Jesse part fifteen

[maculategiraffe]

Part Fourteen (B)

Alix's brisk "Now run along and finish kissing Jesse" sent Bran, with only a backwards grateful glance at his mistress, dragging Jesse by the hand up the stairs and down the hall. As they passed Yves' door, Jer and Yves came out of Yves' room; Jer picked up a startled Bran's hand and pulled him off in a different direction, while Yves grabbed Jesse's upper arm and dragged him into the room, slamming the door behind him and pushing him hard towards the chair. Jesse sat down hard and swallowed, his eyes on Yves, wondering what was going on.

"It happens," Yves said in a friendly tone, as he sat down opposite Jesse on the bed, "that your appalling behavior has, so far, had a net result of good. So if you actually behave yourself for the next two weeks, you might not spend them unable to sit down. Your call."

Jesse eyed Yves. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying," said Yves, "that the only reason my master-- and yours-- hasn't given you the hide-tanning you so richly deserve, is because of that same obsession with what he has the right to do that kept him from turning Bran into a supernova of pure joy until this morning. And I am at least as silver-tongued as you are, and a hell of a lot more likely to be in a position to talk in his ear, so I suggest you don't do anything to ruin my good mood." He grinned suddenly. "And gods but I'm in one. Did you see that kid's face? Have you ever seen anything so happy in your entire life?"

"You're not jealous?" Jesse asked curiously.

Yves laughed, sounding genuinely amused. "If I were going to be jealous, I wouldn't just be starting now. This isn't exactly news to anyone but Bran."

"How do you even know what happened?" Jesse asked, eyeing Yves warily.

"Because before he says anything to Bran he has to agonize for a while over what's the right thing to do, doesn't he? He was so quiet and spaced out with Jer and me, after you ambushed him in the study, that we finally bullied him into telling us what was wrong, and he looked so damn guilty that we just started laughing at him. Even Jer told him he was being an idiot. We told him to stop moping and go to Bran and tell him last night-- but I guess he chickened out and Bran came to him, judging from where he is now and the way the kid is incandescing around the house."

Jesse squinted at Yves, choosing not to mention his own privileged information about how the scene had played out. "Jer is okay with this?"

Yves was still grinning. "Like I said, this isn't exactly news. And you can't look at the kid and not be happy for him. Can you?"

Jesse sighed and leaned his head back, finally letting a smile creep onto his face. "I guess not."

"You did good, kid," said Yves, standing up and ruffling Jesse's hair, and instead of resenting the familiarity of the gesture, Jesse found himself enjoying it. "You're a meddling ass, but you did good. And if you put one dainty toe out of line for the remainder of your stay here I will fucking end you, is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," said Jesse, still smiling. "Thank you for not ending me now."

"You're welcome. That was all. Oh, no it wasn't. I wanted to say that your best behavior-- which you're going to be on from here on out--"

"Yes, yes."

"--does not necessarily preclude seducing the master, if you feel so inclined. Normally that would go without saying, but this is sort of an odd situation, you know?"

"No!" said Jesse. "You think?"

Yves cackled.

"I meant you," he said. "This whole is-he-or-isn't-he thing, where you're a slave he's spending a fortune and risking his reputation to help, but he's not going to fuck you or smack the shit out of you for your incessant insolence because he doesn't have the right. But he's starting to crackle a little with sexual tension when he's around you, so if you feel like making the offer, you don't have to worry about the rest of us getting territorial. Especially now that you've done so well for Bran."

"I'd rather die," said Jesse grimly.

"Don't knock it till you've tried it," said Yves lazily. "Now get out of my room."



Jesse stood in the hallway for a few moments, a little shellshocked, before Bran came out of Jer's room to join him, looking like he'd been crying.

"People being nice to me," he said, waving his hand dismissively before Jesse could say anything. "I'm actually starting to think this is just a really long, really convincing dream. I mean, Jer just told me-- Never mind. Jess, am I awake?"

"You're awake," said Jesse. "Remember, he convinced you. How did he do that?"

Bran blushed.

"Because," Jesse added, grinning, "I could do the same thing. I mean, if you wanted. If you were still wondering if you were awake."

Bran grinned back. "You think you can do it as well as he does? He has a lot more experience."

"Please," said Jesse, leading on towards Bran's room. "Try me."



Leaving Bran asleep in his own bed with a smile on his face, Jesse got up as quietly as he could and walked out into the hall, which was deserted. Yves' door was shut. Holden's wasn't. Jesse barely hesitated this time before walking in.

"What the fuck are you doing in my bedroom?" Holden asked a few moments later, as Jesse panted with the pain of the vice grip in his hair. "And for that matter, while I'm asking, what were you doing here last night? Have you ever heard of respect? Gratitude? Simple fucking good manners?"

