maculategiraffe (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
maculategiraffe) wrote2007-07-02 11:00 am
maculategiraffe) wrote2007-07-02 11:00 am
STOP!
Flashback time!
Although I've been writing most diligently on my Branfic (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8), for some reason I've only been able to work on scenes that come later in the fic-- I'm a bit blocked on the very next scene. Until I get unblocked, I'll do like Lost and attempt to distract the eager audience (if any) with a flashback. Or, not really a flashback, because Bran is my narrator and so a flashback ought properly to be from his perspective. Call it a scene from the never-made prequel. :) I've written or sketched a few little prequel-type scenes like this, mostly from Alix's perspective (since Bran doesn't find Alix nearly as interesting as I do), that I'll probably put up here at appropriate intervals to the main narrative. Think of them as bonus features on the DVD: the main story should feel complete without them, but they may enhance the overall Viewing Experience (and/or buy me some time to write the damn part nine).
And now to earn that NC-17 rating!
(Rated NC-17.)
The boy came into the room, his eyes respectfully lowered, and stood at attention without looking up at Alix or Holden. Nineteen and well built, about Holden’s height but with a sturdy, matter-of-fact carriage that contrasted with Holden’s feline grace. His dark blond hair lay in loose, tousled curls around a solemnly respectful face; long, curling lashes obscured his eyes, and a light, loose tunic barely concealed other attributes. A predatory grin spread itself slowly across Holden’s face.
"Yves, is it?" he said lightly. "Look at me, Yves."
The boy obediently lifted his gaze to Holden’s face. A quick but unmistakable expression of startled delight flickered across his face before he could restore its well-trained imperturbability. Holden laughed aloud.
"Like what you see?" he asked, obviously pleased, as he approached Yves, who blushed deeply.
"Sir," he murmured. Holden circled him once, grinning.
"I said, do you like what you see?" he asked, stopping behind the boy, who still faced front, shivering slightly as Holden leaned forward to kiss the nape of his neck.
"I-- I beg your pardon, sir," he stammered.
"For thinking I’m attractive?" Yves’ breath caught in his throat as Holden gently bit his earlobe. "Well. Just this once."
Alix laughed; Yves glanced up at her in surprise.
"Ignore her," said Holden in his ear. "I know she's pretty, but I'm prettier, don't you think?"
"Stop flustering the boy," said Alix after a moment of private amusement watching Yves try to decide what to say. "Don't I pay you enough compliments?"
"Yes, but you don't count."
"I'm your wife!"
"Exactly." Holden pulled impatiently at Yves' tunic; the boy, startled for only a moment, cooperated quickly, slipping the clothing off altogether. His body was more solidly muscular, his shoulders broader, than Holden's, despite his youth. Alix was oddly reminded of Jer, and glanced at Holden to see if he had noted the resemblance, but Holden's obvious pleasure in the boy's form seemed uncomplicated by memory, unless there was a hint of it in the already proprietary air with which he was running his hands down Yves’ body. The boy struggled to remain still, his cock already erect.
"You're rather pretty yourself, Yves," he said into the boy's neck.
"Thank you, sir," Yves whispered.
"Your mistress said she bought you two years ago from a young man," Holden said, letting his hands come to rest on Yves' shoulders. "Why did he sell you?"
Yves looked nervous; this was dangerous ground. "I was originally a gift, sir, from his father. He was never particularly interested in me. When he came of age he sold me at once."
"And why is your mistress selling you now?"
"She's tired of me, sir."
"Are you tired of her?"
Yves blushed again. "It's not for a slave to tire of his owner, sir."
"No. Will you miss her?"
"I expect I'll be too busy serving my new owner, sir."
"Are you frightened?"
Yves looked up shyly. "Not of you, sir."
"No? Would you like me to buy you?"
"Very much, sir," said Yves softly.
Holden smiled at him. "Kneel down."
Yves dropped instantly, gracefully, to his knees, but lifted a troubled face to Holden. "Sir--"
"Yes."
