time to take care of the rest of them."

What certainty in his voice. 'You know about our decision'. Just perfect.

"Raoul," Katze started carefully, unsure if he addressed Raoul properly. Now when... now the Blondie could demand something different. 'Sir Am'... 'Master'. But Raoul didn't seem to have objections. "Raoul, what is this all about? What do you want from me?"

Raoul's face became gloomy. "What I want is none of your concern."

Like hell it isn't, he wanted to say, but stopped himself.

"I'd at least like to know what to expect."

The Blondie was silent for a while, as though he wasn't sure what to answer. He cleared his throat. "Don't trouble yourself with that. What you can expect you will soon find out. You don't have to worry, I won't take away your autonomy."

"Are you sure I'm the one you need?" Katze found it hard to speak. He didn't even know if 'need' was a right word here. "I can offer you the most expensive, most exotic pet from..."

"That's enough," the Blondie interrupted almost angrily. "Don't be ridiculous, Katze."

Right. Katze smirked bitterly behind his blank expression. On reflex he'd tried to sway Raoul with an argument that always worked. Only it worked with everyone else but Raoul. Why would the Blondie want a pet that most likely came from his own collection? And all other pets Katze traded in the black market were of incomparably worse quality than those from the Center.

"Sorry," he muttered, feeling stupid. "It's just that I can't believe that..."

Raoul smirked with odd bitterness. "Then you better believe."

Katze swallowed, gathering himself. He had to try. He'd failed with Iason, but maybe now he would succeed. At the source.

"Raoul, whatever it's going to be, please, consider it once more. I don't want to. I don't want to belong to anyone, I don't want to live somewhere else than where I live. I don't want anyone to force me to change my life."

He carefully watched for Raoul's reaction. As usual – it was almost imperceptible. The biologist's lovely lips just tightened a little.

"Then it's not your lucky day. I am not going to discuss it anymore. You better start packing. See you in the evening. Oh, and Katze, bring your old furniture tag with you."

With those words Raoul disconnected, leaving Katze stunned, frozen in his place, his lips open, speechless.

* * *

The car was sliding evenly along the streets of Tanagura. Katze lowered the window to let the smoke out and scanned a perfectly ordered avenue. The city of the elite. Who here, on Amoi, were almost omnipotent. Who kept other people as property and used them at their own discretion. He'd been building up his position for so many years, he had even started to think that he meant something, that people respected him. And all those illusions had been swept away in just one moment.

Damn it! How did Raoul imagine Katze would continue his work if he deprived him of the main tool of his trade – his terminal? And what did that bastard want in the first place?

He parked the car in front of the side gate to one of Eos skyscrapers. He was used to avoiding main gates, and that's what he did now. He grabbed a little backpack from the passenger seat and got out of the car.

Since his old identification number had never been cancelled, he still had free entry to Eos. It was one of the reasons Iason had left him in the registers. Come to think about it, Katze mused while the elevator climbed to the top floor, I've never stopped being a furniture.

Raoul didn't live in the same building as Iason. Eos consisted of a few main towers whose penthouses were occupied by a few most important Blondies. Raoul occupied one of them. In the penthouse they already knew of his arrival. The security system had notified the household when only Katze put his hand on the scanner in the elevator and picked out the floor of his destination. He was surprised that the computer accepted him at once. He was prepared to have to call and arrange things. Apparently Raoul had already taken care of that. Never doubted that Katze would come – and stay – that son of a bitch.

And when the elevator doors slid open, it was Raoul waiting for him in the hall, not the furniture.

"Here you are," the Blondie spoke nonchalantly, as if welcoming castrated mongrels in his condo was his everyday entertainment. "Follow me. I'll show you to your room."

* * *

"A terminal?" Katze stared perplexed at the huge computer panel on the far wall of the room.

"Why are you so surprised? Isn't that what you need for your work?"

He moved his gaze on the Blondie.

"I promised I wouldn't interfere with your work. I wasn't lying."

"And that's why you brought all that stuff here?"

Raoul shrugged minutely. "What's the big deal?"

True. For a Blondie of his position it was no big deal. No expense. No effort at all.

"You can download your files here. I'm not going to look into them. In any case, you can protect them with a password."

