The vampire was unimpressed by Noctis' display. "Are you in pain?" Carrick enquired, his voice deceptively polite. "Because you're groaning like a sick moose."
He glanced at Russell. "I'll go and find that robe." Carrick was a patient man - at his age, he'd have to be - but he had better things to do than listen to the neediness and jealousy of an ill-disciplined slave boy. He expected that Russell was sleeping with the boy, it was to be expected. It hardly mattered.
When Carrick returned, he had two dressing gowns over his arm, one in summer and one in winter weight. "Try those," he remarked. "They'll probably gape, but I don;t think anyone here is going to complain."
It wasn't long before Carrick's steward himself appeared with a tray of food - two generous portions of steaming hot chilli and a mountain of white rice, along with a bottle of hot sauce and several dishes holding pico de gallo, sour cream and grated cheese. He laid out the food on the coffee table in front of the sofa where Russ was sitting, then gave a slight bow towards his master. "Will there be anything else, Sir?"
Carrick nodded. "Have two guest rooms prepared; one for a Master, one for a slave." When the steward departed to his task, Carrick flashed a secretive smile at his lover.
"The guest room isn't for you. I was in a business meeting upstairs when you arrived, and I doubt my associate will be able to get home in this weather any more than you will."