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My Fair Lady

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Stan smiled as he looked up at the stars. "You know so much...I didn't know stars had names." He admitted, a blush coming across his cheeks. "I use to go outside and look at the stars all the time... I had to help out around our home as much as I could after my mother passed, but, I always felt like she was looking down on me when I looked up at the sky, and the stars." He said, closing his eyes as he took in a deep breath. "Can you show me some more stars with names?" He asked, having absolutely no idea what a constellation was. Yes, he knew how to write and read some what now thanks to Heidi, but, their was still so much he didn't know.

When he heard Kyle express his joy of the beauty of the night sky...and...perhaps of him, he blushed, he blushed even more when he felt lips press against the back of his hand. His heart was fluttering and he felt like he was short of breath, he had never felt this way before. 

"Doctor Broflovski, I really don't deserve all your kindness..." He said, biting his lower lip. If Kyle knew what he really was, that he was just an experiment Craig had created, crafted, he would be disgusted by him. "My...escort for the evening...he has a temper...he will be angry with me if he sees you acting so friendly with me."

"He'll be angry either way," Kyle replied easily, having no fear of Craig because he knew his type. He could be brutal, calculating, but at the end of the day he operated in the shadows, and he usually had other people do his dirty work. He wasn't blind, after all; he'd seen his rival's manservant with the one eye skulking about more than once. It was obvious that the strange, quiet gentleman was more than a mere butler; no, he would resort to violence on behalf of his master. Anyone who knew Craig at all could see that. 

A thought struck him though, which put him off his usual cavalier approach to the world. It was true that Craig couldn't really do anything to him, at least not at the moment, but what of his charge? She was vulnerable and not equipped to fight back, trapped under her benefactor's thumb in every conceivable way; what of her?

"You'd like to see more stars, huh?" He asked, trying to be nonchalant. Glancing up at the sky, he lifted Stan's hand as he traced out another pattern. "Sagittarius," he whispered, connecting the points of light with her small finger. "A centaur, half man, half horse. They're constellations, not singular stars...they make pictures, most of them based on mythology and stories so old they've been carried down through the centuries."

Carefully, he looked over and studied Stan's profile, bathed in moonlight and appearing so innocent. He almost shuddered to think what Craig had in store for her, knowing him.

"That scar on your forehead," he started, softly. "May I ask where you got it? Is it very old, or is it...more recent?"

"Such big names they have." The brunette mused, smiling as the redhead showed him yet another constellation. He started to giggle when the redhead told him about a centaur. "Half man, half horse? That sounds ridiculous." He said, giggling a bit more at the mere thought of it. "I didn't think stars could make up" He said, smiling a little as he started to relax next to the kind redheaded doctor. "Is...there a con-stell-a-tion that makes you think of me?" He asked, trying his best to say that large word by breaking it down into smaller ones like Heidi had showed him.

He was almost too deep in awe at the night sky to even answer Kyle's question about his scar. He quickly moved his hand up to cover it.

"Oh...I fell horseback riding..." Stan said softly. "Thankfully Craig was able to fix me up quickly." 

"Oh, did he? Well, that's good, I suppose," Kyle replied, Stan's tone just making him more concerned. She was holding something back, he could feel it, but he didn't want to pry. Instead, he laughed softly at her pronunciations and obvious wonder at the lessons he was imparting. This girl was proving to be sweet and charming, clearly not trying to impress him in order to secure a proposal of marriage. If anything, she just seemed like she needed kindness and a friend.

"Well, if I had to choose just one constellation," he said, tapping his chin, "I suppose it would have to be Pegasus, the winged horse. There's a story about the creature's birth that says it sprang from the blood of a decapitated monster, Medusa." He shrugged and looked back up at the sky, feeling like he could become lost in the endless blue of it...almost as lost as he felt standing next to this girl. "I guess it just brings to mind the idea that something beautiful can spring from tragic or barbaric circumstances."

Impetuously, he gently turned Stan to face him, wanting to ask her a million questions in that moment; wanting to make sure that she would be safe and taken care of in her current circumstances. He wanted to know if she needed help...wanted to remind her she wasn't as alone as she may think.

"Leia," he started, daring to go without her formal title. "Look, I know we just met, and we're essentially strangers to one another, but I want you to know, if you ever need to talk to someone...if you ever need anything, I'm here. Will you remember that?"

"Well, isn't this unbearably sweet," a voice broke in, making Kyle jump in front of Stan without a second thought; his hand going to his pocket where his knife rested. Through the moonlight, a dark figure approached them, tall and large and imposing. They lifted their head, one eye winking in the gloom. 

"Oh, it's you," Kyle said, recognizing Craig's manservant, though this knowledge didn't really provide any comfort. "What do you want? Can't you see we're occupied."

"That's of no consequence," McCormick replied, drawing forward and taking a hold of Stan's arm. "The master has called his mistress away. It's time for her to uphold the promise she made."

"Promise?" Kyle asked, momentarily confused before the pieces clicked into place. "Oh, you mean playing the piano for everyone."

The man nodded, pulling Stan forward, fingers locked around his small arm.

"Come along, miss," he said, turning his back on Kyle. "You know the master doesn't like to be kept waiting."

"Such a story and for it to just come from the stars." The brunette said in awe. "You really think I am like that...winged horse? I guess I always wanted to fly free but I don't know if I would consider myself beautiful...or even tragic..." He admitted, before blushing a little when the man compared him to a beautiful mythical creature.

He smiled a bit more when the redhead told him he could talk to him or come to him in his time of need. "I..I will keep that in mind, Doctor Broflovski. I really enjoyed our dance together and telling me about all the stars. I'll think about you when I look up at the night sky." He said, 

He felt Kyle take his hands and green eyes look into his, he wished this could last forever. He had never felt like this before, he never felt...lighter than air. He just wanted to stay and talk to this man all night long.

Well, until McCormick came out from the shadows. Stan let out a cry of fear when he saw the one-eyed man. This couldn't be good... He knew he was going to tell Craig, and Craig was going to be so angry and punish him!

"Oh...yes...of course...I'm coming right away." He said, taking the arm McCormick offered him to lead him back. "It was nice to meet you Doctor Broflovski, thank you for teaching me all those things about the stars." He said sweetly, feeling himself tugged away by McCormick. As the made their way back into the grand ballroom he could see Craig waiting for him, a tight frown on his face.

He cleared his throat a little knowing he was going to have to introduce himself to the crowd that was gathering around the large grand piano. Maybe if his performance was good enough Craig would forgive him. He saw Kyle walk into the ballroom and smiled, he also hoped Kyle would enjoy it.

"Good evening everyone." He said softly. "My name is Lady Leia Von Marsh, I'm the charge of Doctor Crag Tucker. I want to thank Lord Token and Lady Wendy for having my debut here. I wanted to thank all of you for attending with a piano performance. I wish to perform for you Chopin's Nocturne OP 9 NO 2." He said, gently taking a seat at the piano bench. He took in a deep breath and started to run his fingers along the keys, trying to put all his focus on playing.

Feeling like he was still standing under the stars and holding the girl's hand, Kyle listened to Stan play as he watched the entire room become entranced. The guests had stilled in their places, almost like they were holding their breath as the music lifted and seemed to brush against the rafters; transporting all of them away from that place, beyond the confines of social constraints.

"She plays well," Kyle said, more to himself than anyone else. "I can feel the sadness Chopin wove into this piece...almost like it's being played by someone with a broken heart."

"I thought you said this song was overdone and trite," Ike replied, leaning against the wall and appearing bored. Music just didn't touch him the way it did his brother. He wanted to stay grounded in the moment, not allowing himself to coast through what could be considered frivolous. "Remember? You even refused to play it at your last recital."

"Hush," his brother said, though he smiled. "I've played it too many times, and I thought I'd heard it enough, but she plays it differently. She's making it her own." Managing to pull his focus from the lovely musician, he glanced at Craig, who was standing off to the side with his arms crossed. The look on his face was concerning because it seemed oddly blank, almost like he was trying to conceal what he was actually feeling. His butler stood against the wall, not far away, watching the piano like a hawk.

"You asked me whether or not I thought the girl was in danger," Kyle spoke, continuing to watch Craig. 

Ike was quiet for a moment, clearly trying to remember their earlier exchange. 

"Yes, I can recall saying something to that effect," he finally replied. "What of it?"

"I'm starting to think she might be," Kyle admitted, gesturing to the company Stan was keeping, even if it was against his will. "Dr. Tucker has always been strange and easy with his cruelty, but the way he watches her...the way he has his servant watch her. It doesn't feel right."