He threw Jesse down on the bed; Jesse managed to roll over on his back as Holden knelt over him. Holden slapped him across the face, hard. Jesse grunted.

"Like it rough?" he purred.

"Turn over," Holden gritted.

"You can do it like this, you know," said Jesse without moving.

Holden slapped him again. "I was doing it like this when you were an evil little gleam in your mother's eye, boy. Turn over."

Jesse rolled over, his head ringing, and wasn't surprised when his tunic was yanked out of the way and Holden's hard palm hit his bare ass with blistering force. Well, not surprised that it had happened anyway, but the pain-- the man had a hand like an oak plank-- wrenched a gasp from him. "Ah-- fuck!"

"You have no idea how long I've been wanting to do this," Holden grunted out as he spanked Jesse hard enough to cross Jesse's eyes. He wanted to talk back-- Oh, yes I do-- but when the first syllable came out as a heated mewl and he heard Holden's answering gasp of satisfaction, he clamped his mouth shut furiously on the second, glad his hardening cock was trapped safely out of sight between his belly and the bed.

But the spanking went on, and when Jesse, lost in a welter of burning pain, realized how hard his treacherous hips were bucking up to meet Holden's hand, it was too late.

"You little slut," Holden growled without stopping. "You love this, don't you?"

"Fuck you," Jesse gasped.

"On the contrary--" and the spanking stopped, startling Jesse more than its beginning, so much that he lay still for a moment, and then Holden's weight was on top of Jesse, his teeth worrying at the nape of Jesse's neck, his hips grinding agonizingly against Jesse's throbbing ass. Jesse bucked and fought, and Holden laughed, easily capturing his wrists and pinning them in one hand as the other fisted itself in Jesse's hair, crushing his face into the mattress.

"Feel good, boy?" Holden whispered in his ear, and Jesse choked on so many obscenities that the only thing to come out was a wordless, wanton moan. "Keep struggling. Don't think I don't know you're grinding your cock up against the sheet. Think you can come this way?"

"Yes," Jesse hissed defiantly.

"That's right," said Holden, and licked Jesse's neck. "You are like me."

Rage rocked Jesse so hard that before he had time to realize it had shot straight to his cock, he came, with an inarticulate shout of ferocious ecstasy, into the mattress, shuddering, and Holden laughed as he peeled himself up off Jesse's trembling body and sat up.

"Is that it?" Jesse managed, fairly steadily, rolling out of his own wet spot and staring at Holden.

"What do you want now?" Holden asked, watching Jesse through half-closed eyes, his own cock still rock hard, pointing at Jesse where he lay.

"Nothing," he said between his teeth.

Holden smiled. "Nothing?"

"Please," said Jesse then, and cleared his throat, trying not to choke on the words.

"What do you want, boy?"

Jesse swallowed. "Fuck me."

"Yeah?" said Holden, his eyes still half closed. "That what you want? You want me to open your red ass up with my cock? You want me to make it hurt nice and hard? You want me to fuck you till you can't walk, Jesse?"

Jesse hadn't realized his own cock could get hard again so fast. "--Yes."

"Yes what?" Holden asked, moving in.

"Yes," said Jesse, closing his eyes and letting Holden's weight roll him closer, "master."



"By which," he added a little over an hour later, "I don't mean I want to stay here or anything."

"That works out well," said Holden, lying boneless on the bed beside him, his eyes closed, his hair plastered to his forehead, "because it just so happens I don't have a death wish either."

Jesse rolled over, wincing, and grinned. "Tired, master?"

"Don't flatter yourself," said Holden, still with his eyes closed. "This is cumulative. Bran kept me up all night. Where is Bran? And what were you doing in my bedroom?"

"Bran's asleep," said Jesse, biting his lip as he squirmed out of another wet spot, "and I was checking to see if you were awake."

"So you could murder me, or just go through all my personal papers again?" Holden shook his head. "Did I say I wished I was training you, kid? What I meant was that I'd be spending the rest of my life thanking the gods on my knees that I didn't have to."

"Aw," said Jesse, trying to wiggle his toes, without notable success. "Maybe it's time to retire?"

Holden chuckled without opening his eyes. "Maybe it's time for you to get the fuck out of my bed. Unless you want to ruin Bran's day with the news that one of us is dead."

"Can't get up yet, master," said Jesse lazily. "Can't fuck me till I can't walk and then make me walk. But I'm young. Give me ten minutes. I'll bring you some water in an hour or so."

Holden sat up with lightning quickness and, before Jesse had time for more than an abbreviated yelp, dragged him over his lap and started spanking his already painfully raw and searing ass with a vigor that didn't seem to have abated at all after his recent exercise.

"Fucking hell!" Jesse screamed, seeing stars. "Stop, stop, please master, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

Holden stopped, shoved Jesse off his lap and fell back onto the bed, closing his eyes again.

"Death wish," he repeated. "One more word, Jesse, and you get out of this bed whether you can walk or not."

