Page 17 of Under His Heel

For some reason, that pissed Alex off a lot more than Tracht. Like, what place did Parsons have, judging Alex? It was Parsons’ fault that Alex was even in this mess. If he hadn’t been there to take a few hits, Tracht wouldn’t be taking his anger out on Alex now. Or, fuck it, if Parsons had been even half decent at his job, he’d have stopped Alex from leaving the ship in the first place.

So fuck Parsons. Alex averted his gaze and leaned heavier into Tracht.

[Chapter 7]

“I’m torn on what to feed you,” Tracht said when they were back in his private quarters. “Small strips of food from my fingers, or slop from a dog bowl?”

Alex’s stomach grumbled, perfectly timed with the statement. “Don’t even care.”

“Really? No preference at all?” Tracht sounded disappointed, and Alex remembered that Tracht preferred Alex fighting.

“You want me to care, try after I’m not completely exhausted,” Alex bit out. And shit, even that felt like too much fighting, because he really wanted to eat, not get stuffed back in the dark with the memories of the cleaning and hair pulling and the non-orgasm to keep him company.

Tracht sighed loudly. “Very well. Strip and kneel by the couch.” He went to the small fridge in the corner and pulled out a bottle of water and a tray of food.

Oh god. Alex’s mouth was watering already. He stripped and stumbled to the floor, arranging himself as directed and hating his own eagerness. Tomorrow he’d fight more, he promised himself. It was okay to be tired.

Tracht sat down on the couch and held the tray out of reach. “Kiss my boots first. Like you mean it.”

Back to that. But that was nothing, not in comparison to his still aching armpits and balls. Alex leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the tip of the first boot and then another kiss on the calf. Another one further up, just below Tracht’s knees.

He thought he heard Tracht groan, and he repeated the process with the other boot.

“Good,” Tracht said, his voice sounding a lot breathier than normal. “Sit up and open wide.”

Alex did, and Tracht held out a strip of chicken just far enough out of reach that Alex had to lean forward. Tracht’s fingers ended up in his mouth too, and Alex licked them clean of all flavor before he started chewing on the meat.

Oh god. That tasted amazing.

It wasn’t plain chicken; it was properly seasoned, and Alex could tell that this had been a quality meal at some point. When he and Nick had cooked, it tended to be microwave food or instant nutrient shakes. A few times they’d splurged on fancy restaurants, when they knew they’d be skipping stations soon and it wouldn’t matter if they could actually afford the meal or not. This food was on that caliber.

“More?” Tracht asked.

Alex opened his mouth.

This continued, occasionally trading off food for drink, and sometime during the meal, Tracht started petting Alex, touching his lips, his face, his head, rubbing behind his ears. It was weird and unsettling, but in exchange for not starving, Alex was willing to put up with it.

It wasn’t until the last of the food was gone that Alex started really caring about– everything that had happened, really.

Tracht, for his part, looked extremely aroused. “This was a lot more interesting than I expected. You’ve been—” He leaned forward and cupped Alex’s face.

Up close, Tracht didn’t seem half as terrifying. Especially not now, with his mouth slightly parted and his pupils wide with lust. Small lines fanned out from the corners of his eyes, and obvious gray hairs mixed with the dark stubble on his cheeks.

With horror, Alex realized that Tracht was going to kiss him. He quickly turned his face away, and Tracht’s nose bumped against his cheek.

Tracht chuckled into his ear, and the hands that had been gentle now tightened. With one hand, Tracht grabbed Alex’s hair and pulled on it hard, tugging his head back at a sharp angle.

“And here we were doing so well,” Tracht murmured.

“I don’t– fuck you.” Alex spat, and at this short distance, the spit actually landed right on Tracht’s face.

The feeling of victory was short lived: Tracht used his foot to jab Alex’s cock, and Alex howled in pain.

Fuck fuck fuck. Alex curled into himself as much as he could, his vision hazy. He writhed and managed to dislodge Tracht’s hands from him, crawling a few feet away. He had no real place to go though. He was naked save for the bond-servant collar. He was on a ship in the middle of space on its way to who knew where, and if he actually tried to get out of this fucking contract there would be one semi-expansive crime-syndicate looking for him.

Tracht came around with the mitts and encased Alex’s hands. Alex didn’t struggle, not even when Tracht moved Alex’s arms behind his back and attached the mitts to each other.

“Get up,” Tracht said with a sharp slap to Alex’s ass.

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