Lucius smiled apologetically at Draco as he came out to the sitting room. ‘Draco. You may have to bring your things to Mantis; his feet are in a delicate state, at the moment.’
‘And here I thought you’d stuffed him so full he couldn’t move,’ Draco said, wanting to know how his father would react to him letting on that he knew. The flicker that Fa hid immediately was enough—Draco had been trained from an early age to catch fleeting expressions before they were hidden behind a controlled mask.
‘Draco,’ Lucius admonished, but gentler than he had when Draco had been younger. ‘Don’t be vulgar.’
‘You did, didn’t you?’
‘We do not speak so crassly of our darlings,’ Lucius pushed, wanting the point to stick. Draco understood, then, why Fa was scolding him.
‘I didn’t realise slaves had honour to impugn.’
‘It’s about our honour, Draco, not theirs. We don’t speak harshly of those so far beneath us—noblesse oblige.’
‘Ah. Sorry, Fa.’
‘If you must learn about this now…’ Lucius did not sigh, though he wanted to, and went to sit by the window, where there was a faint breeze. Draco went to sit with him. ‘You must begin by reading. Did you find the books I left in your study?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. Read them. Take notes. This is as much study as Potions or Transfiguration.’
Draco nodded. He’d had the same beginning to learning about sex; and, anyway, some of the books had been erotica.
‘Much more interesting than Potions or Transfiguration,’ was all he said; but he couldn’t stay completely grave as he added, ‘better textbooks,’ with a grin.
Lucius chuckled.
‘I can still talk to him, though?’ Draco asked.
‘Yes, of course. I don’t mind you using my room while we find him a Bath-chair to use. I think my father’s is in the attic somewhere….’ He glanced over as Honeywood re-entered from the bedroom, and then looked back at Draco. ‘He’s ready for you.’
Draco held his tongue on what kind of images that put into his mind; but he did observe the thoughts, privately, and consider them seriously. He was, after all, exploring this new, mature side of sexuality. Was he just formulating a bit of banter, or was it a sign he was attracted to Mantis? He should think on that… but, for now, he opened the door to Fa’s bedroom, and was immediately greeted with a cheerful, lilting,
‘Hiii!’
⁂
Lucius went to his study to find Rosier’s owl, a very singularly black barn owl, waiting in the owl-alcove with a letter, having flown in through the open windows; Evers was also waiting there, as promised.
Knowing he needed to answer the owl right away, Lucius thought on what to do, knowing he had to reply now—he hadn’t expected Evan to answer so quickly; but that meant Evan wasn’t busy, which meant he was bored—and boredom, for Evan, was a death sentence. He grew despondent without any interesting problems to solve, and the allure of Dreamless Sleep started to come over him again—an addiction he’d fought most of his adult life—and Lucius, like very few of his friends, tried to give him things to do. Then again, the relationship Lucius had with Evan was much, much more intimate than the one either of them had with others—they were the only two families with their faith in the entire country.
Lucius took out the trunk, handing it to Evers. ‘Start without me, I’ll only be a moment.’
‘Of course, sir,’ Evers said, taking the Shrunken trunk and going over to one of the lower worktables in the study, a strong, marble-topped table of mahogany. He tapped it with his wand, re-sizing it, and began to look through the contents silently, as Lucius went to see the letter the owl had left on his desk.
Dearest Lucius,
When can I examine the new subject?So very happy to receive your letter; can come straight away if convenient. Would love to give project personal attention to ensure the highest quality results for you, my dearest light.
With Love,
Evan
Lucius smirked; Evan was always so expressive in his letters, using strike-outs and altering grammar to somehow convey his very flamboyant way of speaking. He wrote a reply.
Dearest Evan,
I think a project of such magnitude requires you to be close at hand; I shall have the Rose Suite prepared for you. The subject shall be in the Peony Suite, across the hall. Bring all you need to work, though your rooms still have your worktable and slab in good repair. Be sure to pack something black for the solstice, darling.
With Love,
Lucius
He gave it to the owl, and sent her on her way, her wings silent as ever; but in the sticky, hazy afternoon, it seemed like the heat itself was damping the sound.
‘Now,’ Lucius said, coming to join Evers, sitting in one of the leather chairs around the worktable. ‘Tell me all.’
Evers had already started to sort and neatly fold the clothing, and sort it out from the other items—the books were neatly stacked, and things seemed to be categorised in some fashion. He gestured to the clothing.
‘All of this is costume, in some way or another.’
‘Is it?’ Lucius was delighted. Evers indicated the clear bags labelled ‘Angel Dust’ and ‘Pippin’.
‘Each of these is a character,’ Evers said. ‘And the clothes are similar, though they are more to advertise one’s proclivities and alliances to potential companions. The rainbow is a symbol of the ergi, and they use it to find one another. It was once secret, but has become less so. I believe this—’ he indicated a badge in the small pile of them, with black and blue stripes, one white stripe in the middle, and a red heart, ‘—is also a flag of the same manner, but I don’t know its meaning.’
‘Did you see the pink shirt that says “Good Boy” on it?’ Lucius asked, somewhat eagerly, and Evers smiled.
‘Yes, I did. There’s also this,’ he said, and picked up a black leather collar with long brass spikes, putting it in front of Lucius. It was too large and heavy for a dog or cat, and Lucius’ smile faded, as he picked it up, carefully. There was a polished brass tag on it, a dark wax rubbed into the engraving to make it stand out, that said
Property of
Kildaire
Academy
Lucius wondered. The name ‘Kildaire’ sounded familiar, but in the way that indicated it had been in Mantis’ thoughts somewhere, not Lucius’ own.
