Sequel in progress, part four
Aug. 20th, 2007 05:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maculategiraffePart Three
Alix gave them more than a few minutes— perhaps twenty– and although Quen had stopped crying by the time she came back, Jesse was thankful when she came back to take him. They kissed at the door to the bedroom, careful of Jesse’s mouth, before Quen tore himself away and followed Alix. Alix glanced back only once, Quen not at all, but it wasn’t until he heard the car start outside that Jesse let his control slip. His face twisting so hard that his mouth hurt, red and black building up behind his eyes, he spun around and punched the wall, the physical pain that shot through his fist and elbow such a relief that he kicked the bed till it shook and he thought he might have broken a toe. Then he flung himself face down on the bed, letting the pain fill him, hurting too badly for tears.
He was so preoccupied with riding out the flood of rage and misery that threatened to overwhelm him that it wasn’t until a gentle hand was laid on his back that he realized someone else was in the room with him, sitting on the edge of the bed. He rolled over quickly, his face carefully blank again.
“You okay?” Bran asked softly.
Jesse nodded, trying to smile.
“I know it’s all crazy,” said Bran. “I’m really sorry Quen had to leave already.”
“It’s good, though,” said Jesse, surprised and pleased by how normal his voice sounded. “They said it’s a perfect opportunity.”
“Yeah,” said Bran, “it’s good, but– it’s too bad. I was thinking he’d be here to help you get a bit more settled in, you know, so you’re not just wandering around all disoriented. But I’d like to try and help with that. If you want. I mean, I’ll leave you alone if you want, I just thought I’d– offer.”
“How come?” Jesse asked curiously, sitting up. Bran looked nothing like Quen, really– but something in his expression was like Quen’s wistful look when he wanted something but didn’t want to be a bother. Jesse’s instinctive distrust warred with his equally instinctive desire to turn that half-hopeful expression into a smile.
Bran shrugged, fidgeting slightly. “I know what it’s like to be new and confused. Of course it was easier for me, because I was being trained, so my master was there with me telling me what to do, but he’s not training you, and he’s busy a lot– and I’ve got free time. And–“ He blushed. “I heard a lot about you from Quen, before you came. More than– well, I was the only one near his own age, the rest of them sort of made him nervous, and I liked listening. He was so worried about you. He told me all day long about how wonderful you were, how bad it had gotten sometimes at Presniakov’s, how you always– looked after him. I– well, I sort of like you already, I guess.”
A real, if small, smile stretched Jesse’s swollen lips for the first time since the telephone had rung. Bran smiled back, and Jesse felt warmed, a little of the pain of Quen’s departure leaving his clenched muscles.
“Thanks,” he said. “I do need someone to show me around and explain what’s going on. Will you? I’d like that.”
Bran nodded, pleased. “Of course. I thought– you might like to hear– who everyone is around here?”
"Yeah," said Jesse. "There's the master and mistress, Alix and Holden, right, and then that old guy, Jer, and Yves-- they're both slaves? And there's someone named Inga?"
"Good memory," said Bran. "Yeah, Jer and Yves and I all belong to the master. Yves is a sweetheart. Jer is too, once you get to know him, but he's a little jumpy around people he sees as a threat– it might take him a while to warm up to you. Inga's a trainee, she’s seventeen, but she'll be leaving this week, so you probably won't see much of her-- but she's nice, anyway. The mistress has a slave named Greta, red hair, about thirty-five--"
"They like them well broken in, huh?" said Jesse, interested.
"I guess you could put it like that," said Bran wryly. "Yves and Greta have both lived here almost twenty years. They're sort of-- part of the family. Plus, well, it's a long story, but Greta, when she was young, she got pregnant, and the master and mistress sort of adopted her daughter."
"They took her baby?" Jesse asked with appalled fascination. "I bet that kept Greta in line!"
