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Dousing the Flames

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The first thing Kray does after Lio has surrendered, after they’ve left the darkened engine room of the Parnassus and Lio stands defiant but silent before him in the privacy of his office, is order him to strip. It’s a test of his promised obedience, but it’s also a little petty, and frankly more than a little self-indulgent. But then, when in the last twenty years has Kray Foresight ever had time for indulgence? He’s earned it - deserves this - and watches with a slight smile on his lips as the defeated Burnish leader silently pulls off what’s left of his damaged clothing. His eyes never leave Kray’s face as he does it, steady and unflinching even as he’s exposed. When he’s down to nothing but his briefs, Kray catches the first moment of hesitation, though the stony look on Lio’s face doesn’t change.

“I said strip, Lio Fotia,” Kray says softly, and Lio shoves his underwear to the floor, steps out of it and then stands ramrod-straight in front of Kray, arms folded in front of his chest, simmering fury barely contained in his face.

The sight makes his breath catch. A more rational corner of his mind resents this; most of him doesn’t care. Lio is every bit as beautiful as Kray anticipated, and Kray’s eyes rake over him, hungrily taking in every detail: his slender waist, the faint lines of his ribs moving slightly as he breathes, the soft pink nubs of his nipples. The curve of his small, pert ass. The little cock between his legs, delicate as the rest of him.

Fuck, he’s so small. He looks like Kray could break him in half with his bare hands - and the thing that fascinates him most is that Kray already knows that’s not true. Lio is strong, inhumanly so, nearly as strong as him. Or he was, before they left their burning solar system behind. Kray can still hear the flames, distantly, but they can’t reach him anymore. He’s finally free. And he has a feeling this gives him the upper hand against Lio, who relied on them so heavily.

Kray wonders what it will take to break him. He’s got time.

Lio finally breaks the silence. “Like what you see, Foresight?” he says, sarcastic, and Kray doesn’t even think before backhanding him across the face. Caught off guard by the sudden movement, Lio is sent sprawling, bleeding from his nose and mouth. He wipes his face with the back of his hand, lifting his head to look back at Kray, but before he can move much more Kray is on top of him, one knee digging into his chest to pin him down. He grabs Lio’s jaw roughly, forcing his head back.

“From now on, you won’t be speaking unless spoken to,” he says, the calm in his voice at odds with the way his heart is suddenly beating faster. “And you’ll be calling me master. Is that understood?” Lio doesn’t answer right away, his teeth gritted as he glares into Kray’s eyes, and Kray smiles. “Or are we both backing out of this little bargain?”

Lio swallows. Kray can feel him breathing hard. “…I understand. Master.”

He still sounds bitter, resentful, despite the respectful words. But it’s unimportant. They can work on that later. For now Kray marvels at what a thrill it is to have the fiery Lio Fotia contained, stripped bare and pinned beneath him. It’s the ultimate victory in a way he could not possibly have predicted. Better than putting Galo Thymos in his place, better even than snatching humanity from the flames. It’s his reward, one he has long, long since earned.

Kray lets go of Lio’s jaw, lightly wraps his hand around his throat instead. Lio’s pulse flutters frantically, captive beneath his palm. “First,” he muses, more to himself than to his new prize, “you’ll be needing a collar.”

It’s not a difficult task to keep Lio physically obedient, not with the lives of the Burnish at stake. He does what Kray tells him, however reluctantly, and a judicious use of pain soon teaches him that hesitation and delay will not be tolerated. And physically, he’s easy enough to overpower, even in those rare moments when fear and instinct overtake him and he struggles against Kray with all his strength. Those moments become fewer as he learns how futile it is to fight back, that he’ll be hurt less in the long run if he submits. Kray starts rewarding him when he senses Lio accepting this, slipping him extra food from his own plate or allowing him an occasional orgasm.

Fucking him is even better than Kray anticipated - he’s so tight, so small that when Kray flips him on his back he can see the bulge of his own cock moving within Lio’s abdomen. He’s careful at first, but he grows less concerned about hurting Lio after realizing that while the flames lie dormant, his accelerated healing is still very much in effect. It might be slower than what it was on Earth, but Kray can work with that. No matter how ruthlessly Kray tears Lio open, a few days later he’s as tight and pristine as if Kray never touched him. It’s downright addicting, and the pained noises that escape Lio when he’s using him are too enjoyable for Kray to bother being gentle.

When Kray is confident he’s tame enough not to bite, he starts using Lio’s mouth as well, patiently training him how to use his tongue and his lips most effectively. It’s slow but rewarding work; he doesn’t need Lio’s cooperation to enjoy this, particularly, but it’s so much sweeter when he does reciprocate and Kray enjoys watching him work, especially in the beginning, his little tongue darting out to lap at his master’s cock before his mouth opens to suckle on it. Occasionally he indulges himself and forces Lio to take his entire length down his throat, holding him there as he gags and struggles to breathe. Kray enjoys the panic in his eyes, forces Lio to look at him as he fucks his throat.

Over time he learns Lio’s limits, how far he can push him, how much he can physically take. He goes too far only once, when his hands are around Lio’s throat as he’s fucking him. It’s not the first time Lio has passed out like this, but it is the first time he realizes Lio has stopped breathing, and he immediately pulls out and leans down to press his lips to Lio’s, pushing whatever he can reach of his fire into the smaller Burnish’s mouth. It works, and Kray cradles Lio’s head in his hands, stroking his hair, as Lio opens his eyes and stares weakly up at him with an expression that is first uncomprehending, then despairing. There are tears in his eyes, and Kray kisses them away as they begin to fall down his cheeks. He is not quite ready to let go of Lio, not yet.

That’s the first time he allows Lio to remain in his bed with him, rather than returning him to his cage. Sentimentality, really. But he falls asleep with Lio’s slight frame folded into his arms, Lio’s breath on his neck, Lio’s hair tangled around his fingers. He could get used to this, if he can render Lio docile enough to allow it.

He’s restless, and he shouldn’t be; his ownership of Lio is unquestioned. Lio does everything he’s told, walks obediently on his leash at Kray’s heels, eats from Kray’s hand. But there is still a fire behind his eyes that flickers to life when he thinks Kray doesn’t see, or when he’s pushed too far, and Kray both revels in it and wants to snuff it out. He belongs to Kray in body but not in mind, not in spirit, not yet. It’s as frustrating as it is tantalizing. He listens to Lio say everything he’s been trained to say, and wonders what it will be like when his little pet actually believes his own words. When Lio welcomes Kray’s touch, craves it, rather than tolerating it because he has no choice.

It will happen. Of that, he has no doubt. Whatever slim hope Lio has of getting away from him is already dying; he can see it in his eyes. The rest will follow. Kray can wait. He’s a patient man, and he has all the time in the world to make Lio his.