"I would do it anyway," Katze muttered. "I always do it." He narrowed his eyes and focused them on the other man thoughtfully. "What do you want from me, Raoul?"

Raoul answered his look. Suddenly he wrapped his arms around himself and half turned away from Katze.

"I wish I knew." The answer was quiet. The Blondie looked at the dealer over his shoulder, studying the expression of his face. What he found there was anger. "You're mad I took you from under Iason's wings, aren't you?"

Katze opened his mouth, but realized that he didn't know how to answer. He hadn't expected that Raoul would be so straightforward. And that he would hit the point at once.

"You're so attached to him, huh? Maybe you love him," there was mockery, but also bitterness in the Blondie's voice. "But you see, neither you nor I matter to him. He's got that mongrel of his and no matter what you do, you'll always be second best. Is there a point to stick with him like that?"

It sounded strange. It sounded as if Raoul, teasing Katze, teased himself. As if he spilled his own regrets with those words. Katze hated him at the moment. Hated him for what he had said. But most of all – for that he was right.

"So you decided to find comfort in another mongrel," he spat angrily.

Raoul closed the space between them in one step. His face was suddenly inches away from Katze's.

"No," he said. "That's not what I meant." Then he pulled back and added. "Unpack. Supper is in half an hour in the great hall. I'll need you afterwards."

Katze shuddered at the thought of what need that might be. And once again – when the door closed behind the Blondie.

* * *

The evening, as it turned out, was an evening of surprises. First the terminal, now... Katze stared at the chessboard, dumbfounded. Then he moved his gaze on Raoul, sitting in front of him.

"I assume you can play that," the Blondie spoke.

"I haven't played for a long time. And in general I hardly ever played."

"That's all right. You'll remember. I'm glad I don't have to waste time teaching you."

Reo, Raoul's furniture, approached the table, moving silently as a ghost. He started to lay out the dessert dishes, trying to be as imperceptible as possible. Fruits, cake, wine... Katze gazed at it, remembering the delicious supper. The boy put down the last plate, bowed and disappeared. The dealer sighed inwardly. Typical furniture's lot. To be maximally useful while being minimally noticeable.

"Help yourself," Raoul said, arranging white pawns on the chessboard. Katze reached out for the black ones.

"No, thanks, I'm not hungry. Maybe later."

He lost the first game very quickly. Raoul had absolutely no problem beating him. During the second one he slowly started to recall strategy and tricks. The third one took them a whole hour and almost ended with a draw. He won the fourth game. Right, he had white pawns. Right, it was a big effort and he used Raoul's little oversight.

The Blondie smiled seeing his black king disappear from the chessboard. He leaned back on the sofa. He looked contented.

"It's nice to know you can be a worthy competitor for me. Especially that it's only the first day." The smile widened.

Katze stared at him incredulously. Was the Blondie actually glad that he had lost?

"You're surprised?"

"When Iason told me about your... request, it never occurred to me that I'd play chess here."

"Is that so strange? You are intelligent, Katze, much too intelligent for your origins. Maybe even as intelligent as elite members. I always thought Iason was exaggerating boasting of you so much. But then I saw you in action."

"Are you trying to tell me you were entranced by my intellect?" Katze couldn't suppress a little snicker escaping his throat.

"Among other things, yes. I think it's natural. As an elite and an intellectual, I value mental superiority. The thought that a mongrel might be that intelligent is very—interesting for me."

"I thought you would be interested in other things."

"What things?" Raoul's face was perfectly expressionless, but his voice held a hint of a challenge.

"I think you know what I mean."

The Blondie smiled.

"You thought I would want to use some... coital activities with you? Really Katze, you think it's so common among the elite to sleep with lower-bred?"

Katze didn't answer. He didn't know how. Of course, he'd never considered himself the object of sexual interest. Neither of the elite, nor of anyone else. He wouldn't dare to. But with Iason's suggestions about 'possible new experience' what was he supposed to think? Probably dealing with Iason had distorted his perception of the elite world, since he usually didn't remember that most of Jupiter's children would never lower themselves to engage in sex.

Raoul got serious.

"I admit that I am also interested in more... physical things."

Katze frowned. So, he was right after all. Here it goes.

"I am castrated, Raoul. I can't imagine how I can be used. I can't play with myself, you say you don't want to play with me. So what? You want to watch one of your pets fucking the castrate?"

