quick 'n' smutty

[maculategiraffe]

A lecherous anonymous commenter has requested "a short story about the first time Bran tops either Yves or Holden or one of the women," and I do hate to discourage even anonymous lechery, so!

Takes place about three months after the end of the first story.

Bran almost cried in protest as Holden's mouth left his cock. Yves liked to hear him beg, liked to bring him so close to climax he actually screamed when Yves abruptly stopped whatever he was doing and gave him that innocent grin, but Holden usually followed through with a minimum of torture when he'd gotten Bran this worked up. He whimpered, half crazed with frustration, as Holden's fingertips toyed with his erection with unbearable delicacy.

"Bran," said Holden softly, sitting up to look into Bran's face.

Bran caught his breath, cleared his throat. "...master?"

"Would you do something for me?"

"Anything."

Holden smiled at the heated sincerity in Bran's voice, reaching to touch his cheek before saying softly in his ear, "Will you fuck me?"

Bran turned sharply. "What?"

"Will you fuck me?" Holden repeated.

Bran stared at his master. "What-- do you mean?"

"What do you mean, what do I mean?" Holden's hand was sliding down Bran's body, tracing circles around his nipple, then his navel. "I know you know the word 'fuck.' I've even heard you use it."

"You want me to-- top you?"

"Yes, wide-eyed boy, I want you to top me. I want this--" his master's fingers rippled down Bran's cock, and Bran sucked in his breath-- "inside me. Can you do that for me?"

"I-- but-- why?"

Holden laughed softly. "Because it will feel good. Doesn't it feel good when I fuck you?"

"Yes, master, but--"

"Well, then. You like to give me pleasure, don't you?"

Bran swallowed. "But, master-- I don't know how."

"It's not too complicated, kid. You just do to me what I've done to you a thousand times. I'll help you."

"But I can't--"

Holden's hand left his rapidly softening cock and came back up to touch his cheek again. "Bran, look at me. Does the idea really upset you that much?"

"It--" Bran swallowed, eyes on his master's concerned face. "It seems-- wrong. I've never-- I can't imagine-- master, what if I do it wrong, what if I-- hurt you--"

Holden smiled at him again, indulgently. "You won't hurt me, kid. I'm not exactly a virgin. And I don't think you're going to be rough with me. But if you hate the idea that much--" He shrugged. "Forget it."

Bran looked down miserably. "I want to please you, master."

"I know, Bran. It's all right. I'm not angry."

"But you're disappointed."

"A little. Not in you." Holden's fingers combed gently through Bran's hair before he leaned in and kissed him tenderly on the forehead. "I'd have enjoyed it, that's all. But not if it makes you uncomfortable. Forget it, Bran. It's not important."

Bran took a breath, then-- "Will you-- if I try-- will you be pleased-- even if I don't, even if I'm not-- good?"

"Oh, sweetheart. I'm not expecting you to be good. I mean--" Holden grimaced. "Sorry, that came out wrong. I mean, you don't have to worry about skill and expertise the first time you do something. You just do it. Or not. But if that's all that's worrying you, I'd really like you to try this for me."

Bran nodded. "Then-- tell me what to do, master."

"That's my darling." Holden smiled and kissed Bran's lips, pleased. "Let me see if I can wake your cock back up. Try to think about something besides the terrible ordeal you're about to be subjected to. Or subject me to. Which is it that's got you so... deflated?"

Bran smiled faintly as Holden's fingers began playing with him again. "It's not that, master. It's just-- well, I never-- my other masters never-- wanted me to do this."

"Well, not everyone likes it. And your other masters were pathetic enough to get off on smacking the sweetest kid in the world around for no reason, so they might have been scared to get fucked in case it meant they'd lost at something. But you already know I was a slave for eight years, so my ass has no dignity left to salvage."

Starting to relax at his master's casual tone, Bran grinned suddenly. "But you said Pavel-- I mean, Lord Kareyev-- liked to be topped, master."

Holden grinned back, still stroking Bran gently and almost absently. "Did I say that? Yes, well. We did do it the other way around, on occasion. I won't say I haven't always liked it better on top-- but every so often-- and I'm not being entirely selfish, either. Didn't you say around the same time that you'd never been inside another human being?"

Bran giggled. "Yes, master. I mean, no, master, I haven't. Hadn't."

"Well, see, that's just sad. Here you are. You don't really mind the idea, do you? You've just got performance anxiety."

"Maybe," said Bran, closing his eyes as his cock gradually hardened in Holden's hand; he was thinking of the first times his cock had been inside Holden's mouth, then Yves', with Holden's eyes meeting his over the sandy blond head--

"I'm going to use my mouth," said Holden, as if reading his mind, "but you're not to come yet."

