Lee chapter eighteen
Feb. 19th, 2008 09:44 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maculategiraffeWill catch up on comments shortly, but wanted to go ahead and get this posted. This is a fairly short one, for a few reasons:
1) Chapter sixteen ran crazy long.
2) I am the sort of hopeless dork who explicitly selects songs (located in the "Current Music" box) to go with the chapters she posts, and I wanted the music to change for the next bit.
3) I am a cock-tease.
Lee usually looked forward to dinnertime at the new master's house. It had been disconcerting at first to sit at the same table as his owners and so many fellow slaves-- so many adults, he found himself thinking, although of course legally they were in the same category as himself; he'd been of age to sell. But Yves and Jer and Greta were the age of his old master's friends, and chatted with their owners as easily as if they were their friends. Like so many initially baffling and therefore terrifying things about his new life, he'd slowly gotten used to it, and he liked listening to their conversations now, enjoying the peace of being ignored while he ate the wonderful food with the utensils he hadn't believed at first he was really allowed to handle.
Bran had explained that his first night, that yes, here they let you use silverware ("They wouldn't like it if you didn't"), and had helped Lee's clumsy fingers remember how.
"I had trouble too when I first got here," he'd said, smiling at Lee. "Everything's different here, Lee. You'll see."
Bran was wrong, though, Lee thought on that first night when he woke in soft sheets soaked with his own piss. Everything was different except the one crucial thing that would eventually bring all the rest crashing down: Lee was still worse than worthless.
Now he picked up a fork, but his hand shook so badly that he couldn't get food to stay on it. He set it down and took a breath, knowing he had to eat-- he was hungry, and also, he'd found that a healthy appetite pleased his owners-- and telling himself there was no reason to shake like this. His master wasn't angry with him, and there wasn't any immediate prospect of his being, either, not if he wasn't going to try to use Lee again for a while. As for what he'd said about Bran, there was no reason to worry about that either, or to think about it too much. Bran wouldn't... well, hurt him, or get him in trouble with their master, or anything that warranted a shaking hand. Lee took another deep breath, let it out slowly, and picked up the fork again; he managed to get it, loaded, to his mouth, but he didn't open his mouth wide enough and knocked the food off the fork again.
Great. A slave who not only couldn't suck cock, but couldn't even feed himself. Lee's mouth was really racking up the points today.
Before he could hope that no one had seen, he felt his master's hand on his back and looked up miserably. Holden took hold of his arm-- gently; he was always so gentle with Lee-- and pulled Lee from his chair. Lee sank readily, almost gratefully, to his knees; eating off the floor was an entirely logical punishment for being too clumsy to eat properly at the table, and considering that it was the way Lee had eaten for the past two and a half years, it hardly even counted as punishment. If the truth were told, Lee felt more comfortable immediately in the familiar crouch, out of sight of most of the table, waiting for his master to put his plate on the floor.
But he didn't; he hadn't let go of Lee's arm, and he tugged him back up, pulled him into his lap.
Lee had seen slaves seated in their masters' laps at table, eating from their hands, when his master took him out to dinner, chained by the neck and crawling. He understood that it was a sign of great favor, one he'd long given up hope of earning, and he couldn't begin to fathom what he'd done to earn this place with this master, especially when Bran and Yves and Jer were all sitting at the same table and none of them were getting hand-fed. He was afraid to look at any of them, and so nervous that when his master buttered a morsel of bread and lifted it to Lee's lips, Lee accidentally bit his fingers.
He would have dropped instantly to the floor, groveling in abject apology, if his master's other arm hadn't been holding him firmly in place. Holden chuckled very softly.
"Easy, kid," he said in Lee's ear. "Your plate's still full. No need to resort to cannibalism."
Easy, kid. Lee opened his mouth automatically as his master offered him another bite, and then forgot to close it for a moment, thinking of the spine-contracting gag reflex he'd fought in utter panic as his master's cock pressed against the back of his throat, desperate not to choke, knowing that thinking so much about not choking only made him choke all the more surely. And his master's voice: Easy, kid.
He shut his mouth abruptly and started chewing.
"He looks like a damn rabbit in headlights," said Jer as the master's hand stroked gently at the back of Lee's neck: Easy, kid. Lee swallowed, and his master lifted another bite of food to his lips.
"What did Mr. Harper want, master?" Bran asked. "I forgot to ask you earlier."
"Oh," said the master. "To poke his nose in where it doesn't belong, mainly. He wanted to know who Valor's real father is."
Greta, who'd been drinking something, nearly choked. She set her glass down and demanded, "You told him you weren't?"
"No, I didn't tell him," said the master, and fed Lee another piece of buttered bread. "He figured it out. He's not as dumb as he looks."
