Pierre woke up to the sound of footsteps padding across the floor, they went left, right, then did it all over again.

He moved, and the footsteps stopped. His eyes were still half closed, groggy from sleep. But he made out the long legs at the foot of the bed, their gazes finally meeting when Pierre turned on his side on the bed.

He was fully dressed like he was ready to go to work, apart from the sleeves he'd rolled up.

"I woke you," his deep voice said. "Good."

The Master looked at him skeptically, almost like he was searching his face for something.

"Bonjour to you too," said Pierre. He hugged the covers tighter, trying to sit up.

That's when he felt the first sort of discomfort, Pierre yelped softly, and in two strides the Master was by his side.

He took Pierre's hand in his. "Can you get up?" He tugged Pierre's hand but he snatched it back immediately, away from the Master's grip.

His jaw ticked. Patience already wearing thin.

Pierre wasn't stupid. The magic of the night before had obviously vanished. For just one night, Pierre had been able to experience what he'd always wanted to, and with someone who was obviously so out of his league. It was too good to be true.

Getting up right now just put a solid air around everything that transpired. The Master would see his disgusting body and look at him with pity or worse.

If he wanted him out the room, he'd go. But he didn't want his eyes fixed on him as he made his escape. At least let me keep my dignity.

The mattress disappeared from beneath Pierre and in an instant he was us up against the Master's arms. He was stunned at the Master's strength. Carrying him like he weighed nothing. His hands automatically fastened onto his neck.

Pierre was shocked to find out that they weren't moving towards the door, but the bathroom instead.

Once inside, the Master set him down by the shower door. "Five minutes," was all he said as Pierre got inside.

The water was welcome as the spray hit him. Running through every patch of skin the Master had touched the night before. The memory was surreal.

Pierre got out to find the Master standing and waiting for him, watching the door. There was no expression on his face, only acknowledgement that Pierre was done.

He immediately got back in. "At least send me a towel first," Pierre stuck his hand out. Waiting for the towel that never came.

The Master sighed then opened the door the rest of the way and stepped before him.

Naked as the day he was born, Pierre was lifted once more and taken to a really big bath. And fancy at that. The outside was encrusted in what looked like cut gemstones contrary to the inside, which looked smoother than a mirror.

The Master slowly lowered Pierre and dipped his feet into the water, getting only his toes in while the man's hands fastened around his neck. "Too hot?"

It was hot, but not that hot, just almost warm.
Pierre wanted nothing more than to get in. He shook his head.

"Good," said the Master. He lowered Pierre gently into the water, his cheeks tinged in embarrassment.

It was unbelievable. A bath? For him?
It felt like one of those movies he watched where you think everything is going well, just for something dreadful to happen immediately after.

The water sloshed as he settled, his body relaxing once he was inside and the water touched every part of him.

"Why are you doing this for me?" He didn't meet his eyes as he asked the Master who had still been regarding him with no expression.

"It's just a bath," he said. "Don't fucking read into it." Pierre flinched at the Master's tone and tried to act like he didn't. Before he could answer, the Master was already out the door.

Pierre sighed and just soaked. "Dieu..." the water really did feel like heaven.

He couldn't remember how long he'd been inside, but the Master didn't come back. He thought about the previous night. It was probably the fifty seventh time, he couldn't get it out of his head.

"It really happened," he said as he made little waves with his fingers.

Pierre remembered the night his boyfriend couldn't get hard for him, the humiliation still burned. He'd been so excited they were finally going to give themselves to each other, he'd been so convinced they were in love.

That night changed everything. After embarrassing tries, Pierre had told him to leave and he hadn't even looked back. When the tears couldn't stop flowing that night, he'd finally realized how one sided their shell of a relationship was.

What he didn't understand was why Gaston didn't just break up with him if he didn't even want him. What was the point of sticking around for two years? Years wasted. Years he could never get back.

The Master... Pierre wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

"It really did happen..." he repeated.

As much as Pierre wanted to soak forever, he couldn't. He dried himself off, feeling glad that the Master wasn't there.

A grey box tied with a turquoise string sat waiting for him on the bed, that was already made. He realized then that the Master had probably left. Pierre approached the package cautiously.

The turquoise string loosened easily as he pulled one end of it. Pierre pulled up a grey strip of color. The socks felt so comfortable underneath his hands. He gasped in surprise, taking in the rest of the contents of the package.