Bran didn't have time to agree before Holden swallowed him again, and it wasn't long once Holden brought his considerable oral talents to bear before he was groaning. "Master, please, please, I can't--"

"Good," said Holden, pulling back. "Now. How do you want me?"

The question sent an unexpected but not unpleasant additional throb through his achingly hard cock. "I. Um. However you--"

"Let's keep it simple, then. I'm going to lie down on my stomach, spread my legs, lift up my hips a little-- like this-- stay with me, Bran-- good boy, that's right. Now-- get the lubricant. Do you want to use your fingers first, or do you want me to prep myself for you?"

"You," Bran muttered, flushed, as he retrieved the bottle of lubricating oil from the drawer beside the table where it was kept, his eyes skating over his master's naked, prostrate body, offered up so trustingly. Is that what I look like to him?

Holden looked as if he were trying not to laugh as he took the oil, reached down and slipped two slicked fingers matter-of-factly inside himself. "See? The world didn't end. Come on, Bran. If you go soft now I'm going to take it as a personal insult. Some people think I look quite appetizing like this."

"You do," Bran whispered, and Holden did laugh then, glancing over his shoulder at Bran's red face.

"Thank you. I'm ready for you, sweetheart. Just do what you've seen me do-- that's right-- get comfortable. Take it slow. Just-- touch-- with your cock-- just there-- ah, yeah. How does this part feel, when I do it to you?"

"I-- good, but it drives me crazy, I want you to go ahead and--"

"Well, then, why don't you go ahead and--? That's it, just-- ah! Yes!"

And Bran shuddered as his cock sheathed itself inside his master's body, breathless with the strange, hot, tight pleasure of it, and with the same maddeningly delicious sense of transgression-- but a transgression in which he and his master were happily complicit, where his forbidden pleasure was not forbidden but, somehow, impossibly, commanded-- as the first time Holden's lips had closed around him.

"Fuck me," Holden ordered, and Bran, dizzy but obedient, moved, at first tentatively, then with an instinctive response to Holden's gentle, helpful thrusts back against him-- he was good at responding to the rhythm his master set, and this was no different, really, except that dear gods yes it was, it was very, very different. His master's voice kept him anchored as he-- gods-- thrust into him--

"--that's right, fuck Bran you feel so good, you're so fucking hard for me, you love fucking me, don't you, tell me you love it--"

"I love it," Bran gasped, trying not to falter as his head spun and his arms and legs grew weak, all the blood in his body seeming concentrated in his cock, stroking itself with more and more confidence in and out of Holden, "it-- you feel so good-- master--"

"Yeah? How good? Are you going to come for me? Come inside me?"

The words themselves brought him perilously close, but-- "--may I?"

"You may-- when you're ready-- you're such a good boy, Bran, you're so good, you feel so good, I love-- how you feel-- that's right-- fuck me, just like that, sweetheart, my sweet boy, my--"

Bran cried out so loudly when his orgasm rocketed through him that Holden's voice choked off into another laugh, and either that or something else made him clench around Bran so that he screamed again, shockwaves of pleasure flooding him, setting him trembling like a leaf, before he pulled with a last burst of agonized care out of his master and fell, half senseless, on the bed. He was capable of little more than a series of blissful whimpers when Holden rolled over and gathered him up his arms; Bran tried to cling to his master with numb fingers and shaking arms, and Holden kissed him and kissed him, laughing softly, whispering praise and endearments in his ear.

"Thank you-- master--" he managed finally.

"Nothing to thank me for, kid. You did it for me. Thank you. And you were good."

"D--" Bran tried to catch his breath. "--did you have an orgasm?"

"No. That's okay. Next time maybe."

"N-- next time?"

"Sure. You wouldn't mind doing that again sometime, would you?"

"No, but-- not soon-- please-- I--"

"No, not soon," Holden agreed, kissing him again as he started, still dizzy, but anxious to remedy his oversight, to pull against the strong arms that encircled him, kissing vaguely downwards. "Stop that. Don't worry about getting me off. Just let me hold you."

Bran hesitated, then went limp, burying his face against Holden's chest. Failing to attend to his master's release was a poor return for the earth-shattering intensity of his own, but if his master was willing to wait a few minutes... he wouldn't be much good right now, his fingers were still numb, and it felt so good to be held, and he was suddenly so tired...

"Thank you," he said again, muffled against the warm skin, and Holden kissed his hair and held him close, and without meaning to at all, Bran drifted into a deep and dreamless sleep.