"I don't have pets. Sold them all a couple of months ago."

Katze raised his brows, surprised.

"I got fed up with them."

"In that case I completely don't get it," he muttered.

Raoul didn't answer. He was silent for a few more seconds. Finally: "I want to look at you, Katze. Get undressed."

Katze froze. For a moment he just stared straight into those beautiful green eyes.

"I can assure you there's nothing interesting about my body. You certainly have better things to do than watch castrated mongrels without their clothes."

"Let me judge what is interesting to me and what isn't. Please, do as I said." The Blondie's voice lost nothing of its calmness.

Katze remained still on his place. And what was he supposed to do? Get up and just take his clothes off? Because a Blondie wanted him to? He knew it would be most reasonable. And the easiest. But he just couldn't. He couldn't even imagine himself doing it.

"And what if I refuse?"

"Then, I'm afraid, I'll have to force you."

Katze's jaw contracted.

"You want to use force against someone so intelligent?"

"I would very much like to avoid it, but I will if I have to."

"Well then," he pressed his lips into a crooked smile. "I guess you'll have to do it by yourself, 'cause I can't imagine your furniture forcing me to anything."

Teasing Raoul pleased him. At least that much he could do. He remembered the slender form of the Blondie's furniture. The boy was no more than sixteen and would have had no chance in direct combat against a man like Katze. Raoul's eyes slitted. And then, within a second, he was over Katze, pulling him up and pushing forcefully. For an instant everything blurred in the dealer's vision, then something hard slammed against his back, knocking the air out of his lungs. Only Raoul's perfect face remained over him, slightly frowning, but still calm. And that was maybe the most scary.

"I guess you don't understand your situation yet, Katze," the Blondie purred. "You are here with me now, no matter what you may think of it. Perhaps in your eyes my authority isn't as strong as Iason's, but I don't care. I demand respect. And when I tell you to do something, you do it."

It hurt. Raoul's fingers clasped tightly on his shoulders, pressing him to the wall. Raoul's words putting him firmly in his place, humiliating him. It hurt and it suddenly made him angry.

"Fuck you, Blondie."

The words were faster than he managed to think. So was his hand that suddenly grabbed Raoul's wrist, twisted it and pulled in a well-practiced way. It was just a blink – the Blondie somersaulted in front of his eyes and landed with a heavy thump on the floor. Katze seized the moment and straddled him, pinning the elite's arms to the carpet.

And only then did he have time to panic.

The Blondie stared at him from beneath, the beautiful face pulled into an expression of sheer shock. Aw shit, what had he done?

"I... I'm sorry, Raoul," he stuttered, "I didn't think I would... I'm sorry."

You didn't think at all, you fool. Right, now the Blondie would kill him. And he would have every right to do so. Hell, what had gotten into him to behave like a total idiot? Elites hated having their pride shaken. Especially by someone as low as him.

Shock quickly disappeared from Raoul's face, giving way to a menacing scowl. The biologist's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Know some tricks, do you?"

And the scowl was followed by a wicked curl of lips. It was not quite a smile, it was more like baring teeth, but it was not the fury Katze had expected. It was... almost the same expression he'd seen on the Blondie's face when he won the chess game. Only this time more predatory.

He started to draw back, releasing Raoul from his hold, when suddenly there was a sound of hasty steps coming from the kitchen. His eyes swung in that direction. Reo halted at the threshold, a saucer and a dishcloth in his hands, gaze terrified.

"Master Raoul!"

Raoul growled, and with his peripheral vision Katze noticed that the Blondie's face changed again, this time into the puffed up, demanding-respect face reserved for servants. Which was hard, considering that he was lying on the carpet held down by another man – and a mongrel.

Katze had to admit it – seeing the Blondie's efforts to remain in authority was priceless.

"It's all right, Reo," Raoul said in his masterful voice. "We're just having some... exercise here with Katze. Go back to your work."

For a moment the furniture was still standing there frozen, mouth agape, eyes wide and unblinking, giving his face a somewhat dumb look. Then he bowed uncertainly and retreated into the kitchen.

"Great. You even managed to make me look ridiculous in front of my furniture," the Blondie snorted. He moved his gaze to Katze and eyed him with disfavor. "You find it amusing?"

