Begin

It had been a week since I met Thomas. The questions I had, were only building, but I didn't see him again. I returned to my routine filing with Patrick each day for a few hours. I also began being tutored in basics, like English and Math. Thanks to Ho Ming, my English skills were far beyond that of a 15-year-old. Each day felt the same for a while. The stability of constancy and routine began to feel inviting. I kept feeling, deep down, that something was wrong, but I couldn't escape the comfort I felt by just being normal. I was in my room, reading a novel when a light knock on the door caused me to snap back to the present. Patrick opened it and peered in.
"Milo, I hope you're okay? I hate to disturb you, but there's a phone call for you." I sat bolt upright in the bed—a phone call, who from, the anticipation that it might be Emmet filled me. I slumped out of bed and followed Patrick down the hall to the locked room. Patrick unlocked the door, and I walked inside. The smell of the Tsar's cigar smoke filled my lungs and sent shivers down my spine. I rounded the desk to the phone, the light blinking to indicate there was a call on hold. I picked up the receiver, holding it to my ear and pushing the unmute button.
There was a long sweeping silence for what felt like minutes until a familiar, husky voice finally spoke; "Milo?"
It was Emmet.
"I'm sorry it's so late. I just wanted to hear your voice again."
I felt my throat tighten.
"Are you okay?" Emmet's tone was one of concern. I felt as if I could feel him whispering in my ear, his warm breath tickling my neck. Suddenly I felt my knees give out, and I fell to the floor in a heap. I felt hot, my voice croaking from my throat, "I'm okay. I'm glad you called." I heard Emmet sigh down the phone line, making my toes twitch.
"I'm glad you're okay. I haven't stopped thinking of you since I left." His words were strong, like stones weighing down my stomach. At this point, all my doubts from Thomas had utterly washed away; all I could think of was Emmet calling me in some far-off land, telling me he thought only of me. I bit my lip, trying to push my desire from my mind. "Emmet, when are you coming back? I miss you." Emmet was silent. Only his breathing, which was sharp and shallow, could be heard. His husky voice broke the silence, "say it again."

"Say what again?" I was confused. 

"My name" His tone was sharp, piercing through the silence of the study and right into my brain. I felt my body warming up, from my toes to my head. My face felt flushed as he spoke. 

"Emmet," I pleaded through the phone, listening to his sigh of pleasure. I found my free hand reaching for my chest, where his tongue had darted around my nipple. Remembering the sensation, I felt myself getting hard. Hearing his breathing through the phone felt like he was beside me, touching me with his hands.
"Emmet, please come home", I begged him. He chuckled in his throat, the way he did only for me. He sighed, "I'll be here another two weeks, Milo. I'm sorry."
"Sorry's not good enough, Emmet," I was trying to be forceful, but I sounded more like a petulant teenager. He laughed, deep, and it bellowed through the phone. "How can I make this up to you, Milo?" His voice was hoarse, like it was in the morning before he left. I let a small sigh out; I hadn't realised as he was speaking that my fingers were exploring my own body. Touching and pinching my nipples as his words penetrated my ear. "I think I have an idea," his voice was commanding, "Milo put the phone on speaker and sit in my chair."
Even though he wasn't physically with me, the power coming from his tone made me obey. I put the phone on speaker, hung the receiver up and sat in his desk chair. It was soft, moulded to his body and smelt just like him. 

"Now," he paused, and I heard his receiver hang up, "I've done the same thing. Are you facing the door in the chair?" 

"Yes," my tone was weak,

"Turn the chair around and face the window."

I did as I was told, turning the chair to face the window. In the next moment, I was complete engulfed in pleasure. The Tsar's words were ringing behind me as he was right there. "Good boy Milo," his voice was louder than before. "I'm going to give you instructions, and you're going to follow them, okay?" I felt my eyes closing, picturing him in front of me, standing above me and commanding me to do as I was told. 

"Yes, Emmet," I moaned a little as I spoke his name. I could hear him sigh before he spoke.

