It was two a.m. and Zayn's eyes were glued to the screen. The lights were off except the one on his desk. The faint glow cast a halo of light over Zayn's worried features.

"Hey, Zee." Zayn jumped in his chair when Niall greeted him at the door. He gave him a slightly worried look but continued, "It's really late and Harry made dinner so I'm going to go. Are you staying?"

Zayn looked down at his screen again, "Yeah. I've got some work I need to finish."

Niall nodded wearily. "Okay, don't stay too late I'm sure Liam's waiting for you."

Zayn rolled his eyes for what had to be the hundredth time since telling Niall about the fit slave staying at his home. "He's not waiting for me, Niall, because he's not mine."

"Not yet." Niall winked and walked out before Zayn could respond. Zayn just sighed in resignation. Liam would never be his. Zayn would never have him, own him, master him because here we was on a late Tuesday night putting Liam through the system. He'd gotten himself into this mess when he told Liam he had a match ready for him. He'd lied and said that one of his wealthy, business acquaintances was his match. Stupid. He didn't think it through. Now he would have to find Liam a match in the next two weeks. Normally plenty of time, but abandoned slaves could take months to place.

He'd have to make some calls; call in a few favors. His resume wouldn't look appealing, but when they got a picture or two and found out he was trained by Zayn personally, he'd be worth a heady bounty. Zayn shivered at his train of thought. He was in business mode, and thinking about Liam like that made him feel gross. Liam wasn't meant to be sold to the highest bidder like all the other slaves that came through his door. This was Liam. His-no not his. But not like all the others that was for sure.

 ___

Zayn let his head fall into his hands. He had to think this through. His first instinct was to give Liam to a terrible Master just so Liam would come running back to him, but as soon as the thought developed, Zayn destroyed it. He could never. No, he had to find someone special. Someone that would treat Liam as well as he deserved. Someone that could handle him and the unique qualities he possessed.

Zayn gasped and popped his head out of his hands. "Him." Zayn's hands moved furiously over the keyboard as he searched through his thousands of potential Masters and tested him against Liam's profile that Zayn had been working on all week. He sent off the match to be put through their rigorous testing, which would take at least a few hours to come back. Zayn sat back in his seat weighed down with a mix of relief and loss. He knew this match would go through. He knew this Master would be perfect for Liam. He knew he would soon lose Liam.

***

Liam sat in the kitchen with Zayn's water on the stove and tea bag in his cup, waiting for him to come home. Zayn had been coming home on time, even early, until four days ago when Zayn had informed Liam that he was, in fact, matched already and Zayn was more than ready to get him out of his home. When Zayn told him he had the perfect man for him, Liam thought he'd follow up the statement with a dreamy look and a low rumble of "I think you know who I mean, Liam." And then Zayn would've pushed him to his knees and had his way with him. But no. Instead Zayn kept a vague description of some wealthy businessman that was apparently Liam's new Master. 

Liam tried to ignore that fact that he didn't want a new Master, he wanted the one right in front of him.But then he had to check himself and realize that Zayn was never actually his Master. And Zayn would never hurt him. If he said he had the perfect match, then Liam had to trust him.

Now his only problem was dealing with hearing about how successful Zayn and Niall have been together and how proud everyone was of them. Liam couldn't believe he'd never even met Zayn's slave. Did he keep him somewhere that Liam wasn't allowed? Did he not live here? Maybe Zayn only brought him around when he felt like using him. But for some reason that didn't seem like Zayn.

The sound of the garage door had Liam shocking up straight on his stool. He quickly poured Zayn's tea and carried it up to his room. He wanted to set it down, leave it, and run to his room, but Zayn seemed to want to see Liam before bed, so he stood at the head by his nightstand and waited with his hands folded behind his back.

Zayn opened his bedroom door and walked straight to his bed with his eyes closed, falling face first into the mass of soft duvet. Liam watched with a raised brow, but stayed silent. When Zayn didn't move, Liam let himself have just a moment to look over Zayn's still form. He was still in his suit, hair in a sharp quiff. The jacket was tight around his waist and his pants skimmed perfectly over his bum and down his legs.

"Sir," Liam whispered. Zayn groaned in response, but didn't move. "Sir, are you alright?" He kept his voice low in case Zayn had a headache. 

"Why? Why do you sound like that?"

Liam cleared his throat to try and fix whatever his voice must be doing, "I'm sorry, Sir."

