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The Food Your Hearts Shall Eat

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Miss Parker didn't care for Rosenkreus. They'd gone a bit too big on the Nazis in the 30s and 40s and now pretended they hadn't, as if pretended meant no one else would remember, and they really loved telling her about how their organization had been centuries old before the foundations had been laid for the very first iteration of The Centre.

As if centuries of outer continuity bestowed competence or something. The Centre would-- had, even-- survive a name change and a move to a new location. The money remained. The power remained. The knowledge remained. Reforging the alliances, rebuilding the reputation, took work, but it was achievable in under five years.

Miss Parker did, however, enjoy the company of some of Rosencreus's agents. They did what they were supposed to and only argued with her when-- Well, mostly, they didn't. Occasionally, they took off on side errands, but they were great about handling the things Miss Parker couldn't admit to knowing about.

Miss Parker liked working with Brad Crawford in particular, and she was always pleased when he brought his boytoy, Schuldig (what the fuck kind of name was that anyway? Who named their kid 'Guilty?' Was it supposed to be a virtue name? There was definitely a story there, and she was never going to ask), along. The two of them on her doorstop usually meant they needed a Centre operative as chaperone and were willing to trade hot sex for a little extra leeway in completing their job on The Centre's turf.

Brad would fuck without Schuldig there, but Brad lied about what he wanted and what he didn't. Schuldig was honest for both of them. He wanted to crawl for her, but he also wanted her to prove she was worth crawling for. He wanted her to be creative. He wanted her to lock the door and pretend that everything outside vanished.

Miss Parker didn't get that with Brad because Brad never forgot, not for a single second, and she never got that with anyone else because most of the people she played with had never heard of The Centre. The escape had to be mutual.

She supposed she could get it with Jarod if she were willing to play by his rules. She very much doubted Jarod's rules allowed for two naked men collared and chained for her pleasure.

Schuldig stood facing her. His arms were raised over his head and chained to the wall behind him. A cord ran from the collar around his neck down to cuffs around his ankles. He could move his feet a little, but the collar would remind him to be still.

Brad knelt. He'd have held any position she asked, but she'd reinforced her command to keep his knees apart by wrapping each thigh with bands of leather and anchoring them to bolts in the floor. She had bound his arms to his sides with two straps, one between elbow and wrist and the other between shoulder and elbow.

Then she'd taken his glasses and put them in his briefcase. "You surrender beautifully," she'd told him before bending to kiss him. "I look forward to tears later on."

He'd made a small sound in response, one she'd heard many times before. It was part desire, part fear, part desperation. He didn't know exactly what she was going to do, and it terrified him.

Schuldig had told her once, privately, that Brad's gift was precognition but that Brad couldn't predict her, specifically, under these circumstances. "It feels more dangerous, less like playing, when it's you," Schuldig had said. "Other people are boring because he already knows."

Miss Parker ran her eyes over the two men as she stirred her drink-- tea with four ice cubes and a twist of lime. No alcohol, not yet, possibly not until right before they left. Both of her toys needed careful attention and good judgment.

Brad was apt to let himself be unintentionally injured, simply bearing it silently as a thing he had offered and was strong enough to survive.

Schuldig, on the other hand, whined when he didn't get the attention he expected. Miss Parker could gag him (and had because he felt it as a violation, a deeply wanted one), but he was a telepath. He wanted to be pushed because he wanted to be real and separate.

Miss Parker really wished she could take these two out in public and have them crawl behind her, naked and leashed and very much hers. She wanted to keep them. She wanted to live in a world where that desire couldn't be used as a weapon to gut her and where her owning them wouldn't also mean The Centre owning them.

Brad had only ever once said, "But, if you owned The Centre, it wouldn't matter. You could take Rosenkreus." The sweetness in his smile and the phantom of hope in the words had broken her heart and made her hate Brad a little.

She didn't want The Centre. She didn't want Rosenkreus. She didn't want to be vulnerable. She didn't want to let Brad use her to destroy people he couldn't kill directly.

But it would solve so damned many problems. All she had to do was choose it and then never falter no matter what it cost her.

