Lee chapter 30

[maculategiraffe]

'K, so I've been frantically catching up on friendslist, which was a bit like eating an entire raspberry lemon chiffon cheesecake in one sitting, except with none of the subsequent nausea and post-refined-sugar-high depression; GOD you guys write some enjoyable stuff) and comments. Still have not caught up on comments, because lots of people came over here from metafandom to share their thoughts on the potential feminism of yaoi, and I got talking to them, and other distractions happened. I will catch up eventually, honestly I will. (Maybe not tonight, as I'm going over to my parents' to watch Battlestar Galactica, in the mad social whirl that is a Friday evening of my life. I just got my mom into BSG, without even meaning to; I turned it on in the hospital two weeks ago, and she was there so she watched with me, and then last weekend I mentioned something about it to her and she was all "Oh my gosh! I forgot to watch it! Why didn't you remind me? Did they find Earth?")

Meantime:










Holden woke the next morning just before daybreak, almost sure he had been awakened by the sound of the front door slamming. His heart pounding-- was Valor home? Was Inga all right?-- he managed to extricate himself from the bed without waking Lee (unless the kid was just shamming sleep; Holden was beginning to suspect he did that a lot), got his tunic on, and hurried into the front room, which was still dark, Inga still apparently asleep on the couch.

Lisa's bedroom door was wide open, and Holden paused in front of it, looking in; the bed was rumpled and empty, and Bran was perched in the deep windowsill of the little room, dressed in Holden's blue tunic but no belt or boots, his knees drawn up to his chest, his arms clasped around them, staring out the window and too deep in thought to notice Holden standing there. Lisa was nowhere to be seen; the front door must have been her, leaving for an early class or coffee date.

"Hey, beautiful," he said softly.

Bran looked up, pleased to see him, but not smiling outright, and moved over slightly, as if inviting Holden to sit next to him, though he was taking up little enough room as it was that the gesture was purely symbolic. Holden came in and sat down on the windowsill beside Bran, his feet on the floor, studying the boy's expression.

"Where's Lisa?"

"Early class, master," said Bran rather absently. Holden nodded.

"What's got you looking so serious?" he asked. Lisa was a nice girl, but less attuned to the nuances of slaves' expressions than Holden might have wished, especially with someone as sensitive as Bran. If she'd said or done anything to upset Bran, Holden was going to be hard pressed not to speak to her in ways unbecoming a guest. But Bran didn't look unhappy-- just thoughtful.

"I was thinking about my mom, master," he said.

"Oh." Holden hadn't been expecting that, and he took it in for a moment before asking, "Do you want to talk? Or not?"

Bran considered.

"I was just thinking," he said finally. "I used to-- when I belonged to Dunaev and Oreskovich, I didn't cry much--" He looked up with a small, self-deprecating smile. "Believe it or not."

"I believe it," said Holden, reaching out to touch Bran's face, briefly. "You cry when people are nice to you. I don't think that happened a lot with them."

Bran nodded.

"Yeah," he said. "That's true. And I used to get hit around for crying, so I-- didn't, much. But when I was alone, sometimes, I'd think about-- what my mom would think, if she saw-- where I was. What had happened to me. And-- I'd cry."

Holden held out a hand, and Bran, smiling more broadly and sweetly, moved forward onto his knees and climbed into his master's lap, relaxing with the small sigh of contentment he only seemed to give when clasped in Holden's arms.

"Anyway," he said, adjusting his head on Holden's shoulder, "I was just thinking about what she'd think, if she saw me now."

"What brought this on?" Holden asked, after a few moments' pause. It wasn't exactly what he wanted to ask, but it was a question.

Bran nestled closer. "I-- well, I was thinking-- I always get thinking, when I'm with Lady Lisa, about-- you and Pavel. Lord Kareyev."

Holden's brow furrowed in puzzlement, but he waited for Bran to go on.