"Or maybe you're overthinking things like always," Ike said, his tone becoming wry. "I know you, Kyle; you're obsessed with damsels in distress and finding the fanciful in the mundane. That girl is probably living like a just can't accept that someone could possibly care for your nemesis."

"I'd love nothing more than to believe that," Kyle replied, beginning to move away toward the piano. "But something is off, and until I can lay my suspicions to rest, I'm going to stay close."

"That should work out well," Ike sighed, watching as his brother strode across the room toward the girl, the pretty song she was playing coming to its end. Taking a sip of champagne, he saw Kyle lean down and speak to her, very close to her ear. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Dr. Tucker's face change, and the emptiness was suddenly filled with something caustic. For whatever reason, it made a sensation of dread ignite in his gut. 

"Okay, maybe he has a point," he murmured, his hand tightening on his champagne flute.

The girl seemed surprised that he'd approached her so suddenly, but he tried to reassure her that all was well.

"Sorry to startle you," Kyle said, giving her what he hoped was a gentle smile. "Your playing is wonderful...unlike anything I've heard, actually. I was wondering if you'd like to play together? Perhaps Le Cygne by Saint-Saëns? It reminds me of you."

Stan had been rather startled when kyle approached him. He smiled a little at the warm sensation the redhead gave off and smiled even more when he asked if he wanted to play together. 

"I'm glad you enjoyed my performance Doctor Broflvoski, Craig was worried that the song I picked would bore everyone because it has been played so often , but, it's one of favorites." He said, before tracing the keys with his finger. 

"I'd love to play a song with you. I believe I know that one, if you can start it, I will follow."

"With pleasure," Kyle said as he began to sit, the warmth pouring off of her only reinforcing his desire to draw closer. Before he could settle himself, Craig was there, his back turned to the crowd as he stared down at them in his methodical way; his doctor's face. Controlled, but only just so. 

"What do you think you're doing?" He asked, his eyes fixed on Kyle's face as he placed a hand on Stan's shoulder. "This is Leia's performance, not yours. Is it so hard not to be the center of attention for once, Dr. Broflovski?"

Kyle glanced at the hand perched on Stan's skin and frowned before he sat, giving Craig his most defiant expression. 

"This has nothing to do with attention," he replied, leaning into Stan as much as he dared. "It's predicated on a mutual love of music, which Leia clearly has...a fact I can't help but admire." Throwing caution to the wind, he glanced at the girl beside him; quiet and seemingly holding herself rigid as Craig hovered over them. "I could give you lessons sometime...maybe you could even teach me a thing or two. Sometimes I become bogged down in technique...I'd like my music to be as free as yours."

"That will never happen!" Craig practically shouted as he tore his hand from Stan's shoulder and brought it down on the piano, the sound reverberating around the room. All at once, a titter ran through the crowd, and then soft voices began to chatter. 

Managing to hold back a laugh at Craig's impulsiveness, Kyle cocked an eyebrow and stared into his rival's eyes.

"Now who's trying to be the center of attention?"

His eye twitching, Craig's mask finally seemed to be slipping as he regarded Kyle, the deep, poisonous anger rearranging his features and turning him into someone else entirely. The whispers continued as he stood there and seethed before he finally straightened, his composure returning with a swiftness that could only be considered disconcerting.

"Very well, you may play together. After all, it's a party and I'm sure the guests will enjoy it." He settled a hand against Stan's cheek, stroking softly. "Enjoy yourself, love."

Kyle watched him retreat with a growing sensation of something being supremely off, but he couldn't place a finger on it. The body language of his counterpart seemed to radiate fear, but he didn't want to assume the worst, even though Craig often didn't give him very much choice.

"Now," he said softly, placing his hands on the keys. He began to play the song's slow, easy opening; tranquil, like a drizzling of rain. "You said you'd follow me, didn't you? That's not what I want...let's do this together as equals." Sighing, he continued to play before he leaned over and whispered into Stan's ear:

"Just so you're're even lovelier than your music. I hope you realize that."

Stan let out a cry of terror when Craig raised his voice and slammed his hands on the piano keys. He could hear people whispering about what had just happened and he knew he had made a terrible mistake. Craig was angry, very angry, and that was not good for him. When he felt a hand stroke his cheek he felt no tenderness from it, just a cold promise of things to happen later. 

He was shaken when kyle spoke to him, saying they should play as equals. He nodded his head, his hands shaking so bad he didn't even know if he could play. 

He glanced over to see McCormick speaking to Craig when Kyle whispered in his ear about how lovely he was. Honestly, he wished he could enjoy those sweet words but right now he was too afraid. 

"T-Thank you..." Was all he managed to say.

As the music trickled through the room, Kyle could feel Stan trembling beside him; face white and a haunted look creeping into blue eyes. He spoke carefully as their fingers struck the keys, the sweetness of the chords not taking the chill from the air that Craig had left behind.

"Let me help you," Kyle said softly, pulling his focus from Stan's face to linger on the piano before them. "I can tell you're afraid of him. You are, aren't you?"

"I've had enough," Craig practically spat as McCormick approached him, his face grim. "I don't care if it's in poor taste, we're leaving as soon as Leia's finished playing."

"Shall I go and collect her once the song is over, sir?" 

"Yes, but try to be discreet. I've already made a spectacle of myself, and that's more than enough for one evening." Wanting to put his fist through the wall, Craig glanced over his shoulder as the music went on and on, almost becoming daggers in his ears. His blood boiled to see Kyle sitting so close to Stan, at his look of obvious serenity and longing...he was falling, and Craig was nauseated that he had to stand there and watch his descent.

"He wants what's mine...everything I worked for," he added, trying to work through his fury. "Without having to break a sweat, he just thinks he can step in and destroy everything. I won't let him."

"I've no doubt, sir," McCormick replied, already beginning to move away as the song seemed to be reaching its conclusion. "I hope this won't be considered untoward, but I took the liberty of having Christophe pulling the carriage around once Broflovski intruded on Leia's recital." He shrugged, almost appearing apologetic. "I just had a feeling -"

"You were right," Craig sighed, waving him away. "Go and collect our little ingénue. I'll be waiting outside."

Nodding, McCormick retreated through the crowd of applauding patrons and approached the piano, making no attempt to hide his contempt for Kyle. 

"It's time to leave, miss," he said, gripping Stan's upper arm. "The master is waiting in the carriage already."

"You don't have to go," Kyle said, staring into the butler's face and seeing something sinister in his features. He laid a hand on one of Stan's trembling ones. "Please, listen to what I'm saying, will you?"

When Kyle asked if he was afraid, Stan didn't answer, he just kept playing, hoping the man would understand that he couldn't exactly just come out and say that he was. He had no idea what Craig was capable of.

Feeling a hand on his arm he looked up to see McCormick glaring down at him. "But...I haven't even thanked Lord Token and Lady Wendy for allowing me to have the party at their lovely home." He said, feeling himself forcibly pulled up from the piano bench. He tried to hide a look of pain as McCormick dug his nails into his forearm. It hurt, but he knew what was waiting for him in the carriage was going to be worse. How could he have been so stupid!? He had fallen for a man his master hated...and he was going to pay for it.

He looked over at Kyle who grabbed his trembling hand. "I-I...have to go..." He said softly. "It was nice to meet you Doctor Broflovski..." He said, gathering his skirts and following McCormick to the carriage.

"Craig is upset me...isn't he?" He asked softly, his lower lip quivering as they got closer and closer to the ornate carriage.

"Don't ask questions you already know the answer to," McCormick replied, ignoring the knowing smile on Christophe's snide mouth as they approached the carriage. "Besides, it isn't my place to speak for the master. Up you go."

Holding open the door, he watched as Stan climbed inside, vaguely detecting Craig's silent form among the shadows that had gathered within. 

"Thank you for being quick," Craig said unexpectedly, his voice quiet but filled with tension. McCormick nodded before shutting the door. He climbed onto his perch on the side of the carriage and signaled to Christophe, who chirruped to the horses. After a moment, they were being borne away from the party, the lights continuing to burn through the night as the mansion began to slip away behind them.

Craig was besieged with anger as he sat in the darkness, his chin propped on his hand as he looked out the window; refusing to look at Stan at all while the miles passed. On the heels of his rage were other emotions, too, some he hadn't expected; vague sadness and confusion among them. Sliding his hand into his pocket, he clenched his fingers around his watch, its minute ticking like a tiny heartbeat against his skin. He drew a long breath.

"Your playing," he finally said, fingers tightening, "it was beautiful. You should be proud."

"T-Thank you Sir..." Stan said in a trembling voice, tears welling in his blue eyes as he could just feel the anger Craig was giving off.

