"Here's our Masterlist of kinks and such," Zayn explained, "All you do is simply click yes, no, or maybe by each one." He pointed to the bubbles next to each bulleted kink. "Then we couple that with your personality and lifestyle profile, and your ideal mate profile, and match you with a slave that best fits." Zayn stood back from the computer with a smile on his face.

The man looked up at Zayn and nodded, "Sounds easy enough. And if you can't match me I get my desposit back right?"

"Of course. If we don't have any suitable matches for you we'll keep your profile on record, with your permission, and keep looking. But we have the largest database of slaves in the world. I'm sure we'll find you the one." The man nodded again and looked back to the screen. His hand hovered over the touch pad but didn't move to press anything. Zayn cleared his throat and backed up a step, "I'll just leave you to it then. It will notify me when you're done and I'll be back to show you out."

Zayn turned to leave, but the man's sharp, "Wait," stopped him. He came back with a pleasant but confused look. The man sighed heavily and rubbed his face with his hands. "What if she hates me? Let's say you find me someone-"

"We will."

The man's lips twitched up in a small smile, "Let's say you find me someone. And I take her home and she hates me. We don't click. I can't-you know-give her what she needs," he emphasized the words you know a raise of his brow.

Zayn sat on the edge of the glass table and put a hand on the man's shoulder. "I'm sure you're worrying for nothing. Everyone that's in our database is there because they're looking for the right person. Whomever we match you with is just as nervous as you are right now." Zayn shrugged, "Plus, that's why we have a thirty-day guaruntee. If the match doesn't work we'll put you both back in the system and try again."

"But then that slave will be marked Abandoned, right?"

Zayn nodded solemnly. "That's unfortunately true, but we don't plan on that happening. We have the most extensive, thorough system in place to find you the right match, the first time."

"Has that ever happened here?"

"Finding the right match? Of course, everyday!"

"No. I mean, slaves being returned?"

Zayn tilted his head and looked to the ceiling, "It has happened, yes. But only a couple of times in the ten years my company has been running. And considering we match hundreds of matches a week, I'd say that's pretty good. The good we do here most definitely outweighs the bad."

"Yeah. I'm just nervous, I guess."

"Without reason, I'm sure. The kindness I see in you is sure to translate to a healthy, loving Master/slave relationship. Don't worry."

The man's hand moved back to the touch pad. "Yeah, right. Thanks," he said more firmly.

Zayn touched his shoulder one more time and left him to it.

***

"I can't believe you matched me already!" The man stood in Zayn's office two days later.

Zayn rubbed his hands together and smiled wide, "I told you, we're the best. Plus the woman we found for you matched your Masterlist ninety-eight percent. Which is almost unheard of considering the specificity and variety of the list. She matches your physical attraction nearly to a tee. It was just fate, I suppose."

"When can I meet her?"

"She waiting for you right now actually." Zayn pressed the buzzer on his desk phone and a woman with long brown hair and pale grey eyes stepped into the office. She had her hands folder in front of her and her eyes to the floor as she was led by one of Zayn's assistants to stand next to the man.

The man looked her up and down with open awe, smiling unabashed at her. Once she was next to him he held a hand out and lifted her chin to look at him. A small smile broke out as soon as she looked at him. "Hi," he greeted.

"Hi," she responded.

"Well, we have a lounge for you two to sit and chat in. Snacks and drinks provided. Go. Get to know each. I'm sure you have a lot to talk about."

They both looked to Zayn with teeth flashing. "Thank you, Mr. Malik. She's perfect." The girl's face flushed bright red and she bit her lips to keep her smile in check.

"No thanks necessary. You did this all yourselves. You gave love a chance and now you've found each other."

The man turned back to the woman and ran a gentle hand down her arm to her hand before intertwining their fingers. "Perfect," he whispered to her, just barely loud enough that Zayn caught it and smiled softly too. Zayn cleared his throat and the man jumped, turning back to him. "Yes, right. Sorry. Thank you for staying late for us. I'm sure your slave is waiting patiently at home for you."

Zayn's head lowered slightly as he cupped his hands behind his back, "It's no problem at all. And thank you, but I'm not actually matched at the moment."

"Oh," the man frowned, "How? Your system works so well for so many people. I'm sure there's hundreds of slaves that would love to be yours."

Zayn's eyes crinkled up, but his smile didn't quite reach them. "You're very kind. I just haven't found him yet. That's all." Zayn held a hand towards the still open door, "I'll let you two get to know each other. It was a pleasure working for you."

The man took Zayn's hand in a firm handshake before leading his new slave out the door to the lounge and the door shutting behind him. Zayn watched them go with a fond smile on his face, but as soon as they were gone and all that filled his office was the silence that seemed to surround him anywhere he went, he fell down in his desk chair and looked up at the ceiling. Where was his love? Why couldn't his system match him? What was wrong with him?