"Take your right hand and caress your thigh, just like I do to you." I followed his orders, caressing my thigh softly. My fingertips weren't as cold as his. I felt myself sigh a little as my index finger glided up and down the inside of my thigh. Even over the soft material of my pants, it felt nice. Emmet's breathing was heavy, almost panting through the phone. I felt my ears flush again. His voice was soft, asking me to unbutton my pants slowly. I felt my fingers fumbling for the button and slowly unclasping it, breathing softly and hearing Emmet's soft, gentle sighs. His voice broke through my thoughts, "When you've unbuttoned, I want you to pull your pants down past your thighs," I followed his words, slipping my pants past my thighs, "Now, run your finger along the waistband of your underwear, as you did to me." My fingers were warm compared to his; is this what my fingertips felt like on his skin? I felt my body tingling, and my dick was dripping. I wished desperately that he was here, in front of me, on his knees, holding me between his cold, slender fingers. "Emmet," my voice pleaded through the air, "Emmet, please." I could hear his sighs becoming deeper in his throat, faster, too, as if his own hand was reaching through the phone and holding me. I felt my fingers slip below my waistband and begin caressing my dick. The tip was sticky, and as my hand gripped tighter, I heard Emmet sigh as I moaned his name in the empty study. "Milo, look at the window," I looked up; my expression was unfamiliar. My face was flush, my ears red, and my mouth hung open, saliva dripping from my tongue. "That face you're making is so erotic. Every time I see it, I lose control."

"You're watching me?" I felt my neck get hot, hearing Emmet breathing behind me. I felt a sense of pride suddenly wash over me, and if he were watching, I'd give him a show. I slipped my pants and underwear off, the soft material landing on the wooden floor. The leather was cold against my skin, making my body tingle with goosebumps. I pulled my knees to my stomach, perching gently on the chair. With my ankles near my ass, I pulled open my shirt a little. I heard Emmet moan; maybe he was watching me after all?
"If you wanted a show, I'd surely give you one without hesitation, Emmet," my voice was low, speaking over my shoulder toward the desk. He let out his small, deep chuckle. The one only I hear. His words, so deep and resonating through the air, caught me by surprise;
"Go ahead, Milo, show me then." It was a challenge, and I knew I could give him one hell of a show. I sat back in the chair, my knees tight to my chest and began running my fingers down my dick. I looked around the window frame and spotted a tiny, red blinking light to the left of the window. A camera, I thought. This must be how he's watching me and why he wanted me to face the window. I turned my chair slightly towards it to give him a better view and heard him scoff down the phone. His voice was muffled as if he was covering his mouth. "I see you've found me," I looked directly into the camera, bringing my hand to my mouth. I slide one of my fingers deep into my throat, coating it with my tongue and letting saliva drip from the corners of my mouth down my chin. My finger, wet and sticky, I took it and began tracing my thigh with the same motions Emmet used. I could hear him panting and a soft slapping sound coming from afar. I slid my finger gently inside myself, twitching as I pushed deeper inside. My tongue fell from my mouth, and the sounds, god, even my own panting and moaning, turned me on. I could hear Emmet breathing, it was heavy, and it felt like he was right behind me. I slid another finger inside and looked directly at the small red light. I held my ankle with my free hand, opening myself wider for Emmet to see. I thrust my fingers deeper inside myself and pushed against them. I could hear Emmet panting, his hands rubbing his dick, the slapping getting louder and faster; he was stroking himself in time with me. I moaned, pushing deeper and feeling myself getting close to coming. "Emmet", my voice was louder than I expected and hung in the air. 

"Cum Milo, calling my name," his voice was deep, almost as if he was right behind me. My body ached; I wished he was there to do this to me. I was fingering myself faster and faster to the sound of his breathing. His name left my lips with each push. I was panting, my throat was dry, and his breathing, his soft moans, were giving me goosebumps. I pushed deeper once more and felt myself losing control. "Emmet!" I screamed into the empty room as I came all over myself. Cum was dripping between my thighs and pooling on the soft leather, it was sticky and hot, and I felt myself lean back in the chair. I closed my eyes, listening for any sounds within the room, but it was empty. I felt hot, my face was flush, and my ears were burning. I opened my eyes and looked at the window; my reflection was lewd. Cum, dripped down my thighs, my mouth open, and my body was a tinge of pink all over. I went to move my legs, to put them back on the floor, when Emmet broke the silence, "Stay right there," deep and bellowing through the study. I sat and looked at the red, blinking light again. I put my hands to my ankles and pulled my knees closer to my chest, inviting him to see what he had done. I heard his voice. It cracked as he looked at me through his screen. It was subtle, but I heard him whisper through the phone 'yes'. My body tingled, and I felt my hand reaching for my chest. I ran my fingers over my nipples, looking right at the camera. My tongue darted across my lips, and I could hear his movements becoming more vigorous as I showed him more of myself. The cum was still dripping between my legs. I reached my index finger down through it, dragging it across my thigh and up my stomach. His breath was heavy, and he left out a sign as I rubbed my nipple softly with my cum. I bit my lip and felt a moan well up deep in my throat. I threw my head back, "Emmet", I moaned, rubbing my nipple a little harder.
"Milo," he panted, the words lingering on his tongue, "Milo, I'm going to…" he cut himself off, and I heard the sound of relief as he sighed heavily. I slumped down in the chair, the waves of ecstasy still washing over me. 