"Craig...I'm so sorry... I should have never played with him...or danced with him..." He said, hoping maybe if he just apologized the man would go easy on him. "W-What can I do to make up for my transgressions? I'll do anything you want." He pleaded, moving to gently rest a small hand on the man's knee. "Please..."

Slowly, Craig reached out and gently pushed Stan's hand from his knee; not wanting to be touched or pawed at in the moment. Besides, Stan was only doing it to appease him, which only added more insult to the night's humiliations. No, if he were truly repentant, he wouldn't be begging for forgiveness - he'd be opening up his pretty mouth and admitting to his other indiscretions: allowing Kyle to kiss and romance him under the stars. It was the things he'd done when he wasn't aware he was being watched that truly concerned Craig. 

"I'm not angry that you danced with Kyle, nor am I really that bothered that you played the piano together," he said after allowing the silence to settle for a few long minutes. "After all, you were playing by the rules, honoring your dance card and being polite when someone asked something of you. I can't fault you for upholding decorum."

Lapsing into a brown study, Craig watched the stars and trees flying past as the carriage kept rolling. How could he make Stan understand where his fury stemmed from? It wasn't that he'd been openly pursued by another man that was the crux of the issue. After all, Craig had expected interest from other parties because of Stan's attractive features, but he had expected him to be loyal. What infuriated him was that he'd given Stan the chance to prove himself, to behave, and he'd actively refused. 

"It's the things that people do behind closed doors, when they think they're alone, that shows their true character. Don't you think?" He asked, finally turning his head to look at Stan directly.

Stan felt his body go into a cold sweat, he didn't know how, but Craig knew, he knew Kyle had kissed him. He looked down at his lap and shook his head. 

"I-I...couldn't stop him from kissing me..." He admitted, biting his lower lip. "It...felt nice... I've never been...kissed before..." He said, tears slowly running down his cheeks. "I didn't know what to do... I'm so sorry." He said wholeheartedly. "G-Growing up where I did...I had no time for things like romance, and, I never thought anyone would even want me... Having someone pay attention to me like that was just...overwhelming." Stan said, looking at the older man. "Please forgive me Craig... I still feel like I'm going crazy half the time." He added, shaking his head. Ever since he started taking those vitamins his emotions had been all over the place. "I feel everything so...strongly now...and I don't even know why..." 

Turning away, Craig could feel his irritation rising as he was forced to bear witness to such a nauseating display. Empty words and weakness, it was almost like Stan believed the ridiculous things he said.

"It would seem you're well-versed in the art of excuses," he commented, leaning his face on his hand again. "It's almost like you want me to sit here and feed your ego, remind you why someone would take an interest in you. It's pathetic and I won't do it. If you don't know by now that you have qualities others find attractive, than you're beyond help in that regard."

He took another long breath, having to resist the urge to backhand Stan right across his full mouth. Somehow, he refrained, though he had to ask himself why he bothered. It wasn't like he didn't have physical retribution coming in spades.

"Didn't have time for romance," he repeated, disgusted. "Couldn't stop him from kissing felt nice. God, you're making me sick. How are you not making yourself sick?" He laughed, but it was hard and lacking humor. "It's almost like you're obsessed with being this woebegone, tragic caricature of a person. Have you noticed that? You're foolish and senseless. You're lucky I took you in because you never would've survived on your own." Turning suddenly, he took a hold of Stan's wrist and yanked him forward; close.

"The world would've eaten you alive if you'd been left to your own devices." He shook him roughly, his control beginning to splinter. "You're soft and easily led. Sure, you may have some fire on occasion, but at the end of the day you're weak and retiring. You were meant to be controlled." He smiled. "You were meant to be locked up and forgotten, and if you're lucky, I'll make sure that happens. Believe me, that's better than the's better then what you actually deserve."

All at once, the carriage stopped, and McCormick appeared at his master's door; opening it. Breathing heavily, Craig shook Stan one last time before hurling him against the other side of the carriage.

"Have Bebe sort you out," he said, exiting. He straightened his hair and clothing. "And once you're presentable, meet me in the parlor." He began to move away but stopped, catching Stan's eyes. "Do yourself a favor and don't make me wait any longer than necessary."

The cruel words that were coming out of Craig's mouth tore his heart apart. The older man saw him as nothing but a pathetic toy to play with, someone who was foolish and fell for a man he didn't even know. He winced in pain as Craig gripped his wrists tightly and pulled him close. He let a small sob escape his plump lips and he felt his hat starting to fall off thanks to the man shaking him. 

He let out a cry when he was thrown against the other side of the carriage, his back hitting the hard wooden frame. He knew exactly what he wanted to tell the man. He wanted to scream at him that he turned him into a monster, an abomination,that even if Kyle did love him he would never want him when he discovered what he really was! He tried to force himself to spew out the angry words but couldn't... Maybe he was just weak...

Christophe had overheard part of the conversation, and, once the master had gone into the manor he stepped down from his driving seat.

"Are you alright, petite princesse?" He asked, helping the brunette out of the carriage. "The master he you say...temperamental. You're lucky all he did was give you a shake." 

"I fear he is going to do much more..." Stan admitted, looking around to see where McCormick was. He was never safe when that one-eyed monster was around!

Coming around the carriage, McCormick pushed Christophe aside before taking a hold of Stan's wrist. He began to pull him away. 

"Get on with your duties," he barked at the Frenchman over his shoulder. "And I'd suggest you stop badmouthing your employer, fool. One of these days it's going to catch up with you." Glancing at Stan, he almost felt a hint of pity for him, but it was brief. "Sooner or later, everyone gets what's coming to them."


"It must've been such a magical night," Bebe sighed as she helped Stan undress down to his underthings, his elaborate gown set aside so that it could be put away properly. "Oh, and the master looked so proud when he first saw you," she added, instructing Stan to sit before the vanity as she began brushing out his hair. "Was it everything you hoped it would be? Did everyone compliment your dress? Who did you dance with?"

She laughed before covering her mouth, blushing softly at being so animated.

"Forgive me, miss. I've just always wondered what those balls are like...they almost seem like a fairy tale from where I'm sitting."

Stan looked into his reflection in the vanity mirror, feeling Bebe brushing his hair. He still wasn't sure to make of his appearance. He wasn't Stan Marsh anymore, he didn't even look the same. Craig had turned him into a completely different person, a girl named Leia...

When Bebe started asking questions about the ball he thought back to kyle. 

"I only danced with two people, the master and...Doctor Broflovski..." He said, biting his lower lip. "I got many compliments on my gown, you really outdid yourself Bebe... People asked me if I bought it from designers in Paris with how beautiful it was." 

He cleared his throat a little. "The Master wishes me to meet him in the parlor so unfortunately we cannot talk as much as I would prefer."

"The parlor? At this time of night?" Bebe asked, unable to ignore just how melancholy Stan sounded. That wasn't all, though. She glanced at his reflection, studying his face closely. A realization clicked in her mind as little signals began falling into place: pinched mouth, downcast eyes, furrowed brow. Her mistress was clearly worried about something.

No, afraid.

"Is everything alright?" Coming around, she began wiping the rouge from Stan's cheeks. "I would think you'd be walking on air after the night you had...especially after getting to dance with handsome Dr. Broflovski." She thought of the redheaded gentleman and almost became dreamy, knowing firsthand just how kind he could be. "I ran into him at the market once," she remarked as she went to fetch Stan's long, white nightgown. Gathering it, she pulled it over his head and adjusted it, the neckline a series of tiny gathers and delicate ribbons.

"I was having a terrible time trying to reason with the butcher," she continued. "No matter what I did, he just wouldn't give me a fair deal, but the doctor stepped in and spoke on my behalf." She sighed, remembering. "It was almost like he genuinely cared, and ever since then I've always fancied him...he's different than the other men of his station. Unlike -"

She cut off as she continued to ready Stan for his foray into the parlor. She'd almost said something against her master, an infraction which could be very costly for her. True, he wasn't present, but she didn't want to turn having a loose tongue into a habit, not with the master's reach...not with McCormick skulking about and always reporting back to him.

"There," she said instead, patting Stan's shoulder. "You're ready. Shall we head downstairs now?"

"It was that dance and everything else I did with Doctor Broflovski that has gotten me into so much trouble..." He said, starting to softly cry. He buried his face in his hands when Bebe was finished with him. He wished he had never gone to that party! Never met Kyle! Never fell for his sweet words and charm... If he hadn't...he wouldn't be in the position he was now... 

He cried for a few moments, not really telling Bebe what was wrong with him in fear she would report back to McCormick... It wasn't safe to talk to anyone, they would all submit to Doctor Tucker. 