"Forgive me, sir, but I've never been taught how to-- service a man with my mouth. My first master didn't require it of me."
Holden shook his head. "There should be some kind of slave basic training for this kind of thing. All right. I'll talk you through it."
He pulled off his own tunic and stood, naked except for his boots, in front of Yves. Alix resisted the urge to join in, watching with a slight shiver instead the fair boy kneeling, gazing at the dark one's half-erect cock with a mixture of interest and trepidation.
"Kiss it," said Holden gently, and Yves leaned forward obediently, pressing his lips to the swelling flesh. "Now part your lips. Open." The lips parted slightly, then more, the tip of Holden's cock first pressing against them, slightly closer than a kiss, then sinking slowly inside and out of sight. "Ahhh, yeah. Careful. Ow! No--" the boy had started to pull back, startled, but Holden had him by the hair-- "that's okay, just be careful with your teeth. That's right. Oh-- I like how your tongue feels, Yves. That's really nice. Can you take more? Can you take it all the way into your mouth? That's okay, that's okay, take it easy, keep breathing, I don't want to choke you, not a pretty thing like you. Oh. Oh, Yves, that feels... really good. Now do something else for me, sweetheart. Bring up your hand and wrap it around my balls. Right there. Not too hard, just-- knead-- a little. A little harder. Oh. Perfect."
Alix watched her husband's eyes close for a moment, then open again, gazing down on the blond head at his groin, his lips slightly parted, his hand in the boy's hair, guiding him in a rhythmic motion. Then he looked up at Alix, smiling, as Yves continued to suck, his free hand curled around Holden's thigh as if for support.
"I want him,” said Holden firmly, if a bit huskily, to Alix.
Alix put her head on one side skeptically. “You haven’t even fucked him yet.”
“All in good time. At home. Isn’t he gorgeous? And he's a quick learner. Also--" he glanced down again, catching his breath, then looked back up with a cheeky grin, "he has good taste in men.”
Alix chuckled. "Holden, you're such a sucker."
"Now there's an idea. Stop, Yves. Good boy. That was good. Stand up."
Yves rose quickly, if a little uncertainly, and Holden grinned at him before kneeling and licking with a quick tongue along the length of Yves' cock. Yves cried out as Holden reached out and cupped his balls.
"Yves." His voice caressed the name as intimately as his hand was caressing the cock. “Did your mistress train you to hold back your climax?”
“I-- I suppose not, sir," Yves said breathlessly. "I mean-- I never really-- needed--”
Holden burst into ribald laughter. “Not with her, right?”
Yves' face went beet red with embarrassment and perhaps suppressed laughter. Holden leaned forward to lick around the head of Yves’ cock, then looked up at him again.
“Let’s see if I can make you need it,” he said mischievously, and swallowed the cock again.
If the continued redness of Yves’ face was any indication, he made a valiant effort, but it was less than a minute before Alix saw he was close to orgasm. As his face contorted, Holden abruptly pulled back. Yves gave another strangled, wordless cry of involuntary protest, and his hand flew towards his cock. Holden slapped it sharply away.
“Sir, please, I need--” Yves gasped, gesturing at his hard cock, veins distended and the tip leaking drops of fluid.
“I know what you need,” Holden said roughly. "But you don't get it. Not yet." He rose in one fluid motion. "Alix? Get that harridan back in here and let's talk business, okay?"
"Katya isn't a harridan," said Alix patiently. “Are you sure you want him, sweetheart? I was picturing someone a bit more... experienced. With men, I mean.”
“So was I, but I sort of think it will be fun to train him myself. I’ve never gotten to-- I mean, I’ve never gotten to train someone just to my specifications, you know?”
“What about me?” said Alix, approaching the boy. “Look up, Yves.”
Yves met her eyes, still breathing hard, with a clear, anxious blue gaze. She leaned forward and brushed her cheek against his lips, then ran a hand through his soft curls.