Katze stirred, suddenly becoming aware that he indeed was grinning. Damn.

"Sorry, didn't mean to—"

He never managed to finish the sentence. The Blondie moved so fast that Katze didn't even have time to register what was happening. It was like an avalanche falling on him, making him a limp, helpless rag doll as the world danced around him. And the very next moment his back was pinned to the floor and Raoul was straddling him, just as he'd been straddling the Blondie a minute ago.

He jerked abruptly once and again, but Raoul held him easily in place.

"Well, how does it feel down there?" the biologist grinned venomously. "Maybe I don't know tricks, but I learn really fast, you know. And the difference between you and me is that you can knock me down, but you can't keep me like that. And I surely can."

However, Raoul admitted it silently, he had to use strength to do it. He felt Katze's effort to break free. He'd never used force against an ordinary person – never had a need to, but he knew usual human strength was hardly noticeable for the elite. So – for a non-elite Katze must have been strong, very strong even. Good. Raoul added it to the list of the dealer's remarkable features with not a little satisfaction. And made a mental note to be careful dealing with Katze in the future. He released the mongrel and got to his feet, keeping an eye on him all the time.

"Get up."

The dealer complied, lifting his body slowly, reluctantly, as if expecting what would come next. Well, he wasn't mistaken. Raoul gave him a haughty look.

"Now. I guess I've proven my point. So, unless you've got any more arguments to use against me, can we please proceed from the point where we were interrupted?"

Nothing. Silence. The amber eyes glowered at him sternly.

"Strip," Raoul ordered.

Katze kept his face expressionless as he slowly started taking his clothes off. He locked his gaze with Raoul's. His movements were sharp, asexual, and the Blondie was sure he made them such on purpose.

Want to show me how very uninteresting you are? Raoul's lips twisted in a wry grin.

The redhead got rid of his pants and hesitated over the last piece of his garments.

"That too," Raoul instructed.

"It's pointless."

He stepped up to the mongrel and reached for his chin, gripping it firmly.

"It's for me to decide," he drawled. "Take it off."

Katze's eyes for a moment changed into narrow slits. He moved back and quickly pushed the white piece of fabric off his hips. He didn't try to cover himself, but his lips tightened, forming an overturned arch and the muscles on his jaw twitched with an expression of stifled fury.

Raoul shifted his gaze over Katze's body slowly. He wasn't disappointed. The dealer was skinny, all right, but he was surprisingly fit with that. The muscles on his arms and stomach were perfectly visible even when he just stood with hands falling loosely by his sides. Raoul liked it. He felt his hand rise to the mongrel's arm and allowed it, fully prepared to fight back in case Katze had some stupid ideas in mind. Katze didn't, he only shuddered when Raoul's fingers brushed his shoulder. His body was hard, tense under the touch.

"You're awfully pale," Raoul commented. It was true. Katze's skin was very fair. Even fairer than Raoul's. "Too much nicotine, caffeine and sleepless nights in front of the screen, I presume."

"That's my problem, don't you think?"

"Not anymore. I'm not going to allow you to wear yourself out like that."

"I thought you said something about not interfering with my work."

"I'm not interfering with your work. I'm taking care of your well-being."

Muscles on Katze's jaw did their short dance again, but whatever the dealer had to say, he kept it to himself. Ostentatiously, Raoul moved his gaze down, to the mongrel's groin. He knew what to expect there, but still wanted to see it.

In case of furniture, castration was more complicated than with animals. Removing their testicles wasn't a solution here as altering their hormonal system could prove fatal for their appearance – and no one wanted that. Thus their testicles weren't removed, they were modified to produce hormones only, but not sperm cells. So technically furniture were still fully males, but sterile.

And they were dismembered – of course, pets had to be perfectly safe with them.

This alternation had yet another effect. Boys after such modification were absolutely unable to reach sexual completion. Also their sexual needs were dulled – which was good, since they didn't suffer from desires that could not be fulfilled.

Raoul had seen quite a few naked furniture in his life. A branch of the Center was responsible for carrying out the modification and he sometimes inspected it. But of course he'd never looked at any of them like that. Never with any kind of interest other than professional. He'd been a bit afraid of his reaction at seeing Katze's mutilation, but when he looked at the mongrel's groin he didn't feel disgusted. On the contrary, he suddenly realized that this obvious evidence of the dealer's imperfection was, in some perverse way... gratifying. It reminded him of his own superiority. Just like...