After a few moments he managed to compose himself... "Let's go...the Master was not in a waiting mood." Stan said, standing up from the vanity chair. 

He was dressed only in a long silky white nightgown, his long black locks hanging down with a white bow holding back a few tresses as he walked behind Bebe. What was Craig going to do to him?

Bebe bit her tongue the whole time she led Stan to the parlor, wanting to ask him about the trouble he was in. Unfortunately, it made too much sense that the master would be upset about Dr. wasn't like their animosity for one another was a secret or anything. But, still, it was a ball and people were expected to dance. How was her mistress supposed to respond? It would've been risking disapproval to refuse, especially if she'd refused someone as well-regarded as the master's rival.

"I'm sorry," she practically whispered, feeling helpless. "I wish I could actually..." she trailed off as they moved down the hallway, the gaslights along the walls shifting and throwing shadows across the carpet under their feet. Finally, they arrived to the parlor doors, and Bebe laid her hand on the door knob.

"I'll come to you early tomorrow morning," she whispered, wanting to offer any support she could given the circumstances. "Just to make sure everything is well with you." She tried to smile as she twisted the knob and began to push on the door. "I'm sure you'll be just fine. Please don't fret, mistress."

"Bebe." She froze when she heard the master's voice breaking through the quiet. Turning, she looked into the dimly-lit parlor and saw that the room was lit with candles; a fire blazing on the hearth. Craig was sitting in a wing back chair, legs crossed as he regarded them. He drank slowly from a snifter, eyes narrowed.

"Are you going to linger in the doorway all evening?" He asked, making a tremor course up her back. She couldn't say why exactly, but there was something in his demeanor that unnerved her more than usual; a coldness. "Or are you going to send your mistress in? I've been waiting far too long already."

"Y-yes, sir. Of course," Bebe replied, slowly beginning to retreat. Glancing at Stan, she nodded softly. "Go'll be alright."

With that, she slowly closed the door, glad to be out of the master's line of sight. She wasn't glad to be leaving her mistress alone with him, but she knew it couldn't be helped.

Swirling the brandy in his glass, Craig studied Stan as he stood across the room, clothed in his delicate nightgown; long tresses falling like dark rivers along the soft whiteness. The candlelight flickered, the fire popped, and somewhere in the room a clock ticked away the seconds, only compounding the deep silence that hung between them. In the corner, a black piano was shrouded in firelight.

"Come to me," he murmured, resting his snifter on his knee. "Now."

"I appreciate it Bebe..." Stan said softly, looking back at his chambermaid and giving her a small smile. The girl was kind and he appreciated having her around, even if he wasn't completely sure if he could trust her or not. When he was gently led into the parlor he walked in slowly, taking how the atmosphere had become rather sinister. Craig was sitting in his favorite chair, looking handsome as he always did, but, he looked so...cold. He swallowed hard and slowly made his way over to the older man, the nightgown train trailing behind him.

"M-Master..." He said softly, stopping in front of the older brunette. He didn't know what to do, he put a hand to his chest but frowned when he just ended up groping one of the lumps on his chest. He knew what they were...but he refused to acknowledge them like that. No matter how hard Craig wanted to convince him that he was a girl, he knew it wasn't true! He was a boy named Stan Marsh! Not a girl named Leia Von Marsh! 

"What's this master nonsense?" Craig asked, raising a brow. He set his brandy aside as he loosened the collar of his white shirt, attempting to relax slightly. He'd already removed his ascot and jacket, but he still felt too warm; agitated. He didn't allow these discomforts to register on his surface, of course. It wouldn't do for Stan to know he was deeply unsettled by the evening's events.

"You're to call me Craig," he continued, standing slowly as he raked his eyes over Stan's form, every curve obvious under the filmy gown. The firelight stole through the fabric, illuminating the flesh beneath; every secret, out of the way place. This was a body he'd helped to craft, to form, and he couldn't help but admire it. It belonged to him.

Stan was his. No one else's. But he'd learn that tonight, Craig would make sure of it.

"We aren't strangers to one another. Stop acting like we are." Coming forward, he cupped Stan's chin in his hand, forcing him to look up. "I know you better than anyone, don't I? After all, I'm the one that's responsible for waking you up...for turning you into the person you're truly supposed to be." 

Leaning down, he lightly kissed Stan's lips. Almost shuddering, he spoke close to his mouth now, already beginning to feel intoxicated by the boy's presence; his creation.

"You should be thanking me."

Stan let a gasp escape before his lips were captured by Craig's. He felt a hand running up his body and felt an anger well in him when Craig claimed he owed him, should be thankful for him, that he turned him into what he was suppose to be.

"You...made me into a monster." The brunette said, his body shaking a little. "I should thank you for that? You mutilated me..." He said, trying not to just start crying again. Damn these emotions! He never use to have these problems! Why were they happening now!? "I-I...don't even know what I am anymore..." He admitted, frowning as he tried to pull away from Craig. "I don't even know why you did this to me!" He cried out, biting his lower lip. "I don't know why you are worried about Kyle...he would never want me...he would never want a monster!"

"Oh, he would want you," Craig replied, holding Stan fast as he drew him ever closer; winding a hand through the dark tangle of his hair. "In fact, he does want you. He's always had the misfortune of having eyes that give all of him away...every little thought and desire. When he looked at you, he wasn't just seeing you as you are...he was already looking at you like you belonged to him."

"But," he continued, resting his head against Stan's hair as he stared at the shadows snaking like vines up the far wall, "you already belong to someone, don't you? Yes. Yes, I think you do. I know you do." Reaching down, he took a hold of Stan's hand and squeezed it softly.

"How could a monster play the way you did tonight?" He asked, his voice softening as he remembered. "You even made me, a person who usually doesn't care for music in any capacity, take notice. You made me want to look at you...I wanted to listen. I wanted to come closer and sit at your feet."

He laughed, burying his face in the curve of Stan's neck. 

"I wanted to worship you. In fact, I still do. So."

Pulling away, he cradled Stan's face in his hands as he smiled down at him; leaning forward to kiss his forehead softly.

"Play for me, will you?" He asked, allowing some vulnerability to thread its way into his tone. "Please?"

Stan was extremely confused. He had come into the parlor thinking Craig was going to punish him, beat him black and blue, but, here he was, saying he wanted to worship him and wanted him to play for him...that he wasn't a monster..."I-I...don't understand..." He said, feeling a sweet kiss pressed to his forehead. "I...thought you were mad at me..." He said, feeling hands gently caress his cheeks and lead him over to the piano bench.

He didn't want to bring up Kyle, he didn't want to think about if Kyle liked him or not, because it would never happen. Craig basically owned him, created him, and he knew Kyle would never want to be with a freak... He just knew it... It didn't help that his feelings for the handsome redheaded doctor were all over the place. He...was charmed by him, but, he barely knew the man! What if he was just trying to seduce him? Make him into a play thing? What did these high society men want from him!?

Sitting down at the bench he looked over at Craig.

" you wish for me to play?" He decided to ask. 

Leaning against the piano, Craig pressed his cheek into his hand, pretending to consider this question. He already knew what he wanted Stan to play, but he was anticipating a nice, careful buildup to their late-night rendezvous. Best to take it slow and gentle; put him at his ease. He was already clearly confused, just the way Craig wanted.

"I'm not sure," he replied, smiling before stroking Stan's cheek. "What is it you played with Kyle this evening? It was lovely...sad, but strangely hopeful. Could you play that for me?"

Before he started to play he tried to focus on the keys. "I...don't even know what Le Cygne means... It sounds like it's from another language...French I think..." He mused, sounding nervous as he slowly started to play. He was a bit worried that Craig suggested the song Kyle said reminded him of Stan. He hoped it was just a song they both really enjoyed... That had to be it. Maybe Craig was actually trying to prove he wasn't mad, that he was starting to forgive for what Stan had done. That he didn't do anything out of malice.

"The Swan," Craig replied, still draped against the piano as Stan began to play. "It means the swan, and you're's french." Watching closely, he gently tapped his fingers against the top of the instrument, trying to be playful; imitating Stan's effortless grace.

"I'd be hopeless, I admit," he said, the music washing over them like cold rainfall. It had a fragile quality, much like the animal it was based on. "If I ever tried to play, I mean." He held up his hands. "These hands were never meant to do anything delicate...not like you. Not like Kyle. I guess it's my curse."

Reaching out, he plucked up a lock of Stan's hair and held it to his face, inhaling deeply; mind whirring the whole time. Stan was on edge already but he clearly wanted to hope for the best in this situation; time to start turning the screws, it was the only way he'd learn his place.

"He whispered something to you when he first started to play," Craig commented, keeping his tone light. Now he started winding the long strands of hair around his finger carefully. "Kyle, I mean. Do you mind telling me what he said?"