"She's so-- sweet," Bran semi-explained, lifting his head a little. "And-- gentle. I think-- I wonder-- but anyway, I was thinking about how you wanted to-- how the two of you sort of arranged to be together, when you were a kid. Because I knew kids, too, when I was a kid, who-- if they had bad parents, or they were really poor, or something-- they kind of looked forward to being sold, you know? Living in a big house, with the nobility, and everything-- it didn't sound so bad."

Holden nodded again. "Yeah. It sounded like a pretty flawless plan to me. Moving out of my dad's house, living with my rich lover--"

Bran nuzzled Holden's cheek gently.

"I know," he said. "I can-- understand that. But it was different, for me. I loved my parents. And home. I never-- wanted to be a slave."

He paused, lost in thought again, before adding, "And my parents always said-- they said those kids were wrong. They said there was nothing good about being a slave. That it meant-- violation, and degradation--"

"So you were terrified before anything bad even happened to you," said Holden, whose sadness amounted to physical pain; he was remembering Bran's delirium, years before, his feverish pleading not to be sold.

Bran looked almost apologetic. "They wouldn't have said all that, if they'd known what was going to happen to me. They wouldn't have wanted to scare me. But they never meant for me to be sold. They always said they'd rather die."

He grimaced. Neither of them said what they were both thinking.

"And I don't know," Bran said at length, pensively. "What they'd think of-- how things are, now. You know? That's the thing. I knew what my mom would think of the way I was-- getting hurt, and scared, and-- I knew she'd hate it. She wouldn't ever want me to feel-- that way. But it's like--" He hesitated, nuzzling Holden's neck as if absently. "Well. I was a kid, when my mom was alive. When she-- knew me. And I was still kind of a kid, with my first two masters." He shifted against Holden, squirming closer to kiss his neck just below the earlobe, not seductively, just affectionately, as the closest part of Holden to his mouth. "And even at the beginning, with you, master. At first I was just glad I wasn't getting hurt. You know? And then-- things changed."

"You fell in love with me," said Holden quietly.

"Yes." Bran lifted his head and smiled at Holden, then reached up to cup Holden's cheek with his palm, looking at him with such tenderness that Holden felt dazzled. "I fell in love with you. And I-- sort of-- grew up. Not all at once, I don't mean-- and I don't mean I'm all grown up now, or anything-- but--"

He paused again, and Holden ran his nails softly up and down the boy's clothed back until he resumed, "I started-- wanting-- more. Than just-- not to be hurt. And-- different things, from what I ever thought I'd want. I was just wondering. If my mom could see me now. I just wonder what she'd think. Of-- you. And of how much I love you. Of-- who I turned out to be."

Holden's heart was beating with a strange insistency. He traced the line of Bran's cheekbone with a thumb, drinking in his oddly untroubled face, thinking about just who Bran had turned out to be.

"I don't know what she'd think of me," he said finally. "I hope she'd--" He cleared his throat. "I've tried to-- do my best for you. But I know-- from everything you've told me about her, about how much she loved you, about what kind of a person she was-- I know she'd be so proud of you, kid. Of everything you are."

"Thank you, master." Bran smiled into Holden's eyes, his own eyes nearly luminous in their steady clarity. "I'm glad you're proud of me. I mean, I've always known you-- approved of me. You always told me I was a good boy. Even before you decided to keep me. But I'm glad I-- make you proud."

"You couldn't possibly make me prouder, Bran," said Holden. "I just wish I could claim more of the credit for how amazing you are."

Bran blushed and ducked his head, nuzzling at the base of Holden's throat. "Whatever I am, master-- if it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be-- anything. You're the one who-- saved me."

Holden stroked him. "My privilege."

Looking up over Bran's curly head, he was startled to see Lee standing, silent as a shadow, in the doorway. Lee flinched when Holden's curious gaze met his, but didn't move.

"Hi, sweetheart," Holden said, and Bran looked up.

