Bran and Lisa's first time
May. 8th, 2009 05:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maculategiraffeThis is a really old request-- I put it up on a poll of things I promised to write one time, and I think it's the only one I hadn't yet.
"I've never done this before," said Lady Lisa Kareyeva, hesitating just inside the closed door of Bran's bedroom. Bran looked up at her in surprise, and she blushed. "I mean-- with a-- slave. I'm not really sure-- how this works."
It wasn't hard to smile at her; she looked so shy and uncertain, almost frightened of him. The fuzzy pink cardigan she was wearing didn't exactly make her seem more intimidating, either.
"It works however you want it to, my lady," he said quietly. "I'm here to please you."
Lisa smiled back at him.
"You're so gorgeous," she said, and giggled nervously. "I thought-- the first time I saw you-- but it was so weird, you know, normally with an incredibly cute boy I'd think, oh well, no chance of that, and then Valor was just-- telling you to come in and sit with us, and telling me it was okay to touch you, and you just sat there and let me, and-- well--"
And Holden had passed along Lisa's request, later, touching Bran's hair as Bran knelt at his feet and looked up at his face.
"It's completely up to you," he'd promised gently. "I know we agreed I wouldn't be sharing you outside the family, and if this makes you uncomfortable, just say the word. I'll tell her I thought it over and decided it wasn't a good idea. But I thought-- with someone there's no prospect of selling you to--"
Bran must have tensed, because Holden had added quickly, "Not that I'm selling you to anyone-- you're mine now, Bran, you know that. But I remembered you saying that you'd rather not be shared with anyone you might please so well they'd want to buy you. Lisa's just a kid, and she isn't looking to buy. She just thinks you're a-- I believe the word she used was 'dreamboat.'"
Bran laughed, and Holden smiled down at him.
"I couldn't argue," he said, brushing Bran's hair back from his face. "And she seems like a sweet girl. I told her I'd think it over. What do you say?"
"I'm honored, my lady," was what Bran said now, as Lisa came a little closer. She was a pretty girl-- he'd thought so the first time he saw her-- with a gentle, heart-shaped face that reminded him a little of his mother's.
Not that that was necessarily the thought he needed to be dwelling on right now.
"Can I--" Lisa hesitated. "Can we-- um-- kiss?"
Bran couldn't help grinning at her hesitancy. He stepped forward-- he was a good few inches taller than the young noblewoman, tall enough that he had to bend his head to press his lips to hers. She kept her mouth closed at first, but after a moment, seemed to relax enough to part her lips and kiss him back properly; her hands came up to rest lightly against his back, too, which he took as permission to encircle her carefully with his arms.
She broke the kiss after a while, and stepped back a little-- he dropped his arms to his sides-- and said, "Mmmm," smiling happily up at him. He smiled back; so far, so good.
She didn't make any other move, though, and after a minute she cleared her throat and said, "Do I have to tell you-- everything?"
Okay, now it wasn't going so well.
Bran tried to push down his rising anxiety as he went over possible answers to Lisa's innocent-sounding question; he didn't want her to get impatient, he did want to please her, but he really wasn't good at guessing games, and he had no idea what she wanted him to do without being told. So the real answer was yes, or at least you have to give me more of an idea than you have so far, but he didn't quite dare say either of those, especially since she seemed to expect him to know already what he was supposed to do.
"What?" Lisa asked, sounding worried. "Did I say something wrong?"
"I just--" Bran swallowed. "I-- don't know what will best please you, my lady."
"Oh," said Lisa, flustered, "well, um, just normal stuff, I guess. I mean, I'm not really into anything-- weird."
Oh, that helps. What was the polite way to point out that he had no idea what Lisa considered normal?
"Everyone I've ever served had different-- preferences," he tried, and winced a little; Lisa probably didn't want to be reminded of how many people he'd served in his time. "If you can just give me an idea of what you like--"
"I just want to have sex," said Lisa, in a tone that could have been irritation or impatience or just extreme embarrassment. "Is it really that complicated?"