‘I haven’t had a chance to look through all the books as yet, but is the name something familiar?’ Evers asked. ‘The boy didn’t mention being owned by anyone.’
‘Let’s see if the books have any indication,’ Lucius said, and they both split the stack between them, looking through. Some of the books were large and shiny hardbacks covered edge-to-edge in artwork, were not very thick, and seemed of a set for a game called Dungeons & Dragons. Player’s Handbook was on the cover of one, that had many tiny coloured bookmarks sticking out of it, all labelled in careful copperplate; and Lucius opened the book curiously, leafing through it, finding it was dense with text, but having beautiful illustrations, even if they were as still as muggle art always was.
‘What kind of game is this complex…?’ he murmured, intrigued.
He heard a soft but sudden inhale from Evers, and looked up. ‘What?’
Evers had been reading a small, hand-bound booklet, with no writing on the black paper cover to indicate its contents.
‘I found out what Kildaire Academy is,’ Evers said with an indecipherable expression, offering the booklet. Lucius gave him a quizzical look, but closed the book he had been looking at to read the page Evers had opened the book to….
And then he went back to the beginning, starting there…
He knew the author neatly printed below the title on the first page—that was a pseudonym of Mantis’. And that meant he’d written this…
…This very, very salacious story about an innocent girl named Rowena Case; and about the terrible, lascivious ways the Kildaire Academy filled her, trained her body, conditioned her mind…
Lucius had never read anything that had his and Narcissa’s particular sexual tastes in it. They were rare, and both considered it kindly of their respective gods to have thrown them into each other’s path; because it would have been a lonely existence, otherwise.
Lucius devoured the stories in what felt like minutes, before he looked over the stack of unread books, and realised there were more of the hand-bound ones…
By the time he was done reading them, he found there were six volumes in all, of varying length, some all one story, some scattered conceptual bits of writing that read like instructions; one was a collection of short stories that had a central setting, a land populated by mythical beings, and Queens, and what seemed to be some manner of animal-person. Mantis’ conception of the beings Lucius knew—the vampires, the unicorns, the merrows—was deeply, weirdly beautiful, sinister and sensual at once. Not all of the stories were about the tastes Lucius and Narcissa shared; but the other ideas on display were intriguing, nonetheless—ideas Lucius had never encountered before… and wanted.
I got invited to speak on an erotica panel at a fantasy convention….
Lucius hadn’t really thought about what that must mean. Perhaps he should have… but one didn’t usually keep a slave’s possessions, usually; Lucius was already breaking with convention by thinking he would use the return of items as reward….
Slaves had lives, of course. They were somebody before you did what you wanted with them; but that didn’t matter. Christians—which, Mantis was correct, was what ‘Muggle’ truly meant, had always meant—would kill you if you let them; they had a history of killing their own children for being magical, or even just for being not what they wanted! They hated and destroyed magic, they still razed groves, they had no respect for the Old Gods, nor the land, nor anything that mattered….
Mantis was different; he wasn’t a Muggle, even though he’d been left with them. He was only a slave by his own will, though Lucius wasn’t going to make that open knowledge, not until… well, he supposed Mantis would decide that, but he seemed to be very happy to be Lucius’ pet, for the moment….
‘You should, also, read these, Evers, the boy wrote them—that’s his pseudonym,’ Lucius said, passing over the booklets. ‘And I want them properly published and bound in leather…’ he added.
The large fireplace in the study—which had been Charmed to only have just enough flame for a Floo, it was so hot—suddenly flared green; and Lucius sighed, knowing who it would be. ‘Take the trunk with you, Evers, I suppose we’ll have to go through the rest later.’
‘I look forward to it, sir,’ Evers said, starting to tuck everything back in the trunk as Lucius rose and went to greet the flamboyantly-dressed (all in red, of course), perfectly-painted, henna-curled wizard mincing from the flames with a bright smile and a lilting.
‘Lucius, darling!’
Lucius kissed him, and Evan kissed back as good as he got, starry-eyed by the time they parted lips—but his paint was still perfect, of course.
‘It’s so good to see you again, my dear! Where is he?’ Rosier looked around eagerly, as though Mantis might be hiding behind a bookshelf.
‘He is with Draco, going over a few things he knows about how the heat can be mitigated. He’s from the desert.’
‘Oh, you let him have thoughts! How very original—whatever for?’ Rosier asked brightly. ‘Can he sing, or something?’ Slaves that were found to have musical talent were often allowed a minimum amount of thoughts, so they could remember how to play their instrument.
‘He’s an oracle, Rosier,’ Lucius said, leading Rosier over to one of the bigger, standing-height worktables, Rosier setting his bag down and opening it, unfolding all of the racks of phials and chirurgeon’s tools from within. There were healers, and then there were chirurgeons—Rosier was the latter, and those who weren’t his close personal friends addressed him as Doctor Rosier—a title he was justly proud of; for it required far, far more training, knowledge, and sheer magical talent than a mere Healer needed to have.
‘An oracle,’ Rosier repeated breathily, pausing in his laying out of tools to look at Lucius with his pale, dark-rimmed green eyes wide, a hand splaying at the base of his lace-bedecked throat. ‘What on earth was he doing in Rowle’s auction catalogue, then? Our gods can’t be that cruel, surely?’
‘It was the only way to get him to me,’ Lucius said, with confidence. ‘And perhaps they were rewarding him—he wishes to be my pet, mine in particular.’
‘Hmmmmmm,’ Rosier said, with his usual, cattish mischief-lilt, his eyes even more glittery than usual. ‘Now I want to see him even more. Apollo does give such lovely gifts…’ he said, voice going from fluting to low and purring, as he looked off to one side, his elaborate eye-makeup only accenting the expression.
