"Jesse," part six

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Part Five

“Jesse?” said Yves, coming out into the hall as Jesse passed another door that stood ajar. “Come here. I want to talk to you.”

“Join the club,” Jesse muttered, following the older man into a neat small bedroom not unlike the one where he and Bran had slept the previous night, except that this one contained a bookshelf and, to Jesse’s surprise, a small desk with paper and pencils scattered across it. Yves closed the door behind them and sat down on the bed, motioning Jesse into the desk chair. Jesse sat down uncomfortably, eyeing the papers on the desk, which were covered with unintelligible numbers and symbols, then looking rather suspiciously at Yves.

“How are you?” Yves asked gently. “Settling in a bit?”

Jesse shrugged. “I guess. It’s kind of weird around here.”

“Don’t I know it,” said Yves, smiling. “I’ve lived here almost twenty years and I’m still not entirely used to it. It’s a good place to be, though, Jesse. For however long you’ll be staying.”

“Yeah?” Jesse asked, looking into Yves’ blue eyes with interest. “Why?”

Yves shrugged. “It’s safe. The master and mistress are good people. Bran’s taken to you like crazy, and he’s your own age, so you won’t get too lonely. The rest of us wish you well. What’s not to like?”

“Well– Jer,” said Jesse uncertainly, examining Yves carefully; he seemed sincere enough. “I don’t think he liked me.”

“Jer’s nervous around pretty young things like yourself,” said Yves. “His last master gave him to Holden because he considered him too old and worn out to keep or sell.”

Jesse winced. “Ouch.”

“Yeah,” said Yves. “It was pretty rough. The master adores him, but Jer’s still insecure.”

“You’re not, though, are you?” Jesse asked. “Even though you’re old.”

Yves raised his eyebrows. “I’m thirty-eight. Not exactly senile.”

“Didn’t mean to be rude,” said Jesse quickly, “but thirty-eight, it’s not exactly young either, is it? Especially for a slave.”

“No, you’re right,” said Yves, “but you’re also right that I’m not insecure. I’ve felt loved and safe for nineteen years, and for the record, if you’ve ever wondered, that’s just about enough time to get used to it.”

Jesse smiled a little. “Something to look forward to, then.”

“You bet,” said Yves. “Okay, Jesse. You seem like a nice kid, and so did Quen. I know you two have been through some seriously bad shit, and I’m really glad you’re finally catching a break. It’s great that the master and mistress are doing all this for you.”

Jesse crossed his legs uncomfortably. “You sound like you’re about to say ‘but.’”

“But,” Yves agreed mildly, “there are one or two things I’d like to make sure we’re clear on. The master told us he plans on leaving you more or less alone– which is quite a departure from his normal methods with, let’s say, troubled kids, but he says you’ve got enough to worry about without trying to learn a whole new set of rules for behavior in the few weeks before you start learning to act like a free person.”

Jesse nodded. “Yeah, he told me he was going to treat me like– a guest?”

“Right,” said Yves. “And– okay. You’ve got a lot on your mind right now, for sure. The first thing I want to make sure we’re clear on is: so does the master. He runs a business, he’s got a kid at university, he’s training Inga, he looks after me and Jer and Bran, and now there’s this thing with you. Don’t get me wrong– like I said, it’s great they’re doing this. But the master doesn’t need any extra trouble, and he doesn’t always have the leisure to see it coming. I do. So if you start looking like you’re going to be trouble, you’re going to have a problem with me. And when I talk, he listens.”

Jesse raised his eyebrows. “Go on.”

“Sure. I should clarify– he listens to all of us, not just me. But Jer’s paranoid, like I said, and Bran’s...well, he’s a bit of an innocent. I’m neither. If you want to keep me on your side– and trust me, you do– all you’ve got to do is smile when you’re spoken to nicely, say please and thank you, and stay out of trouble, which I’m going to define as anything that requires the master to furrow his already overburdened brow over you. Does that sound reasonable?”

“Yeah, okay,” said Jesse. “I’ll try. Thanks.”