Zayn pointed his toes and pressed his fists into the bed. "No," he growled. "Why does your voice do that? It's so..." He turned his face into the bed and growled louder.

Liam's knees nearly buckled at the sound, but he held his ground and took a calming breath. "Your tea is on the bed, Sir. I'll see you tomorrow at breakfast. Good ni-"

"No," Zayn barked and stood up from the bed. He came and stood in front of Liam, leveling him with dark, glassy eyes. "You're not leaving. You're already leaving me; you're not leaving this room right now."

"Sir, are you..." Liam cleared his throat again. "Are you drunk?"

Zayn swayed his hips against Liam's. "Definitely."

A hot wave washed over Liam's body as he fully comprehended the situation. "I need to go to bed."

Zayn grabbed Liam's firm waist in his hands and pulled him back to the edge of the bed to stand in front of him. "Yes, you do. You haven't been in my bed yet. And now you're leaving me. That is simply unacceptable."

Liam was strong, and, with the obsessive amount of time Liam spent with Zayn's boxing dummy, he was strong enough to break out of Zayn's tightening grip. But maybe, deep down, he didn't want to step away from the intoxicating smell of the Master he'd been dreaming of having since they met. Still he had to try and keep decorum. "Sir, please release me. This isn’t proper."

"But you're mine," Zayn growled. "I haven't had you yet, but you are mine. Why are you leaving when I could-" his words cut off so quickly Liam's eyes jumped from scanning Zayn's heated body in his suit, to his haunted eyes. He looked up to find Zayn looking down at his stomach. Liam never wore a shirt to bed anymore because the weather was warming and he loved the feeling of Zayn's expensive sheets on his skin. Zayn ran his thumbs along the curves of Liam's v-cuts. "I want to lick these."

Liam had to hold on to whatever shred of self-control he could muster so he didn't push Zayn back on the bed and ride him until he couldn't breathe. His fists clenched by his sides and his stomach tightened with sharp breaths, "Sir." He was almost begging for mercy and Zayn could hear it. "I need to go to bed." Liam couldn't bear to be the kind of slave that was used outside of a binding relationship. To be open and easy without the dedication of a Master. It was shameful and below him. But he knew that if Zayn insisted, he would do it. For him.

Luckily, Zayn dropped his hands from Liam's hips and sat on the bed. His eyes were still roaming, evident when Zayn licked his lips as his eyes roamed over Liam's semi in his sleep pants. Liam stepped back and clasped his hands in front of him for decency.

"Go," Zayn whispered as his eyes fell to the floor. "Forgive me. Go to bed."

Half of Liam didn't want to forgive him, wanted to stay and give him a real reason to apologize. But his sensible half said to get out, go to his own room and dream of what could've happened tonight. Liam chose the latter. He bowed his head to Zayn and gave him one more, "Goodnight, Sir," as he slinked out of Zayn's room and back to his own.

Zayn fell back on his bed again and pressed his palms into his eyes. "Fuck," he whined like he always seemed to after encountering the young slave. He'd been so close. So close to claiming what was already his in his mind. But he'd never forgive himself for the shame it would bring Liam's name. Liam didn't need any more if Zayn was going to make this match work. So instead Zayn pressed the heel of his hands into the base of his swollen cock and started getting ready for bed, despite the haze of alcohol still on his brain.

Liam ran to his bed and pulled the pillow close to keep himself quiet as he reached a hand down his pants and wrapped his fingers around his annoyingly hard erection. What right did Zayn have to do this to him? Liam bit into the pillow and groaned as his hand slid over himself easily with his precome as a guide. Liam humped his duvet desperately as the look in Zayn's eyes haunted his memory. Zayn wanted him. Needed him. Liam had felt that look in his own eyes many times since moving in. He twisted his wrist tightly over his head and mewled into the pillowcase. His brain was working on instinct now, just trying to get himself off so he could at least fall asleep tonight. Liam hoped he could do it without the sights and sounds of the dark-haired billionaire racing through his thoughts, but apparently his mind had other plans.

Zayn's voice pushed through the haze of lust. I want to lick these. Liam groaned, his lips pressed to the fabric. Zayn was so open in that moment, expressing something he probably didn't even consciously think. Zayn was as thirsty for him as he was for Zayn. Liam squeezed his eyes shut and came imagining Zayn's tongue licking the dips and ridges of his stomach and hips. Liam shuddered through it before going lax on his bed and breathing hard into it.