The Maiden, chapter eighteen

[maculategiraffe]

Rita had Sean lie down on the bed without taking his clothes off first-- he was still barefoot, and he was a little worried about the cleanliness of his feet on the fine silk spread, but if she wasn't concerned about it then it wasn't really his place to protest. He lay on his back, looking up at her as she leaned down to kiss his forehead, which she seemed to be getting a habit of doing.

"I'll be right back," she said, and left him there on the bed.

He waited, not too worried, until she came back with some technical-looking equipment-- a bowl of white crystals, a bundle of herbs, a wand-- and started fiddling with them around the perimeter of the room. Sean watched curiously; the details were beyond him, but he thought she might be casting some kind of ward. It wasn't a circle, because it encompassed the whole room and its shape, but the mechanics looked similar. She lit the end of the herb-bundle with her wand, and a light, clean-smelling smoke came from it; she carried it around the room a couple of times, as if to permeate the whole room with the smoke. Sean had seen his mother do that before, but didn't know what it was for.

Rita put out the bundle with another tap of the wand and set down her things on the top of the bureau before coming to sit down next to him.

"When you were at the center," she said, "did you ever meet the directrix?"

Sean shook his head, shivering a little at the mention of the center; he hoped she didn't want to talk in any great detail about his experiences there. Now that things were looking up for him, he'd much rather just forget that the last two years had ever happened. "I-- um, I saw her, sometimes, but not really-- met her. I mean, she never spoke to me or anything."

"Do you remember Jack?"

Sean's throat tightened a bit as he nodded. Of all the things he wanted to forget, Jack, and Jack's fists, and Jack's grin, and certain other miserably vivid parts of Jack, were way up near the top of the list.

"He's been removed from his position as head of the guards, and released by his protectrix," said Rita. "He's now under the protection of my sister Emily."

Sean took that in for a moment, and then started, slowly, to smile.

Then he remembered that women considered it reprehensible when men took pleasure in the misfortunes of other men, and hastily tried to look sober. On the other hand, maybe Rita wouldn't consider being under her sister's protection a misfortune, so maybe he should smile after all.

"You must be pleased," said Rita, "that your acquaintance was fortunate enough to find new protection so quickly."

That was a clear enough clue about how he was supposed to be feeling, so he tried to look judiciously pleased, looking up into Rita's face. She was smiling too.

"Especially with a protectrix whose attitude towards males in general is so compatible with his own," she added. "Though she may be able to help him achieve a little more consistency with that attitude. I think he may be used to making a few exceptions to it-- himself, for example. Emily can help him remedy that."

Sean peered at her, blinking, trying to suss out exactly what she was saying. It sounded almost as if she were... making a joke. At Jack's expense. And a little bit at Emily's.

A broader smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and then Rita winked at him, and he laughed before he could stop himself, but it was okay because she laughed too, and then reached out and ran her fingers softly through his hair.

"There are going to be a lot of changes for the better at that center, Sean," she said. "Not that anything there will affect you personally, any more, but I thought it might give you some satisfaction to know, anyway. And the other men have you to thank for the improvement in their condition."

"They have you to thank, magistra," said Sean shyly, looking up at her.

"But I wouldn't have gone to investigate if you hadn't told me how you were abused there," said Rita.

"I wouldn't have told you," said Sean, even more shyly, hoping she didn't take it as contradiction, "if you hadn't asked."

She didn't seem at all displeased by this answer; her face, usually grave, was all smiles now, her eyes bright and tender as they rested on him. He didn't know exactly why, but he felt forgiven for everything he'd done wrong since she'd taken him under her protection, and praised for things he hadn't even known he was doing well. He wanted her to keep smiling at him like this forever.

"Tonight," she said, "I'd like us to get to know each other a little better."





"So?" said Nick, when Kyle came back to the men's dorm, where Jonas was lying on his side on Nick's bed, with Nick sitting next to him and Drew stretched full length on his own bunk. They were all naked, as they usually were in the dorm at night, and Kyle stripped too, absently, folding his T-shirt as he answered.

"So nothing," he said. "Except I'm officially a worker now, I guess. With Drew."

"Nice," said Nick, and Jonas gave a thumbs-up; Drew was watching Kyle carefully. "So did she say anything about... anything else?"

"She's not pissed off at you guys," said Kyle, shucking off his jeans. "She's probably forgotten all about it by now. And you should too. If you keep on talking about it, she will be mad."