“No problem,” said Yves, looking curiously at Jesse. “What are you grinning about?”

“I’m just wondering if Jer’s going to grab me next and tell me not to give you any trouble,” said Jesse. “You all seem awfully protective of each other.”

“We look out for each other,” Yves agreed calmly. “Like you and Quen, except there’s six of us, so it’s a little bit complex sometimes. Right now Bran’s decided to look out for you, and he’s everyone’s darling around here– even Jer likes him, and when Jer likes a gorgeous teenager with a terminal crush on the master you know he’s a hell of a likeable kid– so you just relax and let him take care of you, and the rest of us will take care of each other. But if you don’t want to find out the hard way which of us is looking out for which, and how serious we are about it– just stay out of trouble, kid.”

“I’ll try,” said Jesse stiffly.

“Do that,” said Yves. “And if you’re not sure where out of trouble is, just stick close to Bran. That boy– well, he was in some pretty bad trouble before we got him settled here, but it’s hard to picture, isn’t it? If you squint I think you can actually see waves of goodwill pouring off him. I’m always expecting squirrels to hop onto his shoulders and chatter merrily to him, or some shit like that.”

Jesse grinned at that, thinking of Marta and Trini, and of Fox’s reluctant smile in the kitchen. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

“He slept with you last night, didn’t he?” Yves asked. “Did you have sex?”

“No,” said Jesse shortly, rather taken aback by the question.

“Highly recommended, if he offers,” said Yves with a quick wink. “Okay, kid, that’s about all I had to say. I hope I didn’t come off as nasty. Like I said, I’m really glad you’re finally getting a break. But we’ve got a good thing going here, and although I don’t think you could fuck it up if you tried, I see no need to test that theory, do you?”

“Nope,” said Jesse, getting up. “Got it. Smile, stick with the good boy, and stay out of the master’s way.”

“Good,” said Yves, watching Jesse as he started for the door. “Don’t forget please and thank you.”

“Thank you,” said Jesse obediently, and after the door closed behind him, in an undertone so cautious as to be inaudible, “And please.”



“Mistress,” said the pretty red-haired woman across from Jesse at dinner, where they sat, to his astonishment, at the same table as their master and mistress, “I think we may need a new dining room table, after this weekend.”

“Never,” said Alix determinedly. “The size of this table limits the number of people your master can acquire. Any more and he has to either disown his daughter or move out himself.”

Jer lifted his water glass in his mistress’ direction in a silent gesture of celebration.

“Nah,” said Holden imperturbably, as Fox served Jesse something mushy and unappetizing. “We’ll just have to share chairs. Bran can sit in my lap and I’ll feed him from my plate.”

“Good idea, master,” said Jer in an undertone. “That won’t put me off my dinner.”

“Then he can sit in your lap, wiseass,” said Holden amiably, as Bran blushed. “Don’t you boys get enough of each other? Some masters don’t let their slaves have unlimited amounts of sex with each other, you know. You and Quen had to be pretty clandestine at Presniakov’s, didn’t you, Jesse?”

“By the way,” the red-haired woman said, smiling at Jesse as he squirmed uncomfortably at the address. “I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced, Jesse. I’m Greta. How are you settling in?”

“Fine,” said Jesse, and, catching Yves’ eye, managed a fairly respectable smile in return. “Thank you.”

“Bran’s looking after him, isn’t he, Jess?” said Yves cheerfully.

Bran glanced at Jesse, who smiled at him, sincerely this time. “Yeah, he is.”

“Good,” said Alix briskly. “Holden, before I forget, some last-minute paperwork came today about Inga. I looked at it earlier, but it asks some rather personal questions that you may be better equipped to handle. It’s in the middle right-hand drawer of the desk, if you could get to it after dinner.”

“Sure,” said Holden readily, as Jesse glanced at Inga, who was eating unconcernedly.

“And don’t forget the physical evaluation. You should probably go see Dr. Carey tomorrow morning in any case, so then might be a good time. The checklist is with Inga’s other papers, in the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet.”

