In a Gray Mirror pt 3

Posted on 23 Jul 2015 @ 6:43pm by Lieutenant JG (SoghHom) Grayson Jones

2,705 words; about a 14 minute read

Mission: Episode 09 - Empires
Location: Grayson's Residence
Timeline: MU, 4 years ago

Previously:


"I doubt that. I've never failed in my extractions before, and I'm not likely to now." He cast her a wicked grin. "Have fun T'Mira...be good to him."

They parted company as she spat in his direction.

Smiling now, Tyrion turned his back on her and walked back to Grayson's room. "More entertainment to follow if you tune in on cell block three master," he announced, while tossing a chip onto the desk. "I hope this is sufficient?"

"For now it will do," Grayson sighed as he now sat behind a desk, "You are dismissed. Go find something or someone to amuse yourself with. I have no more need of you today."


Continued from part 2:

Disappointed, and allowing it to show on his face, Tyrion nodded. "Yes master," he answered and started to turn away. Maybe he could spend some time with Shadow, continuing her training. Or maybe he could find someone to vent his frustration on....he was allowed his own sexual adventures every once in a while and he had spotted this gorgeous Human prisoner down in block three before walking out. Of course, none of his exploits ever survived the encounter; he killed them when he was done with them. "You'll call when you need me?"

"If," Grayson said, hardly looking up. "I thought I said dismissed or do you need another cue that says get the hell out?"

"No master." He visibly flinched as a certain memory flashed to the surface and unconsciously his hand went up to his chest as he started to walk out, his head bowed in submission.

Finally smiling as he watched the events in cell block three, Grayson hardly noticed Tyrion had gone. It would be many days before he called on him again.

Feeling utterly lonely, Tyrion jumped as he was suddenly summoned a full week later. He had his odd assignments here and there, and he had performed them as was expected but he had no pleasure in them. He missed his master's company, missed just listening to his voice, or even watching him play with another lover as he used to stand guard. "Master," he breathed, relief in his voice as he hurried into the room.

"I am in need of a new lover Tyrion," Grayson began.

Tyrion paled visibly, fearing he was going to be replaced and he suddenly felt faint. He barely kept himself from staggering back a step. "Have I not served faithfully master?" he whispered, visibly terrified.

"I just get so bored now and then. You know I like variety and spice. Find me one Tyrion," Grayson ordered.

"Would master like to come along on this endeavour?" Tyrion asked carefully, "or would master like to be surprised." Ever in the submissive mode, Tyrion rarely spoke Grayson's name out loud.

"Is that even a question?" Grayson joked with the odd use of a smile, at least a genuine one. "Always the surprise. Always go for the surprise."

Tyrion smiled back, hesitantly approaching him. "Surprise it is," he said. "Is it permitted to hug?" He looked away, smile disappearing. "I've been so alone master...I..missed you."


Grayson raised an eyebrow, clearly uncomfortable with the exchange between them now. "It is not. We don't do affection. I don't do affectionate. Or missing people. Well...unless it involves missing them with a disruptor, then I never do anyway." Weirded out was the only way he could describe his emotions right now. Grayson never did the affectionate side of relationships, he was not accustomed to it, nor expected or demanded it.

But Tyrion, being the emotional creature he was, did need it. He bowed his head and started to withdraw, sensing the odd mix of feelings that came from Grayson. "I'm sorry master," he mumbled, "I'll go find someone for you." He felt hurt, that he wasn't apparently as special as he had thought he might've been to Grayson. Had he misread their sessions together then?

"Take your time, I need someone burly and rough tonight," he smirked.

Nodding, Tyrion withdrew from the room, left to wonder if Grayson knew at all how he made him feel. How he yearned for his proximity, and his - not always equally gentle - touch. His search took him several hours but in the end he returned with a large Klingon male. He had stripped the Klingon of all his weapons and had Shadow sniff him over before stripping him naked. "In there," he directed, shoving the Klingon forward. He was showing a strength that belied his frame, because no ordinary slave would be capable of shoving any Klingon anywhere.

The Betazoid followed, his black leather shining in the dim light in the room. "I have found someone master," he announced, presenting the Klingon to him, "I pray he pleases you as you desire."

"He does not. He was unsatisfactory before," Grayson replied with a chill in his voice, his look of disdain saying the rest. "Leave, both of you. Use him yourself if you must. I'd rather be alone," he scoffed, bidding the pair to leave immediately. The Klingon really hadn't, but Grayson was no longer in the mood that evening.