What he pulled out next were the oversized clothes—sweats—and a note.

'Rest. Call if you need anything.'

Butterflies.

He threw on the clothes. The sweater was his favorite, so comfortable against his skin.

Just then, he heard three soft knocks and a lady got into the room. "Sorry... uh.... I just came to finish cleaning up."

Pierre lifted the box where there was another pair of socks. "I was just leaving."

"No!" there was horror on her face. "The Master told me you are to rest here the entire day. If he..." she trailed off. "Please understand."

Pierre was confused a little but the need to snuggle up was becoming overwhelming by the minute. He wasn't even going to argue. He nodded weakly and got under the covers.

And he could admit, he didn't feel that great, and yet he did. But was really sore and could really use some more sleep.

Pierre winced once more as he settled on the bed before the warmth sunk in and his consciousness was lost to the softness.

꧁____________________꧂

6:00 A.M.

Alexander Kane was awake.

It was several days after fussing over Pierre like he had just gotten his wife pregnant.

What the fuck was that?

The only thought that ran through his head every time he thought of it. But it had taken two days, and he was back to his normal self.

The room was dark. The other man bundled up in the sheets lay on his stomach. The hard muscles of his back disappearing under the covers.

The Master was almost fully dressed in his suit. His wrist was held out before him, he wore his watch taking his time.

Riley stirred on the bed. Then suddenly turned around on his back. He sat up immediately, back bent in a lazy manner. "You look good. I'm hungry," he frowned like he was in the worst mood.

You could leave it to Riley to make anything sound sexual.

"I like your appetite," the Master said. "So go make yourself something."

He walked to the door and stopped when he heard his phone ring. He didn't even look when he accepted the call.

"I'm HUNGRY!" Riley's voice came from both inside the phone and behind him.

So stubborn. Alexander was sure he had had people just like Riley before, weirdly none of them had even come close to his kind of headstrong behavior.

The Master turned around and glared at him.

"I can be really annoying when I wake up, my sister just gives me whatever I want," Riley said still trying to

The Master's eyebrow went up.

"I'm not your sister," he said instead.

"Hardly, you're just the man I woke up with. Who somehow has to take care of me. I'm hungry daddy," Riley's eyes were hazy and his voice laced with sleep. He jutted his bottom lip pointedly at the Master, the image just didn't fit.

He was a big guy. Strong arms hugging the pillow against his shirtless chest. Acting cute by jutting his bottom lip... the Master resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"You're not cute, come with me," he said.

"Hardly the time for that," Riley said despite trotting after the Master like a lost puppy with only his pajama pants.

"Sit," the Master ordered.

Riley dropped on the stool like he was being punished, then sighed. Sometimes he wondered why most of the time he woke up hungry. His stomach rumbled even as he sat and watched the Master.

He shrugged off his suit jacket and laid it carefully on an empty stool. His hair was parted in the middle and fell on either side of his face in a slightly wavy curtain hairstyle. His face was set in a serious expression as he concentrated on folding his sleeves.

He's so handsome. Riley thought.

In less than a minute, the Master had pulled out a pan and beaten three eggs.

Riley watched as he put the butter in and handled the pan expertly. In went the eggs, he let them sit for some time before turning them over.

"You look so professional right now," said Riley. The Master flipped the omelette.

"When do I not?" He asked.

Riley chuckled.

The Master slid a plate in front of him and emptied the contents of the pan onto it. The aroma wafted into Riley's nose and his mouth watered. He was so hungry.

The food was heaven on his tongue. "It's alright," Riley shrugged after swallowing. He didn't admit it was better than alright.

"Right," was all the Master replied.

He buttoned his sleeves once more and checked his watch with a grim face.

Riley swallowed his food and took him in. The food was popcorn and the Master his TV.

"You might fix your hunger problem if you stop staring at me," he said before declining a call.

"Maybe the food is so good I just want to savor it," the Master didn't miss the double entendre.

"You play too much."

The Master threw on his suit jacket. And Riley was right there in an instant, hands pressing on his lapel and then fixing his tie.

"Wear something nice tomorrow Daddy," Riley pecked his lips goodbye and the Master's hands went to rest on his hips. "I'm taking you on a date."