Author's note

Okay, so I haven't published anything for a while - heavy RL issues got in the way, as always. I normally post a couple of times a week but this will probably be slower, so don't panic if it takes me longer than usual to get the next part up. I'm hoping that finishing this fic will kick-start me into getting the others done, too!

As to why Brian hasn't got a son in this one, I guess it's because I always felt Brian agreeing to be a father seemed kind of bizarre to me, considering how anti-family he was. So since this is an AU and I can take liberties, I have.

Everyone else will probably find their way into the story, eventually.

THE DOG STAR

"Say it!"

The voice is thick, desperate. He hates it as much as the searing pain of the lash on his buttocks, the even crueller bite of leather against the sensitive skin of his thighs. Almost as much as he hates the tears he can't disguise, the way his chest hitches with every blow. "No," he manages to get out, and he wishes he could make his voice sound defiant instead of the pathetic whimper which is all he can manage.

"You fucking will, you little whore!"

The lash falls harder, faster, and he tries to remind himself that Gary actually likes his pale, flawless skin and would be really, really pissed with himself if he caused any lasting damage. It doesn't help ease his current situation though, and he listens to the increasingly ragged gasps coming from behind him and prays it won't take much longer.

It doesn't. He gives a sob of relief as he hears Gary moaning and cursing with pain as he jacks off, and he feels a quick flash of bitter joy to know that the bastard is paying almost as high a price for release as he is. Then the hot splash of cum lands across his ass and lower back, thick and disgusting as it trickles slowly down his abused skin, and he shudders.

Some think he's called Sirius because Sirius is the brightest, most beautiful star in the firmament and so is he. Some say it's because he's every bit as cold and distant. But he knows he chose the name because Sirius is the Dog Star, and that's all he is. Gary Saperstein's toy poodle.

CHAPTER ONE

"Brian," Gardner Vance said, his heavy face wreathed in a genial and yet shark-like grin. "Come in. Take a seat. May I offer you a drink? Coffee? Or brandy?"

I considered him warily. A jovial Vance usually meant he was about to spring a surprise … one that he was pretty certain I wasn't going to enjoy. As senior partner he always seemed particularly gleeful about discomfiting me, while I made it a point of honour never to let him see that I was rattled. "No thanks," I replied, settling myself into the plush leather chair and raising my eyebrows at him casually, determined not to hand him the psychological advantage by speaking first.

I didn't have long to wait.

"You know Gary Saperstein?" he asked.

I shrugged. "I've run into him a couple of times. Can't say I enjoyed the pleasure."

Vance placed his hands on the grey folder lying on the desk before him and laced his fingers together. "That's unfortunate," he said, smiling thinly. "Because he wants to employ Vangard."

I blinked. Vangard was Vance's brainchild: the company offered a range of services to anyone wealthy enough to afford it, all tailored to the client's personal requirements. If you were the manager of a touring rock band, TV celebrity or sport star and you needed security, accommodation or even a venue for your pampered charges then Vangard could arrange it, from chefs to cater for their specialist diets to personal trainers to keep them in tip-top condition. I had joined them three years ago from Ryders advertising agency to head up the marketing side of the company and had only recently made partner: I'd put together a complete package for Cindy Lauper when she played at the Ironmen's Stadium which had so impressed her that Vance had offered me a junior partnership on the spot.

I'm pretty sure he's regretted that fit of misguided enthusiasm ever since.

Gary Saperstein was a relative newcomer to the Pittsburgh social scene: he had arrived from New York a few years ago, surprising everyone by buying a run-down warehouse on the south bank of the Monogahela and then spending a considerable fortune on redeveloping it into a nightclub cum restaurant, the Starlight, with a luxury penthouse for himself on top. Nobody knew if he'd used his own funds or if he had a rich backer to finance the project but there was no denying Saperstein had invested wisely, because the Starlight had rapidly become one of the most exclusive and popular clubs in Pittsburgh. Other than that I knew little about the man, and what I did know I didn't like: he was obnoxiously arrogant, had a taste for nubile boys, a bad coke habit and appalling dress sense. I'd seen him a few times at Babylon: a short, sharp-featured man with lank, thinning hair, unremarkable except for his lurid shirts and tacky jewellery, surrounded by a fawning train of tweaked youthful sycophants. An air of sleaziness seemed to cling to him like a bad smell despite his undoubted wealth, and I had christened him 'the Sap' on the spot. I wasn't in any hurry to extend our acquaintanceship.

"Why would Gary Saperstein need us?" I asked.

Vance didn't answer immediately; he opened the folder, took out what looked like a publicity photo and slid it across the desk. "Have you heard of this lad?"

The boy was beautiful, no getting away from it: blond hair falling in soft waves almost to his shoulders, pale, flawless skin shaded by high cheek bones, lusciously bowed lips parted in a slight pout. The photograph was in black-and-white except for the boy's eyes, which were of a shade of blue that I regretfully decided could only have been generated by a computer. Their colour was repeated in the font slashed across the bottom of the photo: SIRIUS. As a publicity shot it was excellent: given the boy's evident youth and regular features the effect could have been saccharine-sweet had the kid been smiling; instead he was looking out at the viewer with an almost haunting gravity. My eyes were drawn constantly back to the blue gaze, and to the intensity of the expression in them. I glanced back at Vance.

"What's his name?"

Vance flicked a finger at the photo. "As it says … Sirius." He pronounced it sirrus. "You know … the Dog Star?"

"I'm aware. What are his parents, New Age hippies?"

"I have no idea if he was christened that way or if it's a stage name, but it's the only one he goes by, apparently." Vance put his head on one side and studied me. "It seems that Mr. Saperstein discovered the lad singing in an amateur talent contest and has spent considerable time and money grooming him for stardom. Sirius is now the biggest attraction at the Starlight, and Mr. Saperstein is anxious to keep it that way."