Watching the Klingon closely, Tyrion smiled ever so slightly. "Would master like to watch?" he suggested as he realized he was quite the contrast to the bulky Klingon, who was a good head taller than he and at least twice as wide in his shoulders alone.

"Put it up on a live feed and I will check in to see if it will do," he was getting colder by the second.

Tyrion fell silent, studying him for a moment. "What is wrong?" he asked boldly, as he gestured for the Klingon to leave and wait in the anteroom. "Have I displeased you master?"

"Nothing that concerns you," Grayson glowered, "just do what I asked and get out?"

Though Tyrion knew better than to persist, he lingered anyway, stepping closer to the hybrid but not close enough to touch him. "I'll go," he promised, "but I don't like seeing you like this master, all moody and brooding. Something is wrong...and I don't know what it is since you won't let me read you. I have proven my loyalty and trustworthiness over and over master, why won't you confide in me?"

"Tyrion, you are annoying me now. And. Mentioning that horrible reading process again is beginning to make me angry. How can I make this more clear than this? L.E.A.V.E....leave," Grayson's temper was starting to flare, his hands and eyes began to twitch.

Tyrion always felt fearful when he saw Grayson twitch in anger, and he knew to make himself scarce. Not even acknowledging the order, the Betazoid fled the room, through the anteroom and yanked the Klingon along back to his own small room. "Master wanted something rough," he told the Klingon, "so...I want you to be rough with me. I want master to be pleased with the result but I require to remain able of service to him. Do you understand?"

"Yes," boasted the unassuming Klingon male.

"Then get to it," Tyrion snapped irritably, not even bothering to strip out of his own clothes. If Grayson wanted to see rough, then he would get it that way. He yearned for a word of praise now, and he would go a ways to get it.

Not knowing how much time had passed since being alone with the Klingon, Tyrion felt exhausted and aching all over. His bed partner sure hadn't held back and his body was covered in marks of various size and order. He turned and leaned over the Klingon. "You did great," he whispered, before driving his dagger into his heart. Feeling warm blood spray into his face, Tyrion collapsed on top of the now dead warrior, giving in to his injuries.

Grayson watched the exchange from his quarters and felt nothing till the kill. It amused him briefly before he turned his screen off and headed towards his bed. Something had unsettled him, yet he could not put his finger on it.

Not knowing whether Grayson had enjoyed the scene, Tyrion waited anxiously for a summons. When they didn't come, he called for another guard to get rid of the corpse and a lowlier slave to get him clean bedding. He hauled himself to his feet and dragged himself to his master's bedroom, kneeling beside the bed as his legs wouldn't really carry his weight at a full stop. "Master?" he whispered carefully, staying out of reach but close enough to be on hand if needed. He was too injured to move too much.

"Shut up," Grayson said, laying in bed, his back to Tyrion. He still wanted to be alone, but was not annoyed by his presence this time.

Saying nothing further, he laid himself down beside the bed and closed his eyes, hissing occasionally as breathing hurt and the floor wasn't exactly comfortable. Some time later, while it was still dark, Tyrion woke up and hauled himself up to his knees. Reaching over, he gently pulled the covers back over the sleeping body of his master, then eased himself back down to the floor. He had positioned himself between the bed and the door, as was his habit.


Stirring slightly, Grayson pulled back the covers a little and called out, "Don't say anything. Get in. Hold me. Breathe of this to no one." He realised he needed that bit of affection, he had never experienced it before and was curious to the sensations it would provide.

Hissing in pain, Tyrion climbed into the bed and snuggled up, savouring the warmth of Grayson's body. As ordered, he said nothing as he settled himself as comfortably as his condition allowed, wrapping his arm around him. Quietly, he leaned up to kiss the nape of his neck, then resettled, closing his eyes, praying he wasn't broadcasting too much. He couldn't help it, the pain was almost unbearable.

"Ok, now you can speak...since this isn't entirely displeasing," Grayson admitted, feeling the warmth of their touch. It was a different kind of exciting, it made him feel more content.

For several seconds, Tyrion remained silent. "Thank you," he whispered, his gratitude resounding in his voice. There wasn't much else to say, or do but to just hold him as gingerly as possible. "I think he broke a rib...."

"Then get to the medical bay...I don't want you in pain," catching what he just said, Grayson corrected himself, "or getting blood all over my bed."

