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Working for Charles Coven was a mistake.
It wasn’t a shock to anyone that the CEO of such a large company would be so terrifying, with his ties to the president and a wallet full of never-ending dollar bills that could make enough houses to eliminate homelessness from New York City. His demeanor was indescribable, at least to Eddie Chiplucky it was. And yet, despite it, he still worked. What choice did he have? Charles could track him down, break him down. He was on top of the world, Eddie was simply his pawn to get rats for his inhuman experiments.
When Eddie found out about the underground Hatchetfield roller rink housing death battles, he refused to believe it as anything more than a rumor, nothing but a ghost story to scare the kids away, to get them from sneaking inside.
It wasn’t the place Eddie expected to be spending his Friday nights.
That was a year and a half ago, it was when he met Charles.
Oh, Charles. Where could Eddie start with him?
His boss, that’s what he was. That’s what he was meant to be. He wasn’t Eddie’s owner or his master, he was his boss. Eddie collected tributed for Charles’s sadistic game like he was buying dolls for a collection he didn’t own. It wasn’t the best job, he got paid well enough though. It was being under someone else's finger that was the problem.
Eddie found himself in Charles’s private box, standing in the doorway waiting to be allowed in. He shouldn’t need to ask permission, he shouldn’t live in fear. Who would want something like this? Who would enjoy this?
The match hadn’t started yet. Eddie had gotten bored of the matches, if he was being honest. Betting on the same kids? It wasn’t fun anymore. He could tell the rich assholes who showed up every week could tell too, and he knew Charles was pissed about it.
“Come in, Ed,” Charles swirled a glass of whiskey in his hand, the ice clinking against the cool inner shell of his fancy glass, too expensive, yet so worthless to a man like Charles, “How’ve you been? How’s Pizza Pete’s working out for you?” His eyes turned to Eddie’s, tracing his figure, his golden cuff buttons shining in the dim light of the box, “Cute, I like you in gold. Matches that tooth of yours”
Eddie rubbed the back of his head, trying not to remark on Charles’s comment. He was so painfully flirty . He gave too many compliments, they all seemed so personal. So tailor made, as if he knew what to say every time, words flowing off of his venomous lips, Eddie felt like every breath sent toxins into the air that he had been consuming for far too long that it had changed the way he thought, the way he felt.
If there was one thing Charles was, it was gorgeous. His dark skin practically shined, his fingers delicate, every touch were knives, every word was an ear-piercing scream, every whisper in Eddie’s ear that he was a “good treasure” made his skin crawl in ways no one else could ever make him.
Charles snapped his fingers at Eddie, bringing him out of his trance, before ushering him closer. Eddie did as he was told, like he always did. It was strange, his rebellious spark he had as a teenager had died, it died the day he met Charles, the day he met a man where when he walked in the room you bowed, you kneeled at his feet and kissed his boot. Because what would he do if you didn’t? It was a question you didn’t want to get answered.
Charles’s hand moved to Eddie’s necklace, pulling it lightly, “Where’d you get this?” he questioned him, Eddie’s face moving closer to Charles’s, he could tell his boss was able to feel his breath on his skin, he could tell Charles didn’t mind, that he was practically egging him on, not even asking for more, knowing Eddie would just give.
He would give.
And give.
And give.
No questions asked, no if's and's or but’s about it. Eddie would give. Because he was Charles’s good treasure.
Eddie hated the pet name, the way Charles used it to describe money, prosperity, him .
Charles let out a small laugh, taking Eddie’s hat off his head and placing it on his own. “Mine,” leaned up to look at Eddie, pulling him closer by the necklace, yanking him down to his chest, Eddie able to feel Charles’s suit on his bare chest. His heart pounded, he knew Charles could feel it. He could sense it from the way he smiled, from the way he twisted his necklace with his finger, toying with it and with Eddie’s emotions.
Eddie’s hands fell to the sides of Charles' chair next to his elbows, watching Charles’s eyes pierce his own, daggers destroying every bit of sanity he had left, every ounce left of him that wasn’t sent crazy by this man he called a boss but was more of a god. And Eddie worshiped him, like good treasure should.
Charles touching Eddie’s chin with his free hand, his thumb swirling circles on his cheek, “Good treasure, staying so quiet,” Charles pulled Eddie closer into a kiss, his lips of venom injecting their poison directly into Eddie’s blood stream, his tongue finding his way to creep into Eddie’s mouth as he let out a scream silenced by the lips he was pressed against unwillingly. Charles pulled Eddie’s necklace further away from his body, Eddie’s chest fully against him as the string keeping it together was barely able to stop itself from ripping.
Eddie’s hands moved up to Charles’ shoulders to balance himself more, not that it helped the situation. If anything, it gave Charles more power over him than he already had. He heard his boss laugh slightly, laugh at his pain, laugh at his frustration. He was letting this happen, he was letting Charles do this, and what could he do to stop it?
Working with Charles Coven was a mistake. Letting Charles Coven break down his walls was a mistake. Letting Charles Coven kiss him was a mistake.
“Sir,” Charles’s bodyguard stood in the doorway, “The match is about to start.”
Charles let go of Eddie, wiping his lips clean, as Eddie backed away. He was startled, Charles was still wearing his hat. He had no right to look good like that, he had no right to look good at all. Eddie’s hands were shaking, his breath was shattered, his heart pounded too fast, his head spun until he was dizzy, the room a blur.
“What’s today's match again, Bruno?”
“Stopwatch verse Spitfire, sir,” Bruno grunted, watching Charles nod his head.
“Those two? Again?” he turned to Eddie, “You’ve gotta go find new fresh meet, my good treasure .”
Eddie felt his heart pound in his chest as he nodded his head. Charles ushered Bruno out of the room as Eddie followed after him.
Charles grabbed onto the back of Eddie’s belt, pulling him back towards him until he hit the arm of the chair, Charles grabbing his shoulder as he fell back into Charles’s lap, “I don’t think you’re going anywhere just yet, are you?” He placed Eddie’s hat back on his face, Eddie adjusting it to look up at Charles, who held his chin again.
“No, sir.”
“Good treasure.”