Lee chapter thirteen

[maculategiraffe]

Valor came back in and paused just inside the door, looking at the group of people clustered around Jer without quite letting her gaze come to rest on any one face.

"I'm sorry," she said finally. "Robin-- well, she never-- lived with-- I mean she never--"

"Had your advantages?" Alix finished, when Valor seemed to flounder.

"Right." Valor looked up then, at Alix, avoiding everyone else's gaze. "She didn't really know-- and I should have been the one to tell her--" She looked at Jer, swallowing. "What you said."

"Yes, you should," said Holden coolly. "And if Robin started throwing things at a virtual stranger's slave, in his own home, in the first hour she knew him, I hate to imagine how she's been treating Inga."

"She never did anything like that to Inga," Valor protested. "Honestly, she didn't. I mean, she's kind of rude to Inga, but she's kind of rude to everybody. She's rude to me."

"That I believe," said Holden. "But there's a difference between being rude to your lover and being rude to your lover's slave. Inga can't snap back. You can. And if you don't speak up for Inga, who will?"

"I know, Dad." Valor was flushed, miserable. "I said I was sorry. But she's really not-- I've never seen her act like that before. I can't believe she threw something at Bran. She was-- I don't know-- upset. Today."

"Oh," said Alix mildly. "So she'd never act like that towards a helpless person-- unless she was in a bad mood. Good to know."

"Don't." Valor was studying the tips of her fingernails, looking as if she wanted to bite them. "Please. She knows she behaved badly. She feels really awful."

"Good," said Greta in an uncharacteristically hard tone. "She should."

"She does," Valor insisted. "She asked if you guys were going to punish Jer. She wanted to know if there was anything she could do to stop it if you were."

"How magnanimous," said Holden.

Valor hesitated. "You aren't, are you? Going to punish him?"

After a pause while she flushed redder, she said loudly, "Well, I didn't know. You are trainers."

"Not of Jer," said Holden. "Can't teach an old dog new tricks, right, Jer?"

"The hell you can't," said Jer, and bent his head to kiss Bran's neck; Holden's cock leaped to attention as Bran arched into the touch.

"Valor," said Alix, "I hate to pack you off to your room, dear, but we need to discuss whether we want this story to happen. And since it will affect all of us if it does, I want everyone to be able to speak freely on the subject."

The implication hung in the air as clearly as if it had been spoken aloud, and Valor swallowed. Being excluded from the circle of "everyone" clearly hurt. Despite his annoyance, Holden ached for his warm-hearted daughter, but it was Yves who stepped forward unexpectedly from behind them all and went to her. Valor looked up at him, her lip quivering the way it had when she was a small child and, having smashed something or hit someone in the course of one of her violent temper tantrums, began to emerge from her rage and realize what she had done.

"Do you hate me?" she asked him, sounding about four years old. Yves shook his head, smoothing back a stray tendril of dark hair from her forehead.

"You know your family loves you, no matter what," he said gently.

Valor's eyes shimmered with tears as she asked, in a huskier voice, "Are you disappointed in me?"

Yves studied her for a moment before he answered.

"Only if you don't learn from this," he said finally. "You've always meant well, Miss. But you're not a little girl any more. It's time to start being more careful."

Valor's tears spilled over, and Yves stepped forward and took her in his arms, hugging her close. When he let her go, she turned and almost ran from the room. Yves, his face calm and a little sad, came to sit down where Robin had been. Greta moved from Alix's side to Yves', and put a hand over his; he smiled at her before looking up attentively at his mistress.

"Let's discuss this news story," said Alix, with a nod at Yves. "I'll admit I'm ambivalent about the idea. Obviously we'd like to make a difference in the world beyond this putting-out-fires approach we've taken. But in the meantime, we have to cope with things as they are now. Being the headliners for an anti-slavery piece--"

"Would it necessarily be anti-slavery?" Holden asked. "I thought we were just looking at more regulation, not abolishing slavery altogether."

Jer snorted. "In theory, maybe. If a grown-up were in charge. The kids will be calling for the abolition of the class system before they're done."

"Even if it doesn't openly call for abolition," Yves added, "that's how a lot of people would read it. Nobles, I mean."

"Especially coming from us," Alix agreed. "Everyone knows Holden and I are ex-slaves ourselves. Most nobles are willing to forgive us for it-- it makes them feel broadminded-- and the others usually snicker behind our backs instead of to our faces. And Valor becoming an activist was an amusing footnote to the gossip. But a lot of people are going to read a piece like this as if we're choosing sides. That we're with the slaves, against the nobles."

"And while that may be true--" Holden added wryly.

"The nobles don't know it," Alix finished. "And it's taken a lot of finesse to keep it that way."

"It's not a question of taking sides," Greta protested. "Or if it is, it's not nobles against slaves, it's common decency, against-- brutality."

"Even that could be a risk," said Holden. "I'm not sure it wouldn't be worth it to a man like Dunaev to lose the money we'd pay for a kid, if he thought the alternative was turning him over to some kind of slaves' rights advocates."