Bran dropped his head and shoulders in a submissive and apologetic half-bow; he wasn't really afraid Lisa would lose her temper and hit him, or anything, but if she was getting irritated with him for not knowing how to act "normal," maybe it would help to subtly remind her what he actually was.
"Oh, Bran," she said unhappily. "I'm not mad at you, don't-- I didn't mean to--"
"My lady," Bran said softly, lifting his eyes to her face again. "Please-- I can do anything you want. I just need a little-- guidance."
"Okay," she said, and took a deep breath, as if bracing herself. "I, um, I-- could you just-- undress me?"
He couldn't help smiling a little at the hesitant way she'd phrased it, as he went obediently for the top (pearlescent, pink) button on her cardigan. As the sweater's edges slowly parted under his fingers, he saw she was wearing a translucent, button-up, nearly sleeveless white top under it, and under that, the same sort of strappy contraption Alix kept her breasts in. Lisa's breasts were full and soft, and he sort of wanted to touch them, but he wasn't sure if that was too forward. Did normal teenage boys feel girls' breasts through their clothes?
He took the initiative to slide her sweater off her shoulders and arms, and let it fall to the floor; she didn't seem to mind, and cautiously-- he'd never undressed a girl before; Alix took off her own clothes-- he went for the buttons of her top, too. She backed away, and he worried he'd gone too fast, but she just went and sat down on the edge of the bed and, after a moment, gestured to him to follow her.
"Keep going," she said, and he did, unbuttoning and sliding off the top, and then found himself unable to negotiate the undergarment. There was no obvious fastening, unless it was at the back, and she wasn't turning her back to him. Just as he was wondering whether it would be better to climb onto the bed behind her and investigate, or put his arms around her and try to do it by feel, she reached behind herself, like Alix, and did whatever it was that made the two ends of the thing flop loosely from behind to her sides. Bran reached out and slid the straps down her shoulders, and then she was naked from the waist up.
Half done. Maybe she wouldn't mind if he took a break.
"May I touch your breasts, my lady?" he asked boldly.
Lisa giggled again, and covered her mouth, and said, "Uh, yes-- yes you may."
He reached out both hands and took one breast in each, interested in the sensation. He hadn't done much with Alix's breasts-- Lisa's were larger, and, well, younger. Soft and, judging by her sigh, sensitive.
He touched them for a while, stroking, experimenting with the nipples, and when she didn't stop him, leaned down and pressed his lips to the silky swell of the left one. It was just skin-- nice skin, plumped up. Not too strange.
Lisa put her hands on his head and stroked his hair as he kept kissing, which encouraged him to slip his tongue out and lick a little at the pink, tender nipple, and she made approving noises. She started touching the back of his neck with her fingertips, too, which was nice.
He wasn't done obeying the only instruction she'd given him so far, so he let his hands drift down to the waist of her slacks, wondering if he could undo them while he was still kissing her breasts. Alix didn't wear slacks, either.
After a minute, she laughed a little, again, and helped him.
When she was naked, she reached out to him and touched his shoulders; he looked at her expectantly as she said, "Bran, let's-- I mean, I want you to-- have fun, okay? With this."
"Yes, my lady," he said automatically, and she pulled back a little and looked at him intently.
"I mean really," she said. "Can we? I mean can you-- do you think you can-- enjoy this?"
She sounded sincere, and after a moment she added, "That's what I was hoping. I mean-- thinking. That maybe we could just-- have some fun. I know maybe you're not-- used to that--"
"It's not like that," said Bran, a little too sharply, but he couldn't help it. "With him."
"Oh--" She blushed, shaking her head vigorously. "No, no, no, I didn't mean that, I didn't think-- I mean, I've seen how you look at him. And the way you-- when he touches you-- no, I didn't think you didn't-- that's not what I meant. I just-- it's not exactly-- that's not what I meant, by just fun. I meant fun, like-- nothing serious. Just kids. A boy and a girl-- you know? Do you think we could do that?"
