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maculategiraffeWell, that was a fun blackout, wasn't it? What did we all do for 24 hours without our beloved eljay? I ran many useful errands under the sun. Bright thing, that sun. Very.
Also, of course, I wrote a bit of fic. Here's the scene, much requested in the comments to this story, where Holden reacts to the news of the Yves-and-Jer sex; it ended up right at 1000 words.
Have a meme to post and comments to catch up on, later. Too sleepy now. (Sad, true fact about my chosen profession: Friday night means I can go to bed at 8:30 like I want to, instead of forcing myself to stay up grading papers.)
Holden had a headache on the drive home, and Bran, sensing his mood, was quiet and subdued, which wasn't really fair on Bran; he'd been perfect, charming the established client's two young grandchildren and the fortysomething female slave who was serving as their nurse, while Holden interviewed the children's parents for possible inclusion on the list. He didn't want to offend his client, but he also didn't want to agree to sell the client's son any slave when the son's wife looked so-- thin-lipped. Holden wasn't a marriage counselor, but he knew, none better, how much damage a wife could do. He hadn't made any commitments, beyond an appointment in the son's own home, but his head still hurt.
When they got home, he put his arms around Bran and held him tightly for several moments-- how could one boy feel so good in your arms when you'd held hundreds, why did Bran's closeness feel like a drug-- before dismissing him. He needed to find Yves; they hadn't been spending enough time together.
Yves was lying face down on his bed, reading; he looked up when Holden stepped inside the door and smiled, a smile that on anyone else Holden would have called malicious. Yves' hair was disheveled, he smelled of sweat and cum, and his tunic was askew. Holden knew Yves was capable of a certain degree of discretion; this just-been-fucked display had to be deliberate, and from Yves' expression, he knew exactly how it was affecting Holden.
"There you are, master," Yves said, closed his book, and rose with a show of respect, though his expression was far from deferential.
"Here I am," said Holden coolly. "I take it you and Jer had fun while I was out."
"Yes, master," said Yves, glancing up from under hooded eyelids. "I hope that doesn't displease you. I wouldn't want you to have to take time out of your busy schedule to discipline me."
Holden raised an eyebrow. "Feeling neglected, Yves?"
"I am neglected," said Yves, abandoning the eyelids approach. "I've been neglected. And you're too busy with Jer and Bran to even notice, until it's so bad I have to yell at you while dripping other men's cum to get your attention."
"I'm sorry," said Holden tiredly, his headache worsening. "I'm doing my best."
"Well, it's not very fucking good then," said Yves, and when Holden's eyes snapped dangerously, "Go ahead. Hit me."
"I'm not going to--" Holden began, and then, watching Yves, "Do you want me to?"
Yves lifted his chin and nodded, once.
Holden pulled back and slapped Yves across the face, open-palmed, but hard enough that Yves' head snapped around and he staggered, knocked off-balance, and caught himself against the wall. He leaned against it for a moment, then sank down till he was huddled on the floor, his forehead pressed against the wall.
"I needed you this afternoon," he said without looking up. "And you weren't there."
"Oh," said Holden, and sat down on the floor next to Yves, feeling as though Yves had hit him back, much harder. Wishing he had.
"I don't need much," said Yves to the wall. "I'm not needy."
"No."
"Not like some people I could mention."
"Yves," said Holden softly. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I know I'm not-- this isn't fair, you didn't ask for any of this, and I know I'm fucking up. I'll be here for you more. I swear."
"Yeah, well." Yves still didn't look up. "I had sex with Jer."
"I gathered."
"I was--" Yves swallowed again. "I was crying, and he found me, and he wouldn't leave me alone, I asked him to go away, but he came in and--"
"What?"
Yves did look up then, startled, and blinked for a second before he said, "Oh! Oh, gods, no, master, he didn't-- he was really nice, he held me, and then we had sex, I-- I asked him--"
"He didn't do anything against your will," Holden clarified, as the white-hot rage that had flared up behind his eyes and tensed every muscle in his body began to dissipate.
"No," said Yves, staring at Holden in something like awe. "Gods, he wasn't kidding when he said--"
"When he said what?"
Yves leaned his head against the wall again, still looking at Holden. The handprint on his cheek would be a bruise, soon. "He was afraid-- the first time we talked about having sex-- that I was trying to trick him. He said if I planned to tell you it had been rape, to do him a favor and kill him first."
"Smart," said Holden briefly, and Yves kept staring at him, with the beginnings of a smile.
"You're sexy when you're murderous, master," he said. "If I wasn't all fucked out right now--"
"Don't push it," Holden warned, but he couldn't quite hide his own smile. "You probably shouldn't be making any plans for tomorrow that involve walking straight, as it is."
"Yeah?" said Yves. "Hey, master, did you know that the penis--" He pulled up his tunic unselfconsciously and pointed at the deep ridge around the head of his own half-erect penis. "--is designed to remove previous deposits of semen from the vagina? It acts like a scoop, eliminating the competing sperm from inside the female, to maximize the latest male's chances of passing along his own DNA. That's why an alpha male is sexually stimulated by the scent of another male on his mate."
"I can't pass along my DNA," Holden pointed out, bemused. "And you're not a female."
"Sure, but your cock doesn't know that."
"Oh," said Holden, scrutinizing Yves, "I'm fairly sure it does."
Yves grinned at that. "It was great sex. With Jer."
"Was it."
"Yep. He rode me like a stallion."
"Stop that."
"I was screaming his name."
"You're going to be screaming other things in a minute."