‘I want to discuss things with you first,’ Lucius began, but Rosier was having none of it, by his expression, the way he folded his arms, in their tight, sharply-tailored red sleeves.
Lucius hoped Draco would forgive his Auntie Evan. ‘Alright,’ Lucius said, huffing fondly at Rosier’s usual impatience to get started. ‘But we must go to him. I was… over-eager, at luncheon.’
Snape was going to hex him into next week for feeding the boy too early, Lucius thought, with some amusement. Snape was really devastatingly attractive when he was furiously ordering his betters around. It was a wonder he hadn’t been a Ravenclaw, really; he was so much the scholar….
Rosier’s little twitter of a laugh was comfortingly familiar. ‘I do hope you didn’t damage him,’ Rosier commented lightly, as he folded everything back into his bag and followed Lucius out.
‘Perish the thought,’ Lucius murmured, as they left the study. ‘I merely underestimated the damage that had already been done—the poor creature, the Muggles really did torture him.’
‘They always do,’ Rosier said, his playful affectations dropping for a moment—but only a moment. He was bright again as they crossed to Lucius’ suite. Lucius tapped on the door, and Honeywood answered.
‘Sirs,’ he said, and opened the door for them, shutting it quietly. They could hear laughter, and voices, in the bedroom beyond—Mantis’ American baritone far louder than Draco’s light tenor.
‘Things are going well, I take it?’ Lucius asked.
‘The Young Master Charmed the boy so that he could walk. A modification of Featherlight, I believe,’ Honeywood told Lucius, who smiled. Featherlight was tricky to use on living subjects, but Lucius knew Draco was very skilled—and there wouldn’t be laughter from the room beyond, nor calm from Honeywood, if anything had gone wrong.
‘What did you do?’ Rosier asked, and gasped loudly and dramatically. ‘You didn’t give him one of Sluggy’s cordials, did you?’
‘Just a small one, and he’s fine,’ Lucius said, with an annoyed huff. ‘Really, Evan, you’re so excitable about these things.’ He tapped on his own bedroom door, more out of politeness than any hesitance to go in. The voices quieted, and Draco answered.
‘Hello, Fa—Auntie Evan!’ he said, breaking into a surprised smile, before returning to what he’d wanted to tell his father. ‘Fa, I did the most amazing modification of Featherlight!’ he said, as he opened the door for them.
‘Oh!’ Rosier said, seeing Mantis for the first time. It was a very avian noise, like all of the noises Rosier made. Lucius couldn’t blame him for his shock and surprise, though…
Mantis was currently naked, laying on the bare marble of the floor. Lucius hadn’t actually added much new fat to him, but apparently any amount had been too much… still, with Draco having cast Featherlight, there was no reason for him to be on the floor.
‘Boy,’ Lucius said, going over to him and looking down, smiling. ‘Why are you on the floor?’
‘It’s Floor Time,’ Mantis said, as though that explained everything. ‘Who’s your sparkly friend?’
‘This is The Doctor—’
A big, loud, dramatic gasp, rival to Evan’s only because Mantis had a deeper voice and more vocal training. He did not even sit up, though that didn’t seem to curb his enthusiasm any.
‘Does he do plastics? Is he the plastic surgeon? Daddy Daddy Daddy is he here to fleshcraft me pleassayyes!’ He wiggled.
‘Fleshcraft…’ Rosier breathed, ‘ohhh, I like that. I like that very much… run along, Draco dear—but give Auntie a kiss, first.’
Draco threw his arms around Rosier, kissing his powdered cheek, smelling the ambergris and orchid perfume Auntie had always worn. He loved Auntie Evan coming to visit. ‘See you at dinner, Auntie?’
‘Yes, dear, I’m staying for a proper visit.’ Rosier tapped his nose with a fingertip gently, affectionately. ‘Run along, now.’
Draco left. He had lots to do, starting with finding Mrs Schade, the housekeeper, and telling her about the concept of Heat Exchange….
As soon as Draco was gone, Lucius expected a change in Mantis’ position on the floor; but there wasn’t one. ‘Why are you having Floor Time?’ he asked.
‘Do you know why pastry chefs use marble rolling pins and marble slabs for working?’ Mantis said. ‘Or why cats lay sprawled out on stone floors when its hot? These are marble floors. It’s cooler down here. You oughta try it, Daddy-o—I know you won’t, but you oughta.’
‘Well,’ Rosier said, coming over to lean on the nearest bedpost, ‘he’s certainly eccentric enough to be an oracle.’
‘I wish I had my eyes,’ Mantis sighed, seeing the blur of red lips and taking it in with the bright red and the voice to conclude, ‘your makeup is probably amazing.’
‘Get up, pet,’ Lucius said, but gently, aware that they were all overheated, and if laying on the marble floor was cooling Mantis down, he’d be reluctant—particularly after Lucius had given his body more insulation, and suddenly.
A big sigh. ‘I don’t. Want to. I’m gonna—like, Yes Daddy, of course I’m gonna obey you—but I’m gonna complain the whole time.’
Rosier and Lucius both chuckled, at that very familiar point of view, as Mantis carefully rolled onto one hip and pushed himself up.
‘Daddy, I love the new titties and the ass and the everything, but we need a swimming pool I’m hoooot…’
‘I’m sure you told Draco all about it, my sugar,’ Lucius said, Conjuring a stationary bar at just the right height and angle for Mantis to pull himself up safely—because, lightweight from Draco’s Charm or not, he knew Mantis was unsteady—he had the Sway—and, once Mantis was on his feet again, Lucius used a flick of his wand to dust off anything clinging from the floor. He gave Mantis a kiss, soft and unfortunately short, as there was company. ‘Be a good boy, and let Doctor Rosier examine you, hm? He must know what he has to fleshcraft.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Mantis said, his voice purring and warm, looking over at Rosier dreamily. ‘Where do you want me, Doctor Rosier? I can walk again…’
‘Well, my luscious little cream-cake, then do let’s go and put you on the slab.’