Bran found himself smiling, without even thinking about it-- not to put her at ease or show his willingness to please, but because he was suddenly, unexpectedly, liking her.
"Maybe I can," he said, and she beamed back at him, pleased.
"Well, good," she said. "Okay. Now-- I'm all naked, and you're still wearing your thing."
He laughed a little as their hands bumped into each other on their way to undress him, and when they were both naked and she reached out and pulled him down next to her on the bed, he put his arms around her in return, with only a little hesitation. She wiggled closer and kissed him again, and they just kissed for awhile; she was a good kisser, soft and pliant and not overly aggressive with her tongue, and when her hands started to wander, he let his do the same. It was nice, and gentle, and interesting in its novelty-- her curves, her softness, her breasts rubbing against his chest. Her hips were soft, too, and her thighs.
The other thing that was soft-- still-- was Bran's cock. Lisa didn't seem to have noticed, yet, but they wouldn't get anywhere if he couldn't get hard. Unless she made him lick her, which was a fairly terrifying prospect; he hadn't had nearly enough practice to be confident of satisfying her that way. He closed his eyes, as they kept kissing, and thought of the sexiest things he could. Holden's mouth on his, Holden's hands on his body, Holden's cock sliding inside him, Holden's mouth around his cock, the tongue rippling against his sensitive skin, the wetness and occasional edges of teeth as Holden's hands tightened on his thighs...
"Mmm," said Lisa, muffled, and squirmed to rub the skin of her thighs and the soft curls of her pubes against Bran's growing erection.
"You didn't come," she said, afterwards, breathless and pink-cheeked and sprawled messily over the bed. "Can I make you come?"
"That's okay," he said, smiling. "My lady."
"Oh, God, I can't feel my feet," she said, and then wiggled her toes. "Oh wait, yes I can. Okay, let's go again."
Bran laughed and started to climb obediently back on top of her, but she pushed him away-- he jumped slightly, then relaxed as he realized she was just being playful.
"Kidding, kidding," she said, closing her eyes. "I couldn't take any more right now. That was really great, Bran. Thanks. Was it-- okay for you?"
"Yes, my lady," he said truthfully. There was nothing inherently unpleasant about fucking women; once you were hard, and properly inside, it was slick and wet and hot, kind of like a toothless mouth, and if you had a good sense of rhythm and focus, they moved underneath you and rippled their internal muscles to squeeze you and made satisfying little cries of pleasure; Bran liked pleasing people, male or female. He reached out a shy hand to touch the softness of her belly, ready to get pushed away again, but she smiled and made another happy humming sound.
"You're so sweet," she said, and opened her eyes. "Could you reach me my purse off the floor-- I've got to run a comb through my hair before I go."
She did, and kissed him again about half a dozen times as she got dressed again, and then again for good measure, so his best educated guess was that she was pleased with him.
"Can we do this again sometime?" she asked shyly, which was another good indication that she'd enjoyed herself. Bran gave the only possible answer-- "If it pleases my master, my lady--" which seemed to satisfy her.
After she was gone, Bran hesitated for a moment, not sure whether he should sit or stand or kneel to await his master, or whether he should be clothed or naked. Dunaev hadn't had much of a protocol; with him, Bran had been passed around at friendly gatherings as a form of entertainment, fucked over the arm of the couch or on the coffee table or the floor while the other men talked, laughed, jerked off, fucked his mouth, waited their turn. But Oreskovich had been more restrained, and with him there had been the polite routine; someone asked for Bran, they scheduled a time, they took him, they brought him back to his master, and Bran waited in a position of appropriate submission while whoever had fucked him reported to his master on his performance and deportment. Prostrating himself flat on the floor and naked was probably overkill with Holden, though, and Bran hadn't thought to ask what position he should assume to wait for the verdict. In the end he decided to dress and kneel by the bed, settling into a straight-backed position that Holden had taught him, comfortable for waiting in.