"It wasn't like that," said Bran, surprised. "They treat her like she's really their daughter. I mean, she knows Greta's her real mother, but-- she's nineteen now, Miss Valor is, she just recently moved out and got her own place, she's on scholarship at the university in Arthenia. But she comes over for dinner pretty often, so you'll see her too, probably. Tall, dark hair, very intense, scared the shit out of me when I first got here-- she's particularly good at pushing the master's buttons."
"Great," said Jesse. "Sounds like a lot of fun for the slaves."
Bran smiled slightly. "You don't have anything to worry about. Really. The master and mistress are-- they're-- you can trust them."
"Mmm." Jesse looked away. "I'm-- not quick to trust people, Bran. Especially not people who can legally kill me if I piss them off.”
“How about me?” Bran asked, serious again. “Think you could trust me? Quen did.”
Jesse smiled a little bitterly. “Quen trusted– trusts people, yeah. I mean, you seem really nice, and you’re being sweet as hell to me so far. But--”
“Fair enough,” said Bran philosophically. He hesitated, then said shyly, “Do you, um– would you like me to sleep here tonight? With you?”
“Is that okay?” Jesse asked, surprised. “I mean, with your– with the master and everything?”
Bran blushed. “Sleeping in the same bed, that’s fine. And if you wanted to– you know– touch, hold each other? But if you want– sex, or anything like that, I’ll have to ask him for permission. I don’t think he’d mind, but I’d have to ask.”
“No sex,” said Jesse quickly. “But sleeping. Yeah, that sounds nice.”
Bran undressed rather self-consciously, and folded his tunic neatly; Jesse dropped Presniakov’s tunic to the floor with a distaste that probably would have expressed itself with greater violence if Bran hadn’t been watching.
“There’s one in the drawer there,” said Bran tentatively. “I mean a green one. Like mine. For in the morning.”
“Great,” said Jesse again, and Bran smiled a little wryly at his palpable lack of enthusiasm, then flicked out the light. They climbed into bed from opposite sides and lay down, not quite touching.
“Thanks for this, Bran,” Jesse said softly. “I wouldn’t have liked to wake up alone.”
“I know,” said Bran gently, and moved closer in the dark, cuddling rather tentatively up against Jesse. Jesse moved closer as well, and kissed Bran impulsively on his naked shoulder.
“You sure you don’t want to have sex?” Bran whispered. “I’m pretty sure I can get permission.”
“No, I don’t want to,” said Jesse rather shortly, and was surprised when Bran pulled away immediately. “Sorry, I just– I’m really tired.”
“Course you are,” said Bran, sounding a little muffled. “Been a long day. Sleep well, Jess. See you in the morning, okay?”
Jesse lay still, his cock achingly hard, missing Bran’s touch. He wondered for a moment if he should tell Bran he’d changed his mind. But the idea of Bran asking permission from Holden was somehow insufferable, and he turned over, letting himself– for the first time in ten days– think about Quen.
Jesse woke up the next morning enveloped in warm arms and legs. For a moment he thought it was Quen wrapped around him, and panicked, jerking himself violently away; then he saw Bran’s hair and heard his slight groan of protest as he came awake. Heart still pounding, he tried to lie still, remembering where he was.
“Oh,” said Bran groggily. “Damn. Sorry.” He peeled himself the rest of the way off of Jesse, looking sheepish. “I should have warned you-- I can get a bit clingy in my sleep. Sorry to bother you.”
“No, no,” said Jesse awkwardly. “You didn’t. I just– it’s fine.”
“Thanks. I’ll try to keep my hands to myself in the future. I mean– if you want to–” Bran looked down. “We don’t have to do that again. I’ve got my own bed and all.”
Amused by Bran’s shyness, Jesse smiled reassuringly. “No, it was nice. I’d like to.”
Bran looked up, relieved, his glance lighting on the clock by the bed.
“Damn,” he said again. “Throw on your clothes, we’re late for breakfast. Top drawer there, by the bed.”
As Jesse scrambled to do so, someone knocked at the door.