“Get down,” she said. Blushing, he obeyed, kneeling on all fours with his elbows cupped in his palms and knees apart.
“Good boy,” she said absently, “good form.” She ran a hand up his inner thigh, weighed his balls in her hand, and prodded gently between his cheeks with one finger, hearing his breathing quicken again.
“He’s practically a virgin,” she said to Holden. “You’d have to start slow.”
“’S okay,” said Holden agreeably. “I can always fuck you in the meantime.”
“Such a romantic I married.” Alix pinched the soft crease where the boy’s buttocks met the backs of his thighs, then brushed her cheek and lips against the skin of his bottom. “Hmm. Is your mistress fond of canes, Yves?”
“Yes, madam,” he began, startled. “I mean-- yes, madam.”
“You mean?”
“Please, madam, my mistress doesn’t cane me herself, but when I-- when I’m to be punished-- she has one of the other slaves cane me,” he explained shyly. Alix regarded him thoughtfully, her fingers exploring the flesh of his buttocks again.
“Interesting,” she said.
“Bizarre,” said Holden.
“Mm. Some don’t relish the exercise. Are you often punished, Yves?”
He blushed again. “As often as I deserve it, my lady, which I hope grows less often.”
Alix smiled. “Once a day? Once a week? Once a month?”
“I-- depending on my behavior, my lady, and my mistress’-- will-- between twice in a week and twice in a month?”
“And what do you do to deserve it?” Alix asked, her hand moving between his legs again. He trembled slightly.
“I-- sometimes I fail to please my mistress as she wishes, my lady. Sometimes my speech or my-- manner-- is displeasing to my mistress. Or I fail to complete a task she’s set me.”
“What happens when you’re punished?” Alix asked.
“I-- I’m caned, my lady,” he said, obviously confused by the question.
“By a man or a woman? The same one every time? Where? Who else is there? How hard? How long? Naked or clothed? Standing or lying down? Is there any other punishment? Who tells you it’s going to happen? What happens afterwards?”
Yves gaped for a moment, tongue-tied. Holden chuckled.
“Now who's flustering the boy?” he asked.
“From the texture of his skin, he gets some pretty severe canings. I’m just trying to figure out how he’s conditioned to think about them before I sign off on giving him any more.”
“We will. First I want to get him home and do nice-feeling things to him. Come on, Alix. He’s the one I want. I’m sure.”
“You don’t want to shop around?”
“Nope. I’m in love. And so’s he. Aren’t you, Yves? Come here, stand up.”
Yves stood to face Holden, who put out his arms and drew the boy close, kissing his lips softly and passionately, for a long time. When they broke apart, Yves’ lips stayed slightly parted, his eyes fixed on Holden with a glazed look. Holden smiled at him and placed a hand on his collarbone, pressing two fingers against the artery in Yves’ neck. “Love or terror, one.”
“Could be both,” said Alix dryly. “All right, I'll go find Katya and see if I can haggle her down to a reasonable price.” She scrambled to her feet; Holden threw his arms around her as soon as she was upright, hugging her enthusiastically.
“Thanks, Alix,” he said happily.
“Nothing but the best for my boy," said Alix, kissing her husband affectionately. "Mmm. You taste like--"
"Yves," said Holden. "He tastes good, doesn't he? I like that dazzled flavor."
That night Alix came into the lounge, where Greta was reading on the divan.
“Don't get up,” she said, sitting down at Greta’s feet and leaning her head back between the girl’s knees.
Greta laid her book aside and began playing with Alix’s hair; Alix sighed softly with pleasure.
“Is my master enjoying the new boy?” Greta asked.
“Seems to be. I think he's teaching him to suck cock.”
“He doesn’t know how to suck cock? I thought he was an experienced slave.”
“He is, but apparently he’s only been taught to service women.”
Greta smiled a bit wickedly. “Is he any good at that?"
Alix turned and grinned back. “Don’t know yet. Why? Feeling neglected?”