"What did you say?" the mistress asked quietly.
"That I was so, too, her father, and to shut up and leave me alone," said the master. "What could I say?"
"Well, there's always the 'random person who never knew he'd gotten Greta pregnant' story," said the mistress dryly. "That might throw him off the scent. It worked with Val for eighteen years."
"Val's a good girl," said Greta. "As far as she's concerned, you're her father, master."
The master nodded. "I wish Denys felt that way about it. He also started poking holes in your thrilling escape story, Bran. How did I find you in the forest, and so on."
Bran flushed, looking embarrassed. "Should I not have told him the story, master?"
"No, that's fine." The master loaded up a fork with rice and steered it carefully into Lee's mouth. "You're not the only one who told him. Most of you referred to it. Anyway, it makes great copy. Seemingly incorrigible runaway just needed love and care. Catch more flies with honey. All that. May not be the best story for abolitionists, but for reform in the slave laws--"
"You're not worried about this, master?" Yves interrupted. Lee didn't even flinch; he'd already figured out that Yves got to interrupt their master without receiving so much as a scowl.
"Not really," said the master. "The kid's on our side. Now if it were Robin poking around, I might worry. Speaking of which, she's coming over with Denys tomorrow, to photograph Mona. Andrei gave permission."
"Joy," said Jer grimly. The master grinned at him, then fed Lee another bite of dinner. Lee kissed the retreating fingertips, then blushed when the master looked at him in surprise. Lee wasn't sure what had prompted his bold act-- maybe the mention of the scary young woman who'd prompted Lee's first frightened scuttle into his master's shielding arms; maybe the slow sinking-in of the fact that his master really wasn't pissed off at him for not being any good at sex; maybe just the sudden desire to see his master smile at him, which he was now, with obvious pleasure that made Lee feel warm all over. He dropped his head against his master's shoulder, and the master leaned down and kissed Lee's temple.
Lee was discovering that he rather liked to be kissed by his master when he wasn't required to kiss back. They were funny kisses, these kisses to the temple and forehead and cheek and fingers and the back of his neck; he guessed what his master had said earlier about not wanting to have sex with him explained part of it, but not all of it. They didn't mean his master was about to fuck him, they did mean his master wasn't angry, and those were both very good things, but that wasn't all. Lee thought his master kissed him as though, while he was happy to own Lee's whole body, this particular part he was kissing right now was his absolute favorite.
He liked looking at Lee, too. That had made Lee feel sick with nervousness and shame when it meant his master was going to be fairly eager to fuck him soon, but if he wasn't... Lee looked up at Bran, who was watching the two of them, and smiled at Lee when their eyes met. Lee dropped his gaze quickly, blushing harder.
When supper was over, Lee's master lifted him up in his arms and carried him from the dining room. Lee was used to being carried-- he was small and slight enough that men had liked to do it even before Lee stopped moving on his own-- but like everything else since he'd been sold, this was different. His new master's arms were strong but careful, as if he were holding something very precious and fragile. Lee dared to disobey his master's standing order to keep his eyes and ears open, though he made sure his eyes closed in full sight of his master so that his master could correct him immediately if he chose, and his master said nothing.
He laid Lee down in someone else's lap-- Bran's lap; Lee's eyes opened, then closed again as Bran's arms went around him, pulling him in. He wanted to cry with the pleasure of being so close to Bran, without the edge of shame and fear that came with being so much more attracted to another slave than to their master. His master had said it, he'd said it and now he was acting exactly the same way as before with Lee, he really wasn't angry, and Lee had permission to--
He buried his face against Bran's shoulder, cutting off his own half-delirious train of thought, and Bran hugged him closer, nuzzling his hair affectionately.
"Hey," he said in Lee's ear. "How are you?"
Lee opened his eyes again and smiled at Bran, who leaned in and kissed him, softly, on the lips, then pulled back and looked up. Lee followed his gaze to their master, but he wasn't even looking; he had gone to sit by Yves and was talking to him in a low voice while Yves listened, looking thoughtful, then answered. Jer, Lee saw with a slight shock, was looking at him, watchfully, but he turned back to his book when he saw Lee was looking back.
Bran bent his head to kiss Lee's neck, and Lee sighed voicelessly, squirming closer. This was delight. Lee could have stayed like this, curled in Bran's lap, warm and well fed and the closest to safe that he'd felt since he could remember, forever.
"Master," said Bran softly, after a lovely, timeless while of this, and the master looked up. "May I take Lee upstairs?"
The master got up somewhat abruptly and came towards them, and for a moment, despite everything, Lee cringed against Bran, but his master's hand was gentle in his hair before he leaned down to kiss Bran's mouth.