"I won't--" said Jesse, and hit the floor hard, bruising his shoulder, still laughing.



(TWO WEEKS LATER)

"I wish this didn't have to be so public," Holden said, giving Jesse, who'd been scrubbed and groomed and combed within an inch of his life, a skeptical look as the four of them walked down the stairs. "I'm not really convinced he can keep his mouth shut for long enough to pull it off."

"It would look too strange for Tatiana to visit us without her husband," Alix explained patiently, "and even stranger for her to buy a slave on impulse with her husband there. He's the abolitionist, after all. It's got to be this party. Besides, the more public the better, really."

"I know, I know," said Holden as they reached the foot. "The more public the transfer, the less scandal attaches to us when the kid vanishes. Still. I'm getting too old for this life of constant subterfuge and skullduggery. It'll be a relief when it's all over and I can go back to teaching kids how to look impressed at the size of their masters' cocks. Just keep your eyes on Bran and me, kid. That's still the only time you seem disinclined to talk."

"Oh," said Bran, as Holden's arm went around his waist, "so you do remember my name, master?"

"What?" Holden asked, puzzled.

Bran grinned at him. "It's just that I don't think you've called me anything but 'love' for about-- two weeks."

Rolling his eyes, Holden smacked Bran's ass. "High time we got Jesse out of here. He's starting to rub off on you. Damn, I left the keys in the bedroom. Run get them for me, Jesse."

Jesse started to make a comment about his own competence at stair-climbing versus Holden's, glanced at his master's eyebrows, thought better of it, and went.

Looking around the master bedroom, he spotted the keys quickly, lying on top of the dresser, then saw another set of keys sticking out of the lock of the drawer of legal documents. Perfect. He could get a look at something he'd been curious about since his first days here, before he left forever.

He opened the drawer; the will still lay on top, and he shuffled it out of the way to find the document in an unfamiliar handwriting headed CERTIFICATE OF MANUMISSION, which he picked up and started to read.

"This is to certify that I, Tatiana Rostova, being heretofore in lawful ownership of the slave known as Jesse, having lawfully purchased him from Alix Jamesen and Holden Larssen, who lawfully purchased him from Gregorei Presniakov, who lawfully purchased him from his legal guardians at the age of fifteen, do now and with the signing of this document renounce my ownership of Jesse, rendering him masterless and free at the age of nineteen--"

"I'd have just given it to you," said Holden behind him, and Jesse whirled to see the older man leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed, smirking at him, "but I didn't want to deprive you of the thrill of nosing through my private affairs without permission one last time."

"Why?" Jesse managed. "I thought--"

"Don't worry," said Holden, "the official story's the same. We sell you to Tatiana tonight, and once she's gotten you home and packed you a lunch and drawn you a little map to the border, you take off. But this means that if you ever come back to this country, if anyone still remembers you and wants to start anything by that time, you can prove you're a free man. With a spotless record, even. Which is a bit of a laugh, isn't it?"

Jesse considered this, still a little breathless, then asked carefully, "By-- what time?"

Holden winked at him. "By the time I'm dead or officially too old for this damn job, and you get a frantic call from Alix or Yves saying they can't figure out what these fucking kids are thinking and the business needs you as a consultant."

"Consultant?" Jesse echoed numbly.

"Yes, consultant. I'm not actually giving you anything. The will hasn't changed, as you may or may not have noticed in your rush to chart new lands of none-of-your-business. But a talent like yours for comprehending the criminal mind shouldn't be wasted-- so I'm offering you a job, eventually, if you want it. I think you will. This country's fucked up in some ways, but it's home, isn't it? And you've got that itch for rescue. You'll be back."

"But I can't come back," Jesse insisted, with the only thought still clear in his mind. "Quen is still--"

"--dead," said Holden. "Presniakov dug his own grave on that one. Can't claim you've found your long-lost runaway when you've already claimed you watched him torn to pieces by your dogs. Must be someone else who just looks like Quen. Aren't you the lucky one, finding your dead lover's doppelganger off in barbarian country? And if anyone wants to make any allegations to the contrary, you can always consult my daughter, who I suspect will by then be a particularly ruthless attorney with a reputation for verbally eviscerating abusive slave owners."

"You're completely shameless," said Jesse, fascinated.

"Coming from you, Jesse, that means a lot," said Holden gravely. "Now come along and try to look like a naive rich lady's ill-advised impulse purchase. Shouldn't be too much of a stretch. Especially the 'ill-advised' part."

Jesse started for the door, still clutching the document in his hand, but when he reached Holden, he hesitated. "Master--"

"I'm not your master," said Holden, and reaching for Jesse, drew him in and kissed him, briefly and sweetly, on the lips. "Jesse--"

"Yes," said Jesse, swallowing.

"I'm really sorry about your mouth."


FIN