Docile Read online

  The door opens and my eyes follow. I stumble, almost falling over as Alex sets the black box on top of the little writing table. He only looks at me for half a second, jaw set, lips thin, face blanched. Before I can do something stupid, like apologize, he goes into the bathroom and closes the door behind him. I haven’t done anything wrong. Never lied, followed all of Alex’s rules. And yet the whole room seems to throb with my heartbeat.

  7

  ALEX

  “So, who wants cake?” I say, as soon as my bedroom door closes behind Elisha. But no amount of dessert will help these people forget what just happened. Alexander Bishop’s Docile refused Dociline. It’ll be all over the media tomorrow—unless Mariah’s willing to shut it down. She owns almost every media company in the United States. But that won’t stop the endless feed of gossip. Most of my guests aren’t like Mariah and Dutch. They don’t care about my privacy.

  The caterer’s Dociles return with slices of dark chocolate cake, trimmed with edible gold leaf. Dragon fruit liqueur filling. I don’t even want it, anymore, but I force a smile onto my face and cake into my mouth, just as my parents meander over with my friend Jess between them. Oh god, I can’t even look at them. Maybe Jess will save me. She’s known my parents almost as long as I have; she knows how they can be.

  “Happy birthday, sweetie.” Mom kisses my cheek, then passes me off to Jess, who embraces me and kisses the air beside my face. There are few people she likes to touch, but as her oldest friend, I’m one of those she’s okay with.

  “Sorry we didn’t get here earlier,” Mom says. “Your father stopped at the lab to pick something up and we found this one”—she points her thumb at Jess—“still working. Can you believe these two?” Mom laughs and shakes her head.

  Dad stretches out a hand to shake mine, then pulls me into a tight hug, as if he didn’t chastise me in front of the Board the last time we spoke. “Alex understands.” He pats my back, then accepts cake from a passing Docile. “It’s those Bishop genes.”

  I smile and rub his shoulder. Maybe he won’t mention Elisha’s refusal, after all. Maybe I’m—

  “Got here in time for the show, though.”

  Oh no. No, no, no.

  “That was something.” Dad stuffs a bite of cake in his mouth, watching me expectantly while he chews.

  That was something, all right. It hasn’t even sunken in, yet. Elisha refused Dociline. Seventh Right. I even said it aloud in front of everyone, like I expected it. Of course, I know the Rights by heart; I work with hundreds of Dociles, every day. But this is different. This one is going to live in my house. Forever. I’ll have to come up with rules—more rules. Ways to keep him in check. And what do I do with him while I’m at work?

  “I don’t remember seeing Elisha on the list we sent Charlene.” Dad finishes his cake, leaving the implication hanging in the air.

  Jess locks eyes with me, wondering what I’m going to say just as much as I am. She’s my Head of Research for Formula 3.0, which means she didn’t have to watch the train wreck that was supposed to be my presentation.

  “He, uh…” I decide to tell the truth in the span of a single breath. I made a decision; now I need to own it. “He wasn’t. None of them were quite what I was looking for.”

  “And what is it you were looking for?”

  I angle my lips into a smile and the conversation into my favor. “An opportunity.”

  “Really.” His eyebrows raise. “Are you going to bring him out in public?”

  I scoff, my reaction genuine this time. “Of course.” I hand my unfinished cake off to a passing Docile, who doesn’t even look up. “Since you were late, you didn’t get to meet him, earlier, but Elisha is well behaved, intelligent, and presentable.” I flash him a confident smile. “I foresee no problems training him for public appearances. Besides, he’ll be interesting to study alongside those injecting Formula 3.0. Just like you wanted, an opportunity to prove myself.”

  Dad nods his head, not pushing it further. I watch Jess’ shoulders slump with relief and a light smile grace her lips.

  “Well, we’ll leave you kids alone, then, and go find the adults’ table.” He nods and leaves with my mother.

  “Holy shit, Alex,” Jess whispers.

  I offer her my hand, which she contemplates before taking and following me into the bathroom. I close the door behind us and run my sweaty hands through my hair. In here, it’s dark and quiet. Calming. “I can do this. Right?”