On reflex, he moved his hand to Katze's face and reached for the strands covering the scarred cheek. The dealer jerked back escaping it, but Raoul grabbed his chin and held it firmly.

"Stay still."

"Please, don't. Leave it alone." For the first time the mongrel's voice was faltering.

"I want to see it."

He released Katze's face and the dealer didn't try to move away anymore. He shut his eyes tightly. Raoul brushed the red veil aside, leaving it behind the ear. He studied the pale cheek carefully. For the first time he could see the scar completely exposed and for longer then a blink. It ran over the line of Katze's jaw, from his chin to his ear. No, it wasn't disgusting. Somehow, Iason had managed to mark the mongrel without making the scar disfiguring. The sight of it gave Raoul the same kind of pleasure he'd felt while looking at Katze's groin. And something else came to his mind, making him smile. Without this scar Katze wouldn't have been the same Katze – the black market boss. He traced his fingers along the rough texture of the flaw. The dealer shuddered.

"All right," Raoul murmured softly, not even knowing to whom those words were directed.

Why the hell was he feeling like this? Why didn't he mind such obvious defects? He had taken a crippled property, asked for it himself, and enjoyed looking at it. Was he so desperate as to settle for a flawed commodity? But no, he could have taken a pet. He didn't want a pet.

Unable to find an answer, Raoul shut down that line of thought quickly.

He let his hand fall to the pale chest as he slowly moved around Katze. His fingers casually brushed the nipple and slid over Katze's arm to his back. Raoul examined the broad, somewhat angular shoulders, narrowing into the thin waist, and shifted his gaze even lower. His hand wanted to move further, to trail down to those lean buttocks, to touch them... but he suppressed the desire. Something wrong was happening in his groin. It suddenly felt very uncomfortable and tight. Damn, it shouldn't be like that.

He abruptly took the hand away and averted his gaze.

"You may dress," his voice was stifled and sharp.

He moved away quickly, sat down on the couch and reached for the glass of wine to cover his agitation. The distance made the tension subside and he allowed himself to look at Katze again, as the mongrel hastily reached down for his clothes.

"Do you have any work for today?" he asked.

"Break into my own computer, transfer all the files here, a few minor matters to attend," the answer was flat, recited with the rigidity of an answering machine.

"How long will it take you?"

"About two hours, I guess. To break in and to take care of the matters. Downloading will probably take the whole night, but I'm not needed for that."

"Did you track our hacker's den?"

Katze's fingers, fumbling with the zipper of his shirt, stopped for a moment as he moved his gaze to Raoul. For the whole evening the Blondie hadn't mentioned a word about the hacker, so the sudden change of subject was surprising.

"I did. But it's not his den. I checked the bearings the computer returned. It's a club in Midas. Called Virtual Ecstasy."

He managed to find out more about the club, but he didn't feel like sharing it with Raoul at the moment. Who would want to chit-chat, having just been forced off their clothes and examined like an animal? But the Blondie didn't seem very much interested.

"Never expected it to be easy," he murmured under his breath.

"It's never easy. No hacker in his right mind would use his home terminal to do a big number."

Raoul smiled. "I suppose I should trust you on that point."

And that was all. The Blondie got up, the glass of wine still in his hand.

"Very well then. You're free to do your work. And in two hours I expect you in my bedroom."

Katze stiffened abruptly, half bent, a sweater in his hands. His fingers clenched convulsively on the thick fabric.

"So much for not fucking the lower-bred."

Raoul bridled irritably. "Who said anything about fucking you?"

Katze watched frozen and completely dumbfounded as the Blondie turned on his heel and headed for his bedroom. The door slid open for him. He stopped at the threshold and looked back, as if he'd just remembered something.

"And bring your tag along. I intend to put it on you."

With that he disappeared behind the door.

* * *

His hand was shaking slightly as he brought the lighter up. He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. At least with a smoke in his mouth and a glow of the screen into his face he felt more at home.

Two hours. It was too little! Fucking Raoul with his fucking whims. Took most of his evening and now also wanted to take his night. Not that the chess game was something unpleasant, Katze had to admit. He'd always liked mind games. If not for the situation, it could have been fun. If not for the situation.