Stan still felt a bit uneasy about what was going on but decided it would be in his best interest to just tell Craig the truth. He continued playing, happy the man at least was enjoying what he heard. 

"He said...I was as beautiful as the music I played..." He admitted softly, feeling fingers curl into his dark locks. "I think he really just appreciated we both shared a love of music..." Stan added, continuing the song as he bit his lower lip. "Also, in sure if you wanted to play you could, you already have a steady hand being a doctor." He said. "I...I could even teach you if you wished."

Craig laughed easily at Stan's offer, touched by his generosity. He shook his head, allowing Stan's hair to unravel before he started winding it around his finger again.

"No, that's alright...I'll leave the music to you and Kyle. It belongs to the artists of the world...the ones who can truly appreciate it." Leaning his head in his hand again, he nearly sighed, Stan's hair so soft against his fingers. "Kyle's right, you know. You are as beautiful as the music you play...and here you are thinking you're a monster." He gave Stan a playfully stern look before he laughed again.

"When will you ever see yourself as you are, my dear? The way I see you?"

It was then that the song came to an end, silence once again drenching the room, save for the crackling of the fire; the ticking of that lone clock. Craig began to wind Stan's hair around his fingers again, still going slowly, but tightening it more and more. He tugged on it lightly.

"I never realized that was such a short song," he commented impassively. "Start over from the beginning, will you?"

Swiftly, he unraveled Stan's hair again. He began winding it once more, over and over and over.

Stan looked over at Craig and raised a brow. "You want me to play again?" He asked, finding it a little strange. "Well...if you insist..." He said, starting to play over again. He heard Craig say that he should leave the music to people like him and Kyle and actually agreed with the what the redhead said about him being as beautiful as his music. 

"I...don't know if I will ever see myself as beautiful...not like this... Craig I have breasts... I don't even know why I have them...I hate them...I wish you would just remove them..." He said, continuing to play. "I just don't know what to think about my appearance..." He admitted, letting a soft cry escape his lips when Craig tugged on his hair.

Beginning to feel increasingly agitated, Craig continued to wind that thick lock of hair around his finger; the action becoming more aggressive every time he had to start over. It seemed the more he heard that song, that ridiculous song, the angrier he became. He'd had a feeling that Kyle had been saying something untoward when he'd dared to lean so close to Stan, and he hadn't been wrong. 

"It's almost like a lullaby, don't you think?" He asked, pushing his growing rage down when Stan finished the song. "Again. Play it again."

Finally, he was finding it impossible to stay in one place, so he gave Stan's hair one last gentle yank before turning away. Going over to his chair, he sank into it, feeling for the article he'd propped against it before Stan had entered the room; just of sight.

"I like the way you look...your curves are becoming to you," he said, annoyed that Stan kept bringing up the subject of his breasts. "And they aren't going anywhere, so you can forget about that. Just continue to play, please. It's so soothing."

"Ow!" Stan cried out when he felt Craig tug on his hair again. 

" is very soothing like something that would help you sleep." He said, looking confused when the man requested to play it again. "Craig...I've played it twice many times do you want me to play the same song? Maybe I could play something else? I really enjoy Eine Kleine Nachtmusik by Mozart." He said, continuing to play the same song but putting a different spin on it, making it a little more upbeat. 

When the older man said he liked his curves...and his...breasts...he frowned... Of course he liked them, he had created them, he had shaped them himself... "When you look at you just see an experiment?" He decided to ask, starting to play Eine Kleine Nachtmusik instead of Le Cygne.

"Experiment? Hardly. You're my creation. I gave you life," Craig said, beginning to lose patience with Stan's constant questions; his petulance. He just about reached his breaking point when a different song began to play, the one he hadn't requested. Wrapping his hand around the object leaning against his chair, he stood, hiding it behind his back as he returned to the piano.

"This is pretty," he said, though he wasn't really listening to the music; it wasn't what he wanted to hear. It wasn't what he needed to hear. Making sure his back wasn't visible to Stan, he stood close to him, his shadow falling over the boy as he continued to play. Craig gazed down at him, nursing rage and an almost painful tenderness.

You drove us to this point, he thought. You have no one to blame but yourself for what happens tonight.

"You danced with Kyle on the balcony for a very long time tonight, didn't you?" He suddenly asked, making sure to keep his tone kind.

"In my studies with Heidi, she had me read this book, it's called Frankenstein... It's about a doctor who wants to be a god so he creates...a monster from a corpse and reanimates it." He said, continuing to play his song. "As I read it...I felt like that monster... I can't get it out of my head since I started reading it... It is hard to read, but, I think I have the understanding of it... I never thought I would identify with a living corpse..." He said, feeling Craig loom over him.

The man was still speaking in such a sweet and kind tone, maybe he...actually wanted to hear about how he felt, about how he was scared, that he felt like a freak...

"Yes, we danced for awhile...he showed me the stars... I didn't know stars had names, he told me they were called con-stell-a-tions." He said, slowly saying the word. "It was nice... I didn't know their were stories about half men half horse and horses with wings that came from a monster's head." He said, finishing up the song. "Maybe we could do that sometime? We could go and look at the stars? Do you know things about them Craig? I want to learn more about them." He said with a small smile. "I would really like that... I would really like to look at the stars with you."

Craig could only shake his head slowly as he listened to Stan prattle on at length about Frankenstein and stars and mythical stories...all of it fanciful nonsense that strayed from the actual point. Besides, he knew what actually happened on that balcony, and it wasn't nearly as benign as Stan wanted him to think. It would seem that his little ingenue still wanted to tell half-truths and keep him in the dark.

"Do you enjoy making a fool of me?" He asked, still standing over Stan. His gaze fell over him, his small white hands as they pressed the keys; thin wrists and fragile forearms. His eyes drifted upward, focusing on Stan's small bosom, the peaks of his new breasts prominent under the thin material of his nightgown. Almost like he was coming undone, Craig could imagine running his hands over those breasts...could feel his fingers clenching at the thought of holding onto those wrists as Stan gasped against his ear; asking to be filled.

Asking to be taken.

Somewhere behind them, the logs in the fireplace shifted suddenly; falling apart and turning to ash. Craig continued to stare at Stan, waiting for an answer. Waiting for the evening to truly begin.

"What really happened on the balcony with Kyle tonight?" He asked, his hands still behind his back. "And don't bother to lie...I already know the truth. I just want to hear it come out of your mouth."

"N-No...I didn't mean anything by what happened at the party...I didn't mean to embarrass you." Stan said, turning around so he could look at the doctor. he was holding his hands behind his back and glaring down at him. He felt his body start to shake and break into a cold sweat. The glare alone was making Stan uneasy. Why was Craig being so kind just a moment ago and then switching to such a hostile voice? He bit his lower lip, chewing on it softly when Craig asked what had happened on the balcony.

"I told you what happened, he taught me about the stars and he kissed my hand..." Stan said, not knowing what else the man wanted to hear, that was what happened! "We just talked and danced, that is all that happened... I'm sure McCormick told you that...he was following me...wasn't he?"

"He always is," Craig replied. "He's my eyes, my ears...there's nothing you can say or do that I won't know about eventually." Slowly, he moved his hand from behind his back, revealing what he'd been keeping out of sight:

A heavy, black riding crop.

"Eventually I want to be able to read your thoughts...that's how close I want us to be, anyway." Turning his head, Craig gazed at the whip, almost like he was seeing it for the first time. It had a nice, solid weight in his hand; good balance. It would serve him well that night. Suddenly, he slapped it into his palm before pulling his focus back to Stan.

"I'll give you another chance," he smiled. "Tell me what happened with Kyle tonight." Rearing back, he brought the whip down right next to Stan's hand, barely missing him.

Stan screamed when the riding crop nearly hit his hand. He quickly got up from the piano bench and pressed his back against the piano, wanting to do anything he could to get away from the man. He managed to crawl onto the top of the piano, wondering if he could just slip off the instrument and make a run for it! Maybe he could find Kyle... He had no idea where the man even lived but, he said he would help him! He knew Craig was nothing but a sadistic monster! How could he think the man who mutilated him had any tenderness in him. He just wanted a doll...a perfect little doll...

"But that is what happened!" He cried out, kicking his leg out to try and kick the man away from him. "We danced, we talked, he taught me about stars, he kissed my hand...that's it!" He promised, feeling the slippers he was wearing fall off his feet and onto the floor. His hair had been untied from the white bow he had been wearing earlier and that ribbon was barely holding on.

"W-Why don't you believe me!? Why would I lie?" The brunette asked, scooting back on the piano top.