"I think you're wrong there, master," said Yves thoughtfully. "The people you buy from know the kind of people you resell to-- and how they treat their slaves. They must know you aren't really just out to torture the slaves to the breaking point. Whatever they manage to convince the slaves of."

"That's true," said Bran pensively. "I think that's probably why Lord Dunaev tried so hard to scare me, that last night before he sold me to you. He was hoping I'd be panicked enough to do something stupid and get myself in trouble with you-- but he wouldn't have bothered if he'd thought you were going to be cruel to me anyway."

"I think you're both right," said Alix, as Holden glanced at Bran, fascinated. "But knowing deep down that we aren't going to hurt the kids unnecessarily, and selling to people who've publically declared their distaste for cruelty to slaves, are two very different things. Can you imagine Lord Dunaev's reaction to this story? Do you think his friends will think any differently? Do you think they'd sell to us again?"

Holden shrugged. "Some would, some wouldn't. Some just want the money instead of the body. Some who sell to the slave breakers aren't even bad people, just at their wits' end. But yes, it's a risk. I think if we're going to do the story, it's going to have to be one we're willing to take."

"I'd worry more about your buyers," said Jer. "If the delinquent supply dries up completely-- which I doubt-- that will suck for the delinquents, but you'll still have a business in brand-new slaves. But what if the nice people you sell to decide they really can't associate with known abolitionists, be they ever so well dressed and articulate?"

"Not only that," Alix agreed, "but if this article makes enemies of the people who should be our allies, it will accomplish the exact opposite of what we want."

"What if you--" Bran began slowly. "I mean, if what you need to know is how your buyers would feel about something like this-- why don't you find out?"

"Of course," said Alix patiently, "but the problem is how we find out, without risking the business."

"With finesse," said Bran with a small smile. Sitting up straight in Jer's lap, he lifted and curled his hand if holding an imaginary cocktail glass. "'We had to take him to the hospital, he was half dead, it was awful, but of course it's legal,' and-- if nothing else, you'll get a facial expression. Which you're both used to reading anyway, when you decide whether to add people to your list. And maybe you start a conversation."

"That's not half a bad idea, mistress," said Greta, interested. "Because then you get the nobles talking to each other, too. You know they gossip. How many people asked you about Jesse, when he was here? If you talked to one noble about Lee, others would be starting the conversation with you. 'I heard he had terrible scars, was in the hospital, is that true--' and then, 'Sometimes I really think there should be a law against--'"

"And we talk to each other, too," Yves added. "Slaves, I mean. Even if you don't get much out of the nobles at the time, Kira's bound to hear Lord and Lady Brokov afterwards-- 'Do you think Larssen was hinting that there should be a law? Well, sometimes I have to admit I think--'"

"But wouldn't that take ages?" Holden asked. "Getting gossip like that going, talking to so many people, hearing back from slaves--"

Bran shrugged. "Better than not doing it at all because you aren't sure. Right?"

"Right," Greta agreed. "And that way, it doesn't come as such a shock to your friends when the story does come out. People hate surprises."

"If it's worth doing," said Bran seriously, "it's worth preparing the ground so that it works. Isn't it? And besides," he added, grinning suddenly, "did you see how guilty Mr. Harper looked when he was leaving, about how Miss Robin acted? If you keep him guessing about how mad you are and whether you still want to do the story at all, I bet he'll agree to any timetable you want, master."

"Why, you scheming little brat," said Jer approvingly, locking his arms around Bran's waist as Bran laughed. "I didn't think you had it in you."

"That's the other question," said Alix, smiling at Bran and Jer. "If we do allow Denys to go ahead with the story, on our timetable, do we also allow Robin back in? And if so, on what terms?"

"That's their call," said Holden, nodding to Jer and Bran and then Yves and Greta. "Isn't it?"

"Of course," said Alix matter-of-factly, glancing at the two pairs of slaves. "As you said to Valor-- we can snap back. And while I absolutely and unequivocally loved what you said just now," she added to Jer, who was grinning at her the way he used to when they'd been slaves together and Alix had expertly blandished some privilege or concession out of their master, usually to spare Holden some well-deserved punishment, "I also felt you shaking afterwards. I don't want you-- any of you-- in that position again."

"As long as we all know where we stand," said Jer, glancing from Alix to Holden, still grinning a little, "and I think we do, now-- I don't mind if she comes back. But she didn't do anything to me, anyway. It's Bran you should be asking."

"I don't mind, either," said Bran quickly.

"How did I know you'd say that?" Holden asked, and Bran smiled a little sheepishly. "Yves?"

"If it's okay with Bran and Jer, it's okay with me," said Yves peaceably.

They all looked at Greta, who was frowning, her pretty, usually serene face furrowed with unhappiness. "She's dating my daughter."

"Oh, gods," said Holden. "Thank you. I didn't want to say anything, but-- Kicking her out of the house felt so nicely final. Valor stays with us, Robin leaves."

