Mine/yours, take two

[maculategiraffe]

The second in the series of three vignettes morgan_cian requested, involving "mine/yours dialogue" and each of the three boys with Holden.

The first one







For the last-- almost a year, now-- Bran had done his best to live up to his promise to his master, when he'd first managed to persuade him to let Bran stay, not to demand anything. But it got hard sometimes. Holden had been preoccupied and frustrated lately, busy with a difficult trainee and, when he did have a moment free, seeming more interested in Jer sexually and Yves conversationally than in Bran at all.

Of course, Bran thought as he curled in his corner of the couch, watching his master with his arm around Dylan, talking to him softly while the boy listened with a guarded expression, there wasn't much to be interested in besides Bran's youth and beauty-- and the new boy had both of those. Probably Holden was bored with Bran by now.

Bran got up unobtrusively and started for the door, not wanting to distract or disturb his master, but not wanting to sit and watch him with Dylan, either.

"Where do you think you're going?" Holden asked, looking up.

Bran stopped, suddenly apprehensive. "I was-- going to go to bed, please, master."

"And you don't ask permission any more?"

Bran knelt and lowered his head in apology, staring at the pattern on the rug as he tried not to yield to outright panic. It wasn't punishment he was worried about, but if Holden really was tired of Bran, he might-- no, he wouldn't sell Bran for disobedience or for causing trouble, he'd promised Bran that from the beginning. But he might take Bran's suddenly independent attitude as evidence that Bran didn't need him any more, and Bran did need him. Very much.

"Look at me," Holden ordered, and Bran obeyed reluctantly. Holden scrutinized him for a moment, his expression unreadable, then said, "You may go to bed."

Bran stumbled to his feet and hurried out of the room.

He undressed in his room and climbed into bed, taking deep breaths to calm himself; the last thing he could afford was to start wallowing in self-pity. Yves or Jer or the mistress might want his services tonight. Even if Holden wasn't particularly interested in him any more, if he stayed valuable to those Holden loved, maybe he'd stay valuable to Holden in a secondhand kind of way.

This was a silly way to be thinking, of course, just because Holden hadn't been paying much attention to him for... a week, maybe. Holden only had so much attention to give, and he had other priorities besides Bran's fragile emotional state. Which was why Bran should be more mature than this. Holden expected it of him.

He was fairly well calmed down, and mostly hoping someone would want him tonight-- sex would be a welcome distraction from the inside of his head just now, and sleep didn't seem likely to arrive anytime soon-- when the door opened and Holden came in.

He didn't say anything, just came in, as Bran lay frozen, wondering what he was in for-- a talking-to? Punishment?-- pulled back the sheets, sat down, and gathered Bran into his lap, hugging him close. Tears started in Bran's eyes; he had to breathe deeply again, and he hoped his master wouldn't say anything that required Bran to speak. He could probably just about fight off sobs if he didn't have to hear his own tiny, pitiful voice right now.

"I'm sorry," Holden said quietly. "I should have noticed sooner."

So much for fighting off sobs.

Holden held him tightly as he cried, and Bran clung to him, burying his face in his master's shoulder.

"Shhhh," Holden soothed, rocking Bran gently. "Oh, sweetheart-- you're shaking. It's okay, Bran. I've got you."

"I'm sorry, m-master," Bran managed, and Holden hugged him tighter.

"You've got nothing to be sorry for, darling," he said, and at the tender endearment Bran cried harder than ever. "You're a good boy, a good, brave boy. I should have been paying better attention to you."

"You're-- busy," Bran protested, his tears subsiding in his master's protective embrace.

"Yes, I am," said Holden, "but that doesn't mean it's not my responsibility to take care of you. I've told you before, I take care of what's mine-- and you're mine."

"Master--" It came out as a whimper, and Holden pulled Bran back, studying his tearstained face with searching dark eyes. He supported Bran with one arm as the other came up to smooth Bran's hair back from his forehead.

"What is it, sweetheart?" he murmured.

"Yours," said Bran haltingly. "I-- I just-- love-- being yours."

"Oh, Bran." Holden leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. "I love it too."