“Work, work, work,” said Holden with exaggerated querulousness. “I’ve got a writ of manumission around here somewhere, you know.”

“Top left-hand drawer of the bureau,” said Alix automatically. “Salt, please, Bran.”

“I knew that,” said Holden, as Bran passed his mistress the salt, grinning. “That’s where you keep the marriage contract, too, and I’m always having to check that to make sure it actually says all the crazy stuff you claim. I don’t know what I was on when I signed that thing.”

“The same thing I was on when I freed you, dearest,” said Alix good-naturedly, salting her food.

“Dangerous substance,” said Holden. “Should be controlled. Pass the bread.”



Jesse lay awake for a long time that night, as Bran slept next to him, looking very young and faintly troubled. His mind raced, running over his conversations with Holden and Yves, wondering what to make of them and of this strange house where the “family” foregathered for meals and for comfortable chatter and paperwork in the lounge afterwards, and where he was beginning to feel he might eventually learn to relax– a feeling that, he was faintly aware, absolutely terrified him. He was so far from sleep that he was still fully conscious when Bran, sound asleep, rolled over almost onto him, flinging an arm and a leg over him and hugging him as tightly as a lover.

Jesse moved his cheek against Bran’s, nuzzling into his hair, which smelled warm and sweet, like tea with honey in it. Still asleep, Bran murmured softly with pleasure, cuddling closer, and his lips found Jesse’s cut and swollen ones. Jesse pulled back slightly, wincing, and Bran suddenly opened his eyes.

“Sorry!” he said, pulling away and biting his own lip. “Damn. I’m really sorry. Didn’t mean to–”

“It’s okay,” said Jesse softly. “Just watch the lips. They still hurt a little.”

“Oh,” said Bran, blinking owlishly at Jesse, his eyelashes damp with sleep. “I– you mean–“

His eyes nearly closed again as Jesse stroked the sweetly bemused face gently with his fingertips, brushing over the veined eyelids with their long, dusty lashes, smoothing the slight furrow of confusion on Bran’s brow, teasing the lips into a small, tentative smile. Shyly, Bran kissed his fingertips, glancing up at him with a kind of hopeful puzzlement as Jesse, as delicately and thoroughly as if memorizing, caressed his neck, the line of his jaw, the downy whorl of his ear– Bran squirmed slightly– and made his way gently down Bran’s shoulder, stroking his collarbone, then his chest.

“Jesse?” Bran whispered. “Do you–?”

“Do I what?” Jesse said softly, and Bran gasped as Jesse’s fingers brushed lightly over his nipple.

“Do you want me?” Bran asked huskily, and Jesse’s cock, already half erect, leaped to full attention.

“Yes,” he whispered in Bran’s ear. “If you still want me.”

“Of course,” Bran breathed. “How do you–? I mean, do you want to– be the one to– take me?”

“I usually am,” said Jesse, blushing slightly. “With Quen, I mean.”

Bran nodded. “How do you want me?”

The timidity of the question combined with the warm eagerness of Bran’s body, pressing hungrily up against Jesse, was so seductive that Jesse was afraid he was going to come right then.

“On your face,” he said, his voice a little rough from the rush of weakness that had come over him, and Bran moved in his arms into the prescribed position. Jesse caught his breath at the sight of the other boy’s swift obedience, the invitation so promptly offered that Jesse felt suddenly almost frighteningly powerful.

“Not yet,” he whispered. “I want to– touch you– you’re so– warm, you’re beautiful–”

Bran moved back towards him, lifting his face, his lips parted, his breath coming quickly.

“Oh, gods,” said Jesse involuntarily, and yanked Bran to him, rolling over on top of him.

Sex with Quen had been many things– a short-lived escape from the misery of their lives with Presniakov, a ferocious defiance of their master’s power, a solemn seal on the intimacy of their bond, and at rare and precious times, pure joyous play. But this was different. Bran’s eager submission was such a heady draught that Jesse moved almost restlessly, now urgent with greedy lust over what was being offered, now tenderly protective and gentle towards the other boy who moved so vulnerably under him. Bran seemed to read Jesse’s mind, becoming languid and relaxed when Jesse slowed, stifling cries and arching fiercely when Jesse thrust hard. When Jesse slid his hand into Bran’s hair and made a fist, a subdued whimper from Bran shot straight to Jesse’s cock and nearly made him come long before he was ready.

