Vignette in the library

[maculategiraffe]

Fear I am hopelessly behind on comments again-- been an interesting couple of days-- but morgan_cian requested a scene with Yves and Jer alone together, pointing out that we've seen practically everyone else in pairs but those two, and also that Jer and Yves were super cute together in chapter 20 of "Lee," and I had thought about this scene before, so I'm going to go ahead and put it up. Will catch up with everything else soon, really.

This is set a few days after Holden brings Bran home, so also a few days (plus one) after Jer's first night.





Somehow or another, the mathematical section of the library had mostly relocated itself to Yves' bedroom, and Holden no longer bothered to put new math books in the library first when he bought them for Yves, but Yves still liked to sit in the library. It was a place of pleasant associations for him, and being surrounded by books on all four sides was soothing. It had also come to serve as an unspoken signal between him and his master: Yves in his bedroom, even reading or working at his desk, was to be considered fair game for pouncing and/or ravishing; Yves in the library was hoping, respectfully, to be treated with a bit more restraint, and perhaps asked what he was doing, with a reasonable expectation of having the answer listened to.

Holden, unlike any other master Yves had ever heard of, even the ones who allowed their slaves their own bedrooms, also respected a closed bedroom door-- but Yves wasn't feeling that fragile. He didn't have to like the fact that his lover of nearly two decades had suddenly decided to move a previous lover and a gorgeous clinging vine of a teenage boy into the house they shared, but he did have to live with it, and there was no percentage in making things more unpleasant on purpose by withdrawing from his master or sulking and moping around.

Still, Yves was feeling most comfortable in the library these days-- and that was where he was, plotting curves on a graphing pad, when Jer walked in and halted at the sight of him.

"Hi," said Yves, with what he hoped was the appropriate balance between friendliness and reserve for an established slave greeting an unexpected permanent addition to the household, one with whom he'd had a previously standing nodding-and-smiling relationship due to the new addition's history with the master of the house. Yves had gone through a phase at seventeen where he'd become fascinated with Lady Katya's many books on proper etiquette, but he was fairly sure none of them had covered this particular topic.

"Hi," said Jer, rather cautiously. Well, Yves had probably sounded that way, too. "Can I sit down?"

"Please do," said Yves, smiling pleasantly, thinking, He's more nervous than I am, and then, Of course he is. This is my house.

Jer sat down gingerly on the edge of the couch by Yves and looked up at the shelf by his head, more as a nervous gesture-- Yves thought-- than in search of anything to read. But maybe not, as it turned out; Jer asked, "Any mysteries around here?"

Yves managed to resist the setup. "Light fiction's behind your head and to the left."

Jer turned his head and scanned the shelves as intently as a fictional detective looking for clues, and maybe it was Jer's nervousness, or maybe it was being in the library, which in some ways felt more his than his own room, but it wasn't hard to close his book on his paper and add, gently, as he laid both aside, "How are you? Must be crazy-- the transition."

Jer looked back at him, quickly. "Yeah. Kind of crazy. --You?"

"I'm fine," Yves said, liking that Jer had asked. "I didn't have to move anywhere."

"No, but--" Jer gestured. "Home invasion, right? Sorry about that."

"Not your fault," said Yves, smiling. If there were more awkward circumstances under which to get to know a friendly acquaintance better, Yves didn't know them, but Jer seemed surprisingly graceful under pressure, and Yves' own preferred way of getting to know people better was starting to tempt him. Jer wasn't pretty like Bran, or handsome like Holden, but he was undeniably attractive in an extremely masculine way. Yves liked extremely masculine men; they made him feel like a delicate young blossom, when he spent too much of his time feeling vaguely middle-aged and intimidating to genuine delicate young blossoms.

"Um," he said into the awkward silence, wondering how much more awkward it was about to get. "So I don't know if the master's said anything to you about-- what we're allowed to do."

"Like leaving the house and all?" Jer asked.

"That, and, well--" Yves cleared his throat. "Well, you know Bran's supposed to do as we say. Both of us. Right?"

"Right," said Jer. "Which probably explains why the kid's been scurrying around after the master like he's got the antidote."

Yves grinned; Bran had been dogging Holden's heels like a silent, anxious shadow for the past few days, and Holden had mostly indulged him, allowing the kid to sit at his feet around the house and accompany him on errands, which was where the two of them were now. Yves suspected that Holden was nearing the end of his tolerance for Bran's clingy behavior, though; he'd been meaning to get the kid alone, if possible, and try to reassure him. And possibly, albeit gently, fuck him.

"Well," he pursued, shelving that thought for later, "you know that-- well, you and I, we're allowed to-- um, be together, too. If we want."

"He did say something about that," said Jer neutrally, and Yves wondered if he should let the subject drop-- but he'd never be sure, if he dropped it now, how Jer actually felt about it.

"So," he said as casually as he could. "Yeah. I don't know if you'd be interested-- but, if you ever were. Um-- I am."

Smooth, Yves. Very.

Jer smiled suddenly, a quick look of friendly amusement that made Yves smile back without even thinking about it. "You're blushing."

Yves, feeling himself blush harder, turned his face away in an absurd, childish gesture. "Sorry. I just-- it's been a while since I propositioned anybody. Usually my master does it for me."

"Tell me about it," said Jer, looking at him thoughtfully. "How old are you, again?"

In the face of Jer's half-amused scrutiny, Yves felt about fourteen, but-- "Thirty-six."

"You look younger," said Jer, not with any obvious intent to flatter or criticize or-- anything, really; he just said it, and then he didn't say anything else. But he kept looking at Yves, and he seemed to like what he saw.

