Lee chapter nineteen

[maculategiraffe]

Another shortish one...







Bran carried Lee into his own bedroom and laid him down carefully on the bed before he lay down next to him, gazing affectionately at his face and stroking his cheek.

"Hey," he said again, softly.

Lee looked back at him, feeling timid and small next to Bran's healthy, strong body, and painfully conscious of his scars, even though they were hidden right now under his tunic. Bran's own skin was smooth and flawless, and he moved with a confident grace that Lee was all too conscious of lacking himself. But Bran touched him as if he were beautiful, looked at him as if it were a pleasure to see him.

"Have I told you about the first time the master took me?" he asked, and Lee shook his head, swallowing hard. "You know, when I first got here-- they didn't have to take me to the hospital, I wasn't hurt as badly as you were, or-- well, sick. But I was-- torn up, inside, just like you were. They had to call the doctor, and the master couldn't have sex with me for weeks, same as you."

"I didn't know that," said Lee, thinking of what his old master might have done to Bran, then, quickly, not thinking of it. He thought, instead, about the new master, and-- "Bran? You told me-- you said-- it doesn't hurt, now, when he-- you know. But--" He swallowed. "Did it? The first time?"

"No," said Bran, smiling, his eyes slightly out of focus as if lost in memory. "He-- he was careful." He paused, and then said, "Sweet. He was sweet. And gentle. He told me, if it hurt, to tell him and he'd stop."

Lee found he could imagine their master saying that to Bran. Could even, if he let himself, imagine their master saying that to him. But after that his imagination stalled, because he couldn't imagine his master doing anything as awful to Bran as fucking him.

"How--" He licked dry lips. "How did he-- take you?"

Bran moved closer to Lee, turning him gently over on his side with his back to Bran, and then spooning up against him from behind.

"Like this," he said. "Only we were naked, of course."

"Can you do it like that?" Lee asked, puzzled, and could hear the smile in Bran's voice when he said, "It surprised me too."

"Did you-- did you think about asking him-- not to?" Lee was afraid he sounded like a child, but imagining a younger, shyer Bran, so recently torn by the same brutal cock that had bloodied Lee, he had to know if even Bran's courage had wavered at the prospect of being split open yet again.

Bran laughed, his breath ruffling Lee's hair from behind. "I'd asked him to do it."

"You what?"

Bran shifted and pulled Lee back over on his other side, facing Bran, so Lee could see him smile. "Like I said. I wasn't as hurt as you were. I hadn't been with Dunaev for as long. He was your first master, wasn't he?"

Lee nodded. "Was he not yours?"

"No. I'd only lived with him for about a year and a half when I tried to run. I'd tried to run from my first master, too, but he didn't sell me to the slave breakers, just put it on my record so the next time I screwed up-- you know. That's the only reason it took me so long to try to run from Dunaev. I knew what would happen, if I-- And Oreskovich wasn't so bad, really. I mean, not as bad as Dunaev."

Hearing Bran speak the names of his former owners so casually, with no title, was as alarming and exhilarating as if Lee had been watching him dodge lightning bolts. Lee watched the other boy's face, wondering how a person got to be that brave.

"So you weren't-- afraid?" he ventured. "Of the master-- of him-- t-taking you?"

"I was nervous," said Bran. "But I'd had sex before that didn't hurt. I figured if anybody could-- not hurt me-- he wouldn't. And, well." He hesitated for a moment before he said, "I wanted him to-- want me. I wanted him to keep me."

Lee nodded solemnly. "Were you already in love with him? Then?"

Bran looked at him oddly. "How do you know I'm in love with him now?"

Lee raised his eyebrows, and after a moment, Bran laughed again.

"Yeah," he said. "I guess I was. I think maybe he was, too. Already."

Lee put his head down on Bran's shoulder, and Bran pulled him closer.

"Bran?" he asked eventually. "What happens if-- I can't please him? I mean, ever? Because I can't. I'm just-- no good. At any of that. I never have been."

"You already please him," said Bran, and touched Lee's face again. "He told you, there are ways of working around anything you can't do. But you never know-- well, what you might learn." He hesitated for a moment. "Lee--"

Lee waited expectantly.

"I know he told you we had permission," said Bran. "But you know you don't have to do anything you don't want to do. Not with me."

Lee smiled, still waiting.

"But--" It was Bran's turn to swallow; he moved incrementally closer to Lee, close enough that Lee felt the other boy's cock, a gentle but firm pressure, against his own groin. "Gods, Lee, your mouth is so-- unbelievably gorgeous. I was afraid I was going to come just from kissing you earlier. I'd love to-- just feel your mouth. On my cock. You don't have to-- suck or anything-- if you could just-- kiss--"

Half amused by the hesitation in Bran's voice, half overwhelmed by the idea that anything about him was anyone's idea of unbelievably gorgeous, and wholly eager to please, Lee squirmed readily down the bed, pulling up Bran's tunic and looking at his long, slender, erect cock before leaning in to touch his lips to it. It was warm, nearly hot. Lee loved heat; it settled the tremors that had been shaking him for so long he hardly remembered why, now, or needed a reason to tremble. The warmth of Bran's arms, as much as the mention of his name, had drawn him up from his stupor. And then the hot things to drink at the hospital, the cold cuff, Bran's hand in his.