Emmet broke the silence again; his tone was expected, "Sorry, Milo, I…."

"I wanted this," I interjected,

"But,"

"No buts, I miss you and want to please you," I smiled softly, hoping he would see it. I heard a soft sigh, relief, from the phone. I had hoped he would appear before me, but this was better than nothing. I leaned back in the chair, "When will you be back?" My tone was whiny again. Emmet chuckled softly, "I'll be away a little longer than I expected," I felt myself sit bolt upright, my eyes welling up with tears. I stood, picking my clothing up from the ground and dressing in a huff. Emmet sighed; I knew he was still watching me. "Milo, I don't mean to take this long…."

"But you are!" I yelled, clutching my pants to my chest in an attempt to make myself calm. 

"I know, I know, please don't be upset. I'll be back at the end of the month."

"END OF THE MONTH? THIS MONTH OR NEXT, EMMET!" I was cold, my body shivered, and my tone was loud and demanding; my petulant child self was back. I dressed and hurried to the door.

"Stop." His commanding and dominating tone stopped me dead in my tracks. 

"I want you to come back here tomorrow at the same time."

"And if I refuse?"

"You won't." He laughed, that deep chuckle only I got to hear. My ears were flush again. Would we do this again? I turned to look at the camera. I felt my eyes sharpen, staring daggers at him. 

"If looks could kill Milo," I could hear him smile as he spoke. "Milo, I do miss you; you must know that. I'm not staying away because I want to."

"I know," my tone was softer. I'd given up on being angry the moment he called my name. "I just," I couldn't finish my sentence. 

"I know," he broke through the silence, "I miss you." I felt my knees buckle, and I raced back to the desk, picking the phone up in desperation. Holding him, well his voice, closer to my ear felt comforting. Almost as if he was right beside me.
"Milo, it's late. You must rest,"

"But I need you?" 

He sighed a little, and I felt a twinge in my heart, "I know." He hung up the phone. The beeping in my ear left me hollow. I stumbled to the door, reaching for the silver handle with shaking hands. Was he mad at me? I know I'm a child, and I behave with no remorse sometimes, and I'm spoilt, but I thought… I strolled back to my room, thoughts consuming my brain. It's only three weeks. I can make three weeks without him. But, doing that every night, will I be okay? It only makes me yearn for him more profoundly and intimately. It's dangerous. I reached my room without even noticing how fast I'd walked. I turned the handle to see an empty bed. Why had I hoped, more like prayed, for him to be there when I returned? I knew he wound't be, but the disappointment was rife. I had no energy, even though I knew I needed to shower, but as I reached the bed, I sank into it and fell asleep. 

The next time I awoke was to a soft knock on the door. It must be Patrick. I had learnt his knock just by the pressure he applied. He opened the door and had fresh clothing for me. I smiled softly and rose from the bed. I reached out my hands and took the pile from him. I slumped to the bathroom, not even noticing he'd left. As I shut the door, I dropped to the floor. I felt so empty. I pulled my knees to my chest and held myself tightly. The pile of clothes had spilled, and there was a note in-between. I reached for it and read; 

Milo, I genuinely miss you. Please wait for me, E. 

I felt my eyes well with tears, and the salt-filled droplets met the page. Ink began to run onto my thumbs. I smiled; he wasn't mad; he just didn't want to hurt me. I know this. I told myself this repeatedly, yet the pain of feeling alone sunk into my stomach. I wiped my eyes and decided right then to give up being such a child. Emmet needed me to become his partner, not just in secret, and he wouldn't want a child to be at his side. I would only embarrass him if I kept acting this way. It was high time I grew up. 