He put his hands on the keyboard and forced his thoughts to focus on work.

Breaking into his terminal was easy. The computer was strictly protected from the outside, but Katze had left himself a gate of entry. One could gain access to his files with little effort – if one knew the gate existed. Nobody knew and Katze was positive nobody would ever find out without his direct admission. It took him some ten minutes to get in – of course, even the gate was properly protected.

He launched an automatic download of his files, starting with his personal folder. He knew a few new orders were waiting there for him. He hadn't had time to attend to them before Iason's disturbing visit. And afterwards he just couldn't focus on anything but his personal hell.

A counter showed eight hours until the download was complete. He hated the idea of copying his files to another terminal, but what could he do? He comforted himself that soon he would be able to delete the copies. Whatever Raoul was up to, he would be bored in a month at the most. He just had to. Soon he would realize that Katze couldn't give him the satisfaction he expected. Because how could Katze satisfy anyone?

He turned in his chair and slid his gaze around his new suite. The room wasn't anything spectacular. It reminded him of his old quarters in Iason's household. Probably that's what it was – a spare room for furniture. Katze winced at the thought. Still, the terminal was one of the most powerful recent models, and that was most important. The rest of the furnishings were austere – a single wardrobe, a little cabinet beside the terminal panel, a few empty shelves on the wall and a narrow bed. Fortunately the room had its own bathroom, which gave Katze a feeling of some privacy. There was an electric kettle on the cabinet. And two metal boxes – for tea and coffee. Funny, and Raoul said something about his bad habits.

He turned back and glanced at the screen. Ah, here it was already. He opened his mail box to see six unattended orders – one of them completely new, only an hour old.

Biting the cigarette filter, he started assigning the tasks. A transport of pets to Laoc�n. They ordered twenty from the offer Katze had sent them, they accepted the price... very well. He checked the schedule of his men. Han. The guy loved space trips. May him have the pleasure.

Another transport – to Nyccos, a far city on Amoi. A big cargo of illegal computer chips. How about Daryl?

He proceeded for a while like that until he got to the last message. He read it quickly. An order for the Accelerator, quite a big amount of it. The price was reasonable – normally Katze would probably push the client to pay a little more, but he didn't feel like playing games at the moment. The task was easy, it didn't seem to pose any threat. And didn't require leaving the city – the order came from Midas. Katze looked at the name in his registers. Why not? Riki the Dark...

It was two months since Riki quit working in the warehouse. By Iason's order.

Katze remembered that day when – a little bit out of spite, a little bit out of pity – he had told the brat that he should consider himself lucky. That Iason was taking a great risk by keeping him, that his position was already threatened.

Sometimes he wondered if he should hate Riki. The kid had everything Katze ever wanted, and couldn't appreciate it. Why... if Iason placed his feelings properly, Katze would have shown him what it meant to be loved.

He smirked bitterly under his breath. Look at you. Look what you are thinking, even now, when he sold you so easily. And of course Iason would never feel for him – what would he need a mutilated, outdated property for?

But no, Katze didn't hate Riki. Who could hate that kid after all? With that sparkle in him, with his vigor and witty mind. The brat radiated such incredible mongrel charm, Katze could quite well understand why Iason loved him. Because Iason did love Riki. Katze himself couldn't stop liking him.

And... did Riki really hate being with Iason so much? Since that talk with Katze something had changed between those two. The kid was taking his captivity much better. It even seemed that he and Iason started to get along somehow. And Iason... Iason made further concessions to his pet. Like this order to give him more responsible work, to let him run some errands. Safer ones and on the spot, but still.

And so Riki was now really back in the black market. He was doing well. Some people had even started to call him Riki the Dark again.

Katze's thoughts were interrupted by a beep at the door. He walked over to it and pressed the opening button. It was Reo at the threshold. Holding a bundle of creamy-white clothes in his hands.

"Master Raoul ordered me to bring you your pajamas," the boy offered. "He also asked me to remind you that you have your time until midnight."

Looking at Reo's face Katze understood that the lad had no idea what the order implied. And all the better. Last thing he needed was a fifteen year old furniture treating him like a pet.

"Thank you." He took the bundle from the youth's hands.