"I guess," said Nick, a little sullenly, and Kyle knew how he felt; it was dispiriting to be told you couldn't indulge in the masculine pleasures of gossip and speculation with your own fellow workers. But Rita probably did have a good reason, and even if she didn't, it would be stupid to defy her orders just for the fun of idle chatter.

Kyle, now fully undressed, put his clothes in the hamper and looked at Drew's naked, well-muscled, golden-haired body for a moment before he went over and lay down next to it, pressing himself up against its hard, furred warmth. Drew made a little sound that was almost a gasp, then put his arms around Kyle and held him even closer. It was the first time their naked bodies had touched.

Someone wolf-whistled behind them, and Jonas said, "Oh, they have bought the mansion of a love, but not possessed it."

Drew's erection was a hard, intimidating thing against Kyle's belly; he shrank a little from its pressure, and Drew felt the movement and loosened his arms, but then Kyle pressed determinedly even closer against Drew, nuzzling his neck, feeling the prickle of chin-stubble against his own cheek. Drew shuddered and gripped him hard, almost too hard; Kyle had never been held like this by a man, and a wave of panic washed over him. Was this really what he wanted, this big creature of taut muscle and swollen prick, without curves for his hands to cup, without soft breasts to press against his nipples, without the warm, wet slit for him to slide his own hard length inside? What did Drew want to do to him?

"So tedious is this day," Jonas added with elaborate weariness, "as is the night before some festival, to an impatient child that hath new robes, and may not wear them. When's your blood test, Drew?"

Drew pulled in a slow, deep, steady breath, and answered, still holding Kyle close, "I don't know... Kyle--?"

"Soon," said Kyle. "She said soon. Maybe--" He was trying to sound casual, but his heart was hammering in his chest. "Maybe tomorrow?"

"But," said Drew, "we can-- can we-- do you mind if we--" He stopped, and Kyle could feel the heat flushing the corded neck pressed against his own cheek.

"Go ahead and kiss, for fuck's sake," said Nick, and Kyle turned his head and found Drew's lips with his own. He heard the hitch in Drew's breath as they kissed, softly, barely parting their lips, and then, after what seemed like a long time, Drew pulled away and said, "Sleep-- here. Will you-- that's what I-- was asking."

"In your bed?" Kyle tried to smile. "Of course-- of course I will."

"Unless you'd rather wait," said Drew quickly. "Until-- I mean-- unless you're not comfortable yet."

"No, it's fine," said Kyle, and pressed a tentative, brief kiss to Drew's jaw. "I mean, I'd like to."

"If you two maidens will quit after-youing, maybe we can turn out the light and get some sleep," said Jonas.

Nick did snap off the light, but Drew seemed to have other ideas for the dark than sleep. His big, callused hands were stroking Kyle's face, then his arm, then his chest, and Kyle, half from pleasurable arousal, half from paralyzing and irrational terror, began to tremble.

He felt Drew's hot breath on his ear and had to force himself to stay still as Drew whispered, much too quietly for even Jonas' sharp ears to pick up, "Do you want me to stop?"

Kyle rocked his head back and forth negatively, broadly enough for Drew to feel the motion, and Drew's hands resumed their explorations, across his chest, his belly, his hips, his pelvis, his pubes, and finally stroked one finger delicately along the length of Kyle's half-erect penis.

The image that flooded Kyle at that moment was of his own hand roughly gripping Sean, manhandling him into erection as Sean flinched and stared in terror. Almost involuntarily, he pulled away from Drew's hands and turned his back.

Drew didn't move any closer; he didn't move at all, to touch Kyle or try to speak to him. Kyle stayed still for a few moments, collecting himself, and then turned over again and moved closer to Drew, who still held himself motionless as Kyle's mouth groped for his ear and placed a clumsy kiss on it.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into the warm shell.

"No--" Drew whispered back. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have--"

"It's okay." Kyle kissed the ear again. "I just-- for a second-- it wasn't your fault."

"Did you remember something else?" A husky trace of voice slipped into Drew's whisper as he added, "Someone else?"

"Sort of," Kyle whispered, because it was sort of true, and Drew nodded in the dark.

"You want to go back to your own bed?" he asked, so softly that it took Kyle a moment to figure out what he'd said.

"No," he whispered quickly, when he had. "No, and-- don't stop-- touching me-- I'm okay now."

