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Read the Fine Print (NeedleTeeth & BlueAmbient)

Emery folds his arms behind his back, leading the way out of the imp enclosure and down the hall to the elevator. He keeps glancing at Mitch, watching him walk. Clearly, sleep had done him good, as he's not even limping after taking two cocks. Of course Emery had seen what was going on, Even after delivering the other breeders to their assigned enclosures, Emery had plenty of time to check in on each one. It's only the second day, and already, Emery is finding he has a preference for Mitch. This young man has given in to his task so readily; Emery had seen the way Mitch quickly got the imps started.

Silence remains between them until they reach the lab. Emery fetches a handful of vials, setting them upright in a warmer. Then he beckons Mitch over. "Come here, lean over the desk." As soon as Mitch does what he's told, Emery's hands are on his bare skin. Fingers of one hand press into his ass cheek, while the other gently loosens the glue holding the ring in place. With a slow pulling motion, careful not to rip the thin sack, Emery removes the sample filled sack from within Mitch's body. the sensation is similar to pulling out a plug. The sample has been kept warm by Mitch's body heat, so it's still very much viable.

Emery leans over Mitch, pressing him against the desk on purpose, while he pour the sample into the tubes and caps them. The weight of his body is very different from that of the imps; solid muscle, a much larger frame than Mitch's own. When Emery straightens, one hand presses to the middle of Mitch's shoulders to keep him down. "So, you enjoyed the imps. I'll make note of that in your employment file." His free hand reaches to a drawer to the side, opening it to pull out a package of wipes. They're specially designed to remove any leftover medical glue. Emery runs the wipe across Mitch's ass cheek first, then slowly rubs it around his hole. It's a pretty intimate touch, but Emery does it with complete professional detachment. "I believe you will settle into your work quite well from now on."
 
Mitch was hesitant, but did as he was told, acknowledging the fact if he complied they could be done faster. The boy silently leaned himself over the table, jolting when immediate fingers began to prod at his rear, but he forced himself to calm down. Emery was just pulling out the sample, he was fine... He held still as the silicone was peeled from the sensitive skin, but couldn't help but squirm when the contents were gingerly pulled from his hole, stretching the ring of muscle. It wasn't much compared to the abuse it took a few hours ago, but it didn't stop the achey flesh from protesting.

Though, once the sac was free, Mitch was suddenly pressed against the desk. The brunet tensed beneath the other man, his breath hitching in his chest. How was this necessary? Did Emery think he would flee? Where could he even run to if he wanted to? Though, the more he focused on the weight holding him down, the more he didn't like it. He couldn't throw him off if he wanted to like he could an imp. The positioning was much too precarious for comfort as well, the boy vulnerable and nude.

The mention of the imps brought a flustered grumble from his throat. "They were fine," he corrected, enjoying too big of a term for him to own up to, even if it was true. He liked their soft touches, something Emery was vaguely recreating as he wiped away some glue residue. The cool wipe soothed the sore muscles there and Mitch reluctantly allowed it, not wanting to admit he enjoyed that too. "It's just a job, that's it." The money offered was the only thing keeping him from brute-forcing the code on the lock... and maybe the comfy accommodations and good food. It was better than couch hopping.
 
Emery chuckles softly, one hand sliding across the skin of Mitch's ass and down the back of his thigh. It's like he's tracing the boy's shape. "You were certainly encouraging the imps, and it definitely didn't sound like you were unhappy about it." Emery is teasing Mitch, letting the boy know he'd been watching at least a portion of the session. "Are you afraid to admit you like being dominated?"

Emery steps back, letting Mitch up. He nods to the boy's clothes, as though giving permission for him to dress. He doesn't turn away, clearly watching Mitch. Emery has never cared to admire his employees before, but this one is certainly attractive. Maybe that's why the imps responded so readily to him. "In any case, you have a free day tomorrow. You can either spend it in your quarters., or you can spend it here with me, assisting with my work. Most choose to remain in their quarters."

Emery makes a dismissive gesture, as though he doesn't care which option Mitch chooses. At the same time, he beckons the boy to follow him. "Let's return you, so I can come back to my work for the day. Make your decision by the time we get to your quarters. I won't be visiting you again today to learn your answer." Emery leads the way out of the lab, heading for the housing hall.
 
Mitch didn't reply, just burning hotter in embarrassment. He was screwed no matter what he said as saying yes would be an addition and saying no would only prove Emery's point, so he said nothing at all, trying not to squirm too much at the touches to his thighs. He pled with his body not to react, but it gave a pleasant shiver regardless, his body receptive to the tracing hand even if his mind wasn't.