The boy was gazing curiously at him for yet another moment, as if considering whether to say something – maybe ask some questions... But he didn't, and Katze certainly wasn't going to help him. So he just waited in silence, staring at the boy sternly. Finally the furniture bent his body in a habitual bow and retreated from the threshold.

"Good night, sir."

"Good night."

Katze closed the door with relief and leaned against it. He looked at the garments in his hands. So, at least he knew Raoul didn't want him naked in his bedroom. What good news. He tossed the pajamas onto the bed and returned to the computer.

He spent some time arranging the meetings, sending and forwarding the messages. Until everything was set. And when he looked at the clock on the screen, it was about time to start getting ready. Shit. He reached for another smoke and lit it, nervously browsing downloaded folders. There was still so much he could do. For example send out some offers. Or try to negotiate better prices with some of the dealers. Or... of course none of that was very urgent, but normally he would do it tonight, without waiting for tomorrow. He would work until three or four in the morning, but he would do it. Fuckin' Raoul.

Inhaling the smoke he opened one of the files. Raoul could wait a little. He shouldn't expect Katze to meekly run to him at his whim. But when he looked at the screen and tried to read a chart on it, he got all mixed up. His thoughts were escaping him. Running ahead to the very disturbing near future.

Damn, he was freaking out!

Maybe it was better to go. To go and find out what was waiting for him. The sooner he knew, the better for his strained nerves. With a sharp, quick movement he crushed the just-started cigarette in the ash tray, grabbed the pajamas and headed for the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later found Katze in front of the huge bathroom mirror, staring at his reflection. The pajamas were loose, the cut simple yet graceful – long bottom, and sleeveless, hooded blouse with a zipper opening in front. The fabric was smooth on his skin. So, he had to admit that he liked the look of it on himself. Would like it even better if his skin wasn't so pale against the cloth. He snorted caustically at his own face in the mirror. Great. Raoul would be happy to see him like that.

It was five past midnight when – back in the room – he cast one last glance at the screen. The download was proceeding at its own steadily-slow pace, so he just switched off the monitor and headed for the door. At the last moment he remembered something. He reached into his backpack and took out a thick metal bracelet.

He looked at it for an instant, feeling a strange cramp in his throat. There were a few signs engraved in the metal. His identification number. Yeah, time to become someone's property again, pal.

* * *

The door swooshed open when Katze put his hand on the scanner. He found Raoul sitting in the armchair with a laptop on his lap. The biologist raised his head to meet Katze's gaze.

"Ah, here you are," he welcomed him briskly. "I'm glad you made it on time."

He was even smiling a little and this smile suddenly angered Katze. What did the damn Blondie think? That being nice would lure him? That Katze would smile back? Someone was hurting here and that bastard was oh-so-cheerful.

He moved through the room, instinctively making a comparison with Iason's bedroom. This one seemed... warmer. A little bit old fashioned with its partially wooden furnishings. There was even a cabinet with obsolete paper books, and Katze wondered if the Blondie really made use of them or they were only a decoration.

And of course the middle of the room was occupied by a king-sized bed.

Raoul was already dressed for sleep. Or rather undressed. Clad in no more than loose white pants, similar to Katze's, but made of some silky expensive-looking fabric. His upper body was bare and Katze swallowed at that sight. All right, so Raoul was beautiful. As much as Katze had seen and appreciated it every time he met the Blondie, he was never more aware of it than now. Broad, perfectly chiseled arms and chest, firm stomach, golden hair falling in waves on the porcelain-like skin of the shoulders. The hair brought Katze's attention back to Raoul's face and again the dealer was amazed by its beauty. Completely different beauty than Iason's. Not so cold, softer, eyes green not icy blue, though of course Katze never doubted that Raoul could be scary if he wanted to. And even now, even half naked, the Blondie lost nothing of his dignity.

Looking at the perfection of the creature in front of him for a moment robbed Katze of breath. But at the same time he knew there was nothing unusual in it. Of course every single half naked Blondie would arouse the same emotions in him, every single half naked Blondie would be breathtaking.

Raoul's gaze slid down as he put the laptop away. It stopped on the identification tag Katze was clenching in his hand.

"You've brought it. Very well. May I?"