"You sure?"

Kyle nodded, and after a little pause, Drew's hands came back to his body, lighter and more tentative than before, brushing his skin as softly as Rita's skirt. Kyle held himself still, thinking of Sean-- who'd tried to move and struggle when Kyle was grabbing him, but whom Kyle had intimidated into staying still, naked on his back, shaking with cold and fear and indignity as Kyle yanked at him.

Kyle lay very still under Drew's exploring hands, which stroked his skin into gooseflesh, skipped past his cock to cradle his thighs, and then, to his surprise, rolled him over onto his stomach. He cooperated without hesitation and lay still again as Drew stroked his back, but when the large hand cupped his bottom, he stiffened a little. It was true he'd never been raped, but he knew in theory what it involved, and though he also knew in theory that the same act could be pleasurable in a consensual context, he really wasn't sure how that could possibly work. And anyway, he was pretty sure it was one of the things you were supposed to get a blood test before doing.

But Drew's hand was already sliding away, back up to Kyle's shoulder blades, and then the smooth arm-- bicep, crooked elbow-- slid around him as Drew wiggled closer, and went still.

There was a hot prickle behind Kyle's eyes, but the tears didn't actually fall. He was thinking of Rita's bed, with Sean and Rita in it; of Sean's body, naked and vulnerable, his eyes wide and frightened; of his own first night in Rita's bed, and this new first night beside Drew, who breathed softly beside him, the heavy arm slung across his back.

"Drew," he whispered, and Drew stirred, but when Kyle didn't say anything else, he gave Kyle a little squeeze with his arm and was still again. Kyle relaxed against him and lay waiting, not too impatiently, for sleep.






Rita held Sean, who was clinging to her, shaking, his face buried between her breasts.

"Shhh," she whispered, though he wasn't making any noise. "It's okay. It's okay, Sean. My sweet Sean. Shhh, my darling."

She caressed his hair, and eventually, when his trembling had started to subside, tugged him gently up and laid him down on the bed beside her; he rolled onto his stomach and buried his face in the pillow instead as she began to stroke his naked back.

"Are you all right?" she asked softly, and he lifted his face, looking so much like Kyle that an unexpected pang of grief twisted her stomach.

"Magistra..." he said hoarsely. Rita reached out to him, taking him into her arms again; he pressed his face to her neck, his arms wrapping around her in turn. She held him for so long she thought he had fallen asleep, when he said something into her neck that she didn't catch.

"What did you say, dear?"

Sean lifted his face and said, more clearly, "Am I still a maiden?"

Rita laughed.

"Technically, yes," she said. "At least, I hope so, since we haven't done the ritual yet."

"Does-- does--" Sean squirmed in her arms.

"What, sweetheart?"

"Does it feel that--" He squirmed again. "Does it feel-- like that-- when you-- when I'm not a maiden anymore?"

"I don't know," said Rita, "but I have it on good authority that intercourse is enjoyable for men. Otherwise we couldn't bring you to climax, could we? And we'd all die out."

"It doesn't have to feel good," said Sean, sounding pensive. "To... um, climax. You can make us-- at least-- I used to hear-- women could do it with, um, your-- with Gaia's power. Make a man come without, um, enjoying it."

"I've heard that," said Rita, "but I don't know if it's true. I certainly won't be testing it on you."

"Magistra," he said again. "I-- I hope-- I can give you a daughter."

"So do I," she answered, easing him off her; he let go and lay submissively, on his back this time, looking up at her as she propped herself on an elbow. "Unfortunately, it doesn't come with hoping. If it did--"

"I wouldn't be here," said Sean, agreeing.

Rita patted his shoulder. "Not that I'm not glad you are."

He lay there for another while, looking up at her, and then said, "Should I-- go?"

"Not unless you want to," said Rita. "You may sleep here tonight. If you'd like."

"I won't be bothering you?"

Rita cocked her head. "Do you talk in your sleep?"

"I don't know," said Sean seriously. "I might. Should I go?"

"No." Rita smiled. "Or we'll never know whether you do talk in your sleep or not. Besides," she added, on a mischievous impulse, "it might be informative."

Instead of looking apprehensive at this, as she'd half expected, Sean smiled back widely. Apparently he wasn't worried about blurting out his secret resentment of his protectrix.

"Thank you, magistra," he said peacefully.

"You're welcome." She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Sleep well, dear. I'll see you in the morning."