Generally not that fond of typing while traveling, but this story’s eating up my brain. :) And apparently, writing angst while on a plane helps with motion sickness. o.O Who knew?
Warning: kinda graphic spousal rape/non-con, dehumanizing thoughts, basically Charles Lee
Master of the House
Chapter 4 - Of Considerations Lost
Despite having secured an agreement from James and James’s Omega to help him in his endeavors with Connor, Charles felt ill at ease. A slight sour, bitter taste lingered in his mouth, not unlike the one that plagued him when he had learned that Master Kenway had had a child with that...woman. It plagued him all through his ride back to his manor and lingered through a silent solitary supper.
The feeling was soon joined by another unpleasant sensation. As he began nibbling through a plateful of cheese, Charles’s gaze fell upon the empty chair assigned to his Omega at these meals and suddenly lost his appetite. He pushed away the plate and nursed his teacup, deep in contemplation.
Seeing James and his own Omega had been, as loath as he was to admit it, a revelation. That such natural enemies could live peacefully, almost happily, despite the situation that brought them together...!
Vaguely, Charles entertained the notion that James had betrayed the Order, but brushed the notion away. The man may be a pacifist at heart and a bit too sentimental, but he was absolutely devoted to the Order. It was Master Kenway himself who discovered him amongst the lower ranked members and elevated him to his current position. The very qualities that Charles himself lacked, an ability to sympathize with commoners, a willingness to learn about and adopt inferior manners and beliefs, a flexibility about his person and approach, these made him the perfect outreach to the masses that the Order needed to control, particularly if Charles was to be placed into a position of power within the new forming government.
He was, Charles mused, much as William Johnson had been, before Connor had assassinated him.
Thoughts of his wife brought his mind back to the conundrum he had been contemplating, and he stared into his teacup as if the swirling dark liquid held all the answers he sought.
It was extraordinary. James’s Omega may have been willful when James had suggested the man help Charles with Connor, but Charles had eyes. He had seen the way the man leaned into his Alpha, his willingness to be in James’s company, the way he instinctively sought James’s assurance.
That James’s natural charm with those lesser than he could allow him to master his wife without reducing him into the shell that Connor had become...
Charles glanced again at the empty chair and, for the first time, wondered if his plan might become more than what he had originally sought.
It was true that his Omega was of inferior stock on his mother’s side. Charles grimaced in distaste at the thought of the woman. But his paternal line was impeccable. And during his captivity, Charles had, despite himself, began to see more and more of Master Kenway in him. His wife, he was forced to admit, had great business acumen and had managed the Davenport estate admirably. Whether it was from pure luck or keen foresight, the boy had, if Charles’s reports were correct, single-handedly discovered the necessary talents to revive the place and negotiated its return to magnificence.
The boy was also, Charles’s interrogators had informed him after a couple of months with that French chef Assassin, well-versed in a few foreign languages from the continent. French was a given, especially with the French’s involvement with the Natives during the French-Indian War, but that the boy had a rudimentary working knowledge of German from little time he had spent with one of the other Assassins...
That was Master Kenway’s keen intelligence, no doubt. And the boy was physically desirable, of similar shape and form to Master Kenway. He was smaller and shorter than the Grandmaster, but that could be attributed to his Omega nature.
What would it be like, Charles wondered, if Connor would lean into him the way James’s Omega had sought his Alpha? What would it be like if Connor actively sought to give him pleasure during their couplings instead of lying passively on the bed? What would it be like if Connor did not resist their kisses?
For a moment, Charles allowed himself to imagine. Long lingering kisses, the lowering of that tempting body onto a soft bed, long legs wrapping about him as the lithe body arched passionately into his wider, larger frame and a light alto voice crying out... “George!”
It was as if a bucket of cold water had been tossed on him. His erection deflated, and his fists clenched in anger.
The boy was a sentimental fool who could not get over the death of his beloved Washington, Charles reminded himself. He was nothing like Master Kenway. Master Kenway would never collapse over the death of a fool. He would never let himself be in such a state where he lay insensate due to sheer sentiment. It was clear that the boy could never be Master Kenway’s equal.
Abruptly, he stood and, dabbing his lips with a napkin, signaled the servants to begin clearing the table.
With a furious stride, he made his way to the room he wife lay in.
He slammed open the door, startling the maids who had been tidying the room and, with a barked shout, ordered them out.
For a second, he stopped and stared transfixed at the boy lying on the bed, gazing at streaks of orange in the sky as the sun set behind the trees.
He was beautiful, this boy Charles had stolen, but he frustrated every single one of Charles’s designs and every last one of Charles’s plans.
And that was intolerable.