Greta blushed. “I only meant--” She broke off with a soft shriek as Alix pulled her forward till she was perched on the edge of the couch, and then pushed her knees unceremoniously apart.
Although I've been writing most diligently on my Branfic (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8), for some reason I've only been able to work on scenes that come later in the fic-- I'm a bit blocked on the very next scene. Until I get unblocked, I'll do like Lost and attempt to distract the eager audience (if any) with a flashback. Or, not really a flashback, because Bran is my narrator and so a flashback ought properly to be from his perspective. Call it a scene from the never-made prequel. :) I've written or sketched a few little prequel-type scenes like this, mostly from Alix's perspective (since Bran doesn't find Alix nearly as interesting as I do), that I'll probably put up here at appropriate intervals to the main narrative. Think of them as bonus features on the DVD: the main story should feel complete without them, but they may enhance the overall Viewing Experience (and/or buy me some time to write the damn part nine).
And now to earn that NC-17 rating!
(Rated NC-17.)
The boy came into the room, his eyes respectfully lowered, and stood at attention without looking up at Alix or Holden. Nineteen and well built, about Holden’s height but with a sturdy, matter-of-fact carriage that contrasted with Holden’s feline grace. His dark blond hair lay in loose, tousled curls around a solemnly respectful face; long, curling lashes obscured his eyes, and a light, loose tunic barely concealed other attributes. A predatory grin spread itself slowly across Holden’s face.
"Yves, is it?" he said lightly. "Look at me, Yves."
The boy obediently lifted his gaze to Holden’s face. A quick but unmistakable expression of startled delight flickered across his face before he could restore its well-trained imperturbability. Holden laughed aloud.
"Like what you see?" he asked, obviously pleased, as he approached Yves, who blushed deeply.
"Sir," he murmured. Holden circled him once, grinning.
"I said, do you like what you see?" he asked, stopping behind the boy, who still faced front, shivering slightly as Holden leaned forward to kiss the nape of his neck.
"I-- I beg your pardon, sir," he stammered.
"For thinking I’m attractive?" Yves’ breath caught in his throat as Holden gently bit his earlobe. "Well. Just this once."
Alix laughed; Yves glanced up at her in surprise.
"Ignore her," said Holden in his ear. "I know she's pretty, but I'm prettier, don't you think?"
"Stop flustering the boy," said Alix after a moment of private amusement watching Yves try to decide what to say. "Don't I pay you enough compliments?"
"Yes, but you don't count."
"I'm your wife!"
"Exactly." Holden pulled impatiently at Yves' tunic; the boy, startled for only a moment, cooperated quickly, slipping the clothing off altogether. His body was more solidly muscular, his shoulders broader, than Holden's, despite his youth. Alix was oddly reminded of Jer, and glanced at Holden to see if he had noted the resemblance, but Holden's obvious pleasure in the boy's form seemed uncomplicated by memory, unless there was a hint of it in the already proprietary air with which he was running his hands down Yves’ body. The boy struggled to remain still, his cock already erect.
"You're rather pretty yourself, Yves," he said into the boy's neck.
"Thank you, sir," Yves whispered.
"Your mistress said she bought you two years ago from a young man," Holden said, letting his hands come to rest on Yves' shoulders. "Why did he sell you?"
Yves looked nervous; this was dangerous ground. "I was originally a gift, sir, from his father. He was never particularly interested in me. When he came of age he sold me at once."
"And why is your mistress selling you now?"
"She's tired of me, sir."
"Are you tired of her?"
Yves blushed again. "It's not for a slave to tire of his owner, sir."
"No. Will you miss her?"
"I expect I'll be too busy serving my new owner, sir."
"Are you frightened?"
Yves looked up shyly. "Not of you, sir."
"No? Would you like me to buy you?"
"Very much, sir," said Yves softly.
Holden smiled at him. "Kneel down."
Yves dropped instantly, gracefully, to his knees, but lifted a troubled face to Holden. "Sir--"
"Yes."
"Forgive me, sir, but I've never been taught how to-- service a man with my mouth. My first master didn't require it of me."