"There's always a reason to lie," Craig growled before he reached out and took a hold of Stan's nightgown, yanking him off of the piano and onto the floor. "To save your skin, to keep from being punished, to avoid being taken to task for misbehaving." Still holding onto the gown, he dragged Stan back over to the piano bench and shoved him down.

"Now, I told you to play for me," he seethed. "And don't try playing a different song. You know what I want to hear."

Taking a handful of Stan's hair, Craig held him tightly, feeling him tremble.

"He kissed you. Twice," he added, wanting to lose control and break Stan to his will then and there. "And you let him. You let him touch you like he had a right to you...the same rights I do. But I guess that just slipped your mind, didn't it?"

Letting go, Craig covered his face with his hand before the rage spiked again.

"I told you to play! Now!" He slammed the whip down again, but this time it landed on Stan's fingers.

Stan let out a cry as he was grabbed and thrown to the ground. He felt his nightgown tear when Craig manhandled it, causing it to show off more skin then it originally did. Before he could even try to crawl away he was grabbed again, thrown against the piano bench, and ordered to play again. 

Tears streamed down his cheeks as he felt his body shake, his hands shaking. 

"I'm sorry! That is all I can say! I'm sorry! I'll never see him again...I'll never let him kiss me again..." He said, his breath hitching in his throat as he tried not to just breakdown and sob. 

"Ow!" He screamed in pain when he felt the whip fall down on his fingers, making the keys bang out a dissonant noise. He tried to start playing, but, his hands were shaking so badly they weren't playing the notes right, the Cygne sounded more like a screeching duck.

"How do you think Kyle would feel if he could hear you playing now?" Craig asked, bringing the whip down again and again on Stan's delicate hands, ignoring the way he screamed and cried, ignoring everything except the point that needed to be made. "Do you think he'd still be as entranced? Would he still want you?"

The piano music was becoming shrill and broken at this point, the discordant notes like dying animal sounds as Craig wielded the whip. 

"I'll make it so you can't play anymore...if that'll keep you from being taken away, I'll do whatever it takes," Craig said, finally throwing the whip aside. Sinking onto the seat, he gathered Stan to his chest while he breathed heavily, all of his thoughts a blur as he tried to come back to himself. Carefully, he kissed Stan's neck before he drew back, and in one violent motion, he tore the delicate nightgown down the front, revealing pale, naked skin.

"All of this is mine," he breathed, leaning down and kissing Stan's clavicle, his chest, the tops of his breasts...reaching up, he cupped them gently, sighing as he kissed the fragrant space between them. "I made you...I'm the one who's going to keep you."

Stan screamed again when he felt the whip fall on his fingers causing another crash of the piano keys. Tears were now streaming down his cheeks. "I-I...I don't know..." He stammered out, trying to play but in too much pain and too scared to even continue on with what he was doing. Would Kyle still want him if he couldn't play? Probably not... That was what set him apart from all the others. He swallowed hard and felt his hands pulse in pain.

"No! Please! You can't!" He begged, letting a sob escape his lips. "I-I...can't live without my music... Don't take it from me...please...please!" He begged, feeling kisses pressed to his neck. Before he knew it, his nightgown was ripped from his body, revealing only his undergarments and corset.

He kicked his legs and tried to wiggle out of Craig's grip, finding it impossible to escape. He let out a cry when he felt lips pressed against various body parts including those two fucking lumps he hated so much!

His body shook when Craig said he was his, that he made him. "S-Stop!" He pleaded. He looked up into Craig's grey eyes and saw nothing but coldness. "What...are you...going to do me?"

Wordlessly, Craig took a hold of Stan's wrecked nightgown and drew him onto the floor, laying him down against the oriental rug; the firelight falling over flesh that had been covered before. It lit up Stan's paleness and turned it orange and red, filaments of white glimmering in Stan's dark hair as it fanned around his head. Almost feeling like he was in a trance, Craig just stared at him for a moment, overcome by what he'd helped to create...almost like he'd encouraged a phoenix to rise from cold ashes.

"So beautiful," he murmured, dragging a hand up Stan's naked thigh, hiking the gown up to expose the slight curve of his buttock and hip. He was pleased to see that he wasn't wearing any drawers, just the chemise and corset. Reaching around, he gripped a handful of pert backside and squeezed softly. Leaning forward, he draped himself across Stan's prone body, languidly kissing his neck before his other hand settled on Stan's backside as well, spreading him.

"You've been waiting for this for so long, haven't you?" He sighed into Stan's ear, licking the lobe lightly. "Is that why you were so taken with Kyle? Is it because I haven't been giving you enough of the right attention?"

Stan let out a cry as he felt his backside grabbed roughly. "I-I'm scared...please don't do's going to hurt... I've barely even kissed..." Was all he managed to say, feeling the rug underneath his bare skin. Craig had ripped everything off of him, his corset, his undergarments, his nightgown, he was totally naked. He knew he had to look disgusting... He tried to cover his nude form, feeling ashamed of it. "D-Don't look at me..." He pleaded, tears rolling down his cheeks. 

"She walks in beauty, like the night," Craig said, closing his eyes as he whispered the words against Stan's skin, sad that he still detested the way he looked...unable to see his own value. "Don't cry, love. What we're doing isn't bad, it isn't's right." Kissing Stan's throat, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a small tin of Vaseline. Quickly, he unscrewed the top and tossed it aside, watching as it rolled away; catching the firelight and winking like a coin.

"I knew," he said, slicking his fingers with the substance before spreading Stan wide once more, "I just knew that tonight was the soon as I saw the way you looked at Kyle. You were confused, were taken in by his manipulation. You'll see clearly once you realize what we have...I'll show you everything you need to know."

Slowly, he delved into Stan's heat, the Vaseline warm against his skin as his finger slipped inside. Carefully, he prepared him, only sliding in a second finger when he could feel a slight loosening; a relaxing of taut muscles.

"Shh," he breathed, capturing Stan's mouth and kissing him slowly; teeth gently nipping at a full bottom lip. "It's going to be alright...I'm going to take care of you."

Stan let out a cry of pain when he felt fingers pressed inside of him. Sure, he had pleasured himself before, but, he had never done anything like this. It hurt! He felt his body shaking and looked up at Craig, seeing his eyes looking more tender. He was so confused! How could this man be so brutal one moment and then so kind the next! He felt like Craig was trying to make him go crazy with it.

" really...think I look...attractive like this?" He decided to ask, trying to ignore the pain as Craig kissed him, biting his lip, letting his hands run up his curves Craig had created. 

Stan's soft body was arching into him as he opened him, begging for reassurance as much as his words. Craig nuzzled him as he eased his fingers out, slippery with Vaseline. Taking a hold of Stan's wrists, he pressed his arms above his head while studying his face, eyes searching every angle and shadowed nuance.

"You're all I want," he said softly, resting his cheek against Stan's and closing his eyes for a moment; bodies pressed tightly together as the enormity of what was happening sunk into his psyche. "I've always wanted to know what it's like to own someone completely, and I have that with only exist because I made you." Shuddering, he glanced at Stan's hands, feeling a stab of satisfaction at the bruises covering them.

"I've only cared about one other girl in my entire life," he admitted as he nudged Stan's thighs apart with his knee. Withdrawing one of his hands, he still held fast to Stan's wrists, easily keeping them pinned with one hand alone. He undid his slacks and drew himself out, his still slicked fingers pumping his cock; already so hard that he almost ached. Carefully, he pressed himself against Stan's entrance, running his cock along his warmth.

"You know, you kind of remind me of her sometimes," he added, continuing to tease Stan but not pushing into him; mouth watering with the wanting...the need, but he didn't want to rush their ending. He wanted all of this to last. "When you smile...the way you cover your mouth when you laugh. It's almost like she's come home...almost like she never left to start her new life."

Stan still looked so confused and let out a small cry. "I-I...existed before I met you..." He said, tears running down his cheeks as he felt the man grab his wrists and pin them above his head. He wondered how Craig could even think of him as a girl when he was completely exposed, his cock hanging out. He bucked his hips a little and tried to steady his breathing. He didn't want to have a panic attack. 

"Are you...trying to turn me into her?" He asked, his blue eyes going wide at the thought. He watched as the older man pumped his cock, looking so deviant before he felt Craig push into him.

"Ahhh! I-It hurts!" He cried out, feeling the rather large cock pulse inside of him.

"Just for a moment," Craig soothed, gasping lightly as he lost himself inside the figure cradled beneath him. "And then it'll feel good...I promise. Just relax and let me show you how wonderful this can be...please."

