Hermes looked flatly up at his master. Seriously. What part of 'go enjoy the day' implied that he was completely available to just play the psychic fae the moment Carrick needed him to so he could bone some clearly inferior blond little fuck. Not that he had anything really against the angel, but not fair.
"Knives," he said finally. "Blades. He's been trained to be a warrior, but he never liked it. You want him screaming for you, bring them out. His penance or whatever. If you were in a sharing mood, the boy longs to be gangbanged, which is...way more filthy than I ever expected from him, but whatever. He's got no interest in me. I'm too lithe for his tastes. He likes them...muscular. Not like Master Russell, though. You and his Master seem to be about his type fortunately enough."
He stayed where he was laying on the bed, completely naked like this really, really wasn't actually punishing him and was more a minor annoyance.
"Bind him well. Fuck him relentlessly. His Master is young and caters to his whims easily enough. There is love there that's more equals than it is a Master and his slave. Is that enough, because it's all I've got at the moment. Half the rest of his thoughts were in languages too ancient for me to know or flashes of bright light that I can only assume were other angels."
He crossed his arms behind his head, glancing at the clock. "I have a spa treatment in half an hour anyway. And then I'm going to the farmer's market and possibly finding myself an orgy or checking out a whorehouse." He wasn't cruel, but he had needs that Carrick was in no place to satisfy and as the only bed slave owned by his master (and the other two were lovely, but not his type) it made things even more difficult. "The last bit is subject to change depending on what's interesting at the farmer's market." Shit, he might just go visit the boy's Master.