Holden shook his head. "There should be some kind of slave basic training for this kind of thing. All right. I'll talk you through it."
He pulled off his own tunic and stood, naked except for his boots, in front of Yves. Alix resisted the urge to join in, watching with a slight shiver instead the fair boy kneeling, gazing at the dark one's half-erect cock with a mixture of interest and trepidation.
"Kiss it," said Holden gently, and Yves leaned forward obediently, pressing his lips to the swelling flesh. "Now part your lips. Open." The lips parted slightly, then more, the tip of Holden's cock first pressing against them, slightly closer than a kiss, then sinking slowly inside and out of sight. "Ahhh, yeah. Careful. Ow! No--" the boy had started to pull back, startled, but Holden had him by the hair-- "that's okay, just be careful with your teeth. That's right. Oh-- I like how your tongue feels, Yves. That's really nice. Can you take more? Can you take it all the way into your mouth? That's okay, that's okay, take it easy, keep breathing, I don't want to choke you, not a pretty thing like you. Oh. Oh, Yves, that feels... really good. Now do something else for me, sweetheart. Bring up your hand and wrap it around my balls. Right there. Not too hard, just-- knead-- a little. A little harder. Oh. Perfect."
Alix watched her husband's eyes close for a moment, then open again, gazing down on the blond head at his groin, his lips slightly parted, his hand in the boy's hair, guiding him in a rhythmic motion. Then he looked up at Alix, smiling, as Yves continued to suck, his free hand curled around Holden's thigh as if for support.
"I want him,” said Holden firmly, if a bit huskily, to Alix.
Alix put her head on one side skeptically. “You haven’t even fucked him yet.”
“All in good time. At home. Isn’t he gorgeous? And he's a quick learner. Also--" he glanced down again, catching his breath, then looked back up with a cheeky grin, "he has good taste in men.”
Alix chuckled. "Holden, you're such a sucker."
"Now there's an idea. Stop, Yves. Good boy. That was good. Stand up."
Yves rose quickly, if a little uncertainly, and Holden grinned at him before kneeling and licking with a quick tongue along the length of Yves' cock. Yves cried out as Holden reached out and cupped his balls.
"Yves." His voice caressed the name as intimately as his hand was caressing the cock. “Did your mistress train you to hold back your climax?”
“I-- I suppose not, sir," Yves said breathlessly. "I mean-- I never really-- needed--”
Holden burst into ribald laughter. “Not with her, right?”
Yves' face went beet red with embarrassment and perhaps suppressed laughter. Holden leaned forward to lick around the head of Yves’ cock, then looked up at him again.
“Let’s see if I can make you need it,” he said mischievously, and swallowed the cock again.
If the continued redness of Yves’ face was any indication, he made a valiant effort, but it was less than a minute before Alix saw he was close to orgasm. As his face contorted, Holden abruptly pulled back. Yves gave another strangled, wordless cry of involuntary protest, and his hand flew towards his cock. Holden slapped it sharply away.
“Sir, please, I need--” Yves gasped, gesturing at his hard cock, veins distended and the tip leaking drops of fluid.
“I know what you need,” Holden said roughly. "But you don't get it. Not yet." He rose in one fluid motion. "Alix? Get that harridan back in here and let's talk business, okay?"
"Katya isn't a harridan," said Alix patiently. “Are you sure you want him, sweetheart? I was picturing someone a bit more... experienced. With men, I mean.”
“So was I, but I sort of think it will be fun to train him myself. I’ve never gotten to-- I mean, I’ve never gotten to train someone just to my specifications, you know?”
“What about me?” said Alix, approaching the boy. “Look up, Yves.”
Yves met her eyes, still breathing hard, with a clear, anxious blue gaze. She leaned forward and brushed her cheek against his lips, then ran a hand through his soft curls.
“Get down,” she said. Blushing, he obeyed, kneeling on all fours with his elbows cupped in his palms and knees apart.