It wasn't I love you, but it was delicious all the same, was cold water to his burning thirst. Bran whimpered again as Holden's mouth took his, and his cock, never far from erection when Holden was touching him, swelled and poked into his master's stomach as he kissed back.

"You're so good for my ego," said Holden, his hand wrapping around Bran's cock, and Bran smiled a little. "Gods, Bran-- if I have one excuse for neglecting you, it's that it's not out of selfishness. I want you so much, you're such a-- delight. It's so good with you-- that I start thinking of you as a luxury, a-- an indulgence, that I'll allow myself after I've fulfilled my responsibilities. And you're too sweet to snarl at me for forgetting that you have needs, too."

He was stroking Bran's cock as he spoke, and between the pleasure of his master's touch and the joy his words kindled, Bran was having some trouble breathing.

"Look at you," said Holden, almost wonderingly. "You're not even angry at me, are you?"

Bran shook his head, temporarily unable to speak.

"You should be," said Holden, sounding sad, even as he held Bran close, nuzzling his cheeks, his ear, and his neck. Bran choked back a moan. "You will be, eventually."

"No," Bran gasped, "why-- why would I--"

"For taking advantage of you," said Holden in his ear.

"You aren't--" Bran caught his breath. "Master, please--"

"Please what, sweetheart?"

"Please," Bran whispered, "will you-- will you take--" He smiled suddenly as Holden kissed his earlobe. "--advantage of me?"

"You," said Holden, pulling back and shaking his head at Bran, smiling back at him, "are going to be the death of me, boy."

Bran basked in his master's smile, then lifted his mouth as Holden kissed him again, one arm moving from around Bran to unbuckle his own belt. Bran pulled out of his arms and down to the floor to tug on his master's boots, and Holden laughed at his eagerness. When, fumbling and getting in each other's way, the two of them had managed to get Holden naked, Bran scrambled back into his master's arms, giddy with happiness.

Holden laid Bran gently down on his back, covering him with his own warm body, and began kissing him thoroughly. Bran stilled as his master's hands captured his wrists and brought them together to pin them above his head; he didn't mind if Holden wanted to take him forcefully, especially since the sensation would last longer, that way, after his master was gone to whoever he'd be spending the night with. But Holden wasn't being rough; he was just kissing every bit of Bran he could reach, his cock pressing up against Bran's. Bran squirmed blissfully.

"Bran," Holden whispered, "my Bran--"

"Yours, master--" Bran bit back another moan as Holden pulled back slightly and turned him over on his face with controlled violence, "your good boy, please--"

"Always." The slender fingers were stroking down his spine; Holden's mouth was hot on the nape of his neck. "Bran-- I-- gods--"

"Master?"

A palm cupping his ass, now, and Bran squirmed, pushing eagerly back against his master's touch. "You're so beautiful-- my beautiful boy--"

"Master," Bran gasped, "master-- I love you, I love you--"

"Bran--" Holden sounded as if he were in pain, but his hands were parting Bran's cheeks now, the first slippery finger probing towards his hole. "My sweet boy, my darling--"

Bran couldn't talk any more, as his master prepared him, stretched him carefully and then slid inside him and fucked him, hard. Bran writhed and arched, his eyes rolling back, his master's hands gripping him as he rode Bran's shuddering body long and vigorously; Bran cried out wordlessly and Holden groaned when he finally shot inside Bran, his nails digging painfully into Bran's back, leaving scratches that Bran hoped would sting for a long time.

He pulled out and dropped to the bed next to Bran, yanking him back over into his arms and reaching down; Bran wanted to laugh as a firm hand wrapped around his cock again even as his master's eyes closed and his face went slack with the satisfaction of his own release, but soon enough he was gasping and then coming, explosively, over his master's hand, and then they lay quiet in each other's arms.

"Thank you, master," Bran whispered, finally, and Holden pulled him closer.

"Ready to go to sleep, now?" he asked after a moment.

"Yes, master," said Bran peacefully. "Would you-- kiss me, before you go?"

"Go?" Holden carded his fingers through Bran's hair and kissed his temple softly. "I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart. I'm yours for the night."

It took Bran a minute to get breath to ask, "Mine?"

Holden kissed him again, sweetly, on the mouth. "Yours."