Zayn stared at the crisp beige ceiling for an undetermined amount of time before his door slid open with a whoosh sound and his best mate and business partner sauntered in with an easy swagger and haughty smirk on his face. "Zayn. Drinks. Now."

Zayn ran a quick hand through his hair, "Not in the mood, Niall."

"But come on," he groaned, "I'm so pumped right now. I wanna go to a sleazy bar and drink until I can't see and then go home and fuck Harry into our mattress."

Zayn rolled his eyes. "Mate, I'm not in the mood for drinks and I'm definitely not in the mood to hear about my best friend's sex life."

"Then you shouldn't have matched us," Niall shrugged unapologetically. "Anyway, that has nothing to do with why I want to have drinks. I miss you, man. We've been so busy, we haven't had our usual lad's time." Niall came around the desk and plopped down on it in front of Zayn's chair. "Besides, you look like you could use one. Penny for your thoughts?"

Zayn thought about having to spill his, now getting old, fears of never finding someone to be with forever, and decided, "I think I will take that drink."

Niall clapped his hands together loudly and grinned, "Great. I'll get my coat. Meet you downstairs in two." He pushed off the desk and clambered out of Zayn's office.

Zayn sighed and went to his small office closet to pull his long coat off the bamboo hanger. He shrugged it over his suit jacket and settled into the warmth before going to his desk and shutting his computer down. The door slid open in front of Zayn and closed as he walked away and to the glass elevator. He rode it down to the lobby, letting the light sound of passing air wash over his tired body. Niall was waiting for him, energy making his body bounce in place. Zayn pursed his lips, but couldn't keep the fond smile from his face. He swung an arm over Niall's shoulders and led them outside.

***

"All I'm saying is you can't blame yourself. You're a real catch. Like really. If I were a slave I'd let you have me for sure," Niall slurred sincerely.

Zayn groaned and rubbed a hand harshly against his two day old scruff. "Well you're not, and slave or not, Harry would kill me. He doesn't share well." Zayn pounded his fist on the dirty wooden counter, "I just don't get it! What am I doing wrong?"

"Nothing!" Niall assured him, "It'll happen."

"I've put myself through our system a dozen times in the six years we've had it, and it only matched me once," Zayn held up one shaky finger, "One time. And we know how that worked out."

Niall tilted his head sympathetically, "I know. I'm sorry. But I know," Niall pounded his fist as well, "it will happen," he finished with a light-headed giggle, then a groan. "God I'm horny. Where's my slave when I need him?"

Zayn laughed, "Probably waiting naked at home for you like he always is."

Niall growled low in his throat, "You're right. I'm gonna go home now."

Zayn nodded easily and flicked a couple bills from his wallet onto the counter by their mostly empty glasses. They grabbed their coats and waved goodbye to the bartender before heading out into the cold night air. Niall put a hand to the side of Zayn's face in a soft pat, "He's out there, mate. He'll probably show up when you least expect it. Just bite you right in the ass."

"Only cause I'm into that," Zayn teased.

Niall's resounding laugh sent Zayn into a laughing tizzy, both of them guffawing until they were breathless. By the time Zayn finally got to his car his abs were twinging and his jaw hurt. But then he slid in the back seat of his towncar and told his driver to head home and was once again surrounded by the defeaning silence of a life lived alone.

***

Zayn was just walking into his home when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out, squinting to try and make the caller ID more clear, then answering it anyway when he couldn't.

"Aye," he slurred.

"Zayyyyn," Niall greeted then giggled. "I forgot-shit-something."

Zayn toed off his shoes and rubbed his temples. "What's that?"

"I forgot-fuck Haz-to, um, send those bloody papers to you about Ms. Quinn's new-ugh-match."

Zayn eyebrows furrowed. He was trying to keep up with the conversation, despite Niall distracted blurts, while rubbing away his building head ache. "What happened? Ms. Quinn is coming tomorrow."

Niall was breathing heavily now, panting into the phone. "Hold, fuck, hold on, baby. Gimme a second." There was some rustling and then Niall sighed, "I know. She's coming tomorrow for her new match and I forgot to send you the file to be put in the system. It takes a few hours to go through."

"So? Go do it," Zahn huffed as he grabbed a bottle of water from the frig.

Niall groaned, "Come on. I'm sort of...busy. Do me a favor?" Zayn rolled his neck slowly, filling the silence with a long, low sigh. "I'll owe you."

Zayn relented, "Fine. You owe me."

"I do. Thanks, mate." There's was more shuffling and then a low laugh that didn't sound like Niall's giddy one before Niall said, "Come here, baby."