"Take good care of him," he said to Bran, who smiled up at him.
"I will, master," he said. "Come on, Lee."
1) Chapter sixteen ran crazy long.
2) I am the sort of hopeless dork who explicitly selects songs (located in the "Current Music" box) to go with the chapters she posts, and I wanted the music to change for the next bit.
3) I am a cock-tease.
Lee usually looked forward to dinnertime at the new master's house. It had been disconcerting at first to sit at the same table as his owners and so many fellow slaves-- so many adults, he found himself thinking, although of course legally they were in the same category as himself; he'd been of age to sell. But Yves and Jer and Greta were the age of his old master's friends, and chatted with their owners as easily as if they were their friends. Like so many initially baffling and therefore terrifying things about his new life, he'd slowly gotten used to it, and he liked listening to their conversations now, enjoying the peace of being ignored while he ate the wonderful food with the utensils he hadn't believed at first he was really allowed to handle.
Bran had explained that his first night, that yes, here they let you use silverware ("They wouldn't like it if you didn't"), and had helped Lee's clumsy fingers remember how.
"I had trouble too when I first got here," he'd said, smiling at Lee. "Everything's different here, Lee. You'll see."
Bran was wrong, though, Lee thought on that first night when he woke in soft sheets soaked with his own piss. Everything was different except the one crucial thing that would eventually bring all the rest crashing down: Lee was still worse than worthless.
Now he picked up a fork, but his hand shook so badly that he couldn't get food to stay on it. He set it down and took a breath, knowing he had to eat-- he was hungry, and also, he'd found that a healthy appetite pleased his owners-- and telling himself there was no reason to shake like this. His master wasn't angry with him, and there wasn't any immediate prospect of his being, either, not if he wasn't going to try to use Lee again for a while. As for what he'd said about Bran, there was no reason to worry about that either, or to think about it too much. Bran wouldn't... well, hurt him, or get him in trouble with their master, or anything that warranted a shaking hand. Lee took another deep breath, let it out slowly, and picked up the fork again; he managed to get it, loaded, to his mouth, but he didn't open his mouth wide enough and knocked the food off the fork again.
Great. A slave who not only couldn't suck cock, but couldn't even feed himself. Lee's mouth was really racking up the points today.
Before he could hope that no one had seen, he felt his master's hand on his back and looked up miserably. Holden took hold of his arm-- gently; he was always so gentle with Lee-- and pulled Lee from his chair. Lee sank readily, almost gratefully, to his knees; eating off the floor was an entirely logical punishment for being too clumsy to eat properly at the table, and considering that it was the way Lee had eaten for the past two and a half years, it hardly even counted as punishment. If the truth were told, Lee felt more comfortable immediately in the familiar crouch, out of sight of most of the table, waiting for his master to put his plate on the floor.
But he didn't; he hadn't let go of Lee's arm, and he tugged him back up, pulled him into his lap.
Lee had seen slaves seated in their masters' laps at table, eating from their hands, when his master took him out to dinner, chained by the neck and crawling. He understood that it was a sign of great favor, one he'd long given up hope of earning, and he couldn't begin to fathom what he'd done to earn this place with this master, especially when Bran and Yves and Jer were all sitting at the same table and none of them were getting hand-fed. He was afraid to look at any of them, and so nervous that when his master buttered a morsel of bread and lifted it to Lee's lips, Lee accidentally bit his fingers.
He would have dropped instantly to the floor, groveling in abject apology, if his master's other arm hadn't been holding him firmly in place. Holden chuckled very softly.
"Easy, kid," he said in Lee's ear. "Your plate's still full. No need to resort to cannibalism."
Easy, kid. Lee opened his mouth automatically as his master offered him another bite, and then forgot to close it for a moment, thinking of the spine-contracting gag reflex he'd fought in utter panic as his master's cock pressed against the back of his throat, desperate not to choke, knowing that thinking so much about not choking only made him choke all the more surely. And his master's voice: Easy, kid.
He shut his mouth abruptly and started chewing.
"He looks like a damn rabbit in headlights," said Jer as the master's hand stroked gently at the back of Lee's neck: Easy, kid. Lee swallowed, and his master lifted another bite of food to his lips.
"What did Mr. Harper want, master?" Bran asked. "I forgot to ask you earlier."
"Oh," said the master. "To poke his nose in where it doesn't belong, mainly. He wanted to know who Valor's real father is."
Greta, who'd been drinking something, nearly choked. She set her glass down and demanded, "You told him you weren't?"
"No, I didn't tell him," said the master, and fed Lee another piece of buttered bread. "He figured it out. He's not as dumb as he looks."
"What did you say?" the mistress asked quietly.
