The vampire gave a low and mirthless laugh. The boy was as sharp-witted and cunning as Hermes, who, he imagined, would by this time of the evening have finished his reading lesson and be kneeling at the side of Carrick's favourite living room chair, in a prettily pouting sulk that his Master was not there to stroke his hair and fondle him as he recited the day's studies.
Carrick pressed his hips forwards, grinding against the slave who lay trapped beneath him.
"I don't expect your surrender to come from pain alone, slave," he murmered, his low voice almost throbbing with frustrated desire.
"On the night you come to me, I'm going to tie you down and stroke your cock and kiss you all over; tease you with my touch until you beg to be allowed to come. You're young and strong, your body will be aching for release before I even touch you. You'll be so beautiful when you're begging in utter desperation, little eromenos."
He considered Samandriel's suggestion. He knew the angel would have some other motive for offering his nakedness, but what harm could it do to take up the suggestion? He had denied himself the sigh of the slave quite long enough.
Carrick stood and pulled Samandriel upright.
"Go on. Every last stitch. I want you completely naked."