The weight lifted from his back and the young man quickly straightened, not giving Emery the chance to do anything else, turning to keep the other man safely in his sight. Thankfully, it didn't seem he had the intention to, allowing him to put on his clothes again, but an expectant pause from Mitch revealed it would be done under supervision. The boy gave a quiet huff through his nose, but got dressed regardless. Emery's seen him naked possibly more than he's seen him clothed at this point; he supposed it didn't matter.

The offer made Mitch cock an eyebrow at Emery. He'd let him help? Without worry of sabotage or escape? Though... Mitch doubted the likelihood of either being successful, just ruining his chances of being paid after this was all over. He didn't respond at first, just quietly debating his options as he followed Emery back to his apartment. Silence remained all until they reached his door.

"I... think I wanna help. For something to do," he murmured. Time alone to rest in his room was nice at first, but then he got into his own head and started getting paranoid, started contemplating escape and stress cooking just to busy his mind. He just needed something to keep his hands working.
 
In front of Mitch's apartment door, Emery turns to look at the boy with a raised eyebrow. He's surprised, and it actually shows on his face. None of his employees have ever chosen that option, preferring to have nothing extra to do with their employment circumstances. But after a moment, Emery's expression returns to normal, and he keys in the code to the door, blocking the pinpad from Mitch's view, of course. "Alright, then you will work with me in the lab on your days off from collecting. I will come get you in the morning, at 8am sharp, so be sure you've eaten."

Emery steps aside to let Mitch enter his apartment, watching him walk in. Once the boy is inside, Emery closes the door, listening to the lock hiss shut. He then returns to his lab for the day, but remains distracted by the thought of having someone else handle his work. In the end, he only comes up with ways to keep Mitch busy, simple tasks that are also relatively involved in what he's doing. By the evening, Emery is sighing repeatedly, annoyed that he didn't really get much actual work done. He retires to his own quarters regardless and, after a quick meal of frozen microwave lasagna, retires to bed.
 
Mitch gave a small nod in acknowledgment of the new instruction, feeling a bit of pride he managed to surprise the other man. It wasn't much, but the fact that he could crack that always-professional shell of Emery, even for a moment, made him feel like he had some control. Though, right after he was escorted right back into essentially his fancy cell. It looked like an apartment, but it wasn't... it was his own little enclosure. The kitchen, the tv, it was just enrichment, a treat in an iceblock. Maybe the lab would make him feel less trapped, like he had more of a job than being a living condom for whatever creatures resided below.

The boy spent the rest of his time awake cooking and reading. It was a productive way to keep his mind busy, making himself a quiche that could be eaten in the morning and for dinner now. He made himself a plate, grabbing one of the books on monsters off the shelf and flipping through. He wanted to know what he was getting into, having resigned to the fact he was likely going to stay. For the money, of course, and nothing else.

Mitch resigned early and woke up earlier, giving him more than enough time to eat, get dressed, and prepare for a job he had effectively taken on a whim. He sat on the couch, just waiting for the tell-tale hiss of the door to let him know he was needed.
 
Emery arrives to collect Mitch at 8am, exactly, just as he'd said. The doors hisses as it slides open, and Emery steps in. Today, he's wearing a black three-quarter sleeve top that fits tight to his torso, and a pair of relaxed fit jeans, navy instead of black. His thick hair is a shaggy mess, and he keeps pushing it back from his face. Emery hadn't slept well the night before, and it shows in the way his eyes seem more dull than usual. "Mr. Collins, you had best be ready, I am not waiting for you."

Emery seems more snappish than previously, another hint of his tiredness. Emery would never admit, but he suffers from random bouts of insomnia, which generally last a few days. It's not complete insomnia, as he does sleep, but very little. Emery folds his arms over his chest, leaning his hip and shoulder against the wall. His impatience today is evident. "Let's go, Mr. Collins."
 
Mitch blinked at how Emery's appearance had changed overnight. He was normally so put together, yet now there he stood, disheveled and exhausted. For a second he worried if something had gone wrong the night before, but with the man's curt words and clear impatience, he began to wonder if he was the problem. Emery seemed fine the night before he offered to help...

The young man stood up from where he was sitting, dressed casually in a green long-sleeve shirt and jeans. He remembered a little from high school labs: nothing too loose fitting and nothing that showed too much skin, a slight deviation from his preference for baggier clothing. "I'm ready," he huffed, just as curt and short as he made his way out of the door. A part of him wanted to snap back with something more, to tell Emery to put away his attitude when he was the one to offer the option, but he kept quiet. The man looked so tired... "I promise not to mess things up... if that's something you're worried about." His tone didn't portray much sympathy, but with how he glanced Emery over when he passed, a hint of concern showed through his gaze.
 