He didn't have to wait long, though, before the door opened. There were a few moments of silence, while Bran kept his eyes respectfully lowered, and then Holden said, "Are you all right?"
"Yes, master," said Bran, without looking up, wondering what Lisa had said that would make Holden ask such a question.
Holden came closer, looming over him, and then sat down on the floor next to him and put an arm around him. Bran exhaled so suddenly that he startled himself-- he hadn't been aware that he was holding his breath-- and relaxed, all at once, against Holden's warm body, dropping his head onto his master's shoulder.
"Get your knees out from under you," said Holden, and Bran squirmed obediently into a sitting position. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine, master," said Bran, and waited a few moments, slowly breathing in the scent of Holden's neck, before he ventured, "Was her ladyship pleased with me?"
"You're probably in a better position to know that than I am," said Holden. "Although she looked pretty pleased."
Bran was quiet for a minute, trying to keep the quaver out of his voice when he said, eventually, "You didn't-- ask her."
"Why would I?" Holden asked, rubbing Bran's shoulder. "I was coming to talk to you."
Bran didn't say anything.
"So it was all right?" Holden continued. "She treated you all right?"
"Yes, master," Bran murmured, feeling-- the way he'd felt when he'd awakened on his first morning in this house, warm and comfortable and naked of chains or ropes, alone in a clean, sweet-smelling bed. Or the way he'd felt when Holden had come to him at night, for the first time, and climbed into bed with him, and pulled him close to comfort him after his nightmare. Or maybe the way he used to feel as a child, when he'd fallen asleep, exhausted from playing, on the dirt path outside the house, and wakened in his father's or mother's arms, being carried inside to bed. Bewildered; disoriented; and unexpectedly, wonderfully, well cared for.
"Did you have fun?"
Bran smiled a little, again, glad he didn't have to guess which answer was safe, or pray that it wasn't a trick question where no answer was safe; he just answered, "Yes, master."
"Good," said Holden, as Bran slowly, carefully, slipped down to lay his head and shoulders in Holden's lap. Holden immediately began stroking his hair, and Bran put a hand on his master's knee, liking how it felt in his palm.
"She, um," Bran said eventually, from the not-quite-sleepy state of peace in which Holden's caressing hands could so effortlessly place him. "She asked me-- I told her it was your decision, master, but she asked if we could-- if she could have me again, sometime."
"How would you feel about that?" Holden asked. "It's really up to you-- I'm proud of you for being willing to give it a try in the first place, but if you don't want to do it again, that's okay."
"I don't mind, master," said Bran vaguely, enjoying the stroking. "She was really... sweet."
"Yeah?" said Holden. "Was she good?"
"Master?" Bran murmured.
"In bed," said Holden. "Did she show you a good time?"
There was something in his voice-- Bran rolled over and looked up into his master's face; it wasn't anger, nothing dangerous, but there was something there, some slight edge, a little lift to the eyebrows...
"Are you jealous?" he blurted, almost laughing; luckily Holden laughed, too, quickly enough that Bran didn't have time to be appalled at himself.
"Me?" he said, stroking Bran's chest now, flat-palmed. "Honestly, Bran. Do I strike you as the jealous type?"
"Yes," said Bran, too happy to even think about being cautious. "You told me you were, master. The first morning after you bought me. You said you were possessive as all hell."
"Oh, that," said Holden, and slid a hand down Bran's leg, pulling it up so that the edge of Bran's tunic slid up and crumpled onto his belly on one side; Holden's hand caressed his naked thigh. "Well. Why should I be jealous of a chit of a girl, though-- just because she's as young and pretty as you are, and comes out of your room all red in the face and giggling and wobbling around--"
Bran grinned. "You know what I thought about to get myself hard, master?"
"Hmmm," said Holden, grinning back. "This sounds promising. Tell me more."