After showering and collecting myself, I went to the dining room. Patrick was waiting beside my seat with new files and breakfast. He smiled, knowing what was on the note, as I'm sure Emmet had him write the note for me, to offer some sense of comfort. Thomas popped into my mind again as I ate and read the files. I thought hard about what Patrick had said of his character. He was a jealous creature, full of spite and malice. I thought to keep my distance, but Thomas would soon find his way to me and turn my life upside down. I pushed Thomas from my mind and finished eating, following Patrick to the filing room and began to sort and file. It felt like minutes had passed, but the sun was already setting when I looked up from my pile. Was I enjoying this? I thought more about being an asset to Emmet than anything. Patrick looked across his papers at me and smiled, "I'm glad to see you happy again, Milo." I looked back, the corners of my mouth turned up without intention, and I smirked. Patrick laughed and shook his head, "Let's call it a day; the files will be here tomorrow,"
"You go, Patrick; I want to finish this pile today."

"But sir,"

"Patrick," my tone was firm, "I'm fine. I just want to be helpful."

Patrick shook his head, rising from his seat and turned to me before leaving, "Don't stay too late, okay?" I nodded, returning to the pile in front of me. There were only about six lots left to file and check, and it wouldn't take me long. By the time I had finished, the grandfather clock in the hallway was striking twelve. The twelve rings rang out through the empty mansion. I felt a sudden sense of overwhelming dread, but I couldn't figure out why? I stood, pushing the files away from me and stretched high. Feeling my back click, I decided it was time for bed. I put away the paperwork, filed it in the right boxes and left the study. I suddenly realised how empty this house was as I shut the door. The hard floors echoed my footsteps as I walked to the staircase. I began to climb and stopped at the third step. I looked at the edge, where Patrick told me Thomas had pushed the boy down, and his neck broke. There was no blood I could see, and I assumed the whole step would have been replaced by now; it had happened months ago. I bent down, looking at the edge and saw a dent. It looked like; it looked like a tooth mark.

Was Patrick lying? Or was the situation more complex than I could understand? My mind flashed back to the night I met the Tsar, the body of Ho Ming, in the carpark. His teeth sprinkled around his head like droplets of snow on a blood-covered concrete. I felt my stomach churning and my throat becoming tight, thinking back, Emmet did me a favour. I decided it was late enough to sleep. It must be close to 12:30 in the morning by now. I took my pants off and lay back on the bed, too exhausted to climb under the covers. I slept on top of the bed for what felt like five minutes before the door burst open. It was Patrick. I rolled over onto my stomach and groaned. He stood beside me almost frantically and grabbed me by the elbow, yanking me to my feet. 

"Patrick, what are you doing?" He refused to speak, just pulling me through the empty hallway. We stopped in front of the study door. That wave of dread from hours ago suddenly hit me. I was meant to talk to Emmet again tonight, but I'd fallen asleep. Patrick opened the door, and I walked inside. The light on the telephone was blinking red, a call on hold. I paced quickly to the desk, standing in front of the phone and answered, "Hello," my voice shook in my throat. It was silent on the other end, except for the occasional blow of what I assumed with cigar smoke in frustration. "Emmet, I didn't mean to…" a sigh, the first sound of human noise, came through the receiver. I felt my knees quivering as I waited for Emmet to speak. "Emmet I"

"Stop." His tone was cold, and I felt my body shake with fear. He was angry, so very angry. I felt sick, waiting for a response. I wondered if he was watching me through his camera. I looked to the window, the top left corner, but the little blinking light did not blink. I wonder how long he waited for me to call? My thought was interrupted when a sudden, new voice broke through the silence, "Tsar, we can't wait any longer. We must…"

"I'll be there when I'm ready, got it?" I could feel the force of his words spoken to his suburbanite. Others would feel his wrath due to my stupidity. I heard the door of the Tsar's room close, and I realised I hadn't been breathing properly since Emmet told me to stop. I left out a gasp and sucked in air as fast as I could through my nose, and it felt like I was hyperventilating. I heard Emmet sigh; it sounded like it was muffed through his hands, possibly? I walked around the desk, sitting in the leather chair. It had been cleaned, with no sticky, white discharge anywhere to be seen or felt. I brought my knees to my chin, clinging to my calves. My fingernails dug deep into my bare skin. Realising I had left my room with no pants on or shoes or socks, just Emmet's shirt clinging to my flesh. 