Zayn quickly hung up after that, his buzz almost completely faded by his new frustration. He put the water back in the fridge and slipped his shoes back on. He called his driver hoping he wasn't too far, luckily he wasn't, and went to wait for him in the foyer. When the horn honked Zayn pulled his coat tighter, despite being sweaty from the alcohol, and rushed outside. His driver came around the car and held the door for him. Zayn sank into the seat with a tired sigh. He couldn't believe Niall called him, while fucking his slave, to make Zayn get out in the middle of the night and do his job for him. If he wasn't his best friend, Zayn would probably shoot him. Fire him for sure. But Niall was incredible at his job, believed in the system, in him, so he stayed.

Zayn was getting increasing hot while he thought about Niall's life versus his. About his old slave. About his jacket's warm material agains this heated skin. He rolled down his window and put his face on the car door, letting the wind whip his hair back into a higher, messier quiff than it already wore. They were rolling slowly down the residential streets when he saw a flash of movement followed by the quick sound of fist to skin. He sat up straighter to try and see but his car kept moving. He rolled the partition down and order, "Stop the car." His driver pulled to a stand still and Zayn hopped out. He ran the half block back to the alleyway where he noticed the commotion to find a shadowed heap of a person sitting against the brick wall. Zayn moved closer with careful steps, but their head still popped up at the sound of someone approaching. The heap scooted further into the wall, body moving slowly like their limbs were made of lead.

"I don't want to hurt you," Zayn reassured him.

The person put their hands up in front of their face. "Please, just leave me," a strong male voice filtered through the air the Zayn's ears.

He was struck by the sound of desperation. Zayn's heart nearly split in two from the fear in his eyes. "Let me help you."

"I'm so sorry, sir. Forgive me for my appearance," the broken man put his strong hands behind him on the wall, "I'll get out of," he coughed haggardly, "your way now." He lifted himself from the ground with a pained grunt and started to limp off in the other direction out of the alleyway.

"Stop," Zayn's voice rang out. The man stopped mid-step and turned around. "I'm taking you home for the night. You shouldn't be out here hurt and by yourself. What on Earth were you thinking?" Zayn held an arm out for the man, who hesitated for a moment but then walked towards him. "Where's the bloody hell is your master?" Zayn mumbled. He led them back to his car with a gentle hand on his back and slow steps. His driver got out and help the broken man into the car, Zayn slipping in beside him. He looked over to find his head slumped back on the seat, his arms curled around his middle.

Zayn pulled a bottle of water out of the compartment in front of them and tapped the man's knee with it. He looked from the bottle to Zayn and nodded, "Thank you." Zayn sat back to watch as he opened the bottle, thick arms flexing slightly, and took gulp after gulp.

"Slow down," Zayn chided, the man slowing down instantly to smaller sips. "Good."

The man lowered the bottle and held it with both hands between his knees. "Why are you helping me?"

Zayn was still caught off guard by the soft quality of the voice coming from such a thick, strong body. "I couldn't just leave you out there. Look at you," Zayn waved a hand lazily towards the man's beaten body.

The man's head dropped, eyes lowering to the floor of the car. "I do apologize for my appearance. I'm sorry you have to see me like this."

Zayn lifted his chin up towards him. "Don't apologize. It's not your fault you were left for dead back there."

"Of course it was."

Zayn was about to ask what he meant but then the car was pulling to a stop and the driver was opening Zayn's door. Zayn got out and told the driver to take the man to his butler to get him fixed up. Zayn went inside and stopped by the kitchen to throw his bloodied coat in the trash before running up to his room to shower and change. He let the water run over his skin, cleaning the dirt and stress from his skin. He dried his skin and then ran the towel over his wet hair before slipping on a pair of pants and loose joggers that sat low on his hips. He was just drying his face after washing it when he heard a knock on the door.

"Enter."

Zayn saw his butler's head peak around the door. "Master Zayn, your guests is waiting for you in the second guest bedroom. He's clean and bandaged, but we didn't know what would be, um, appropriate attire for the night so we left him in his pants and one of my shirts, sir."

"That's fine, Marvin. Grab some sleep trousers if you can and bring them here. In case he gets cold at night."

"Of course, sir." With that his butler ducked out and left Zayn alone. Zayn pulled out his suit for tomorrow and then the shoes to match before grabbing the lotion by his bed and rubbing it into his skin. Another knock came and Marvin dropped some soft trousers down on Zayn's bed and left again. Zayn picked up the pair of pajamas and held them in his fist. He had one hand in the door knob, the other clenching the soft material, while questions ran through his head. Who was he? What happened? Was he a bad sort? Should Zayn have let him into his house? Too late now he supposed and made his way down the hall to the guest wing. He knocked on the second bedroom door.

"Come in, please," he heard the low, but less scared, voice answer. Zayn took one more deep breath and opened the door.