Anger mounted again, and he roughly removed his belt, tossing the leather into a corner. His waistcoat followed next, and then he turned his attention to his breeches and undergarments, stripping them from his body in brusque, perfunctory movements. When, at least, he was bare save for a thin shirt, he fell upon the boy.
Hogwash, he thought as he ripped the sheets off the lax body and spread the boys thighs.
Utter hogwash, his mind bit off bitterly as he coated his fingers with grease and fat and smeared them at the boy’s entrance.
Complete and useless hogwash, he raged as he angrily thrust in.
It was idiotic, mad, sheer lunacy! Clearly, James and James’s Omega had rattled his brain.
He gripped Connor’s thighs tightly, fingers digging into the boy’s soft, vulnerable flesh and undoubtedly leaving bruises as he set a punishing pace.
What was he going on about, thinking of Connor as if the boy was a person meriting his consideration? As if the boy would ever cooperate with him without duress?
The bed shook and groaned with the strength of his thrusts, in tune with the pulsing of his rage.
His original plan was undoubtedly the best one. He would allow James’s Omega to coax Connor out of his shell, but once the boy was back to a semblance of himself and had birthed him a healthy male Alpha, he would send Clipper back to James, and things would be as they should be.
He pulled out of the boy, flipped him about and savagely plunged back in.
What did he care if Connor never returned his advances? What would he care if the boy spent the rest of his days as a mindless spoils rather than a true wife?
He gasped as an involuntary twitch caused the constricting channel to hug him. He dug cruel fingers into the firm round buttocks and quickened his pace.
Yes, yes, yes! This was best. He would have his heir! He would have a brilliant and capable Alpha son of Master Kenway’s line to call his own and, together, they shall bring the Order to new heights! And its mother? Well, its mother would be his whore for as long as he remained breathing. A pretty thing to sate his needs and potentially birth him more worthy children.
He moaned and gasped and groaned as the friction became unbearable, as heat gathered low in his loins and built with fiery heat.
With a cry, he emptied himself into the boy, sweet relief rushing over him as he collapsed onto a cool, smooth back.
He grasped the boy and rolled to the side, spooning the smaller body with his larger one. One hand snaked around the lithe waist, splaying itself possessively across Connor’s belly, rubbing it softly, gently in contrast to the hard fucking he had just given its owner.
Charles sighed. Contentedly or perhaps with just a bit of bitterness, he did not know. He did not think he cared.
Charles fell asleep still deeply embedded within his wife.
Master of the House - part 5
Warning: kinda graphic spousal rape/non-con, dehumanizing thoughts, basically Charles Lee
Master of the House
Chapter 4 - Of Considerations Lost
Despite having secured an agreement from James and James’s Omega to help him in his endeavors with Connor, Charles felt ill at ease. A slight sour, bitter taste lingered in his mouth, not unlike the one that plagued him when he had learned that Master Kenway had had a child with that...woman. It plagued him all through his ride back to his manor and lingered through a silent solitary supper.
The feeling was soon joined by another unpleasant sensation. As he began nibbling through a plateful of cheese, Charles’s gaze fell upon the empty chair assigned to his Omega at these meals and suddenly lost his appetite. He pushed away the plate and nursed his teacup, deep in contemplation.
Seeing James and his own Omega had been, as loath as he was to admit it, a revelation. That such natural enemies could live peacefully, almost happily, despite the situation that brought them together...!
Vaguely, Charles entertained the notion that James had betrayed the Order, but brushed the notion away. The man may be a pacifist at heart and a bit too sentimental, but he was absolutely devoted to the Order. It was Master Kenway himself who discovered him amongst the lower ranked members and elevated him to his current position. The very qualities that Charles himself lacked, an ability to sympathize with commoners, a willingness to learn about and adopt inferior manners and beliefs, a flexibility about his person and approach, these made him the perfect outreach to the masses that the Order needed to control, particularly if Charles was to be placed into a position of power within the new forming government.
He was, Charles mused, much as William Johnson had been, before Connor had assassinated him.
Thoughts of his wife brought his mind back to the conundrum he had been contemplating, and he stared into his teacup as if the swirling dark liquid held all the answers he sought.
It was extraordinary. James’s Omega may have been willful when James had suggested the man help Charles with Connor, but Charles had eyes. He had seen the way the man leaned into his Alpha, his willingness to be in James’s company, the way he instinctively sought James’s assurance.
That James’s natural charm with those lesser than he could allow him to master his wife without reducing him into the shell that Connor had become...
Charles glanced again at the empty chair and, for the first time, wondered if his plan might become more than what he had originally sought.