  Jess stops shaking her head and puts on her most convincing face. “Totally!”

  “Wow, you are a bad liar.” I bite my thumbnail before remembering I just scolded Elisha for doing the same. I squeeze my hand into a fist to halt temptation. “I’ll have to bring him to Preakness and at least one big party—Mariah’s? She’ll be cool about it, right?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure she will.”

  “Really?”

  “No, not really. Her parties are basically performance art. If you fuck up, it’ll be everywhere.”

  “Dammit.” I bite my thumbnail, again, then dig my nails into my palm as punishment. “Maybe I can take him to the lab. Put him up in a cell.”

  “That’ll look good. Pawning your personal Docile off on work. Dutch told me about the Board meeting. I know this is because you broke up with Javier—which I don’t blame you for!” she adds before I can defend myself. “You should get to decide who you partner with. But you’ve got to see this through. How long did you sign Elisha for?”

  “Forever.”

  “Forever?” Jess’ eyes widen. “I mean, yeah. You can—that’s a long time, Alex.”

  Before I slip into self-doubt, again, I say, “No, I can do this. I already have a few rules in place. He follows them.” I regurgitate the same lines I used on my parents, hoping to convince myself as much as Jess. “He’s attractive and willing and I can do this. It was my decision to purchase Elisha’s debt and I’m going to make this work.” Somehow.

  * * *

  It’s after midnight when the last of my guests leave and I’m forced to face the Docile waiting for me in my bedroom. With a deep breath, I go upstairs and walk right past a disheveled Elisha, into the bathroom. He’s been standing for the past four hours; he’ll last another four minutes.

  Cold water erupts from the faucet when I hold my hands below it. I splash it over my face and run my hands through my hair. Elisha touched his hair. He doesn’t know I’ve noticed yet, but I’ll make sure he does. I’ll have to discipline him for it.

  Without Dociline.

  The drug makes things easier for everyone. Certainly would’ve made tonight easier for me. I pinch the bridge of my nose, hoping to stifle the headache brewing behind my eyes. Alexander Bishop, heir to the Dociline legacy, surprised by some kid from Northern Maryland. Thank god I didn’t let on when Elisha refused. To have been caught off guard would have been humiliating.

  I can still do it, though. Elisha is intelligent, prone to submission, and if all else fails I’ll simply threaten to revoke his monthly stipend. I’m glad I had my attorney look the contract over.

  Okay, Alex, pull yourself together. I stare at my reflection, fix my hair, dry my face. I need to fuck him right away, establish that his body is wholly mine. I no longer get to enjoy Elisha’s first time; it’s now a job I have to do.

  I open the door and cross to my closet. Elisha watches me peel my shirt off.

  “Come here,” I say.

  He obeys, trying hard not to stare at me. I steady him, resting my hands on his waist. Little hairs rise under my touch as I unbutton his shirt and slide it off his shoulders.

  “Up.” I have to encourage him to raise his arms.

  Elisha immediately crosses his arms in front of his bare chest. That’s not what I paid for. If I have to train him, I’m doing it right, from the start.

  “Don’t.” He opens back up for me with only a light touch. “Don’t hide your body from me.”

  Without Dociline, he’s shy, nervous. I need to build his
confidence without building his ego. So, I pull him close and run my hand through his already-messed-up hair. “I enjoy looking at you,” I say, our faces only inches apart. “Or you wouldn’t be here.”

  I reach between our bodies and grasp his belt, undressing him so he knows I’m free to do so whenever I please. He watches the pants disappear into my hamper. No hiding, now.

  While I unfasten my pants, Elisha fidgets with the underwear I picked for him. The thousand-dollar briefs frame his bulge so nicely, I almost don’t want him to take them off. Almost. Maybe this won’t be so difficult. Or, at least, it will be enjoyable at the same time.

  I press our cocks together through the thin layers of fabric. We’re both aroused. But even though I’d like to bend him over my bed and end this exhausting night with a hard fuck, I can’t.

  He watches my lips when I speak. “Always give when I kiss you.”