"I could, master," said Bran, shifting a little, "or, if it please my master, I could...show you..."
"I've never done this before," said Lady Lisa Kareyeva, hesitating just inside the closed door of Bran's bedroom. Bran looked up at her in surprise, and she blushed. "I mean-- with a-- slave. I'm not really sure-- how this works."
It wasn't hard to smile at her; she looked so shy and uncertain, almost frightened of him. The fuzzy pink cardigan she was wearing didn't exactly make her seem more intimidating, either.
"It works however you want it to, my lady," he said quietly. "I'm here to please you."
Lisa smiled back at him.
"You're so gorgeous," she said, and giggled nervously. "I thought-- the first time I saw you-- but it was so weird, you know, normally with an incredibly cute boy I'd think, oh well, no chance of that, and then Valor was just-- telling you to come in and sit with us, and telling me it was okay to touch you, and you just sat there and let me, and-- well--"
And Holden had passed along Lisa's request, later, touching Bran's hair as Bran knelt at his feet and looked up at his face.
"It's completely up to you," he'd promised gently. "I know we agreed I wouldn't be sharing you outside the family, and if this makes you uncomfortable, just say the word. I'll tell her I thought it over and decided it wasn't a good idea. But I thought-- with someone there's no prospect of selling you to--"
Bran must have tensed, because Holden had added quickly, "Not that I'm selling you to anyone-- you're mine now, Bran, you know that. But I remembered you saying that you'd rather not be shared with anyone you might please so well they'd want to buy you. Lisa's just a kid, and she isn't looking to buy. She just thinks you're a-- I believe the word she used was 'dreamboat.'"
Bran laughed, and Holden smiled down at him.
"I couldn't argue," he said, brushing Bran's hair back from his face. "And she seems like a sweet girl. I told her I'd think it over. What do you say?"
"I'm honored, my lady," was what Bran said now, as Lisa came a little closer. She was a pretty girl-- he'd thought so the first time he saw her-- with a gentle, heart-shaped face that reminded him a little of his mother's.
Not that that was necessarily the thought he needed to be dwelling on right now.
"Can I--" Lisa hesitated. "Can we-- um-- kiss?"
Bran couldn't help grinning at her hesitancy. He stepped forward-- he was a good few inches taller than the young noblewoman, tall enough that he had to bend his head to press his lips to hers. She kept her mouth closed at first, but after a moment, seemed to relax enough to part her lips and kiss him back properly; her hands came up to rest lightly against his back, too, which he took as permission to encircle her carefully with his arms.
She broke the kiss after a while, and stepped back a little-- he dropped his arms to his sides-- and said, "Mmmm," smiling happily up at him. He smiled back; so far, so good.
She didn't make any other move, though, and after a minute she cleared her throat and said, "Do I have to tell you-- everything?"
Okay, now it wasn't going so well.
Bran tried to push down his rising anxiety as he went over possible answers to Lisa's innocent-sounding question; he didn't want her to get impatient, he did want to please her, but he really wasn't good at guessing games, and he had no idea what she wanted him to do without being told. So the real answer was yes, or at least you have to give me more of an idea than you have so far, but he didn't quite dare say either of those, especially since she seemed to expect him to know already what he was supposed to do.
"What?" Lisa asked, sounding worried. "Did I say something wrong?"
"I just--" Bran swallowed. "I-- don't know what will best please you, my lady."
"Oh," said Lisa, flustered, "well, um, just normal stuff, I guess. I mean, I'm not really into anything-- weird."
Oh, that helps. What was the polite way to point out that he had no idea what Lisa considered normal?
"Everyone I've ever served had different-- preferences," he tried, and winced a little; Lisa probably didn't want to be reminded of how many people he'd served in his time. "If you can just give me an idea of what you like--"
"I just want to have sex," said Lisa, in a tone that could have been irritation or impatience or just extreme embarrassment. "Is it really that complicated?"