Emery doesn't seem to notice the concern on Mitch's face, lifting one hand to cover a yawn. He only hums in answer to Mitch's promise, turning to lead the way out of the apartment. Down the hall to the elevator, the short ride done in silence, then through the next hall to the lab. "I need to move samples to a new freezer, but it needs to be done carefully. The samples can't thaw, or the suspended cells will die. The freezer they're in will be repurposed for a shipment of eggs I'll be receiving in two days time."

Emery crosses the floor of the lab to a freezer labeled 'Healthy Specimens'. He points to another freezer some ten feet away, this one unlabeled. "Move the samples from this freezer to that one, then move the door label. I have sample slides I made last night to check, so I'll be over there at the desk. If you drop any samples, you will get extra shifts with their respective creatures to replace them." Emery's voice is firm, commanding. He yawns again as he turns away, heading to on of the many desk surfaces, this one with a microscope. Sitting down, he sets to panning the microscope lens over one of the ten slides beside him.
 
Mitch followed quietly, nodding along to the instructions. It seemed simple enough, even if he had to be careful. Like stocking eggs in a grocery store... but with a whole species of monster at stake instead of just an eggy mess to clean up. Reassuring.

He glanced to the freezer he was taken to, then the unlabeled one a few feet away as Emery gestured to it. That seemed like a doable distance. "Yeah... understood," he replied to the man's threat of consequences. He didn't plan on dropping any, on purpose or not. Emery looked like he had enough to deal with... not that he should care. He was effectively kidnapped, he shouldn't care at all if his captor was exhausted or snappy.

Still... he did his work diligently and quietly. He made sure not to carry too many glass tubes at once, holding them closer to the tops so his body heat wouldn't transfer as much to the frozen samples. He was holding them for less than a few minutes as he moved from freezer to freezer, transferring them safely to where they needed to be, but he couldn't be too careful. He didn't want to get extra shifts nor did he want to harm the conservation work. He wasn't exactly enthused about his unwilling role to play in it, but it wasn't the monster's fault and it wasn't fair to take it out on them.
 
By the time Mitch has finished, Emery has moved on to a new set of slides, these ones stained purple. The purple allows him to see more specific defects, to weed out inferior samples. A little over an hour has passed, and Emery seems to be ignoring Mitch for the moment. He's got an open notebook beside him, several series of numbers and species titles written down in very precise handwriting. Every few minutes, Emery lifts his head from the microscope to add something to the notebook.

Emery's phone rings and he sighs, setting down his pen and answering the call. Most of the conversation comes from the other side, and just the occasional hum or one to two word answers from Emery. The the conversation changes, and Emery's expression twists into anger. "What?! Who hired them? If they can't be responsible, why are they on my payroll?.. No, I don't want excuses, I want my products... Well, find someone else, I need this shipment on time. Any longer and my current samples will be no good."

Emery hangs up with a growl, leaning back in his chair and tossing his phone down on the lab counter. He growls, rubbing his hands across his face. "People are so incompetent!"
 
Mitch had finished his chore, but remained quiet as he saw Emery still immersed in his work. He could speak up to get assigned something else to do... but maybe he'd wait until the man seemed done... God, something had to be wrong with him. All his captor had to do was wake up on the wrong side of the bed and now all of a sudden Mitch lost all of his bite. Mitch huffed, more disgruntled at his own behavior than he was at Emery. He sat by the now empty freezer, waiting for new instructions.

The boy perked up at the sound of Emery's phone going off. Some pavlovian responce was telling him to check his own, but his pockets were empty.... He briefly wondered if anyone had tried calling him yet, if they knew he was missing, but he pushed those thoughts out of his head quickly. He knew the answer and he didn't like it. A distraction soon came in the form of angry yelling, pulling Mitch's attention back to Emery.

"Just figuring that out? What went wrong?" It sounded like a shipment was misplaced or ruined, and with the talk they just had about eggs, he wouldn't be surprised if it was them, though he hoped it wasn't. He was all for Emery having to deal with minor inconveniences, but that would affect the conservation work too.
 
Emery looks toward Mitch when he speaks, sighing heavily. He still looks angry, one leg bouncing with barely contained energy. He shakes his head briefly, then decides it doesn't matter if Mitch knows the cause of his anger. "The driver of my shipment got so drunk yesterday that he's currently at the hospital being treated for alcohol poisoning. So now my shipment of eggs is just sitting in a refrigerated truck at the warehouse lot, waiting for a driver. If I don't receive that shipment by tomorrow, I'll have to start over this round of samples."

Emery's agitation remains obvious as he looks back to the microscope. His mood is no good for his work now, he wont' be able to focus. Normally, he would leave and go outside, walk around the estate. But with Mitch here, he can't do that, unwilling to risk his newest employee attempting to leave. So he sits in anger, folding his arms over his chest, leg bouncing, staring at his microscope.
 
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