Mantis was overcome with giggling, which made the new curves of his belly shiver pleasingly; Lucius did love how much he seemed to like being unclothed….
‘I’m shivering with anticipation, Doctor…’ Mantis finally got out, between giggles. ‘Sorry, sorry,’ he said, trying to stop giggling. ‘I’m—I’m very excited to meet you. You’re a fucking delight.’
Lucius hid a smile at the way Evan flipped out his ever-present fan, blushing despite himself. Mantis’ enthusiasm, and his American superlatives, were going to endear him to Rosier immediately…
‘Aren’t you a charmer,’ Evan said, ‘I see why he let you keep your pretty little brains.’
‘He let me keep my brain because if he didn’t, I’m pretty sure Apollo would get…’ Mantis glanced at Lucius, amended his word-choice, ‘annoyed. I know Himeros would.’
‘You are doing his work, aren’t you?’ Lucius murmured, and Mantis chuckled—a very low, wicked, villainous sort of laugh.
‘You have no idea…’ he purred, at the bottom of his register. Rosier fanned himself a little faster.
Lucius let that pass without letting on that he knew, precisely, to what Mantis referred.
‘I know you’ve filled him up with food,’ Rosier said, as they got to the Rose Suite’s door (it was lacquered with carmine, to match the room), ‘but have you done any of your nefarious fillings to him yet?’
‘Yes,’ Lucius said, as they went in to the crimson bower he kept for his best friend (and, once, his Erastes), ‘or I wouldn’t have been able to fill him up with food.’
As they came in, a flash of housemaid could just be seen disappearing through the bedroom door; Lucius pretended not to notice, and didn’t think it a fault—they hadn’t given the staff quite enough time to ready this suite, given its contents; though the maids had done an admirable job, and would have more time to ready the bedchamber beyond. It was good the maids had focussed on Evan’s exam table and slab, which were perfectly clean, the brass shining, the oxblood leather freshly-oiled, and Lucius made note to mention such excellent prioritising to Mrs Schade, when he saw her next.
‘Good boy; I know you take such splendid care of their little alimentary canals. Up, pet,’ he said the last to Mantis, patting the exam table of sturdy ebony carved to look as though pythons held up the oxblood leather-upholstered top, with its well-oiled and butter-soft surface padded by layers of the best stuffing and springs. It was very adjustable; and the stirrups—which were permanently in position, as they did not fold—were where the most of the brass could be seen, shining in the light from the windows. Their supports were, also, in the form of serpents, holding the padded leather place for the feet—and calves. Rosier had comfortable stirrups, though Mantis knew that also meant that you could, say, strap someone down and they’d have a harder time struggling…
The table lowered to a comfortable height to sit on, the wooden snakes of the legs actually animating; Mantis didn’t react much, and went to sit down, still moving a little more carefully, getting used to how he needed to move now; he had always been hyper-sensitive to changes in his body…. Once settled, Rosier began with the usual vital signs, except he went a lot slower and more leisurely than Mantis was used to, and Mantis actually got time to do the deep breathing.
‘Hop down and stand just here for me.’
‘You have about five minutes before I need to sit again,’ Mantis said, glad that Draco’s charm had made that time longer, but still hating there was a ticking clock at all.
‘Very good boy,’ Lucius said, knowing Rosier needed the cue to know Mantis wasn’t being Pert.
Mantis watched the doctor flick his wand, lighting up Mantis’ scars once more; that was so fascinating, Mantis tried to hold still but he couldn’t help looking at it—the doctor lit them with red light, which looked a little spookier than the Potion Master’s green. Mantis didn’t need to see in order to feel, in the silence, in the way that red figure was moving, the way he was angled, as he circled; and Mantis felt tingly, eager to please, seeking praise…. He heard the clicket of the heels on the floor, and the warmth of the body behind him, and a voice in his ear, soft and dominant.
‘Arms up, let’s see what they did to your chest.’
Mantis obeyed, and contrary to the roughness he half-expected, the doctor behind him gently pressed his slim, tapered fingers against the flesh under Mantis’ arm, over the ends of the scars, and rather than sliding, he made gentle, stippling touches. Mantis knew what he was looking for, and wished he could say whether he’d find it—but he didn’t know.
‘You still have lymph nodes, good,’ came the murmur, so close but not at all addressing him; he knew he wasn’t literally shivering, but he shivered nonetheless, ‘small errors on either side, fixable. And… we’ll have to re-grow some nipples, I think you’re too delicate for a graft…’
‘Master wants to give me working tiddies,’ Mantis said, not sure if anyone had mentioned, and wanting to talk about it in his own voice, to get used to the idea—and because he couldn’t quite believe it was possible, let alone happening to him.
‘Oh, splendid,’ Doctor Rosier said, as he progressed from checking the new mounds of empty fat above Mantis’ scar to cupping and kneading gently. ‘That’s much easier, especially given how much fat Master’s given you.’
A frown came into his voice. ‘But this scar is—well, I’m sure they did their best… I can’t imagine having to work with only knives and not even being able to re-grow tissue… awful, what is it, the primeval age? You poor creature. Apollo weeps.’
He took his hands away, and Mantis heard him sigh, the heels clicketing again, and he was opening his oxblood leather doctor’s bag, and unfolding lots of what were clearly racks and things, from the sound and the way Mantis could interpret that with the blurry things he was seeing.