“Come in,” Bran called, half into his tunic. Holden came in, darkly handsome in steel gray and black, and Jesse’s heart gave another unexpected lurch of terror. He glanced at Bran, who didn't kneel, so Jesse didn't either, but his hands shook as he tried to unfold the unfamiliar green garment.
“Morning,” said Holden, smiling and holding out a hand to Bran; Bran went to him eagerly, offering his mouth for a kiss, and Holden obliged, pulling Bran close and embracing him with obvious affection. “You two coming down?”
“We overslept, master,” said Bran apologetically, stepping back as Holden let him go.
“I came in earlier and you both looked very comfortable,” said Holden, and Jesse’s pulse raced. Presniakov had only had to catch Jesse and Quen asleep and entwined once to cure them of the habit forever. “I didn’t like to wake you. How late were you up?”
“Not much after Quen left,” said Bran. “I offered to show Jesse around and help him get adjusted, and he let me sleep here.”
“That’s nice,” Holden said, then looked at Jesse curiously. “You okay?”
Jesse moistened his lips and nodded.
“Maybe he’s just nervous around you, master,” said Bran. “You did punch him in the mouth yesterday for no apparent reason.”
“Mmm. Good point. Did I mention I’m sorry about that, Jesse?”
Jesse nodded silently.
“I am. Really. And you don’t have to come down to breakfast if you don’t want to. Fox made a few things that should be okay on your teeth, but she can leave them in the kitchen for you if you’d rather take it easy today, and Bran can bring them up to you later.”
Jesse nodded again.
“You can stay with him, Bran, if you want to,” said Holden. “I’m taking Inga to Galenova’s again this morning, and we probably won’t be back until after lunch. Then-- well, you know how Jer’s doing right now. I think in his mind there are at least six teenage boys currently staying here, and I’m fucking five of them. I’ll need to spend some time with him this afternoon, see if we can’t get it down to two and one. Today’s your day to go to the market, right? Want me to get someone else to go? Or would Jesse like to go with you?”
Bran glanced at Jesse. “Jess? Feeling up to getting out of the house? It might be nice. Take your mind off things.”
“Sure,” said Jesse, and cleared his throat. “If it– sure.”
“Fine,” said Holden. “You know where we keep the cash, Bran. Take some extra and browse around a bit if you like– have fun, annoy the vendors, try and get Jesse to relax a little. No solid food for him until those teeth heal, though, okay?”
Bran nodded, smiling into Holden’s eyes. “Thank you, master.”
Holden kissed him again, lightly. “My pleasure, sweetheart.”
“What’s wrong, Jess?” Bran asked when Holden was gone.
Jesse sighed. “I’m sorry. I guess he just makes me nervous, like you said.”
Bran nodded. “Don’t judge him on the way he acted at Presniakov’s. He’s not like that, not at all. He’s– nice.”
“Sure,” said Jesse, then gave Bran a quick smile. “You in love with him or something?”
Bran blushed crimson. “Is it really that obvious?”
“I’m observant,” said Jesse, touching Bran’s hot cheek gently. “Wow. I’ve never met a slave in love with his master before. I thought they were mythical. Lucky him.”
“Lucky me, you mean,” said Bran, smiling a little.
“Nah,” said Jesse. “Pretty sure I meant lucky him. Must be fun for him, having so many slaves, you and Yves and Jer all just to serve him, right? Plus whoever he’s training? Young and tender, old and broken in, scared and confused... all desperate for his attention. Yeah, that's not fucked up at all."
Bran raised his eyebrows. “You’ve been here about fifteen hours, Jess, and for twelve of them you were asleep. Observant or not, I’m pretty sure you don’t know my master as well as I do just yet.”
Jesse laughed, rather liking the flash of defiance from the shy boy. “No impugning the master's honor in front of you, huh? Okay, fine. I can keep my mouth shut. Just don't expect me to fall in love with him, too."
"Believe me," said Bran, "that’s the last thing I want. You want me to go down and grab you your breakfast? I’ll get something for me too, and we can eat and get out of here.”