Softly, he eased into Stan's body until he could go no further, and then he rested against him; becoming still. All he wanted in that moment was to lay his head against a perfumed bosom, falling back into memories of another time in his life where he'd played out this exact scenario. Only then he'd been much younger, and the girl beneath him hadn't looked at him with, she'd regarded him with admiration, moss green eyes full of complete trust. He had slipped his fingers into her long, tawny hair as she'd panted against his shoulder, and every night she'd stolen into his bedroom when the moon filled up the windows.

Yes, he'd loved someone very much, and he had been convinced that could never happen again, not after she'd left. But now....

"I love you," he almost sobbed, the memories mixing with the present as he began to move, gently drawing himself out before thrusting. Cupping Stan's chin, he lay his cheek against his face, breathing in his scent...ribbons of perfume and talcum winding together and lulling him. "I know you can't be her, but maybe you can love me the way she used to...can't you?"

Stan bit his lower lip and decided it would be best to just go along with what the man wanted. Craig seemed unhinged, like underneath his cold persona he had a madness that was more prevalent then he showed in public. He was a victim of that madness, and if seemed, he was going to be a victim once again. 

" you too..." He said out of fear, letting out a cry of pain as be felt Craig move in him more. "It's...starting to feel a little better..." He admitted, hesitantly wrapping his arms around the man's shoulders. 

"Am I...just a substitute for her...for your ex-lover? You did all of this to me...for those reasons? Do you anything about me?" Stan asked in between moans and gasps.

"You have your own charms," Craig replied, hardly able to focus on Stan's questions as he felt the tension gathering in his body; already poised on the edge. Stan just felt so perfect, so exquisitely tight but also so soft...the treatments he'd been receiving gentling the angles of his body and ripening them into curves. "Just because I can see her in you doesn't mean I stop seeing's not like you disappear."

Groaning, Craig almost lost his composure when he felt Stan's arms settling about him and pulling him close. Hiking his hips up, Craig settled Stan's legs around him, wanting him to squeeze, wanting him to pull him in...the way she used to. She'd always started out docile and demure when Craig was fucking her, but by the end she'd turn into a voracious harlot, scraping her long nails up his back and leaving red lines for him find the next morning.

"That's right," he moaned, speeding up and his thrusts becoming harder. "Hold onto me how much you want it." Leaning forward, he kissed Stan, slipping his tongue between his swollen lips and tasting him...sweet and pure; ripe like a strawberry. "You like being fucked by me, don't you? Maybe you should sleep in my bed tonight...then we won't have to stop."

Stan hated that he was starting to enjoy the feeling of Craig fucking him. How could he be enjoying this!? How could he want to have the cock of the sadistic Doctor inside of him, hearing him moan in his ear, talking about some other woman he was still pinning over her. 

"Craig..." He breathed out, running his nails down his back, deciding just to give in. "It...feels so good...I've never been...touched like this before... I...I've only had a girl suck me off..." He moaned, reaching down to try and caress his hard cock. He wondered what it would be like to have kyle on top of him, fucking him, making him moan.

"No, don't touch yourself like that," Craig said, gently taking Stan's hand away from himself. "I can take care of you, but don't let me see you doing that...ever. You aren't even to touch yourself in private; it isn't proper." Shuddering, he wrapped his arms around the back of Stan's neck and held him close...feeling his end meeting him swiftly, the sweat falling over his skin as their bodies met and melded.

"I can't hold back," he spoke against Stan's neck, panting now...breaths coming faster as his body uncoiled. He smiled slowly. "I knew fucking you would be a sublime experience...I dreamed of this every night...ever since I brought you here."

Tensing up, he began to come, hips rolling as he fucked Stan harder; pushing him against the rough fibers of the rug. 

"You're mine now," he sighed, pouring himself into Stan and working his cock through his come; rivers of white falling along the backs of Stan's thighs. " can't turn back...I own you."

Stan felt his hand forced off his cock and whined, letting out a groan. He wasn't allowed to pleasure himself, but, that was how he got off! Even though Craig wanted him to be a woman, that he looked, dressed, sounded like one, he was still a man, he still had a cock! 

He felt Craig starting to come inside of him, warm semen filling him up and starting to run down his legs. He let out a cry and clenched his eyes shut. 

He still hadn't came, not being able to work himself up to it. Maybe he could just pretend it was someone else. He tried to imagine a certain handsome redhead on top of him. 

"Craig!" He cried out, trying to buck his hips and claw at the man's back, hoping to leave marks. Craig wanted to scar him, he could scar him too! When he heard the man say he owned him he didn't like how that sounded. 

"I'm...perfect enough for you to own?"

"Absolutely," Craig said, panting as he rolled away, his spent cock slipping out of Stan. Lying on his side, he draped an arm over Stan, his hand creeping downward and over his belly, settling on the stiff flesh he'd so naughtily tried to stroke on his own. "My little swan," he added, kissing Stan's temple as he began to pump him, soft movements up and down.

"Do you want to come, love?" He whispered, leaning his forehead against Stan's fragrant hair. "Do you feel like you deserve to?"

"Oh god..." He moaned, feeling Craig grab his member and start pumping it. "Please...make me come...I can' without it." Stan pleaded. "I...I've been good...let me come... I'll do whatever you want..." He begged, moving to wrap his legs around Craig's waist.

"Ah, so the swan isn't as demure as she likes to think," Craig nearly laughed, working Stan's cock in practiced movements; squeezing slightly as he increased his pace. "Who knew that someone with such an innocent face could be such a slut when the moment calls for it...?"

Licking Stan's bottom lip, Craig relished the tiny pants breaking from his mouth; hot breaths flush against his face. Stan was arching into him, pressing his stiff, little cock harder into Craig's hand, was beautiful beyond words. That pretty face was reminiscent of hers when she'd been two steps away from the edge, Craig's hand resting between her legs and stroking her until she'd surrendered to everything he'd asked for; needed from her. Stan was proving to be the same...falling into Craig's arms just as easily; sacrificing the person he'd been before in order to be touched like this. Adored.

"You just want to be loved, don't you?" Craig asked, sensing the rising tension in Stan's muscles; the quickening of his breath. He was close, so close. "Just let go for me...give in."

When Craig said he just wanted to be loved he just nodded, stifling a moan as he felt himself getting closer and closer to coming. After a few moments he let out a cry of pleasure, feeling himself starting to leak out semen. 

"Craig!" He screamed, bucking into his hand as the older man finished taking care of him. "It feels so much better then when it myself..." He admitted, feeling his cock twitch as he started to come.

"Mmm, there, isn't that better?" Craig murmured, kissing Stan's cheek and humming softly as he came. "Dear little one...I don't think you realize just how much I care for you." Pulling Stan close, Craig cradled him close to his chest, his chin resting on the top of Stan's head. He let out a deep breath, still circling somewhere above the earth, trying to settle and land again. It was so hard, though, having Stan there, warm and relaxed in his arms after finishing so nicely.

"I'm not just trying to replace her, you know," he said softly, staring at the far wall while the shadows continued to shift. "True, I miss her very much, but I wanted you because of who you remind me of her, but I love you in a way that's entirely separate from Tricia."

Tensing up, he covered his mouth with his hand, wanting to pull the name back into his mouth immediately.

"Anyway," he continued, wanting to pretend he hadn't spoken her name aloud...hoping Stan was so sleepy and dazed he hadn't noticed. Gently, he picked up one of Stan's hands and studied it in the firelight that was slowly beginning to die. "I'll see to your hands before I put you to bed. I'm afraid you probably won't be able to play the piano for a while." Almost like he couldn't control himself, he smiled, though he knew it wasn't a reassuring one; his cruelty rearing its sleek, monstrous head.

"I'm sure Kyle's heart would break if he knew. Don't you think?"

"You...don't know me just know who you created..." Stan managed to say, his breathing ragged after Craig had fucked him senseless. He was hoping he would lose his virginity to someone he loved not to a man who made him into his own personal doll, some replacement for him for this Tricia person...

His hands were so sore, he could barely even move his fingers. "I...won't be able to do anything with my hands for awhile..." He said, looking at Craig with a pointed look. "I doubt I'll even be able to hold a tea cup."

"I don't know what kyle would think of me... It isn't important..." He lied, not being able to get the handsome redhead out of his head.

Craig looked at him for a moment, a vague thread of suspicion making its way through his mind at Stan's nonchalance regarding Kyle. He shrugged it off, wanting to coast on the beauty of this moment for as long as he could. He'd claimed Stan, made him his own even more so than before...they'd become one for a few precious minutes, and that was the most important thing; not Broflovski, not the ball, not the music Craig had snatched away from Stan so easily....they'd finally started to connect on the profound level Craig needed.