"You can keep your mouth shut, too," he said finally. "I like that."

"I can," Yves agreed, amused. "I can also talk. I'm multitalented, really."

"And you're a smartass, just like him," said Jer dryly.

Yves grinned. "I'll take that as a compliment. I gather you like him too."

Jer leaned in rather abruptly, his hand wrapping around Yves' forearm as if for balance, and kissed Yves. It was an awkward kiss, at first, more of a bump, and Jer had half missed Yves' mouth, but they both quickly course corrected and managed quite a respectable lip-lock. First kisses were always interesting. Jer's mouth was warm, his lips firm, and Yves had just begun some tentative exploration with his tongue when Jer pulled back; Yves wasn't sure whether he'd been too forward, but Jer said, clearing his throat, "You're sure this is-- okay? I mean, he won't get mad?"

"He'd better not," said Yves without thinking.

Jer put his head on one side, examining Yves, in an oddly Holden-like gesture. Yves wondered with a slight pang whether one of them had picked it up from the other, a long time ago. "It's like that, huh? With you and him?"

Yves thought about it. "I guess it is, yeah."

"I guess I'd better stay on your good side, then," said Jer, still watching Yves thoughtfully.

"That's not too hard," said Yves with a small grin. "Anyway-- it's like that with you and him, too. You just don't know it yet."

"I don't think so," said Jer, sounding tired. "And I don't really get what your game is, either. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm happy to fuck you-- you're cute as a button-- but why would you let me? I just moved into your damn house and your master who you don't think twice about bossing around is keeping me in his bed nights instead of you. Why are you acting all let's-be-best-fuck-buddies about this when you could probably be guilting him into making me sleep in the basement?"

"No, I couldn't," said Yves gently, and there was almost no pain in the words for him. "He loves you, Jer. You know that, right?"

"Sure," said Jer restlessly, "but-- And anyway, that should make you hate me and plan to kill me, not come around batting your eyes at me. Unless you're doing both."

"You're the one who came around me," Yves pointed out, amused. "I'd only hate you if I were afraid, and I'm not. You're not plotting to kill me."

"That you know of," Jer deadpanned, and Yves laughed.

"That I know of," he agreed. "But there's no game, Jer. I'm pretty sure the first one of us to kill the other gets a very serious talking-to from the master, so I don't see why we shouldn't try to get along. Besides, I like people who think I'm cute as a button."

Jer sighed. "If you say so. I guess if you're gunning for me I'm pretty much dead already, so we might as well have some fun. But if you're planning to cry rape, do me a favor and kill me yourself before he gets his hands on me. Tell him it was self-defense."

It took a minute before Yves managed to encompass the fact that he'd just been accused, in apparent seriousness, of plotting to destroy a fellow slave by fucking him and then claiming to the master who loved them both that he'd been raped. He wanted to ask, Who are you? Who would even think of such a thing? but settled, when the shock had abated slightly, for, "Why would I do that to you?"

"Why would you seduce me?" Jer asked coolly.

"Um," said Yves, reverting to fourteen again, "because you're attractive?"

"Right. Sure."

"Come on, Jer." Yves shook his head again. "Is this about your age? You think there's a sizzling market in thirty-six-year-old pleasure slaves? If there's a cutoff, we're both past it."

"I know that," said Jer irritably. "That's not what I mean. Slaves don't seduce people because they're attractive. We do it because we're told, or because there's something in it for us. I just can't figure what's in this for you."

Yves was at a loss, blinking into a gap between his experience and Jer's so wide he wasn't sure how to cope. Despite the fact that they'd been on speaking terms for the last seventeen years, he'd never tried to imagine what it would be like to be Jer-- and could Jer even begin to understand what it would be like to be Yves?

Well, now that he was moved into Yves' life, maybe it was a good time to start.

"I'm-- spoiled," he said finally, haltingly, trying to find understanding in Jer's face. "I guess you think I couldn't possibly be as naive as I seem, but I-- kind of am. I've belonged to him since I was nineteen. I haven't had to-- think about stuff like that. About there being-- something in it for me. I've-- I guess I've-- had-- everything. Already."

"Until now," said Jer, his face still unreadable. "Until me."

Yves smiled at him. "It doesn't have to be like that. You could be-- one more good thing. About my life. You know? If you-- if you will."

Jer stared for a minute, then reached out and grasped Yves' wrist, tugging him, gently but firmly, into his lap.

"We can't have sex," he said.

"Oh," said Yves, settling in on Jer's lap as one arm-- a nice, strong arm-- came up to support his back, and Jer reached up with the other hand to touch his face. "Okay. Um. I'm getting mixed signals, here."

"Sorry." Jer laughed shortly. "It's just-- I can barely have sex with him. And he understands-- You're just way too nice, Yves. I'd-- I don't know. I'd scare you or hurt you or something, and everything would go to shit. Don't be mad."

"I'm not mad," said Yves truthfully. "I might be tougher than you think, though. Maybe later? I mean... eventually? When you're feeling more settled?"

"Maybe," said Jer. "I'm sorry, Yves."

"It's okay," said Yves, leaning back against Jer's arm, liking the solid warmth of it. "This is nice, too."

"Sitting in my lap?" Jer asked, and smiled a little when Yves nodded. "This I can handle."

"Okay, good," said Yves. "How about kissing? Will you kiss me?"

Jer leaned in and kissed him, thoroughly and for a long time. Second kisses were always better than first kisses.