Carrick pressed Hermes harder against the wall, suspending him above the floor. He reached down and yanked the slave's legs up around his waist as he drove into Hermes' body once more.
The despoeration in his slave's words and voice were, in a way, nothing new. He'd had slaves sob out their loyalty and their love to him before; but normally they were prostrate before him, tears falling on the polished leather of his boots. Usuaully, they professed love only after they had gone through weeks of torment and pleasure and enforced submission. The thrill of victory when he had completely broken a slave boy in those moments was sweeter than any mortal honey that had ever passed his lips.
Hermes, though... Hermes gave him love and devotion freely. He had given his heart and soul to the vampire, and had tenderness in return. Now, with his beloved slave boy flinging rage and bitterness at him, he was at a loss. He had told the boy he loved him. He didn't understand the fury behind his mercurial favourite's words.
"I am not going to sell you," he growled. I've told you that, again and again. I want you to live out your life with me, at my side and at my feet. In my home. My bed." He thrust forwards again, punishingly hard, his teeth gritted. "So why are you so angry?"