"That I was so, too, her father, and to shut up and leave me alone," said the master. "What could I say?"
"Well, there's always the 'random person who never knew he'd gotten Greta pregnant' story," said the mistress dryly. "That might throw him off the scent. It worked with Val for eighteen years."
"Val's a good girl," said Greta. "As far as she's concerned, you're her father, master."
The master nodded. "I wish Denys felt that way about it. He also started poking holes in your thrilling escape story, Bran. How did I find you in the forest, and so on."
Bran flushed, looking embarrassed. "Should I not have told him the story, master?"
"No, that's fine." The master loaded up a fork with rice and steered it carefully into Lee's mouth. "You're not the only one who told him. Most of you referred to it. Anyway, it makes great copy. Seemingly incorrigible runaway just needed love and care. Catch more flies with honey. All that. May not be the best story for abolitionists, but for reform in the slave laws--"
"You're not worried about this, master?" Yves interrupted. Lee didn't even flinch; he'd already figured out that Yves got to interrupt their master without receiving so much as a scowl.
"Not really," said the master. "The kid's on our side. Now if it were Robin poking around, I might worry. Speaking of which, she's coming over with Denys tomorrow, to photograph Mona. Andrei gave permission."
"Joy," said Jer grimly. The master grinned at him, then fed Lee another bite of dinner. Lee kissed the retreating fingertips, then blushed when the master looked at him in surprise. Lee wasn't sure what had prompted his bold act-- maybe the mention of the scary young woman who'd prompted Lee's first frightened scuttle into his master's shielding arms; maybe the slow sinking-in of the fact that his master really wasn't pissed off at him for not being any good at sex; maybe just the sudden desire to see his master smile at him, which he was now, with obvious pleasure that made Lee feel warm all over. He dropped his head against his master's shoulder, and the master leaned down and kissed Lee's temple.
Lee was discovering that he rather liked to be kissed by his master when he wasn't required to kiss back. They were funny kisses, these kisses to the temple and forehead and cheek and fingers and the back of his neck; he guessed what his master had said earlier about not wanting to have sex with him explained part of it, but not all of it. They didn't mean his master was about to fuck him, they did mean his master wasn't angry, and those were both very good things, but that wasn't all. Lee thought his master kissed him as though, while he was happy to own Lee's whole body, this particular part he was kissing right now was his absolute favorite.
He liked looking at Lee, too. That had made Lee feel sick with nervousness and shame when it meant his master was going to be fairly eager to fuck him soon, but if he wasn't... Lee looked up at Bran, who was watching the two of them, and smiled at Lee when their eyes met. Lee dropped his gaze quickly, blushing harder.
When supper was over, Lee's master lifted him up in his arms and carried him from the dining room. Lee was used to being carried-- he was small and slight enough that men had liked to do it even before Lee stopped moving on his own-- but like everything else since he'd been sold, this was different. His new master's arms were strong but careful, as if he were holding something very precious and fragile. Lee dared to disobey his master's standing order to keep his eyes and ears open, though he made sure his eyes closed in full sight of his master so that his master could correct him immediately if he chose, and his master said nothing.
He laid Lee down in someone else's lap-- Bran's lap; Lee's eyes opened, then closed again as Bran's arms went around him, pulling him in. He wanted to cry with the pleasure of being so close to Bran, without the edge of shame and fear that came with being so much more attracted to another slave than to their master. His master had said it, he'd said it and now he was acting exactly the same way as before with Lee, he really wasn't angry, and Lee had permission to--
He buried his face against Bran's shoulder, cutting off his own half-delirious train of thought, and Bran hugged him closer, nuzzling his hair affectionately.
"Hey," he said in Lee's ear. "How are you?"
Lee opened his eyes again and smiled at Bran, who leaned in and kissed him, softly, on the lips, then pulled back and looked up. Lee followed his gaze to their master, but he wasn't even looking; he had gone to sit by Yves and was talking to him in a low voice while Yves listened, looking thoughtful, then answered. Jer, Lee saw with a slight shock, was looking at him, watchfully, but he turned back to his book when he saw Lee was looking back.
Bran bent his head to kiss Lee's neck, and Lee sighed voicelessly, squirming closer. This was delight. Lee could have stayed like this, curled in Bran's lap, warm and well fed and the closest to safe that he'd felt since he could remember, forever.
"Master," said Bran softly, after a lovely, timeless while of this, and the master looked up. "May I take Lee upstairs?"
The master got up somewhat abruptly and came towards them, and for a moment, despite everything, Lee cringed against Bran, but his master's hand was gentle in his hair before he leaned down to kiss Bran's mouth.
"Take good care of him," he said to Bran, who smiled up at him.
"I will, master," he said. "Come on, Lee."