When he had released the hair he dug his fingers into the other boy’s shoulders, wanting to bite at that smooth expanse of skin, but hesitating even to kiss with his broken mouth.

“Bran,” he whispered instead, tasting the name instead of the boy’s skin, and Bran answered, but so softly it was impossible to tell whether he’d said “Jess” or simply “Yes.”

When Jesse finally came, overwhelmed, with a stifled, wordless cry, Bran went still until Jesse had stopped shuddering, then let out his breath in a long sigh of perfect contentment.

“Did you–?” Jesse whispered, when he could speak again.

“Yeah,” Bran said peacefully. “That was fantastic, Jess. Thank you.”

“Thank you,” said Jesse, half laughing as he pulled carefully out of Bran. “I mean, wow.”

“Yeah?” Bran turned his head and seemed to search Jesse’s face. “It was good for you?”

“It was... amazing,” said Jesse honestly. “I felt like, I don’t know... you knew just how to move, and the sounds you made, it was like...” He paused, and then added rather perversely, “No wonder he’s so wild about you.”

Bran grinned, embarrassed. “Ah, he gets plenty of good sex. You’re just easily impressed.”

“I am not,” said Jesse, smacking Bran lightly on the shoulder before lying back down beside him. “Quen and I had– have– great sex. And this wasn’t better, exactly, it was just... different. You’re something special, kid.”

“You sound like him,” said Bran, smiling, and Jesse tensed slightly. “It was really good for me, too, Jess. You were so... it was really good.”

“Wanted to bite you,” said Jesse casually, “but I guess it’s a good thing I couldn’t. Might have left a mark.”

Bran squirmed closer. “I wouldn’t have minded.”

“He might’ve, though,” Jesse pointed out rather tersely.

“Nah,” said Bran, closing his eyes. “Yves leaves marks all the time, and he’s never minded that. And he told me today– yesterday– what time is it? Anyway– he told me I could do anything I wanted with you.”

Jesse raised his eyebrows. “Did he now.”

“Sure,” said Bran, opening one eye to peer curiously at Jesse. “I told you before, I couldn’t do anything without his permission.”

“Right,” said Jesse. He was quiet for a moment, then asked with another stab at casualness, “What would he do to you? If you did ever– sleep with someone, without permission? And he found out?”

Bran opened both eyes, considering, then smiled a little sheepishly. “You know, I don’t know. He’s never... he doesn’t really... threaten me. But he’d be angry. I can’t stand it when he’s angry at me.”

“And I’m sure he’s angry at you on a regular enough basis that you even know what it’s like,” said Jesse, a trifle acerbically.

Bran laughed. “Fuck off. Nothing wrong with being a good boy.”

“I guess not,” said Jesse, “if that’s what you like.”

“You didn’t seem to mind,” said Bran with a rather mischievous smile. "Me, I mean."

“No,” said Jesse, smiling back. “It was great. I mean, really great. I just hope he appreciates what he’s got.”

“You’re so sweet,” said Bran, and laid his head down on Jesse’s chest. “Hold me?”

Willingly Jesse wrapped his arms around Bran and held him close.

“Bran?” he whispered.

“Hmm?”

“At dinner, when he said he had a... a writ of manumission. Is it really true he used to be a slave?”

“Yeah,” said Bran. “Both of them did. Master and mistress.”

“That’s what Presniakov said, but I thought he was just... so they– but how–“

“Long story,” said Bran, and yawned. “Tell you in the morning, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” said Jesse, and was quiet for a while. Finally he whispered again, “Bran?”

“Mmm,” said Bran drowsily.

“You’d rather be with him tonight, wouldn’t you? Instead of me, I mean. If you could.”

“Sure,” said Bran, sounding half asleep. “Wouldn’t you rather be with Quen?”

Part Seven