  He’s not paying attention. This is only his second time kissing anyone. The first was effortless. Near perfect. His lips fumble against mine, now that he’s thinking about it.

  “Give when I kiss you,” I say again.

  “I don’t know what that means,” he confesses.

  “Give—give in to me, give way.”

  I kiss him more forcefully this time, cupping his head with my hands, flicking my tongue inside his mouth. He relaxes, yielding to me. It’s difficult for me to pull back first, but I have to. I dictate when kisses begin and end.

  “Get on the bed.”

  The muscles in Elisha’s face slacken as realization sinks in. He’s not stupid. He knows what the bed means. This isn’t a kissing lesson.

  I can’t expect him to memorize my tastes in one night, though. Tonight, I just need to mark him. I need him to wake up tomorrow and feel me all over him—in him. And I need him to think about it until the next time I touch him. If he’s not going to inject Dociline, I need to make him look forward to it, like an on-med would.

  Elisha sits on the edge of the mattress, legs together, hunched over. Not a pose I dream of coming home to. I move between his knees, spread his legs, and tilt him back onto the bed. He’s rigid everywhere except where I want him.

  “Relax.” I prop myself over his supine form. “Look at me.”

  His eyes fight to remain on mine. When they settle, I dote on his lips and neck with chaste kisses and he melts under me.

  “How does that feel?” I ask.

  “Good,” Elisha says.

  His legs press against my sides, hands grip the sheets. Hopefully, he’ll learn what to do with them, how I like to be touched. Hopefully, I’m a good teacher.

  “And how about this?” I massage the growing bulge in his briefs.

  His mouth gapes, eyelashes flutter. That’s how it’s done. Show him how good I can make him feel. How behaving himself will bring him pleasure.

  “Elisha,” I prod him to answer, struggling to enforce my own rules.

  When he does it’s with heavy breaths and a moan. Technically, an audible response.

  “Lift your hips,” I say.

  He does without hesitation, but when I slide his briefs down, he jerks up and covers himself. I feel bad that I’ll have to count it against him later, because the instinct is only human.

  “Elisha,” I remind him with a stern tone, but even as his hands draw back, he folds his knees up. This can’t be how his training begins.

  I pin his wrists to the mattress. “Don’t make me restrain you.”

  That shoots the message home. Elisha relaxes his legs so I can finish removing his briefs. When I stand to remove my own, I allow myself a few moments to drink him in—and to let him do the same with me.

  I know what my body looks like; I planned it, built it, maintain it. Elisha’s body is an accident. Freckles pepper his shoulders and torso without pattern or symmetry. His right arm flexes thicker than his left, and his chest and abs need definition. I see the imperfections—can’t help but see them—but they complement Elisha. I’m reminded why I wanted him.

  My gaze lingers on the pout of his lips, the flush of his cheeks, the way the pink head of his cock pokes out from its foreskin. He’s splayed out on my bed, knees half-bent, legs slightly spread, arms framing his face in surrender.

  My hand drifts down to my erection. Elisha’s eyes wander while I stroke myself to full length. He’s supposed to be looking at me, but I don’t call him on it. Who isn’t nervous their first time? I’m sure my cock looks intimidating. Soon, he’ll feel it inside him.

  “Reach into the bottom drawer of my nightstand and retrieve the red bottle,” I say.

  It takes Elisha a second to realize I’m instructing him, but he complies, glancing at the label. He hands it to me like a prisoner handing his executioner the gun. If he doesn’t learn to relax, this will hurt, and hurting him will not earn me his loyalty, only fear.

  I kneel between his legs, again, and take his bare cock in hand. His eyes close, lips part. I surprise them with a kiss and he arches into my touch. When he’s at full length, I slow my motions.

  I trace one finger down his shaft, over his balls, and back to his little hole. It clenches when I brush over it. “Have you ever touched yourself here?”

  “Kind of,” Elisha says. “Not much—not deep.”

  I squirt a dollop of lube onto my fingers and circle the spot, again. Elisha looses a string of whimpers as he writhes beneath me. I distract him with a kiss, then press my middle finger inside him. He gasps. Panic crosses his face.