"Hi, Lee," he said, and wiggled gently but insistently out of Holden's arms; he got up, went to Lee, and hugged him close, kissing him softly on the lips. With the memory of that slight, shivering body curled so close to him in bed, and with Bran's words and touch still warming him from a moment ago, Holden didn't feel even a twinge of jealousy as Bran led Lee back to the windowsill and touched Holden's thigh as if it were a chair he was inviting Lee to sit in.

Lee, after a searching look at Holden's face, climbed shyly into his lap, and Holden put his arms around the boy, looking at Bran, thinking with amusement that he'd just been offered up-- shared-- the way he'd shared Bran with Lisa last night, and he didn't mind a bit. Because if Bran thought of Holden and Pavel when he was in bed with Lisa, Holden certainly thought of Bran with the weight of Lee on his lap. Bran, and Dunaev, and the kids Holden had "saved," and the others he'd never get a chance to.

"I had a dream," said Lee quietly.

"Yeah?" said Holden curiously, pulling Lee back to look at him. "What was it about?"

"Food," said Lee seriously. Holden and Bran both laughed, and Lee looked startled at first, then smiled.

"Now there's a thought, master," said Bran. "Her ladyship said there was a market not far from here. I checked, and I can make us a decent breakfast without going anywhere, but for after that-- and I don't know how long we're staying, but it might be nice if I could fix something for her ladyship, just as a thank you for letting us stay here."

Holden smiled at Bran's sudden cheerful animation, when he'd been so pensive a moment before, wondering how much of it was for Lee's benefit. He liked being the one Bran didn't feel the need to perk up for.

"I'm not sure I want you going out alone in a strange town," he said thoughtfully.

Bran looked disappointed. "Not even if I'm wearing your clothes, master? I don't think anyone would harass me if they thought I was free."

Lee had tensed considerably in Holden's arms the moment Bran answered, and Holden turned to him, running a hand over his shoulder.

"It's okay, Lee," he said. "Bran knows me pretty well-- the way you'll get to know your owner, whenever I sell you-- and he can read my tone and my expression. He knows when it's okay to question something I say, and when not to push. You notice that I didn't say 'You're not going out alone in a strange town'-- which would have implied that it wasn't open to discussion. I said I wasn't sure. And you might also have noticed that even though Bran argued with me, he spoke respectfully, and the way he phrased it made it clear that he'd accept my decision, whatever it was. Does that make sense, sweetheart?"

Lee nodded, blinking and almost smiling. Holden kissed his cheek and turned back to Bran, who was smiling; he always enjoyed being used as an example for the trainees.

"You're probably right," he resumed, "but it still makes me uncomfortable. What if someone decides to kidnap such a pretty young citizen and sell him into slavery?"

Bran looked amused. "I don't think that happens very often in broad daylight, master. And it could happen at the market at home, too."

"But at home, everyone knows who you are. They know you belong to me."

"I could still get kidnapped," Bran pointed out. "Someone could want you to pay a ransom, or just want to sell such a well-trained slave on the black market."

"Okay, so no more going to the market at home, either," said Holden, and Bran laughed.

"You could come too, master," he offered.

"I don't want to leave Lee," said Holden, shaking his head. "Or Inga. And four to a market trip is a little more of an excursion than I'd like."

"What if just Inga and I go, then?" Bran suggested. "She probably knows her way around here pretty well."

"Yes, and they all know she's a slave. The town would be buzzing in no time about the handsome young stranger walking around with her. I don't want you to attract that kind of attention."

Bran squinted at Holden, who shrugged a little sheepishly after a moment. "I guess I'm just out of my comfort zone here, kid. Maybe it's making me a little overprotective of you."

"But," Bran protested, "you let me use the stove yesterday."

"True. Just don't want you out of my sight, then," said Holden, and hesitated before adding, "I guess I'm feeling-- clingy."

Bran blinked at him for a second before breaking into an ear-to-ear grin. Holden tried to scowl back at him, then shifted slightly, unnecessarily, readjusting Lee on his lap.

"Master," Bran said, still grinning, "you're blushing."

