As soon as Ollie slipped out of his dreams, he knew something was wrong. The ache in his lower back that he always woke up with wasn’t there, nor was any other pain he had expected upon waking.  
	Was his punishment so severe that he had been out for days? But his consciousness had never stopped the tarantula before.  
	He opened his brown eyes cautiously, and they met an expanse of cobalt blue that almost seemed to shimmer in the light that fell through the open window. The already erratic beating of his heart stalled for a second. Lazarus had never slept this long, he was always up before Ollie even attempted wakefulness.  
	An amused chuckle rumbled through the tarantula’s chest, making Ollie flinch away.  
	“Is everything alright?” Lazarus asked, he brought a hand up to grip the dormouse’s shoulder.  
	“Y-yes Mr. Melville!” Ollie squeaked.  
	“Come now, Ollie, you haven’t called me that since we first met.” He pressed his lips against Ollie’s forehead; palpi gently stroked the golden brown fur of his temples before the tarantula moved away.  
	A spark of pleasure warmed Ollie’s face and made a home in his chest. It was something that he hadn’t felt since Lazarus had been truly forward with him. Then he realized that he was leaning towards the man, wanting more contact. He jerked back, but the movement accidentally made him slide off the bed.  
	“Ollie!” was the cried response from Lazarus. He immediately moved to the dormouse’s side, six arms shaking as they extended, almost seeming hesitant to touch.  
	Dark brown eyes blinked sluggishly, and a warm numbness was racing from the areas of his body that had hit the floor. This was familiar. So much so, in fact, that Ollie felt comforted by it.  
	“Ollie, come on.” Lazarus groaned, sure that a simple fall could not knock out his accident prone lover.  
	A frown made its way across Ollie’s golden face. He had thought that after the initial reaction, the concern would quickly fade away (after Lazarus was sure that he was not dead, he wasn’t allowed to die). But it seemed to persist, even growing in the presence of his unresponsiveness.  
	“I’m alright,” the dormouse assured the distraught tarantula. “Just a bit shocked.”  
	Lazarus’s brow crinkled slightly, searching for any deception (he was always so adept at knowing when you were lying). When he found none, his face smoothed out, even becoming brighter as a smile split the cobalt blue fur.  
	“You really shouldn’t scare me like that, Oliver.” He spread his hand out against Ollie’s chest; it clutched the soft material (which the dormouse only just noticed was an old pair of pyjamas, from even before Lazarus had burned all of his old things).  
	He was pulled up, the tarantula making their mouths slot together. It was incredibly chaste, compared to what Lazarus usually kissed like, always rough, dominating. A whimper escaped when Lazarus pulled away, making the elder man smile.  
	“As much as I want to continue, we have work soon.”  
	Ollie gasped, “I-I can go to work?”  
	The crease was back, and eight pitch black eyes stared down at him quizzically. “Unless you don’t want to.”  
	“I do!” Ollie all but yelled, scrambling up out of Lazarus’s shadow and over to the closet.  
	Upon opening it, he was amazed to not see a plethora of suits (in fact, only a small sliver of them could be seen amidst the array of colours). He quickly pulled out something that he liked and scampered quickly to the bathroom, leaving an amused, but worried Lazarus still kneeling slightly on the floor.

-

	The past few weeks had been the best that Ollie had had in such a long time. Truthfully, he couldn’t really remember being so happy. He was currently sitting on one of the lab tables where he worked, swinging his solitary real leg back and forth as he waited for its technological twin and right arm to be finished.  
	“Alright, Ollie!” Lazarus walked over, the dormouse’s leg held by his two sets of secondary arms while his primary arms held a clipboard and a pencil. “What exactly did you have done to it?” He inquired as he made some final notes before placing them down and taking a closer look at the leg.  
	“We decided to try and make it lighter, making more of the components carbon fibre.” Ollie looked proudly at the leg in his lover’s arms. If this went well, it could go beta testing soon.  
	“How does that work with the friction caused by the gears?” Lazarus bade the dormouse to lie down and he rested the fake leg against the table.  
	“The gears are still steel; we just changed out the screws.”  
	“Are you sure you want to be the one to test this?”  
	“Yes.”  
	“What if it hurts?”  
	“I’m pretty sure I’ve had worse.”  
	Lazarus sighed, finally accepting that he wouldn’t be able to talk Ollie out of doing it. “On the count of three then?” He inquired, lining the leg up with the meagre stump.  
	“Yeah.”  
	“One-”  
	As his nerves got connected, Ollie expected the jolt of pain, which was unavoidable. But he could never have anticipated the absolute agony that started to spread from the stump of his leg to the rest of his body. It overcame him so fast, he didn’t even have time to scream before darkness took him, and along with it blessed numbness.