"I waited for you" Emmet cut through the silence,

"I know, and I'm so sorry!" I found myself lurching forward toward the phone, in some desperate hope that he would hear the remorse in my tone if I were closer,

"I lost track of time! I was filing with Patrick, he left me at nine, and by the time I looked at the time again, it was already twel…."

"Stop", he interjected, cutting off my explanation, "I don't care what you were doing; I'm telling you I waited for you." 

"I," I sighed, "I know. And I'm sorry, Tsar." I fell back into the leather seat, biting the inside of my lip. 

"What will I do with you, Milo?"

I tilted my head in curiosity, "I don't understand?" And suddenly, my heart raced as through the phone I heard his low, deep chuckle, from deep in his throat, the laugh only I heard. I suddenly felt my face flush and held my hands in my lap. I knew the camera wasn't on, so I leaned toward the desk and softly kissed the phone. Emmet chuckled again, "Missing me so much that you'll kiss the phone?" I snapped back. Did he see me? But the camera isn't on? I whipped my head back toward the window, and the red light was still off. "Did you really think that would be the only camera in my personal office, Milo?" He laughed,  and if felt my ears turning red.

I let out a small laugh; I felt silly, but I felt safe knowing he could still see me, see my agony at forgetting to talk to him. I reclined in the chair, letting my eyes close for a moment. His voice was low and soft, breaking through the cold night air in the study. I shivered, and Emmet noticed. Within a minute of my shiver, Patrick appeared in the doorway with a weighted blanket. He wrapped it around me and left the room as quickly as he came. I snuggled into the blanket in Emmet's chair, letting my body relax. I could hear Emmet's breathing throughout the study. 

"Are you warmer now?"

"Yes, thank you, Emmet."

"You've gone back to calling me by my name? Are you no longer upset?" His voice echoed around my brain.

"I wasn't upset. I was disappointed."

"Disappointed?" His tone was curious, almost as if he wished to know my thoughts. 

"Disappointed in myself for letting you down; I was trying so hard to be useful with the business, but I," I began to trail off, my eyes felt heavy, and I felt like I couldn't keep them open any longer. Emmet's voice came to me in a dream, almost like a whisper; "Sweet dreams Milo. I'll watch over you." With those words, my body went limp, and my breathing slowed. I fell deeply asleep in Emmet's leather office chair, wrapped in the weighted blanket, feeling as if I was sleeping in Emmet's arms again. 

When I awoke, with a deep ache in my stomach, I was back in my bedroom. The dawn was peaking over the horizon. I stumbled to the bathroom to relieve myself, and as I looked over the toilet, I suddenly realised I'd fallen asleep in the study. How did I get back to my bedroom? It must have been Patrick, I thought. I slumped back to bed, my hands cold from the tap's water and wrapped myself tightly in the covers and sheets. I drifted off to sleep within seconds and felt weightless. It felt like I had slept for days, but the sun was still low in the sky when I stirred in the warm, soft sheets. It mustn't have been much after 8 am. I rolled over, looking toward the side table and noticed a note poking out from underneath a glass of water. I reached for the note, pulling it closer to read it. It was from Emmet;
Milo, I watched you sleep for a while, but business pulled me away. I am sorry. I made sure Patrick put you to bed properly. I will try, try hard to make it back to you faster, okay? Take today off, and explore the estate. If you need anything, ask Patrick. He will help with whatever you need. And…
There was a gap in the lines as if Emmet didn't know what to write, but what followed left my body feeling hot, and I felt my spine tingle reading it.

You will show me all of you tonight, and I want to see that lewd expression across your face as you pleasure yourself to my voice.
Don't be late, E.

I felt my face flush, tight cheeks; I was smiling. Genuinely happy, knowing that Emmet would be waiting for me and that he wanted to see me in this state. I let out a sigh and held the note close to my chest. The sudden realisation that Patrick must have written this left a bad taste in my mouth. Patrick didn't need to know what happened in the study, but now, our secrets were no longer secret. I pushed the thought from my mind and decided on what to do. A shower was the first thought, then explore the estate.

End VII