There were, also, a lot more than should be able to fit in there. So, they had a sort of bag-of-holding magic, which seemed… pretty basic, actually. That must make cleaning so much easier, Mantis thought, if you could just carry a tiny bag around with you and pull anything you wanted out of it….
Just as he was realising his mood was starting to drop, his focus wandering, because he wasn’t getting any praise, he heard Rosier’s voice.
‘Such a lovely, obedient boy you are, pet. Lay down for me, feet in the stirrups.’
Rosier didn’t see it, but Lucius saw the flicker of it, even before Mantis looked at him, pupils pinned, confusion writ loudly on him as much as terror.
He was scared.
He didn’t know why he was scared.
Lucius could see why, even if Mantis couldn’t, as soon as the oracle met his gaze. ‘Evan,’ he said, softly. ‘A word in your ear, please.’
There was something in his tone that gave Evan pause, and the latter slowly set down his speculum, stepping into the bedroom with Lucius, and shutting the door.
‘Evan, he’s been raped before,’ Lucius said quietly. ‘Among other things.’ Before he could go on, Evan replied,
‘And you can’t simply erase it, my dear? You’re so skilled—’
‘He’s an oracle, Evan. He’s…’ Lucius sighed, going over to trace the contours of a faun statue on the bureau. ‘It’s only a game, at this point, that he’s a slave. It’s a game he is playing with us. I think… no, I know,’ he said, hating it even as he put it into words. ‘He was raped by someone he wanted to be his Erastes, Evan. He didn’t know the words; but he is of our folk, the desire was in him. And he was betrayed in the most monstrous way, even for us….
‘He is deeply aroused by being tended to by a chirurg, but not coldly. See what happens when you praise him.’
Evan looked at Lucius a while, that head tilted up, eyes slitted as a cat’s and looking down sort of way he did when he was about to… smile, just like that, his rather full and sculpted lips curling just so.
‘He’s like you, you mean.’
Lucius tilted a brow, not looking up at Evan, still tracing the lines of the faun sculpture. ‘As I recall, you rather like praise as well, lover.’
‘Mm, but I had the advantage of my education being completed at the proper time. So,’ he said, and Lucius heard pride in his voice. ‘You’ve taken an Eromenos at last!’
Seeing Lucius startle, Evan chuckled.
‘Darling, you said he’s of our faith, and he clearly needs someone so badly you’re both pretending he’s a slave; and you abducted him, as is very traditional…’
‘Without his family’s knowledge or will,’ Lucius pointed out. Evan waved it aside.
‘What family, Lucius? You said he was left with the Muggles, and look what they did to him!’ He put a hand on Lucius’ cheek, cupping his face, as he often had when Lucius had been the Eromenos, fresh from the trials after the war and having had the sacred tradition perverted by the Dark Lord, and then ripped from him. Rosier had been there, as he had been before, and Lucius leaned into the caress, wrapping his arms around Rosier again.
But Rosier was right, Lucius realised. ‘How old do you think he is?’ he asked, pulling away from the embrace, ‘out of curiosity.’
‘Hmmm… perhaps twenty-seven or so.’
‘He’s thirty-six.’
‘Is he?’
‘That’s far too old to be an Eromenos, Evan.’
‘Pish posh! It’s a new millennium, my dear, a modern age! And as you said, the gods gave him to you—do you think Apollo would not think of the boy’s needs?’
‘He is hardly the self-sufficient and demure—he needs the opposite of that…’ Lucius’ protest was more rhetorical than sincere, ‘but,’ he said, relenting, ‘you’re right, of course. He’s a very modern Eromenos, then—one that needs a great deal of affection, and a gentle hand.’
‘Perfectly suited to you, then, my light,’ Evan said, kissing Lucius’ mouth gently. ‘You worry about tradition too much, remember what I taught you, about culture being a living thing?’
‘ “Tradition and Relevance must be in balance—too much of the former and culture devours history; too much of the latter and history strangles culture.” Yes, Erastes, I remember.’
‘Good. Go and teach him, then, and bring him up in our world. And, for now, I give my word I’ll be very gentle during the examination.’
‘You might ask him what he wants you to change about his form; I would be curious to see what he says,’ Lucius said, and smiled at Evan’s raised brow.
‘Haven’t you seen everything inside that mind of his already, my light?’
‘He has many thoughts; but those are not choices.’
‘True, true. Well! Let’s go and see, then! I’m still quite flattered by “Fleshcrafter”…’
When Evan opened the door, they heard song, a gorgeous baritone, ringing to the rafters—and Mantis was standing in the middle of the room, angled to take advantage of the tiling and its acoustics, which meant he wasn’t facing the door, the sheer volume meaning he hadn’t heard the door open at all.
—Fly with me, my meadowlark!
Fly with me on the silver morning!
Past the sea, where the dolphins bark!
We will dance on the coral beaches!
Make a feast of the plums and peaches!
Just as far as your vision reaches!
Fly with me!
He didn’t just stand and sing, either—he was performing, moving and gesturing as any operatic actor would; and that was their undoing—he saw them, and his voice cut off abruptly, with an expression like a startled deer.
‘Oh,’ he said, ‘sorry.’ He went to go sit back down.
‘Sorry?’ Rosier was aghast. ‘Sorry? For that voice?’
‘Ye gods, is there any gift Apollo didn’t give you?’ Lucius said warmly, even though inwardly he was still reeling. Draco might have mentioned Mantis sang like a professional. That was a trained voice, as well as a talented one….
‘Come here, precious, comecomecome!’ Rosier said, much more auntly than he had before; Mantis wondered what Lucius had told him, as he glanced up at Lucius for reassurance, feeling giddy that he was allowed to do that.
‘Go on, sweet kouros, I’m right here,’ Lucius said, and kissed his forehead, wondering if he even knew that word at all. There was a little expressive huff.