Yeah, I could just imagine the kind of 'star quality' the Sap would be likely to recognise, and hell would freeze over before I'd pay good money to listen to it. But this Sirius kid was exactly the type of pretty twink the Sap preferred, so I figured I could guess the sort of grooming the sleazeball would have used on him – it made me wonder about the parents who were prepared to let their son sell his body just to get a chance of becoming the next Justin Bieber, because I doubted the boy was of legal age. Fortunately it wasn't up to me to judge them. I frowned at Vance.

"And how is that anything to do with Vangard?"

Vance sat back and sighed. "It seems young Sirius can be quite a handful, despite his angelic appearance. He's apt to go off the rails if he's not supervised … he's already been involved in a couple of unsavoury incidents, and since Mr. Saperstein has a business trip to Philadelphia coming up he wants somebody completely trustworthy to keep an eye on the lad while he's out of town."

I rolled my eyes. "Jesus, how much trouble can someone who looks about twelve get in?"

"Actually he's eighteen. Old enough to get married, vote or join the army." Vance smiled fleetingly. "I've heard the boy sing, Brian … I must admit he has an extraordinary talent. I can understand why Mr. Saperstein wouldn't want his investment ruined by a few youthful indiscretions."

I thought that the idea of his toyboy spreading his favours around the moment the Sap's back was turned was the more likely reason for his concern, but again, it wasn't my business. "He needs a babysitter for his little princess, does he? Well, that's no problem … I'll have Cynthia pick some reliable people…"

"Mr. Saperstein doesn't want just anyone, Brian," Vance interrupted smoothly. "He wants you … and only you."

I found my mouth hanging open and closed it hurriedly. "What?" I snapped, despite my best efforts to keep both my surprise and anger in check. "Me? Fuck off, Gardner. I'm a partner now, remember? I don't do shit like that anymore than you do. That's what we have employees for!"

Vance was wearing his patient expression but I could still see the amusement in the fucker's eyes. "I think we can make an exception in this case, considering the fee Mr. Saperstein is willing to part with in order to ensure his protégé doesn't find himself in any more … shall we say, embarrassing situations."

I clenched my fists. "I don't care how much he's paying, I've got better things to do than to run around after some pretentious kid wiping his snotty nose for him!"

"Actually, you haven't," Vance replied coolly. "I shouldn't have to remind you that you are only the junior partner … and that I still have the right of executive decisions."

He gave me a moment to reflect before adopting a more conciliatory tone. "Come, Brian, let's not fall out over this. At the most it will only be for a few days. Plus I can guarantee full expenses and a generous bonus as recompense for your time."

I glared at him. "So, what? I'm supposed to take this kid around, keep him amused, that sort of thing?" I had a nightmare vision of trailing around the Pitts after a spoiled, wilful brat bent on getting his ass jailed.

"Well, yes … partly. The lad's not under house arrest or anything. But it seems he's quite adept at giving people the slip, so Mr. Saperstein expects you to keep an eye on him at all times. To which end you'll be staying in the guest suite at the Starlight, with full use of all facilities, of course."

My eyebrows shot up. "The kid lives with Saperstein?" I'd never heard it mentioned that the Sap was in a relationship, and he certainly never acted like he was. I'd never spotted the kid amongst his entourage either.

"Mr. Saperstein's personal arrangements aren't my concern, Brian. All I know is that the lad lives at the Starlight."

"But Saperstein's got his own employees," I objected. "Why can't he delegate one of them to babysit for him?"

"Because he doesn't trust them to," Vance said simply. "Mr. Saperstein might be gay, but he runs a straight club and his employees are straight. From what he tells me Sirius isn't popular with them, or they with him. Mr. Saperstein feels someone of a similar sexual orientation might have a better chance of striking up a rapport with the lad."

"Just a minute." This whole idea was getting weirder and weirder. "If Saperstein knows anything about me at all, he knows about my reputation and the kind of clubs I hang out in. So why the fuck would he trust me to move in with his hot little piece of ass? I wouldn't, if I were in his shoes."

I had the pleasure of seeing a small flush of embarrassment creep up Vance's cheeks. "Mr. Saperstein is fully aware of your lifestyle, Brian. In fact, he feels that it uniquely qualifies you as a companion, because the lad will find it very difficult to pull the wool over your eyes. You know what to look out for. As for not trusting you, Mr. Saperstein has done his research. He knows that above all you are a professional, and would never allow your personal leanings to interfere with a business arrangement. He knows that you don't fuck the clients."

Well, he had that right. I don't … not ever, no matter how great the temptation. Fortunately in this case I didn't think I'd be tempted very much: sure the kid was hot, if you liked that sort of thing, but I'd never found blond chicken that much of a turn on. And even if I had, spoilt wannabee celebrities with an abysmal taste in sugar daddies always made my dick soft.

Vance reached over and removed the kid's photo from my hand. He replaced it in the folder and passed the whole thing back to me. "Mr. Saperstein has supplied a short profile about Sirius for you. Just a few personal details so that he won't be a total stranger … likes, dislikes, that sort of thing. I suggest you take a look at it before this evening."

"This evening?"

"Yes. You're to be Mr. Saperstein's guest at the Starlight … you can have a meal and catch Sirius' performance before you meet him."

Great. Friday night at a straight nightclub in the scintillating company of The Sap, being serenaded by his toyboy sensation. I couldn't wait. I stood up, holding the folder loosely at my side.

"Oh, Gardner …"

He raised his eyebrows enquiringly.

"That bonus you mentioned … it had better be generous. Very generous."

TBC