"May I request a favour?" Tyrion whispered, catching the one note of affection but dismissing it in the same breath as if it hadn't been there at all.

"Ask, but I make no promises."

"Would you come with me?" It was a genuine plea for help, and not to be sent on his own. He needed someone he trusted, and he trusted no-one but his master. "In the morning is soon enough master."

Pondering for a moment, Grayson replied simply with a, "Yes," before curling back into his bed.

"Thank you master," Tyrion murmured, settling himself again, but carefully so. He closed his eyes and concentrated on relaxing his smarting body, drifting into an uneasy sleep. He woke several times that night, always gasping for breath and ultimately he shifted away a little because he didn't want to wake Grayson, and disgruntle him further. The Betazoid was convinced that, whatever was going on, it was somehow his fault.

When the morning finally did come around, Grayson woke, readied and got himself dressed very quickly. "Well, lets go then," he called out, kicking the bed frame to wake Tyrion. He was still at odds for having spent the night with him, usually he just kicked people out when he was done. Part of him was still unsure he enjoyed the experience. "If I am to drop you off at sickbay you better hurry. I have things to do," he huffed while attaching his weapons to this hips and thighs.

Groaning, Tyrion hoisted his naked body from the bed, the full result of his evening with the Klingon now visible. A large bruise spread across his ribs, where one showed a bulge that definitely did not belong there. A dark brown line traveled across his chest, touching the blue rose vine as if it were a branch growing from it, but upon closer inspection one could see it was a scar. He dressed himself in loose linen pants and shirt, similar to what he'd worn when he had first been properly presented to Grayson.

"It's not a requirement master," Tyrion murmured, though he was grateful that Grayson had remembered his request to be accompanied. He was exhausted, and in pain and he walked gingerly, step by step, trying not to jar his aching bones for fear something else might be broken. But what was worse, he hated Grayson seeing him this weak, and it made him feel ashamed. His bearing changed with his emotions and he hung his head, unable to look at the man he deeply cared for.

"Looking at your feet isn't going to get you very far," Grayson complained. "Here," he held out his arm for his wounded guard to take hold of, "I guess things went well with the Klingon?" Although asking, he already had an idea of what had transpired, having only looked upon the monitor when the Klingon was slaughtered.

"I did what you asked," Tyrion murmured, gratefully accepting the offered arm, though wincing upon the touch. He closed himself off, drawing up his mental barriers as far as he could so Grayson wouldn't sense anything from him through the touch. "I used him, and I let him use me in the hope it would amuse you." Carefully he lifted his head, his eyes riddled with pain. "Did it?"

"Asked? I merely suggested," his face screwed up being slightly puzzled, he guessed Tyrion took all he said as an order and would remember this for the future. "I really only watched you kill him, I guess that was enough," Grayson shrugged as they started to walk off to the medical bay, thankfully it was a short walk. Desperate to get back to his self imposed isolation, Grayson moved at a quicker pace to help the limping warrior.

Gritting his teeth, Tyrion tried to keep up but it was hurting him more than it was helping, but he refused to complain. "That was the most entertaining part," Tyrion agreed through his gritted teeth, "and I enjoyed that part the most. He served his purpose, I will find you another. Someone better, when you require company. Stronger and younger. You will be pleased." He gasped as he finished speaking, collapsing against Grayson's arm, holding on to him.

Giving an annoying sigh, Grayson slowed down a little, "Right now, I'd want no one. But in some form, and it is difficult for me to say this," he paused, gathering his thoughts, "thank you. For looking out for me."

"Always master," the Betazoid breathed painfully, "you before myself, any time. As I promised."


"But not always, I'd like you to look after you a little more," Grayson caught himself though, letting his guard down and quickly put it back up. "I will need you at your best at all times. I have plans in the works and I will be calling on your skills, soon," he mused.

"I'll try to be more careful," Tyrion promised contritely as the approached the medical bay, briefly leaning his head against Grayson's shoulder, before straightening bravely, "I'll not let them hurt me anymore to try and amuse you. I'll practice on them instead, so I can be of better service."

"That works," Grayson stood up taller, "just get in and get healed." He walked away abruptly, not knowing how to deal with his emotions.

Watching him leave for a second, Tyrion stumbled inside and just barely made it to a bed. It would be a few days at least until he was well enough to be allowed on his feet again.

OFF:

SoghHom Grayson Jones
Saalm Crewmember

Tyrion
Grayson's servant
[pnpc T'Vanna]

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