‘Ohh, I’m much too old and fat to be a kouros, Daddy.’
Lucius cupped his face in both hands, looking down at him, considering all the things he could say, seeing from Mantis’ mind that none of them would work, they reached across too large a culture gap; so, Lucius just kissed him, long and deep and soft, sliding his hands down and gently squeezing those hips, stroking the backs of his fingers down the treasure-trail on Mantis’ belly.
‘You are too thin for my liking, and I am old enough to be your father,’ he said, setting his forehead against Mantis’. ‘So what does that make me?’
‘Hot,’ Mantis said with a grin, feeling better. He hugged Lucius tightly. ‘Thanks, I needed that. Been hanging around youth-worshipping thinocrats too long.’ He went over to get back into place on the exam table, and Lucius followed, at a distance.
‘Do you have any particular ways you want to be flesh-crafted, my pet?’ Evan asked, as he cast the Salubrian Hex on his hands again, wordlessly.
‘I’d like nipples again. She—my Muggle fleshcrafter—removed mine because they were all nerve-damaged, but I mean… I’ve got more in the offing, because of the milk line—you know about the milk line?’
‘No, tell me about the milk line, darling,’ Rosier lied, because it would encourage the boy to concentrate on something else, and so he wouldn’t be tensing up in fear of the speculum (most people feared the speculum). He had warmed it, but even so…
‘Humans have the blueprints for a whole bunch of nipples, like most mammals have got, and there’s little dormant cells in specific places along this imaginary pair of lines that start at the armpit and go all the way down to the… I think it’s the actual labia majora.’ As he spoke, Mantis felt the doctor’s hand on his mons, fingertips warm and gentle as they smoothed equally-warm lubricant on his bare cunt and gently held his labia apart. The gradual slow touches that got closer and closer to his vagina by increments helped him not panic; not that he was terribly afraid of speculums, but he was nervous of strangers, even if they were hot and clearly gay.
Still, once the speculum (also warm!) was in, he didn’t really feel like talking; especially after it clicked wider. He bit his lip, having to concentrate very hard on not moaning or twitching or doing anything to betray how aroused he was. God, it clicked….
Lucius observed Evan’s work a little more closely than he might have, before, and with the eye of the actor he’d once been. He committed to memory the things Evan said, the way he touched, the order of the exam… because Lucius meant to craft Mantis’ Doctor Kildaire into a rôle, to surprise him with it….
‘Such a good boy, you’re opening up so well for me, precious!’ Evan said, as he eased the speculum into Mantis’ vaginal passage. ‘He’s so gorgeously cooperative, Lucius, did you train him to do this?’
‘No,’ Lucius said, smilingly, as Evan set a few directional floating lights.
‘Oooh, you old crocodile, what are you hiding?’ Evan said, glancing aside before clicking the speculum wider. To his delight, the arousal of the boy’s cunt flushed higher—and yet, the little flutter of inner muscle was just that—a flutter. ‘Oh,’ Evan breathed, ‘you’re so careful, aren’t you, precious? But you needn’t hide from me, little one, I can see how aroused you are… you like this, don’t you?’
A shaky exhale, a beautiful, helpless noise, the sort of silent whimper of a man with a low voice. ‘You have no idea, Doctor…’ came with years of pent-up tension being relieved. ‘I try to be—ahh—’ as Rosier clicked the speculum wider. ‘—s-so good, and respectful, and not say anything…’
‘Mm,’ Evan said, on a descending note, and clicked the speculum wider. ‘but I want to hear it,’ he whispered, and it was his especial talent that he could make himself heard, regardless of how softly he spoke. It was a skill he and Severus shared. ‘Is it so wide? So open and exposed, aren’t you? And such a gorgeous clitoris you have, my pet, it’s so big….’
‘I am,’ Mantis felt he could dare to say, because they would understand, possibly, ‘the prettiest kouros in the whole world, because look how small my cock is.’
‘You are,’ Lucius said, as Rosier chuckled—but not unkindly.
‘He hath made thee beautiful in all ways,’ the doctor murmured in agreement, quoting an old play.
‘Perhaps we can make it bigger,’ Lucius said, playing with Mantis’ hair. ‘Hmm?’
‘Bigger how, mine’s the orchid configuration, you know—it’s split into four petals and wrapped around the walls of my vagina. The part you can see is just the folded-over tip.’
‘And learnéd in anatomy!’ Rosier exclaimed, ‘you are a delight! I’ve done all manner of things to them, you know—I can coax it to emerge a bit more, so you can penetrate—but then you lose the internal pleasure it brings.’
‘Fasciation?’ Mantis said, after a thoughtful humming.
‘What?’
‘Fasciation,’ Mantis repeated, more carefully. ‘Plants do it, but I figure it’s kind of a simple idea… if you could fasciate the outer clitoris, you could have the best of both sets of equipment. Only I don’t want like, the kind of cock that people without vaginas have, exactly. I just want a small one, enough of one to put in a cock ring, or a chastity cage…’ he trailed off a little dreamily.
‘A chastity cage?’ Lucius echoed, faintly horrified.
‘Yeah, sometimes they’re really pretty, and it’s kind of hot in a “Dom controls when you get to even be aroused” sort of whaaaat are you doinghnnnhgh…’ They were treated to the sound of Mantis’ brain scrambling, as the doctor suddenly paid attention to his clitoris, taking hold of the hood with a pair of specialised forceps and pulling it out and up—gently, the hood was ever-so-delicate, and Rosier didn’t want to damage it—to bare the clitoris entirely.
‘Lucius, come here, it’s so wonderfully enormous…!’