-

	When Ollie came to, he felt like he was floating, mouth and ears stuffed with cotton. Bleary eyes cast around the room he was in, trying to find something to focus on. A patch of blue shifted and came closer.  
	It said something, it was too muffled for the dormouse to understand, but a warm hand on his chest made him smile placidly. There was a special brand of warmth that was only Lazarus’s.  
	“Wha happn’d, Lazrus?” Ollie slurred, his voice sounded very strange.  
	“So I’m Lazarus now?” Was the cold answer, the hand was removed.  
	Suddenly, everything sharpened almost painfully fast. The dark eyes that stared at him, though still fuzzy, were blank, no trace of the warmth and love that had been in them in what seemed like only a few minutes previously.  
	“Did you really think you could get out by messing with your leg?” Lazarus pulled the cream coloured blanket away, the chill of the room easily settling over the uncovered fur.  
	Ollie looked down, finding his naked body covered in many more scars that weren’t there before, and various stages of bruising that made his barely visible skin blotchy. Brown eyes started to prickle with the onset of tears. He tried to bring his hand up to wipe them away, but it wouldn’t follow his command.  
	The golden head rolled over, finding that his left arm was securely tied to one of the bedposts. The rope that bound it was embedded into the red flesh. It looked like it hurt terribly, but why did he feel no pain?  
	Unkind and humourless laughter came from the tarantula as he made the blanket slip completely off of the bed, revealing a left leg that was in much the same condition as Ollie’s arm.  
	“M-Mr. Melville,” he began, trying in vain to placate the man who owned him.  
	Lazarus scoffed, “I don’t think you can call me that anymore.” The grey silk tie that was hanging lazily from the tarantula’s neck was whipped off, and the bed dipped as he straddled his pet’s chest. “You don’t even deserve to say my name, you piece of filth.”  
	“Mas-” Ollie tried, but was cut off by a sharp slap.  
	The tie was slid around the dormouse’s neck, deftly tied, and tightened to the point where air only trickled in. He was pulled forwards, palpus gently stroking a cheek as Lazarus whispered in his ear.  
	“Keep trying.”  
	Grinding of metal on metal made Ollie flinch as Lazarus pulled his pants zipper down, revealing the head of his already erect cock. He guided the mustard yellow flesh to the dormouse’s mouth, pressing it against his lips. Ollie kept his mouth tightly shut until the tie was jerked on, making it even harder to breathe, and a strong hand forced his jaw open. It easily slipped in, rubbing a thin film of precum over the pink tongue, the salty taste making Ollie salivate.  
	Lazarus set a slow pace. Every other roll of his hips brought him further down the dormouse’s throat until there was a choking noise that punctuated every thrust.  
	“Thought of something else to call me yet?” The tarantula growled, tugging even harder on the tie before withdrawing completely. He lazily stoked his member as he waited for an answer.  
	A coughing fit overcame Ollie as he struggled to find an answer and breathe. There was nothing that he could think of that he was sure would appease Lazarus.  
	Evidently, he was taking too long because Lazarus growled again and pulled him closer.  
	“God,” Ollie whispered, more as a plea to a silent deity than an answer. But it seemed to do the trick, Lazarus stilled.  
	A smile fell over the tarantula’s lips, one so nice that Ollie could think, if only for a second, that all was well in the world. The tie was loosened, letting the poor man draw in a gasping breath as Lazarus got off of him.  
	“Good boy,” was the fleeting complement, coupled by a soft touch to Ollie’s forehead.  
	There was a snap, and Ollie’s arm fell to the bed, no longer held up by rope. The same was done to his leg.  
	“A doctor will be by tomorrow to take care of your arm and leg.” Lazarus mused before leaning over, getting closer. “We still have to discuss your punishment.”  
	A shudder wracked Ollie’s body, unconsciously leaning away.  
	“Did you really think you could leave me with a comatose body for five years and get away with it?”  
	When the dormouse didn’t answer, Lazarus grabbed his neck and pushed him into the bed.  
	The already harsh voice grew venomous. “I will not stand for disobedience, Oliver. You can be assured that whatever spirit you gained from your time off will be gone in due time.” He pulled away, knowing that his message had gotten through, shown in the tears that now fell through the golden fur.  
	“G-God.” Ollie choked out, his limp arm twitching in an attempt to raise and grasp onto Lazarus’s purple shirt.  
	“Shh,” the tarantula pressed a kiss to Ollie’s sweaty forehead. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” He swept out of the room. Leaning against the door for a second, he could hear the sobs coming from his pet much more easily. A smirk crossed his face before he continued down the hall.