"We yell at Valor for bringing home someone like Robin," Alix added with a hint of a smile, "she apologizes and feels terrible, nobody ever sees Robin again."

"Until Miss Valor goes back home," said Yves quietly, "and you're the big bad parents who refused to forgive Miss Robin even though she feels really, really awful about the whole thing. Whereas if you let Miss Robin back in, she either learns a thing or two about a thing or two and becomes a lot more tolerable, or Miss Valor sees firsthand that she isn't really sorry and can't really change and is upsetting the people her lover cares about most, and nobody including Miss Valor ever sees her again."

"Well," said Holden after a brief pause. "There is that."

"Oh, Yves," Greta sighed, slumping against the back of the couch. "Do you always have to be so damn smart?" She hesitated as Yves laughed, then sat back up. "All right, fine. She can come back to do the story. But I don't want her sleeping here."

"That seems reasonable," said Alix briskly. "Are we all agreed, then? We wait for them to call tomorrow, then lay out our terms?"

Everyone nodded.

"In that case," said Alix, "Greta, darling, why don't you go talk to Val? I'll go check on Lee, and Holden, I notice Bran and Jer are squirming like mad, over here--"

Holden laughed. "I'll see what I can do."





"Are you sure I don't need to check on Lee, master?" Bran asked in bed a few minutes later, his eyes already half closed with pleasure as Jer's rough hands kneaded his flesh.

"He'll be fine with Alix," said Holden. "I think it's better to start getting him used to women. Even if he responded to men before, Dunaev's probably turned him off them for life." His eye skated over Bran, then Bran's cock. "Though I suppose some people are more resilient than others."

"That reminds me, master," said Yves seriously, propped up on one elbow and still watching as Jer's mouth covered Bran's. "Have you thought about trying to sell Lee after all this? Interviews, a profile, and didn't you say something about a court case? Lee will be notorious. And so will anyone who buys him. It might make it a lot harder to sell-- especially when he's already got those scars."

Holden saw his point. Some people craved notoriety, but not, he thought, the kind he wanted owning Lee.

"So I'll just keep him," he said, and to three startled stares, "I'm joking."

"Or so you'd have us believe," said Jer, pushing Bran at Holden; Bran, laughing, rolled on top of his master, and Holden automatically pulled him in closer, feeling the boy's erection throbbing against his own. "Here's Bran. Remember Bran? You like Bran."

"Bran's over the hill," Yves grinned. "What are you now, Bran, twenty-two?"

"Twenty-three," said Bran absently, his hips grinding against Holden, teeth worrying gently at his master's neck.

"Gods, it's worse than I thought," said Yves, reaching lazily over and opening the drawer of the nightstand. "You're right, master. We need some fresh meat around here."

Jer reached over Holden and Bran and held out a palm, and Yves sloshed lubricant into it from the bottle; Jer's slicked hand slid between Holden's pelvis and Bran's, closing around Holden's cock. Holden's gasp was echoed an instant later by Bran's as Bran's hands tightened on Holden's arms; Yves smiled innocently at Holden, his fingers sliding deeper into Bran.

"Is that going to fit?" he asked Jer, nodding at Holden's cock as Jer's fingers rippled up and down it, Yves' own fingers sliding in and out of Bran.

Jer snorted. "Hey, if I fit--"

"No comments on relative sizes," Holden managed. Bran was rubbing himself frantically up against Holden's thighs and Jer's knuckles, pushing back at the same time to impale himself on Yves' fingers.

"Please," he whimpered. "Please, please--"

"Please what?" Yves asked softly in his ear. "Whose cock do you want pounding your ass, beautiful? Where do you want your own pretty cock?"

"Please!" Bran cried, tears in his eyes, and the sight roused Holden, despite the haze of his own pleasure at the warm young flesh wriggling against him and the rhythmic pulling of Jer's strong fingers, to say hoarsely, "Don't torture him."

"You never let me have any fun," said Yves, sliding his fingers out of Bran and pulling the panting boy over to face him, pressing Bran's back against Holden. Holden's arms went around the boy from behind, pulling him closer as Jer's hand guided Holden's cock to the hot, well-lubricated opening; Holden and Bran's gasps came at the same moment this time as Jer's hips, behind Holden's, pushed him inexorably inside.

Yves made a soft purring sound of satisfaction and began to kiss his way down the young body that trembled as his master slid deeper inside him; Yves' lips and tongue played wantonly over Holden's clutching fingers and between them to tease Bran's nipples and abdomen. Jer's mouth was hot on Holden's spine, and as Holden pulled back to increase the intensity of his thrusts into Bran, he could feel Jer's slick fingers pressing at the cleft of his own ass. Bran was sobbing incoherently; Yves' mouth had reached his cock.

"I love you," Holden whispered, not knowing which of them he wanted to say it to most. "I love you so much."

"Really, master?" said Jer from behind him, one hand tightening on Holden's arm. "We never would have guessed."