‘I’ve seen it before, Evan,’ but Lucius still moved from where he was standing at Mantis’ shoulder to coming around to stand just behind Evan, making sure not to block the floating, directional lights he’d set to illuminate everything, Lucius trailing his fingertips along Mantis’ body as he went, to reassure the boy he was still there, still present. ‘But never in person—oh,’ he said, softly, as he spotted the very dark beauty spot on the boy’s right labia, begging to be kissed. And that was before appreciating the whole effect—the flush of Mantis’ arousal was so very visible, and he was deliciously helpless, spread by the rounded brass of the speculum, hood held back by the floating forceps… totally helpless, exposed, unable to squirm away from them….
But that’s not what Evan was showing him.
Lucius, despite not being interested in the sort of person that usually had a cunt, had fucked a few people—men and women—that did. But none of them had looked like this, of course they hadn’t—Mantis was unique, as all of Hermaphroditos’ blessed ones were. His clitoris was enormous, delicious, Lucius wanted to taste it… he knew how sensitive they were, but until seeing this one, he hadn’t ever understood Narcissa’s practise of making them bigger, or tormenting them.
‘Your body is so beautiful, Oracle,’ Evan murmured. ‘Such a ripe little cherry.’
‘I hardly think “little” is the right adjective,’ Lucius commented. Evan giggled.
‘Too right! Such a full, such a heavy-bodied clitoris I’ve never seen in all my life…’
‘Do you want it bigger, pet?’ Lucius asked, not only to make sure Mantis was reassured, but with a bit of wicked smirk, wondering how he’d answer—if he could answer at all….
‘Yes, please… please bigger… more…more sensitive…’
‘More sensitive? You’re hardly coherent as it is.’
A shaky laugh. ‘Can still think, Daddy, don’t wanna.’
Lucius chuckled. ‘But can you think well enough to tell us what you want?’
‘Unfortunately,’ Mantis still sounded strained, but Lucius exchanged a wicked look with Evan, and quietly held out his left hand for Evan to clean with the Salubrian Hex.
‘Mm, even if Daddy does… this?’ Lucius very, very gently touched that lovely clitoris, and savoured the small whine. But Mantis didn’t squirm—he flexed, a controlled motion that pushed his clit against Lucius’ touch. ‘Oh, what was that?’ Lucius breathed, and moved, just slightly, knowing how little it took. A sharp gasp, a dry sob.
‘Daddy!’ was breathless and sharp, Mantis’ hands clutching at the leather of the upholstery beneath him. Lucius looked at Evan, and then the speculum, and Evan understood immediately.
The speculum clicked wider, and Mantis whimpered.
‘What do you want, my sugar?’ Lucius said softly.
Oh, fuck, he was using that breathy voice, the really quiet, the really evil one, Mantis thought. He knew the response, and it fell,
‘Please,’ as a whisper from him, swallowing to wet a gasp-dried throat. ‘Please, please please—ffffffffffuck,’ as Daddy started gently sliding his fingertip down, featherlight touch and the stretch of the speculum overwhelming. Through it all, his brain craved only one thing—say the next line, say the next line…
‘Please what, precious?’
Oh, he was perfect… Mantis whimpered, which only flexed his body against the unforgiving speculum, against Master’s fingertips…. ‘Please let me have a cock, Master, please I want you to torment it…’ he scraped the bottom of his register at the last two words, making them a throaty moan. ‘Please—please swell my clit so I’m always—’ he actually, genuinely lost the word, and delighted in that. ‘S-soft and—wet and—I-I’m g-gonna make a mess if you k-keep stroking like that…’
The speculum clicked wider.
Mantis felt the sharp, metallic pleasure that danced the edge of pain with intensity, as Master sped up, felt the lock on this type of orgasm, the lock that was trained into him by shame… Mantis wanted so badly to be able to do this…
‘Oh?’ Lucius said, tracing the slick flesh of the frenulum back and forth, up and down, over and over, hearing the sweet whimpers, the way the breaths sped up, the quivering. ‘I want to see you make a mess.’
‘Mmm, me too,’ Rosier said, preparing a catching spell, making the restrains active, the brass serpents on the stirrups coming alive and wrapping those soft legs down tightly to the padded stirrups. Rosier suspected—but didn’t quite know for sure—what ‘mess’ was going to mean…
‘Come, boy, come for me,’ Lucius ordered.
It wasn’t instant, but Master was relentless, and Mantis’ body soon pulsed, hard, ejaculating in an orgasm that felt—as always—sharper, more final. These were the only time he lost control completely, straining against the restraints, grateful they held him in place, grateful that Master was still stroking him, as always never sure when it stopped being ejaculating and started being completely losing control of his bladder, because once it started, it was hard to stop… and that was the hardest part about this, was the shame that was so intrinsic it was worse than any chastity device—
‘Good boy, that’s it…’ Lucius murmured, but was slightly unfamiliar with this phenomenon. Cunts could ejaculate? Or was it this particular cunt, was it particularly a consequence of being a child of Hermaphroditos…?
—but praise, specifically praise like that, those exact words…. That was the only thing that could undo the shame’s hold on him, and Mantis cried as much in relief as overwhelm.
‘Ohhh, it’s been so long, hasn’t it, precious… there’s so much… there we are, give it all to me…’ Rosier’s praise flowed easier from his lips, experienced as he was, and Lucius committed the words and their delivery to memory. ‘Such a juicy little peach,’ he giggled, as it finally stopped. ‘I wonder what you’d be like if your bladder was nice and full before we started, next time.’