Part Five
Alix gave them more than a few minutes— perhaps twenty– and although Quen had stopped crying by the time she came back, Jesse was thankful when she came back to take him. They kissed at the door to the bedroom, careful of Jesse’s mouth, before Quen tore himself away and followed Alix. Alix glanced back only once, Quen not at all, but it wasn’t until he heard the car start outside that Jesse let his control slip. His face twisting so hard that his mouth hurt, red and black building up behind his eyes, he spun around and punched the wall, the physical pain that shot through his fist and elbow such a relief that he kicked the bed till it shook and he thought he might have broken a toe. Then he flung himself face down on the bed, letting the pain fill him, hurting too badly for tears.
He was so preoccupied with riding out the flood of rage and misery that threatened to overwhelm him that it wasn’t until a gentle hand was laid on his back that he realized someone else was in the room with him, sitting on the edge of the bed. He rolled over quickly, his face carefully blank again.
“You okay?” Bran asked softly.
Jesse nodded, trying to smile.
“I know it’s all crazy,” said Bran. “I’m really sorry Quen had to leave already.”
“It’s good, though,” said Jesse, surprised and pleased by how normal his voice sounded. “They said it’s a perfect opportunity.”
“Yeah,” said Bran, “it’s good, but– it’s too bad. I was thinking he’d be here to help you get a bit more settled in, you know, so you’re not just wandering around all disoriented. But I’d like to try and help with that. If you want. I mean, I’ll leave you alone if you want, I just thought I’d– offer.”
“How come?” Jesse asked curiously, sitting up. Bran looked nothing like Quen, really– but something in his expression was like Quen’s wistful look when he wanted something but didn’t want to be a bother. Jesse’s instinctive distrust warred with his equally instinctive desire to turn that half-hopeful expression into a smile.
Bran shrugged, fidgeting slightly. “I know what it’s like to be new and confused. Of course it was easier for me, because I was being trained, so my master was there with me telling me what to do, but he’s not training you, and he’s busy a lot– and I’ve got free time. And–“ He blushed. “I heard a lot about you from Quen, before you came. More than– well, I was the only one near his own age, the rest of them sort of made him nervous, and I liked listening. He was so worried about you. He told me all day long about how wonderful you were, how bad it had gotten sometimes at Presniakov’s, how you always– looked after him. I– well, I sort of like you already, I guess.”
A real, if small, smile stretched Jesse’s swollen lips for the first time since the telephone had rung. Bran smiled back, and Jesse felt warmed, a little of the pain of Quen’s departure leaving his clenched muscles.
“Thanks,” he said. “I do need someone to show me around and explain what’s going on. Will you? I’d like that.”
Bran nodded, pleased. “Of course. I thought– you might like to hear– who everyone is around here?”
"Yeah," said Jesse. "There's the master and mistress, Alix and Holden, right, and then that old guy, Jer, and Yves-- they're both slaves? And there's someone named Inga?"
"Good memory," said Bran. "Yeah, Jer and Yves and I all belong to the master. Yves is a sweetheart. Jer is too, once you get to know him, but he's a little jumpy around people he sees as a threat– it might take him a while to warm up to you. Inga's a trainee, she’s seventeen, but she'll be leaving this week, so you probably won't see much of her-- but she's nice, anyway. The mistress has a slave named Greta, red hair, about thirty-five--"
"They like them well broken in, huh?" said Jesse, interested.
"I guess you could put it like that," said Bran wryly. "Yves and Greta have both lived here almost twenty years. They're sort of-- part of the family. Plus, well, it's a long story, but Greta, when she was young, she got pregnant, and the master and mistress sort of adopted her daughter."
"They took her baby?" Jesse asked with appalled fascination. "I bet that kept Greta in line!"