Bran dropped his head and shoulders in a submissive and apologetic half-bow; he wasn't really afraid Lisa would lose her temper and hit him, or anything, but if she was getting irritated with him for not knowing how to act "normal," maybe it would help to subtly remind her what he actually was.
"Oh, Bran," she said unhappily. "I'm not mad at you, don't-- I didn't mean to--"
"My lady," Bran said softly, lifting his eyes to her face again. "Please-- I can do anything you want. I just need a little-- guidance."
"Okay," she said, and took a deep breath, as if bracing herself. "I, um, I-- could you just-- undress me?"
He couldn't help smiling a little at the hesitant way she'd phrased it, as he went obediently for the top (pearlescent, pink) button on her cardigan. As the sweater's edges slowly parted under his fingers, he saw she was wearing a translucent, button-up, nearly sleeveless white top under it, and under that, the same sort of strappy contraption Alix kept her breasts in. Lisa's breasts were full and soft, and he sort of wanted to touch them, but he wasn't sure if that was too forward. Did normal teenage boys feel girls' breasts through their clothes?
He took the initiative to slide her sweater off her shoulders and arms, and let it fall to the floor; she didn't seem to mind, and cautiously-- he'd never undressed a girl before; Alix took off her own clothes-- he went for the buttons of her top, too. She backed away, and he worried he'd gone too fast, but she just went and sat down on the edge of the bed and, after a moment, gestured to him to follow her.
"Keep going," she said, and he did, unbuttoning and sliding off the top, and then found himself unable to negotiate the undergarment. There was no obvious fastening, unless it was at the back, and she wasn't turning her back to him. Just as he was wondering whether it would be better to climb onto the bed behind her and investigate, or put his arms around her and try to do it by feel, she reached behind herself, like Alix, and did whatever it was that made the two ends of the thing flop loosely from behind to her sides. Bran reached out and slid the straps down her shoulders, and then she was naked from the waist up.
Half done. Maybe she wouldn't mind if he took a break.
"May I touch your breasts, my lady?" he asked boldly.
Lisa giggled again, and covered her mouth, and said, "Uh, yes-- yes you may."
He reached out both hands and took one breast in each, interested in the sensation. He hadn't done much with Alix's breasts-- Lisa's were larger, and, well, younger. Soft and, judging by her sigh, sensitive.
He touched them for a while, stroking, experimenting with the nipples, and when she didn't stop him, leaned down and pressed his lips to the silky swell of the left one. It was just skin-- nice skin, plumped up. Not too strange.
Lisa put her hands on his head and stroked his hair as he kept kissing, which encouraged him to slip his tongue out and lick a little at the pink, tender nipple, and she made approving noises. She started touching the back of his neck with her fingertips, too, which was nice.
He wasn't done obeying the only instruction she'd given him so far, so he let his hands drift down to the waist of her slacks, wondering if he could undo them while he was still kissing her breasts. Alix didn't wear slacks, either.
After a minute, she laughed a little, again, and helped him.
When she was naked, she reached out to him and touched his shoulders; he looked at her expectantly as she said, "Bran, let's-- I mean, I want you to-- have fun, okay? With this."
"Yes, my lady," he said automatically, and she pulled back a little and looked at him intently.
"I mean really," she said. "Can we? I mean can you-- do you think you can-- enjoy this?"
She sounded sincere, and after a moment she added, "That's what I was hoping. I mean-- thinking. That maybe we could just-- have some fun. I know maybe you're not-- used to that--"
"It's not like that," said Bran, a little too sharply, but he couldn't help it. "With him."
"Oh--" She blushed, shaking her head vigorously. "No, no, no, I didn't mean that, I didn't think-- I mean, I've seen how you look at him. And the way you-- when he touches you-- no, I didn't think you didn't-- that's not what I meant. I just-- it's not exactly-- that's not what I meant, by just fun. I meant fun, like-- nothing serious. Just kids. A boy and a girl-- you know? Do you think we could do that?"