“Good boy,” she said absently, “good form.” She ran a hand up his inner thigh, weighed his balls in her hand, and prodded gently between his cheeks with one finger, hearing his breathing quicken again.
“He’s practically a virgin,” she said to Holden. “You’d have to start slow.”
“’S okay,” said Holden agreeably. “I can always fuck you in the meantime.”
“Such a romantic I married.” Alix pinched the soft crease where the boy’s buttocks met the backs of his thighs, then brushed her cheek and lips against the skin of his bottom. “Hmm. Is your mistress fond of canes, Yves?”
“Yes, madam,” he began, startled. “I mean-- yes, madam.”
“You mean?”
“Please, madam, my mistress doesn’t cane me herself, but when I-- when I’m to be punished-- she has one of the other slaves cane me,” he explained shyly. Alix regarded him thoughtfully, her fingers exploring the flesh of his buttocks again.
“Interesting,” she said.
“Bizarre,” said Holden.
“Mm. Some don’t relish the exercise. Are you often punished, Yves?”
He blushed again. “As often as I deserve it, my lady, which I hope grows less often.”
Alix smiled. “Once a day? Once a week? Once a month?”
“I-- depending on my behavior, my lady, and my mistress’-- will-- between twice in a week and twice in a month?”
“And what do you do to deserve it?” Alix asked, her hand moving between his legs again. He trembled slightly.
“I-- sometimes I fail to please my mistress as she wishes, my lady. Sometimes my speech or my-- manner-- is displeasing to my mistress. Or I fail to complete a task she’s set me.”
“What happens when you’re punished?” Alix asked.
“I-- I’m caned, my lady,” he said, obviously confused by the question.
“By a man or a woman? The same one every time? Where? Who else is there? How hard? How long? Naked or clothed? Standing or lying down? Is there any other punishment? Who tells you it’s going to happen? What happens afterwards?”
Yves gaped for a moment, tongue-tied. Holden chuckled.
“Now who's flustering the boy?” he asked.
“From the texture of his skin, he gets some pretty severe canings. I’m just trying to figure out how he’s conditioned to think about them before I sign off on giving him any more.”
“We will. First I want to get him home and do nice-feeling things to him. Come on, Alix. He’s the one I want. I’m sure.”
“You don’t want to shop around?”
“Nope. I’m in love. And so’s he. Aren’t you, Yves? Come here, stand up.”
Yves stood to face Holden, who put out his arms and drew the boy close, kissing his lips softly and passionately, for a long time. When they broke apart, Yves’ lips stayed slightly parted, his eyes fixed on Holden with a glazed look. Holden smiled at him and placed a hand on his collarbone, pressing two fingers against the artery in Yves’ neck. “Love or terror, one.”
“Could be both,” said Alix dryly. “All right, I'll go find Katya and see if I can haggle her down to a reasonable price.” She scrambled to her feet; Holden threw his arms around her as soon as she was upright, hugging her enthusiastically.
“Thanks, Alix,” he said happily.
“Nothing but the best for my boy," said Alix, kissing her husband affectionately. "Mmm. You taste like--"
"Yves," said Holden. "He tastes good, doesn't he? I like that dazzled flavor."
That night Alix came into the lounge, where Greta was reading on the divan.
“Don't get up,” she said, sitting down at Greta’s feet and leaning her head back between the girl’s knees.
Greta laid her book aside and began playing with Alix’s hair; Alix sighed softly with pleasure.
“Is my master enjoying the new boy?” Greta asked.
“Seems to be. I think he's teaching him to suck cock.”
“He doesn’t know how to suck cock? I thought he was an experienced slave.”
“He is, but apparently he’s only been taught to service women.”
Greta smiled a bit wickedly. “Is he any good at that?"
Alix turned and grinned back. “Don’t know yet. Why? Feeling neglected?”
Greta blushed. “I only meant--” She broke off with a soft shriek as Alix pulled her forward till she was perched on the edge of the couch, and then pushed her knees unceremoniously apart.