He hesitated, hating that he knew he couldn't take it the way you were supposed to take a cock; he would have liked to do that for Bran. Instead he licked the head, cautiously, as if it might bite, then closed his lips around it, swirling his tongue around the deep ridge, exploring it almost dreamily. He tasted something, a subtle shift in flavor, a saltiness at the back of his tongue, and pulled back, examining the little hole at the tip of Bran's cock where drops of liquid pearled amid his own saliva. Delicately he lapped at them, interested by the taste-- what with the taste of his own bile and mucus and, sometimes, blood, he didn't think he'd ever isolated this particular flavor before-- and the texture, on his wet tongue. Then he closed his lips, again, around the head of Bran's cock.

"Oh gods," he heard Bran whisper above him.

He pulled back and pressed his lips to the hard shaft again before he nibbled very gently, with his lips only, not his teeth, at the tender skin that sheathed it. Bran seemed to like that, too, judging from his breathing, and Lee nuzzled his cock, almost amused that Bran was enjoying this so much; if Lee had tried playing around and putting things off this way with his old master, he would have been bleeding from a split lip by now.

He kissed down the underside of Bran's cock to his sac and licked that too, liking the downy fuzziness of it; it was like licking a peach, something Lee hadn't done in so long he was surprised how vividly the isolated memory sprang to mind. He laved the tender, yielding, heavy sac with his tongue and took the smoothly shifting weights inside it one by one into his mouth, wondering whether he might dare ask his master, sometime when things were quiet, if he could have a peach.

"Gods," Bran whispered again. "Lee-- please--"

Please? If Lee's mouth hadn't been full, he would have laughed; as it was, a bubble of mirth broke in his chest. When was the last time anyone had said please to him? He didn't have the faintest idea. And he wouldn't have thought it would start when he was busy serving with his mouth, however little this was like the service he'd grown accustomed to being terrible at. Please meant Lee didn't have to do anything he didn't want to do, but Bran wanted--

"Please what?" he asked when his mouth was free, stunned by how bold he sounded, and Bran's voice was almost a whine when he answered, "Please-- need more."

Need more-- of course. Just because Bran was nice enough to say Lee, please instead of Quit fucking around and take it, bitch didn't mean Lee could actually satisfy him like this. He hated the idea of choking himself on Bran's cock, and he knew Bran wouldn't want him to, anyway. But maybe-- and Bran had said it didn't hurt. Bran would be gentle. If anybody could-- not hurt me--

He pulled back and looked up at Bran, who stared down at him, panting, flushed.

"Fuck me?" he said timidly.

Bran reached down to cup Lee's cheek in his palm.

"No," he said, sounding as if he were in pain. "Not tonight. You're not ready."

Lee nodded. "I think-- not for anyone else-- but for you--"

Bran moaned very softly, and pulled Lee up into his arms, hugging him hard for a moment.

"No," he said again, and reached to the drawer beside the bed, bringing out a small bottle that Lee recognized as lubricant.

"Hold out your hand," he said, and Lee held out his palm obediently, puzzled. Bran poured the oil into it, then rubbed it carefully into Lee's palm and fingers until they were glistening. Then he placed Lee's hand, gently, on his own cock.

"Jerk me off," he said. "Please."

"I don't know how!" Lee protested, frozen.

Bran laughed breathlessly, and put his own oiled hand on Lee's cock; Lee gasped. "Just-- here-- just do what I do--"

As Bran's fingers acquired a grip and started pulling at Lee's cock, Lee imitated the movement on Bran, feeling the tender skin slide silkily under his hand. Bran brought his other hand up to cup Lee's balls carefully, kneading them gently. Lee gasped, thrusting into Bran's hand, his own grip tightening involuntarily, and Bran groaned.

"Gods, Lee," he panted, "I-- you-- Lee, come for me, please, want to see you-- hear you--"

Lee shook his head, concentrating on ignoring how his own cock was being stimulated so he could stroke Bran more effectively. Bran seemed to accept this for a while, his own grip slackening, his eyes closing in pleasure, before he pushed Lee's hand firmly away from his own cock and tightened his grip on Lee's again.

"Don't move," he commanded as he stroked Lee, quickly and efficiently, to a point where bright colors played at the edges of his vision. "Just feel. Just come for me. Come on, Lee. Please. For me."

Lee's eyes stayed open as he convulsed with a short, sharp cry and shot hard onto Bran's stomach; Bran kept stroking him, as he'd kept sucking the night before, till Lee was shaking so hard he had to push the other boy's hands away.

"Now... you...?" he managed, reaching for Bran's glistening erection, but Bran shook his head and pulled Lee close, his semen warm and sticky between their bellies, his cock poking between Lee's thighs.

"Leave it," he said. "If the master wants me later, he'll like it if I'm still-- and if he doesn't, Yves or Jer will. Just rest, Lee. That was perfect."

"But I didn't--" Lee protested weakly. "I didn't-- do anything."

"You were perfect," Bran repeated, and kissed Lee tenderly. "If you want to do more-- tomorrow night-- but gods, Lee, you're so--"

He didn't say what Lee was, although Lee waited for a long time before the comfort of Bran's arms and the sleepiness from his orgasm overwhelmed him, and, sated, he slept.