"It wasn't like that," said Bran, surprised. "They treat her like she's really their daughter. I mean, she knows Greta's her real mother, but-- she's nineteen now, Miss Valor is, she just recently moved out and got her own place, she's on scholarship at the university in Arthenia. But she comes over for dinner pretty often, so you'll see her too, probably. Tall, dark hair, very intense, scared the shit out of me when I first got here-- she's particularly good at pushing the master's buttons."
"Great," said Jesse. "Sounds like a lot of fun for the slaves."
Bran smiled slightly. "You don't have anything to worry about. Really. The master and mistress are-- they're-- you can trust them."
"Mmm." Jesse looked away. "I'm-- not quick to trust people, Bran. Especially not people who can legally kill me if I piss them off.”
“How about me?” Bran asked, serious again. “Think you could trust me? Quen did.”
Jesse smiled a little bitterly. “Quen trusted– trusts people, yeah. I mean, you seem really nice, and you’re being sweet as hell to me so far. But--”
“Fair enough,” said Bran philosophically. He hesitated, then said shyly, “Do you, um– would you like me to sleep here tonight? With you?”
“Is that okay?” Jesse asked, surprised. “I mean, with your– with the master and everything?”
Bran blushed. “Sleeping in the same bed, that’s fine. And if you wanted to– you know– touch, hold each other? But if you want– sex, or anything like that, I’ll have to ask him for permission. I don’t think he’d mind, but I’d have to ask.”
“No sex,” said Jesse quickly. “But sleeping. Yeah, that sounds nice.”
Bran undressed rather self-consciously, and folded his tunic neatly; Jesse dropped Presniakov’s tunic to the floor with a distaste that probably would have expressed itself with greater violence if Bran hadn’t been watching.
“There’s one in the drawer there,” said Bran tentatively. “I mean a green one. Like mine. For in the morning.”
“Great,” said Jesse again, and Bran smiled a little wryly at his palpable lack of enthusiasm, then flicked out the light. They climbed into bed from opposite sides and lay down, not quite touching.
“Thanks for this, Bran,” Jesse said softly. “I wouldn’t have liked to wake up alone.”
“I know,” said Bran gently, and moved closer in the dark, cuddling rather tentatively up against Jesse. Jesse moved closer as well, and kissed Bran impulsively on his naked shoulder.
“You sure you don’t want to have sex?” Bran whispered. “I’m pretty sure I can get permission.”
“No, I don’t want to,” said Jesse rather shortly, and was surprised when Bran pulled away immediately. “Sorry, I just– I’m really tired.”
“Course you are,” said Bran, sounding a little muffled. “Been a long day. Sleep well, Jess. See you in the morning, okay?”
Jesse lay still, his cock achingly hard, missing Bran’s touch. He wondered for a moment if he should tell Bran he’d changed his mind. But the idea of Bran asking permission from Holden was somehow insufferable, and he turned over, letting himself– for the first time in ten days– think about Quen.
Jesse woke up the next morning enveloped in warm arms and legs. For a moment he thought it was Quen wrapped around him, and panicked, jerking himself violently away; then he saw Bran’s hair and heard his slight groan of protest as he came awake. Heart still pounding, he tried to lie still, remembering where he was.
“Oh,” said Bran groggily. “Damn. Sorry.” He peeled himself the rest of the way off of Jesse, looking sheepish. “I should have warned you-- I can get a bit clingy in my sleep. Sorry to bother you.”
“No, no,” said Jesse awkwardly. “You didn’t. I just– it’s fine.”
“Thanks. I’ll try to keep my hands to myself in the future. I mean– if you want to–” Bran looked down. “We don’t have to do that again. I’ve got my own bed and all.”
Amused by Bran’s shyness, Jesse smiled reassuringly. “No, it was nice. I’d like to.”
Bran looked up, relieved, his glance lighting on the clock by the bed.
“Damn,” he said again. “Throw on your clothes, we’re late for breakfast. Top drawer there, by the bed.”
As Jesse scrambled to do so, someone knocked at the door.