Bran found himself smiling, without even thinking about it-- not to put her at ease or show his willingness to please, but because he was suddenly, unexpectedly, liking her.
"Maybe I can," he said, and she beamed back at him, pleased.
"Well, good," she said. "Okay. Now-- I'm all naked, and you're still wearing your thing."
He laughed a little as their hands bumped into each other on their way to undress him, and when they were both naked and she reached out and pulled him down next to her on the bed, he put his arms around her in return, with only a little hesitation. She wiggled closer and kissed him again, and they just kissed for awhile; she was a good kisser, soft and pliant and not overly aggressive with her tongue, and when her hands started to wander, he let his do the same. It was nice, and gentle, and interesting in its novelty-- her curves, her softness, her breasts rubbing against his chest. Her hips were soft, too, and her thighs.
The other thing that was soft-- still-- was Bran's cock. Lisa didn't seem to have noticed, yet, but they wouldn't get anywhere if he couldn't get hard. Unless she made him lick her, which was a fairly terrifying prospect; he hadn't had nearly enough practice to be confident of satisfying her that way. He closed his eyes, as they kept kissing, and thought of the sexiest things he could. Holden's mouth on his, Holden's hands on his body, Holden's cock sliding inside him, Holden's mouth around his cock, the tongue rippling against his sensitive skin, the wetness and occasional edges of teeth as Holden's hands tightened on his thighs...
"Mmm," said Lisa, muffled, and squirmed to rub the skin of her thighs and the soft curls of her pubes against Bran's growing erection.
"You didn't come," she said, afterwards, breathless and pink-cheeked and sprawled messily over the bed. "Can I make you come?"
"That's okay," he said, smiling. "My lady."
"Oh, God, I can't feel my feet," she said, and then wiggled her toes. "Oh wait, yes I can. Okay, let's go again."
Bran laughed and started to climb obediently back on top of her, but she pushed him away-- he jumped slightly, then relaxed as he realized she was just being playful.
"Kidding, kidding," she said, closing her eyes. "I couldn't take any more right now. That was really great, Bran. Thanks. Was it-- okay for you?"
"Yes, my lady," he said truthfully. There was nothing inherently unpleasant about fucking women; once you were hard, and properly inside, it was slick and wet and hot, kind of like a toothless mouth, and if you had a good sense of rhythm and focus, they moved underneath you and rippled their internal muscles to squeeze you and made satisfying little cries of pleasure; Bran liked pleasing people, male or female. He reached out a shy hand to touch the softness of her belly, ready to get pushed away again, but she smiled and made another happy humming sound.
"You're so sweet," she said, and opened her eyes. "Could you reach me my purse off the floor-- I've got to run a comb through my hair before I go."
She did, and kissed him again about half a dozen times as she got dressed again, and then again for good measure, so his best educated guess was that she was pleased with him.
"Can we do this again sometime?" she asked shyly, which was another good indication that she'd enjoyed herself. Bran gave the only possible answer-- "If it pleases my master, my lady--" which seemed to satisfy her.
After she was gone, Bran hesitated for a moment, not sure whether he should sit or stand or kneel to await his master, or whether he should be clothed or naked. Dunaev hadn't had much of a protocol; with him, Bran had been passed around at friendly gatherings as a form of entertainment, fucked over the arm of the couch or on the coffee table or the floor while the other men talked, laughed, jerked off, fucked his mouth, waited their turn. But Oreskovich had been more restrained, and with him there had been the polite routine; someone asked for Bran, they scheduled a time, they took him, they brought him back to his master, and Bran waited in a position of appropriate submission while whoever had fucked him reported to his master on his performance and deportment. Prostrating himself flat on the floor and naked was probably overkill with Holden, though, and Bran hadn't thought to ask what position he should assume to wait for the verdict. In the end he decided to dress and kneel by the bed, settling into a straight-backed position that Holden had taught him, comfortable for waiting in.