It was true that his Omega was of inferior stock on his mother’s side. Charles grimaced in distaste at the thought of the woman. But his paternal line was impeccable. And during his captivity, Charles had, despite himself, began to see more and more of Master Kenway in him. His wife, he was forced to admit, had great business acumen and had managed the Davenport estate admirably. Whether it was from pure luck or keen foresight, the boy had, if Charles’s reports were correct, single-handedly discovered the necessary talents to revive the place and negotiated its return to magnificence.
The boy was also, Charles’s interrogators had informed him after a couple of months with that French chef Assassin, well-versed in a few foreign languages from the continent. French was a given, especially with the French’s involvement with the Natives during the French-Indian War, but that the boy had a rudimentary working knowledge of German from little time he had spent with one of the other Assassins...
That was Master Kenway’s keen intelligence, no doubt. And the boy was physically desirable, of similar shape and form to Master Kenway. He was smaller and shorter than the Grandmaster, but that could be attributed to his Omega nature.
What would it be like, Charles wondered, if Connor would lean into him the way James’s Omega had sought his Alpha? What would it be like if Connor actively sought to give him pleasure during their couplings instead of lying passively on the bed? What would it be like if Connor did not resist their kisses?
For a moment, Charles allowed himself to imagine. Long lingering kisses, the lowering of that tempting body onto a soft bed, long legs wrapping about him as the lithe body arched passionately into his wider, larger frame and a light alto voice crying out... “George!”
It was as if a bucket of cold water had been tossed on him. His erection deflated, and his fists clenched in anger.
The boy was a sentimental fool who could not get over the death of his beloved Washington, Charles reminded himself. He was nothing like Master Kenway. Master Kenway would never collapse over the death of a fool. He would never let himself be in such a state where he lay insensate due to sheer sentiment. It was clear that the boy could never be Master Kenway’s equal.
Abruptly, he stood and, dabbing his lips with a napkin, signaled the servants to begin clearing the table.
With a furious stride, he made his way to the room he wife lay in.
He slammed open the door, startling the maids who had been tidying the room and, with a barked shout, ordered them out.
For a second, he stopped and stared transfixed at the boy lying on the bed, gazing at streaks of orange in the sky as the sun set behind the trees.
He was beautiful, this boy Charles had stolen, but he frustrated every single one of Charles’s designs and every last one of Charles’s plans.
And that was intolerable.
Anger mounted again, and he roughly removed his belt, tossing the leather into a corner. His waistcoat followed next, and then he turned his attention to his breeches and undergarments, stripping them from his body in brusque, perfunctory movements. When, at least, he was bare save for a thin shirt, he fell upon the boy.
Hogwash, he thought as he ripped the sheets off the lax body and spread the boys thighs.
Utter hogwash, his mind bit off bitterly as he coated his fingers with grease and fat and smeared them at the boy’s entrance.
Complete and useless hogwash, he raged as he angrily thrust in.
It was idiotic, mad, sheer lunacy! Clearly, James and James’s Omega had rattled his brain.
He gripped Connor’s thighs tightly, fingers digging into the boy’s soft, vulnerable flesh and undoubtedly leaving bruises as he set a punishing pace.
What was he going on about, thinking of Connor as if the boy was a person meriting his consideration? As if the boy would ever cooperate with him without duress?
The bed shook and groaned with the strength of his thrusts, in tune with the pulsing of his rage.
His original plan was undoubtedly the best one. He would allow James’s Omega to coax Connor out of his shell, but once the boy was back to a semblance of himself and had birthed him a healthy male Alpha, he would send Clipper back to James, and things would be as they should be.
He pulled out of the boy, flipped him about and savagely plunged back in.
What did he care if Connor never returned his advances? What would he care if the boy spent the rest of his days as a mindless spoils rather than a true wife?
He gasped as an involuntary twitch caused the constricting channel to hug him. He dug cruel fingers into the firm round buttocks and quickened his pace.
Yes, yes, yes! This was best. He would have his heir! He would have a brilliant and capable Alpha son of Master Kenway’s line to call his own and, together, they shall bring the Order to new heights! And its mother? Well, its mother would be his whore for as long as he remained breathing. A pretty thing to sate his needs and potentially birth him more worthy children.
He moaned and gasped and groaned as the friction became unbearable, as heat gathered low in his loins and built with fiery heat.
With a cry, he emptied himself into the boy, sweet relief rushing over him as he collapsed onto a cool, smooth back.
He grasped the boy and rolled to the side, spooning the smaller body with his larger one. One hand snaked around the lithe waist, splaying itself possessively across Connor’s belly, rubbing it softly, gently in contrast to the hard fucking he had just given its owner.
Charles sighed. Contentedly or perhaps with just a bit of bitterness, he did not know. He did not think he cared.
Charles fell asleep still deeply embedded within his wife.