Mercer likes to touch the milky white skin of his Master. He worships every inch of perfect softness with calloused hands and hungry lips until gasps and greedy moans fill the room. The young Master always wants more, though. It’s not enough for him to be treated as a God, he wants everything. He wants to kiss and touch not just be touched, he wants to own another’s body not just be pleasured. But Mercer always shies away from searching fingers, not once allowing his scarred face to be showered in kisses until one day he pulls too hard and severs the fragile bond between them.