  But I kiss him again, holding our mouths together as I wiggle my finger all the way in. He’s no longer squirming away from, but against my knuckle. After a few slow movements, I ease another in. Elisha isn’t alarmed, though momentary discomfort shows. I pause, an inch in, and wait for him to relax.

  He breathes out a slow breath and I slip past the barrier. This time, I curl my fingers, like I’m beckoning him over. His hips spasm in response.

  I can’t help but smile and nibble on his ear. “Didn’t know that was there, did you?”

  “No—ohh…” His words dissipate into sounds.

  I toy with him for another minute, stroking myself to the same rhythm, until I can’t wait any longer. It’s not enough watching him. We aren’t in this bed together to get off separately. When I remove my fingers, Elisha’s eyes open on me.

  Sixth Right, I haven’t forgotten—not that I’m in danger of impregnating him. “Grab the envelope out of the bottom drawer,” I say.

  Elisha stretches back, like a cat, and holds the envelope overhead, while I wipe my fingers clean.

  “Read it,” I say.

  “‘The Johns Hopkins Hospital.’”

  It’s sealed, still. “Go ahead, open it.”

  He does, unfolding the letter inside. His eyes scan back and forth.

  “I know you tested negative for STIs at the ODR. It’s your right to know that I’m negative, too.”

  Elisha folds the paper back up. He clutches it like a shield between us. But I pull it away between pinched fingers.

  “What am I going to tell you?” I lower myself onto him and grind my hips slowly against his.

  “Relax,” he says.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Scared.”

  “I’m not going to hurt you.” My kisses calm Elisha like a glass of strong wine. “I’m going to give you a safeword; do you know what that is?”

  “Um…”

  “A word you say if I’m hurting you, during sex. And I don’t mean if I’m spanking you.” I slap the side of his ass to illustrate my point.

  Elisha gasps.

  “I don’t want to damage you, but I can’t always tell what you’re feeling. That’s what your safeword is for.”

  “Okay.”

  “The word’s ‘midnight.’ Repeat it, so I know you remember.”

  “Midnight.” Elisha says it like he means it. We haven’t even started.

  “Good.” I ready the lube. “Now, hold out your hand.”

  He props
himself up. I squirt a liberal amount onto his fingers.

  “I want you to do it.”

  His eyes follow mine to my cock. “What do I…”

  “Just take it like your own.” I wait patiently while he figures an angle.

  I’ve managed to quiet my own feelings, so far. But I let out a long breath and hum the pleasure his hand brings me. His grip isn’t too tight, strokes not too fast. The concentration creased in his forehead and pursed in his lips is turning me on almost as much as his hand.

  “That’s enough,” I say, as flustered as he is at this point. I give him a moist towel to clean off. He moves too slowly. I take it from him and toss it in the direction of my hamper. “Wrap your legs around me,” I say.

  Elisha lies down and bends his knees back. I hook my arms under them, lifting his hips and opening him up. He’s unsettled. This is happening too quickly for Elisha, but I need to move this night along. It’s only the first of thousands more.

  I guide the head of my cock inside him. This should be the easy part. If he doesn’t relax, I’ll have to force my way in, and I really don’t want to.

  “Elisha,” I murmur before sucking his bottom lip between my teeth.

  He moans and waits eagerly for a real kiss. As soon as I treat him to one, he’s mine. With a steady thrust, I sink into him—one inch, two, three. I take his cock in my hand when he cries out. Four, five.

  Elisha’s arms are suddenly around me. He holds on like I’m pulling him from rough water, like he’s drowning. I kiss his forehead to ease the tension.

  “Tell me how you feel,” I say.

  His eyes remain closed. “Weird. Full.” If he were a lover, I’d have laughed at his word choice, but I can’t do that. This is a lesson. I have to focus.

  I give him another inch. He takes it silently. I want to fill him all the way, but I’m not sure he can handle it. Well, he has a safeword.

  I finish it, settling all the way inside Elisha. This time he’s loud. His voice cracks, but he doesn’t say the word. My pelvis rests flush against his ass. His body contracts, tight around my cock. I suck in a quick breath and hold it. My self-control is slipping.