She'd made Brad fuck himself on a chair mounted dildo for almost an hour that night while she enjoyed Schuldig's talented tongue and then played with Schuldig's cock. She hadn't allowed either man to come.

Schuldig had wept and whimpered and even screamed, but he'd never asked her to stop. Every time she'd considered it, he'd rebelled, and she'd indulged him.

Miss Parker sipped her tea. "Is there anything that would be too much?" It was an idle question and a rhetorical one. She couldn't do anything permanent. She couldn't leave inexplicable injuries.

A difficult mission only covered so much.

Brad's expression said that he wanted every bit of Miss Parker's too much. He wanted it because it wasn't allowed. He wanted it because it would make his world make sense.

Schuldig raised his chin a fraction of an inch and glared at her. //As if you could.//

She stood, and Schuldig flinched minutely. She extracted an ice cube from her drink then set the glass on a side table. "But you do enjoy me trying," she said. She used her free hand to cup Schuldig's cock and ball then, with careful viciousness, she squeezed and twisted, keeping hold even as he tried to pull away.

The sounds he made sent jolts of arousal to her cunt, and part of her wanted to hump his leg until she came. She could lick the tears off his face when they arrived, and he'd writhe with the pain.

She released her hold and continued on to where Brad knelt. Her hand on his cock was gentler, just cupping him firmly enough that she could use her other hand to press the ice against the shaft and then slide it along the length to the tip.

He kept his eyes on her as he shuddered.

She had to remind herself to exhale. "Exactly like that," she said. She kissed his temple. "You're so lovely when you suffer and suffer, slipping under by millimeters."

Which wasn't quite true because Brad always went under hard and fast. He simply blossomed best under small pains that got gradually bigger and harder to bear.

He trusted her with that, and she understood it as an honor.

She bit his ear then moved the melting ice cube to his chest, using it to draw wet circles around his nipples. "I could do this with a knife," she told him. "Flat or edge."

His breathing hitched, and she knew that, just for a moment, he felt the knife, his imagination supplying sensation. His eyes went wide, and she was almost certain he wasn't seeing or hearing or feeling the same things she would in his place.

She rolled his balls in one hand and started coaxing his cock to hardness. She heard Schuldig fidgeting, but since he wasn't trying to talk to her, she ignored him. She set the ice cube on the carpet and pressed her cold hand against Brad's chest.

The sound he made as he came back to the present was a lot like the sound he made when he came, but his cock was still hard in her hand, only just starting to leak a little. He stared at her as if he couldn't quite remember who she was.

"You need something in your ass, don't you?" She made the words gentle, but her smile was all teeth.

His breath puffed out in a sigh. "Yes, Miss Parker." The words were the barest whisper.

"Even if it hurts?" She wanted so badly to see him weep. She wanted to see him spread and fucked and fucked with no hope of release but her whim, no choice but to bear it for her pleasure. His body would shudder with the force of it. She could make sure his mind didn't wander. She had ideas for that.

She just couldn't do it now. A fucking machine wasn't part of this place's equipment, an oversight she regretted. Next time.

She enjoyed pegging Brad, but she didn't have the stamina for hours. Hell, she and Schuldig together wouldn't have the stamina for the duration she wanted.

"I want--" Brad's muscles tensed under her hand. "You want--"

"Yeah," she said. "I want. Doesn't matter what you want." She turned her head so that she could look at Schuldig. "You need something in your ass, too."

His answering snarl was entirely telepathic.

Miss Parker knew a challenge when she heard one, so she gave Schuldig her most saccharine smile and watched him swallow hard and go completely still. She couldn't do everything, but she had the two of them for forty eight hours.

They could do a hell of a lot in that time.

Maybe her boys could actually be worth the price of taking over The Centre. Maybe they were even worth the price of bargaining with Jarod.

She wondered whether Jarod would ever understand. If she dreamed, later, about Jarod kneeling with Brad and Schuldig, about Jarod looking up at her with eyes that knew her but trusted anyway, that was no one's business but her own.

Schuldig might guess, but he also knew she'd eviscerate him with her fingernails if he ever told anyone. He was actually pretty good at keeping secrets.