Katze silently handed him the bracelet. He wasn't surprised to see the Blondie open the panel and tinker with it for a moment, pressing little keys inside. Raoul reached for his own Blondie's bracelet lying on the table next to the laptop and repeated the operation quickly. Katze could guess what it meant and didn't like it.

"You know the code opening your tag, don't you?"

Sure he knew. Or rather had known.

"I never tried to crack it. Iason told me when he was taking it off."

"I've changed it," Raoul announced. "Now I'll be the only person who can take it off."

Katze winced. What a surprise.

Furniture tags worked exactly like pet rings. They were identification units, tracers, and means of administering punishment, connected remotely with owners' corresponding devices. Raoul didn't wear his bracelet for the night, but he had the ring on his finger all the time. It was enough to shift one tiny lever there and the unfortunate property would writhe in pain at their master's feet. Katze knew it all too well, he'd experienced it a few times on his own skin.

"Well, come down here, will you?" Raoul prompted him, and he had no choice but to squat in front of the Blondie. "Give me your hand."

He swallowed and obeyed. He looked silently as the tag enclosed his wrist. Again, after all those years. Strange sparks were playing in Raoul's eyes, like flashes of excitement. Oh yes, during his time as a furniture Katze observed one interesting thing. Marking pets with rings and collars always gave their owners this particular satisfaction – as if it was not only the means of control, but also a symbol of possessing someone. Deep inside, Katze could understand it. He'd always had his own little satisfaction wearing Iason's tag, although he knew it was an illusion – Iason had never seen it that way. And now, seeing the same satisfaction in Raoul, Katze flinched inwardly.

"Couldn't refrain from putting a pet ring on me, huh?" he allowed himself a comment. Indeed, wasn't his tag more like a pet ring now?

Green eyes moved from his hand to his face. "Why should I refrain from that?"

Right, why should he? Why should Raoul refrain from anything he wanted? The Blondie's voice was light, almost careless, just like a smile curving his lips. He kept his gaze locked with Katze's as he pressed on the tag. The fastening snapped in place, making Katze shudder. Beautiful pink lips twitched slightly.

"Tomorrow morning," the Blondie said, pronouncing the words carefully for some reason, "we are going to pay a visit to this club. Virtual Ecstasy, I believe you called it."

We? But the thought dispelled as fast as it came, as the next words Raoul said were: "Now, get into bed."

And the Blondie's tone left no doubt as to which bed he meant.

Till the last moment Katze had hoped that after getting what he wanted, Raoul would send him back to his room. Or order him to sleep on the couch here, or something. He'd refused to admit that he would land in the Blondie's bed eventually. And here now... But Raoul didn't want sex, hadn't he said that? Then what? This question kept surfacing in Katze's mind again and again. He considered pleading, but decided against it. Somehow he knew it wouldn't help.

He felt awkward, moving towards the huge bed, sensing the Blondie's presence behind him. He felt terribly uneasy laying his body under the silk covers and feeling the mattress dip under Raoul's weight. The light went off. He was trembling. His mind worked with crazy apprehension. What now? What next?

The Blondie moved closer and Katze wished nothing more than to jump out this wonderfully comfortable trap. But of course he didn't. He held his body perfectly in command, lying stiffly on his back, not allowing himself to even jerk away.

"Turn to your side," he heard a low voice. "Your back to me."

"What do you..."

"Shh. Just do it." Soothing and firm at the same time.

And Katze obeyed, feeling even more vulnerable like this. And then the hand came around him and the warm body pressed to him from behind. Raoul exhaled deeply and Katze felt a hot rush of air on the crook of his neck.

"That's all I wanted," Raoul whispered. "Now, sleep."

But Katze couldn't sleep. He lay for a long time with his eyes open, staring dumbfounded into the darkness. So, he'd become a teddy bear for a Blondie – he didn't know whether to laugh or cry at that thought. But the truth was, somewhere deep inside him something stirred. So, Raoul just wanted that. A strong, emotionless Blondie just wanted someone close... The hand around him was pressing tightly, almost making it impossible to breath. And even when the Blondie's breath started to slow down, the grip didn't ease. Katze's own hand was lying on the pillow before him. He could easily distinguish the shape of the tag on his wrist, could feel the touch of cold, hard metal on his skin. And somehow this feeling – more than anything – convinced him that this evening, all of it, was real.
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