‘Hnnnh,’ Mantis noised, hoping it sounded as turned on by that as he felt. ‘ ‘s,’ he tried again, hazy and limp, twitching now, overstimulated, as he felt those fingertips still stroking him. The feeling of that, plus being spread so very wide, plus the being in stirrups and strapped down immobile, so he couldn’t squirm too much and get away… was he shaking? Was he crying? ‘Daddy.’ Well, that scanned, the word Daddy was the easiest of the words he could think of right now.
‘Shh, rest,’ Lucius murmured, pulling his fingers away and patting that flushed and dripping cunt gently, still held open by the speculum, which made it even more fascinating—he could see how much the internal passage changed with arousal. He cast a quick cleaning charm to his hand with a flick of his wand, and said to Evan. ‘Keep him spread,’ and Evan nodded, watching as Lucius Conjured a glass of water and helped his pet to sip it from a glass reed. He kissed Mantis’ forehead when he finished the glass. ‘Good boy, now catch your breath while the doctor and I talk, hm?’
‘Kay…’ Mantis said. ‘Stay hold my hand pet me?’ was all one sentence.
‘Yes, precious, I’m right here,’ Lucius said, sitting down. Some boys were surly or passed out immediately, but it seemed that Mantis stayed awake, and needed comfort…. So much of him was new, and wonderful, and Lucius delighted in stroking him like he was a cat—and hearing him make low hums that sounded very like purring.
‘What is all of that?’ Because Evan had two liquids caught by his spell, and was decanting them into flasks.
‘Oh, ejaculate and urine. They’re both from the bladder. Until and unless we give him a full internal kit to go with the cock, it all comes from the bladder—which I rather like, you know. Bladders are so much fun to play with, and torment, and train….’
Lucius pulled up a chair, sitting down. ‘Are they?’ he said, ready to learn, still watching Mantis’ body twitch, occasionally, idly stroking his belly gently—and moving to hold his hand when he saw it reaching for him. ‘I’m here, darling, I’m here. Just breathe.’
‘I’m surprised you don’t fill them up like you do their bellies and balls, my light,’ Rosier said, taking the flasks to his worktable, ‘they’re quite luscious, in their way.’ He swivelled on the balls of his high-heeled shoes after setting the flasks down, leaning back against the stone of the slab with a wickedly-thoughtful smile, looking over at Mantis, helpless on his table, ‘Seeing a boy whimper and cry when you fill up his bladder until it bulges enough to see from the outside—and then stretching his urethra around a plug? Oh,’ he splayed a hand over his chest. ‘Darling, there’s nothing like it! They’re so desperate! And when you have them stretched enough to fuck their useless little cocks? Glorious.
‘But I’m getting a little dreamy—he’s really very inspiring, your oracle boy, isn’t he?’ he said, the corner of his mouth turning up when Mantis giggled in reply. ‘I see what you mean bout him wanting to be a slave….’
‘Isn’t he just?’ Lucius said, delighted, ‘what of this milk line? Have you heard of it?’
‘Oh yes, very much so. But I discovered it, and very few people have read that monograph. Which means the muggles know it, now; but I imagine it must still be obscure knowledge, a curiosity…’ he looked over to Mantis, thoughtful. ‘Why do you know it, boy?’
‘Science!’ Mantis said, ‘Making erotica better since…’ he fluttered a hand, ‘Idunno. Insert a year.’ He giggled again.
‘Erotica?’ Rosier queried, arching a perfectly-pencilled brow.
‘Mhm. ‘m a writer. Write this stuff. Wanted… wanted to know how to make tiddies…. Oh!’ he said, ‘want um, maybe the ones on the row higher. Better for… for my back.’
‘Perfect boy…’ Rosier murmured, and chuckled at Lucius’ smug, smitten smile, but said nothing, merely going on, ‘But fasciation is too too obscure, even for me. I shall have to look it up….’
‘Ask a gardener,’ Mantis said, voice dazed and blissful, but lucid. ‘Thing flowers do… spooky ooky, very cool. Can… can I have speculum out, please? If you’re done.’
‘I’m not done, as it happens; your dearest Master interrupted,’ Rosier said, with fond annoyance at Lucius, who looked completely unrepentant. ‘But you’re being so very good, not squirming or complaining at all. I know it must be hard,’ he added, stroking the boy’s cheek on his way back to his work stool between Mantis’ legs. ‘Let’s see…’
‘Do magi do pap smears?’ Mantis wondered quietly, mostly to himself.
‘Explain?’ Rosier said, as he worked.
‘Um… I’m not sure exactly what it is, you get some cells from in there with a little scraping and… test them for cancer? I think that’s it,’ he said to himself. ‘You’re supposed to get one done every year. I’m… not great at keeping up with that, because… I don’t like doctors that see me as having a female body that’s “normal”, that ignore all the inter—all the hermaphroditic traits as being something taking testosterone did, instead of something my body did a lot of before that.’ Calling himself hermaphroditic both felt better and more like he was going to get In Trouble for saying The Forbidden Word.
‘Yes, I am doing that,’ Rosier said. ‘It’s much less primitive than checking something smeared on a slide… hold still….’
‘Yes, Doctor Rosier.’
Rosier waited, and when it was obvious the boy was actually using all of that self-control to hold still, and understood being silent was part of holding still in this case, he slowly, and avoiding the sides of the vaginal walls, inserted his wand, and—delicately, carefully, aimed the very smallest of spells at a very narrow area, and watched the colour of the glow. When it turned softly red, he ended the spell and withdrew his want. ‘No cancer,’ he declared. ‘Good boy, you can speak again.’
‘What else are you doing?’ Mantis asked.
‘Mm, establishing a baseline for you, seeing what natural characteristics my block of marble has, what I can sculpt it into….’
‘Ooer,’ Mantis said in a comical deadpan, as though reading a line badly; and Lucius and Rosier were surprised into laughter.