Tenderness from Carrick was never something Hermes expected unless he'd just finished an intense beating session. Even then, it wasn't like this. For as much as it hurt him to believe it, ever so slowly, he was coming around to the reality that maybe Carrick really did love him.
When it broke, he pressed his forehead to the vampire's. "The answer is yes," he said softly, "a good deal of them were paying you to have me in their beds. Some of them assumed that whatever you did to me on a regular basis was worse and so saw no harm in letting loose and others decided that they had to one up whatever they could imagine you doing in the first place." He laughed softly to himself, humourless and tired. "It's all kind of funny when you think about it, that save for those who saw beauty and wanted to appreciate it, since coming into your possession, you're the one who's treated me the most gently."
He licked his lips, fingers running down the fine fabric of Carrick's shirt where his coat didn't cover. "And if this all hadn't happened, you'd still be sending me to them and I'd still be leaving and coming home with a smile for you and pretending for all the world that none of this ever happened." A deep breath and he pulled back enough to look at Carrick. "You have a reputation, my love, and while it might serve you well in the boardroom and on the battlefield, eventually it was bound to come back and bite you. I'm still not sure if I owe your gods or if I should be cursing them so I keep my silence in hope that nothing divine or holy pays me any mind in the future."