"Promises, promises," said Yves, and moved not quite fast enough to dodge Holden's lunge, struggling and laughing as he went down.
Also, of course, I wrote a bit of fic. Here's the scene, much requested in the comments to this story, where Holden reacts to the news of the Yves-and-Jer sex; it ended up right at 1000 words.
Have a meme to post and comments to catch up on, later. Too sleepy now. (Sad, true fact about my chosen profession: Friday night means I can go to bed at 8:30 like I want to, instead of forcing myself to stay up grading papers.)
Holden had a headache on the drive home, and Bran, sensing his mood, was quiet and subdued, which wasn't really fair on Bran; he'd been perfect, charming the established client's two young grandchildren and the fortysomething female slave who was serving as their nurse, while Holden interviewed the children's parents for possible inclusion on the list. He didn't want to offend his client, but he also didn't want to agree to sell the client's son any slave when the son's wife looked so-- thin-lipped. Holden wasn't a marriage counselor, but he knew, none better, how much damage a wife could do. He hadn't made any commitments, beyond an appointment in the son's own home, but his head still hurt.
When they got home, he put his arms around Bran and held him tightly for several moments-- how could one boy feel so good in your arms when you'd held hundreds, why did Bran's closeness feel like a drug-- before dismissing him. He needed to find Yves; they hadn't been spending enough time together.
Yves was lying face down on his bed, reading; he looked up when Holden stepped inside the door and smiled, a smile that on anyone else Holden would have called malicious. Yves' hair was disheveled, he smelled of sweat and cum, and his tunic was askew. Holden knew Yves was capable of a certain degree of discretion; this just-been-fucked display had to be deliberate, and from Yves' expression, he knew exactly how it was affecting Holden.
"There you are, master," Yves said, closed his book, and rose with a show of respect, though his expression was far from deferential.
"Here I am," said Holden coolly. "I take it you and Jer had fun while I was out."
"Yes, master," said Yves, glancing up from under hooded eyelids. "I hope that doesn't displease you. I wouldn't want you to have to take time out of your busy schedule to discipline me."
Holden raised an eyebrow. "Feeling neglected, Yves?"
"I am neglected," said Yves, abandoning the eyelids approach. "I've been neglected. And you're too busy with Jer and Bran to even notice, until it's so bad I have to yell at you while dripping other men's cum to get your attention."
"I'm sorry," said Holden tiredly, his headache worsening. "I'm doing my best."
"Well, it's not very fucking good then," said Yves, and when Holden's eyes snapped dangerously, "Go ahead. Hit me."
"I'm not going to--" Holden began, and then, watching Yves, "Do you want me to?"
Yves lifted his chin and nodded, once.
Holden pulled back and slapped Yves across the face, open-palmed, but hard enough that Yves' head snapped around and he staggered, knocked off-balance, and caught himself against the wall. He leaned against it for a moment, then sank down till he was huddled on the floor, his forehead pressed against the wall.
"I needed you this afternoon," he said without looking up. "And you weren't there."
"Oh," said Holden, and sat down on the floor next to Yves, feeling as though Yves had hit him back, much harder. Wishing he had.
"I don't need much," said Yves to the wall. "I'm not needy."
"No."
"Not like some people I could mention."
"Yves," said Holden softly. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I know I'm not-- this isn't fair, you didn't ask for any of this, and I know I'm fucking up. I'll be here for you more. I swear."
"Yeah, well." Yves still didn't look up. "I had sex with Jer."
"I gathered."
"I was--" Yves swallowed again. "I was crying, and he found me, and he wouldn't leave me alone, I asked him to go away, but he came in and--"
"What?"
Yves did look up then, startled, and blinked for a second before he said, "Oh! Oh, gods, no, master, he didn't-- he was really nice, he held me, and then we had sex, I-- I asked him--"
"He didn't do anything against your will," Holden clarified, as the white-hot rage that had flared up behind his eyes and tensed every muscle in his body began to dissipate.
"No," said Yves, staring at Holden in something like awe. "Gods, he wasn't kidding when he said--"
"When he said what?"
Yves leaned his head against the wall again, still looking at Holden. The handprint on his cheek would be a bruise, soon. "He was afraid-- the first time we talked about having sex-- that I was trying to trick him. He said if I planned to tell you it had been rape, to do him a favor and kill him first."
"Smart," said Holden briefly, and Yves kept staring at him, with the beginnings of a smile.
"You're sexy when you're murderous, master," he said. "If I wasn't all fucked out right now--"
"Don't push it," Holden warned, but he couldn't quite hide his own smile. "You probably shouldn't be making any plans for tomorrow that involve walking straight, as it is."
"Yeah?" said Yves. "Hey, master, did you know that the penis--" He pulled up his tunic unselfconsciously and pointed at the deep ridge around the head of his own half-erect penis. "--is designed to remove previous deposits of semen from the vagina? It acts like a scoop, eliminating the competing sperm from inside the female, to maximize the latest male's chances of passing along his own DNA. That's why an alpha male is sexually stimulated by the scent of another male on his mate."
"I can't pass along my DNA," Holden pointed out, bemused. "And you're not a female."
"Sure, but your cock doesn't know that."
"Oh," said Holden, scrutinizing Yves, "I'm fairly sure it does."
Yves grinned at that. "It was great sex. With Jer."
"Was it."
"Yep. He rode me like a stallion."
"Stop that."
"I was screaming his name."
"You're going to be screaming other things in a minute."
"Promises, promises," said Yves, and moved not quite fast enough to dodge Holden's lunge, struggling and laughing as he went down.