"Don't worry, love," he said easily as he closed up his slacks. Sitting up, he slid his arms under Stan and lifted him from the floor like he was weightless. "The servants will be your hands as you heal...that's what they're there for, after all; to see to all of your needs. In fact, until you've healed, I don't want you lifting a finger. If you do, you'll be punished again."

He smirked before kissing the tip of Stan's nose.

"We wouldn't want that, would we?" 

Soon enough, Craig had carried Stan back to his room and readied him for bed, slipping him into a fresh nightgown and rubbing liniment into his swollen, bruised hands. Before tucking him in, he dosed him with aspirin and held one of the tiny, injured extremities close to his face, kissing it gently. 

"I can admit that my methods can be brutal," he said, kissing the warm hand over and over, "but it's only because I care. If I didn't, I'd let you do whatever you wanted because it wouldn't be a concern whether or not you survived...if anything, I'd throw you out in the cold and leave you to fend for yourself. But," he added, tucking a stray lock of Stan's hair behind his ear, "that's never going to happen. You aren't getting away from me."

Pulling the covers back, he instructed Stan to crawl beneath the blanket, a tide of sadness overtaking him at the thought of wayward little girls that hadn't wanted to accept where they rightfully belonged.

"I know what it's like to lose someone and so do you...your parents, your sister. We understand each other, don't we?" He stroked Stan's cheek. "That's why we were meant for one another...we can start to heal from the past with each other's assistance."

Stan was rather surprised to find himself picked up with ease by Craig and carried back to Craig's room. He had never seen the man's room before but it was so big! Even bigger then the room the older man had put him in. He let out a coo when he hit the soft mattress. God it felt so good! He took in a deep breath and allowed Craig to tend to his hands and kiss them.

If Craig was like this all the time, maybe he could love him, but, that sadistic beast he had been shown earlier was terrifying. Knowing that lied beneath, that it could come out any time, scared him to no end. He wondered if anyone had ever seen lose complete control like that before.

"I-I...never want to be punished again..." He said softly. "It hurt so badly..." He added, allowing himself to be tucked in and the blanket being pulled over him. 

"I'm sorry that you have lost people you loved..." Stan said, actually feeling bad for the man. Maybe that was why he was the way he was? "It hurts...and you feel as though it will never stop hurting." He added, coughing a little as he tried to relax.

"Craig...I'm very thirsty...may I have some water please?"

"Of course you may," Craig said, pushing Stan's bangs from his forehead before turning away and heading for the door. Looking out into the hallway, he saw McCormick loitering, his chair tipped against the wall and his arms crossed. It looked like he'd dozed off. Craig cleared his throat, garnering the man's attention immediately, his head snapping up.

"What's wrong? Did she run off again? Where'd she go?" He asked, rising from his chair, his eye patch askew. 

"Easy, lad." Laying a hand on McCormick's shoulder, Craig shook his head, grinning. "The request is simple this time; water and two glasses, please."

Righting the eye patch, the butler nodded. Slowly, the panic drained from his face.

"As you wish, sir." He turned away, pausing before glancing over his shoulder. "Two glasses, sir?"

"I have a guest this evening," Craig replied, cocking a brow. "What, you don't approve?"

"No, it isn't that, sir. It's just, I can't remember anyone ever sleeping in your room since miss -"

"I'm well aware of that," Craig said, waving him away. He gave him a look, his temper beginning to kindle. "Remember your place, McCormick."

"Forgive me, sir," McCormick said, bowing quickly.

"Go." Stepping back into the room, Craig slowly closed the door before heading back to the bed, his eye falling on a gilded frame containing a photograph resting on his bedside table. Glancing at Stan, he casually tipped it forward, obscuring the pretty young woman smiling out at the world from behind polished glass.

"McCormick is fetching the water," he announced, beginning to undress. "As soon as you've had your fill, I want you to try and sleep. It's been a long night." Sighing, he sat heavily on the bed while he unbuttoned his shirt, fatigue already beginning to drag him down.

"A very long night."

"Thank you Craig." He said, letting a yawn escape his lips. He tried to relax, moving to rest his head on the pillow, allowing his long black locks to fall over the cool white cloth. He looked over at the man, finding some kind of strange connection to the man now, almost like...he wanted to be near him. His emotions were all over the place and sometimes he didn't know how to react to them. He moved to gently rest a hand on Craig's arm.

"Are you going to get under the covers with me?" Stan asked, just needing someone to be close to. The whole day had been so insane, so taxing, he was still trying to process everything.

"Your bed is so comfortable...even more comfortable then mine..." He said, snuggling into the blankets. "It feels like sleeping on a cloud." He added, letting a rather cute giggle escape his lips.

"I suppose it does, doesn't it?" Craig asked, bouncing on the mattress just a little before chastising himself for acting so childish. He couldn't help it, though. Stan was being so beguiling, and it was rather fun to try and look at things the way he did; like everything was new and fascinating. "Well," he said, trying to regain some of his dignity, "I'll take your word for it."

Just then, there was a knock at the door. 

"Enter," Craig called, giving McCormick an impassive look when he entered the room, bearing a silver tray with a pitcher and two glasses on it. Going to the dresser, he set it down before filling the glasses with water. He turned, holding them up. Craig stood and went to him.

"Thank you," he said, taking them. 

"Sir," he nodded, his eye straying over Craig's shoulder and taking in the sight of Stan laid out in the large bed, dressed in a frail nightgown and nearly lost among the pillows and striking red coverlet. It brought back vivid memories of a girl with long hair and green eyes; she'd been pale too, and delicate. When she'd stolen down the corridors years ago, late at night, McCormick had almost thought her to be another shadow, until the master's door opened and he saw the tiny figure slipping inside; feet bare and her nightgown trailing behind her.

The master hadn't even looked at another person since that girl had traveled far away, but now Stan was here, and he was slowly but surely taking her place; eclipsing her memory and the presence she'd left behind.

"If there's nothing else," Craig said, breaking into his thoughts. Shaking his head, McCormick came back to himself. The master was staring at him with a hard expression. "You may retire for the evening, McCormick. We're well enough here."

He bowed before he left the room, giving Stan one last glance before closing the door behind him. Craig stared after him for a moment before going to Stan. He set one of the glasses on the bedside table. Crawling onto the bed, he went to Stan and pulled him close, resting his head against his chest. Gently, he held the glass to his lips.

"Don't forget, I told you I didn't want you to lift a finger," he said, smiling. "Drink, love."

Stan was rather surprised to find Craig gently gathering him into his arms, snuggling him to his chest. He was hesitant at first, but, after a few moments, he gave in, resting his head on the man's chest. He could feel arm muscles holding him tight and he wondered how Craig had gotten them. Kyle had muscles too... Perhaps it was a doctor thing? He didn't say anything, he just felt the glass pressed against his lips and slowly started to drink. He didn't think he would be able to use his hands even if he wanted to.

He felt like his head was in the clouds, like he was in haze.

He drank the entire glass of water, relaxing in Craig's arms as he held him close.

"I am to sleep here tonight? Will you be...sharing the bed with me this evening?" He decided to ask, already knowing the answer.

"Yes, I believe I'll stay," Craig replied wryly, setting the glass aside before yawning, covering his mouth with his hand. "Come now, it's time to settle down. It's late." Sinking into the pillow, he cradled Stan against his side, stroking through his hair. Breathing deeply, he could feel some of the tension finally beginning to ease from his muscles as he fell into the sensation of sharing his bed with another'd been so long.

He glanced out the window at the moon, full and blue-white as stray clouds framed it. Stars, like opals, spread out and filled the panes of glass. The night was deep and heavy, and it made him feel like the world was suddenly too large; too wild. At least he wasn't alone, and he was suddenly very grateful to have Stan lying beside him. Sighing, Craig turned his head on the pillow and kissed his companion's face before he finally allowed himself to close his eyes. Idly, he took a hold of Stan's hand and cradled it softly; its warmth the last thing he was aware of before slipping into sleep.

It took Stan longer to fall asleep. He couldn't help but marvel at Craig's sleeping form, he was so...handsome and peaceful dozing. He wondered what had happened in Craig's life to make him like this. In church, they taught that no one was inherently evil, that, evil came into their lives if they allowed themselves to be vulnerable to it. He actually found himself pitying the doctor. He was so wealthy but he didn't seem happy. He had everything he could ever want, but, abused it. 

He sighed, looking out the window and seeing the stars.

He couldn't help but let a small smile cross his lips. The stars, they reminded him of Kyle. He loved being held in his arms, how the man spoke so sweetly to him, told him about constellations, he prayed he would see him again.

These two doctors were so different, but, each one was worming their way into his heart, whether he liked that or not.