He didn't have to wait long, though, before the door opened. There were a few moments of silence, while Bran kept his eyes respectfully lowered, and then Holden said, "Are you all right?"
"Yes, master," said Bran, without looking up, wondering what Lisa had said that would make Holden ask such a question.
Holden came closer, looming over him, and then sat down on the floor next to him and put an arm around him. Bran exhaled so suddenly that he startled himself-- he hadn't been aware that he was holding his breath-- and relaxed, all at once, against Holden's warm body, dropping his head onto his master's shoulder.
"Get your knees out from under you," said Holden, and Bran squirmed obediently into a sitting position. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine, master," said Bran, and waited a few moments, slowly breathing in the scent of Holden's neck, before he ventured, "Was her ladyship pleased with me?"
"You're probably in a better position to know that than I am," said Holden. "Although she looked pretty pleased."
Bran was quiet for a minute, trying to keep the quaver out of his voice when he said, eventually, "You didn't-- ask her."
"Why would I?" Holden asked, rubbing Bran's shoulder. "I was coming to talk to you."
Bran didn't say anything.
"So it was all right?" Holden continued. "She treated you all right?"
"Yes, master," Bran murmured, feeling-- the way he'd felt when he'd awakened on his first morning in this house, warm and comfortable and naked of chains or ropes, alone in a clean, sweet-smelling bed. Or the way he'd felt when Holden had come to him at night, for the first time, and climbed into bed with him, and pulled him close to comfort him after his nightmare. Or maybe the way he used to feel as a child, when he'd fallen asleep, exhausted from playing, on the dirt path outside the house, and wakened in his father's or mother's arms, being carried inside to bed. Bewildered; disoriented; and unexpectedly, wonderfully, well cared for.
"Did you have fun?"
Bran smiled a little, again, glad he didn't have to guess which answer was safe, or pray that it wasn't a trick question where no answer was safe; he just answered, "Yes, master."
"Good," said Holden, as Bran slowly, carefully, slipped down to lay his head and shoulders in Holden's lap. Holden immediately began stroking his hair, and Bran put a hand on his master's knee, liking how it felt in his palm.
"She, um," Bran said eventually, from the not-quite-sleepy state of peace in which Holden's caressing hands could so effortlessly place him. "She asked me-- I told her it was your decision, master, but she asked if we could-- if she could have me again, sometime."
"How would you feel about that?" Holden asked. "It's really up to you-- I'm proud of you for being willing to give it a try in the first place, but if you don't want to do it again, that's okay."
"I don't mind, master," said Bran vaguely, enjoying the stroking. "She was really... sweet."
"Yeah?" said Holden. "Was she good?"
"Master?" Bran murmured.
"In bed," said Holden. "Did she show you a good time?"
There was something in his voice-- Bran rolled over and looked up into his master's face; it wasn't anger, nothing dangerous, but there was something there, some slight edge, a little lift to the eyebrows...
"Are you jealous?" he blurted, almost laughing; luckily Holden laughed, too, quickly enough that Bran didn't have time to be appalled at himself.
"Me?" he said, stroking Bran's chest now, flat-palmed. "Honestly, Bran. Do I strike you as the jealous type?"
"Yes," said Bran, too happy to even think about being cautious. "You told me you were, master. The first morning after you bought me. You said you were possessive as all hell."
"Oh, that," said Holden, and slid a hand down Bran's leg, pulling it up so that the edge of Bran's tunic slid up and crumpled onto his belly on one side; Holden's hand caressed his naked thigh. "Well. Why should I be jealous of a chit of a girl, though-- just because she's as young and pretty as you are, and comes out of your room all red in the face and giggling and wobbling around--"
Bran grinned. "You know what I thought about to get myself hard, master?"
"Hmmm," said Holden, grinning back. "This sounds promising. Tell me more."
"I could, master," said Bran, shifting a little, "or, if it please my master, I could...show you..."