“Come in,” Bran called, half into his tunic. Holden came in, darkly handsome in steel gray and black, and Jesse’s heart gave another unexpected lurch of terror. He glanced at Bran, who didn't kneel, so Jesse didn't either, but his hands shook as he tried to unfold the unfamiliar green garment.
“Morning,” said Holden, smiling and holding out a hand to Bran; Bran went to him eagerly, offering his mouth for a kiss, and Holden obliged, pulling Bran close and embracing him with obvious affection. “You two coming down?”
“We overslept, master,” said Bran apologetically, stepping back as Holden let him go.
“I came in earlier and you both looked very comfortable,” said Holden, and Jesse’s pulse raced. Presniakov had only had to catch Jesse and Quen asleep and entwined once to cure them of the habit forever. “I didn’t like to wake you. How late were you up?”
“Not much after Quen left,” said Bran. “I offered to show Jesse around and help him get adjusted, and he let me sleep here.”
“That’s nice,” Holden said, then looked at Jesse curiously. “You okay?”
Jesse moistened his lips and nodded.
“Maybe he’s just nervous around you, master,” said Bran. “You did punch him in the mouth yesterday for no apparent reason.”
“Mmm. Good point. Did I mention I’m sorry about that, Jesse?”
Jesse nodded silently.
“I am. Really. And you don’t have to come down to breakfast if you don’t want to. Fox made a few things that should be okay on your teeth, but she can leave them in the kitchen for you if you’d rather take it easy today, and Bran can bring them up to you later.”
Jesse nodded again.
“You can stay with him, Bran, if you want to,” said Holden. “I’m taking Inga to Galenova’s again this morning, and we probably won’t be back until after lunch. Then-- well, you know how Jer’s doing right now. I think in his mind there are at least six teenage boys currently staying here, and I’m fucking five of them. I’ll need to spend some time with him this afternoon, see if we can’t get it down to two and one. Today’s your day to go to the market, right? Want me to get someone else to go? Or would Jesse like to go with you?”
Bran glanced at Jesse. “Jess? Feeling up to getting out of the house? It might be nice. Take your mind off things.”
“Sure,” said Jesse, and cleared his throat. “If it– sure.”
“Fine,” said Holden. “You know where we keep the cash, Bran. Take some extra and browse around a bit if you like– have fun, annoy the vendors, try and get Jesse to relax a little. No solid food for him until those teeth heal, though, okay?”
Bran nodded, smiling into Holden’s eyes. “Thank you, master.”
Holden kissed him again, lightly. “My pleasure, sweetheart.”
“What’s wrong, Jess?” Bran asked when Holden was gone.
Jesse sighed. “I’m sorry. I guess he just makes me nervous, like you said.”
Bran nodded. “Don’t judge him on the way he acted at Presniakov’s. He’s not like that, not at all. He’s– nice.”
“Sure,” said Jesse, then gave Bran a quick smile. “You in love with him or something?”
Bran blushed crimson. “Is it really that obvious?”
“I’m observant,” said Jesse, touching Bran’s hot cheek gently. “Wow. I’ve never met a slave in love with his master before. I thought they were mythical. Lucky him.”
“Lucky me, you mean,” said Bran, smiling a little.
“Nah,” said Jesse. “Pretty sure I meant lucky him. Must be fun for him, having so many slaves, you and Yves and Jer all just to serve him, right? Plus whoever he’s training? Young and tender, old and broken in, scared and confused... all desperate for his attention. Yeah, that's not fucked up at all."
Bran raised his eyebrows. “You’ve been here about fifteen hours, Jess, and for twelve of them you were asleep. Observant or not, I’m pretty sure you don’t know my master as well as I do just yet.”
Jesse laughed, rather liking the flash of defiance from the shy boy. “No impugning the master's honor in front of you, huh? Okay, fine. I can keep my mouth shut. Just don't expect me to fall in love with him, too."
"Believe me," said Bran, "that’s the last thing I want. You want me to go down and grab you your breakfast? I’ll get something for me too, and we can eat and get out of here.”
Part Five