"I am not," said Holden, and when Bran started to say something else, "Aren't you overdue for a spanking, by the way?"

"Yes, master," said Bran meekly, though there was still a grin lurking around the corners of his mouth.

Lee had tensed again, and Holden ran a hand over his sleek dark hair, looking into his pale, apprehensive face, then glanced back up at Bran.

"Go get my bag," he said, "and meet me in Inga's room. If she's awake, tell her we need a bit of time, and that I'll wash the sheets for her after."

"Yes, master," said Bran demurely, and went.

Holden turned back to Lee, whose bottom lip had disappeared again.

"Are you afraid for Bran?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, master," Lee whispered.

"Did Bran look afraid?"

"No, master," Lee admitted, but he didn't look reassured.

"I'm going to spank him," said Holden gently. "Not because I'm angry with him. Just because I like spanking him sometimes. But do you mind coming to Inga's room with us? Bran might like to have you there, to take care of him, and make sure he's okay."

Lee made a sharp exhalation that might have been an abortive laugh before he said, "As it please my master."





Holden sat on the edge of the bed in Inga's room, Bran naked and face down across Holden's lap, his soft penis nestled between Holden's thighs, his hands clasped over his head. The lubricant Holden had brought from home had been thoughtfully extricated from his bag by a prescient Bran and set on the night table.

Holden admired Bran's succulent young bottom for a moment, then looked up at Lee, who was standing by the door, very pale.

"Come sit here with Bran," he said, gesturing to the floor by the bed.

Lee obeyed, coming to kneel on the floor, his face at eye level with Bran's, looking at him searchingly.

"Hi, Lee," said Bran, and Holden could tell from his voice that he was smiling. "Remember how I told you it wouldn't hurt when the master fucked you?"

Lee said nothing, but reached up and put his hand over Bran's clasped ones.

Holden cupped one of Bran's buttocks with his hand, feeling the supple curve of it, then kneaded gently; Bran sighed and murmured with pleasure, squirming eagerly into Holden's touch, his cock starting to push back against Holden's thighs. Holden moved his other hand to the small of Bran's back and spread his fingers, pressing down just firmly enough to make Bran feel secured, and felt the muscles of the boy's back relax under his hand. He squeezed Bran's other cheek, then let his fingers trail down to the tender flesh of the upper thighs just below the ass, teasing it gently with his fingernails. Then he pulled back his hand and hit Bran's ass with his open palm, with a resounding crack that almost drowned out Lee's tiny, terrified whimper.

"Lee, look at me," Bran ordered firmly, and Lee obeyed, his eyes huge and searching. Holden spanked Bran again, and saw Bran unclasp one of his hands from the other to press Lee's hand between them, Lee's eyes still on Bran's face; he struck again, and Lee moved closer to the bed without looking up at Holden.

When the next smack didn't make Lee twitch, Holden let his reflexes take over, relaxing into the sensations of the spanking-- Bran's skin heating up under his palm, Bran's back firmly under his other hand, Bran's cock pulsing against Holden's thigh, his body warm and pliant across his master's lap. The reddening flesh of Bran's ass, in the shape of Holden's handprints overlapping and blurring each other, the sensation of the punished skin swelling as it heated up with each successive smack; the sound of Bran's heavy breathing, his gasps and tiny moans, the quick, soft "Ah!" when Holden brought his hand down across the top of one thigh, and then the throaty "Oh" when he struck the other.

All this was familiar, as was Holden's own mounting arousal; spanking Bran quickly became a contest with himself as to how long he could hold out, how thoroughly he could manage to heat that sweet ass before his cock took over entirely and buried itself inside. Punishment required a serious conversation before fucking was either kind or wise, but this kind of spanking wasn't punishment, it was-- as Alix put it, and Holden suspected she did it to Greta with the very meticulous timing the word suggested-- recalibration, for both of them. Bran hadn't done anything wrong; he'd just been hyperactive and talkative and a little impudent from being out in the world and away from his home, dancing giddily around boundaries and trusting Holden not to let him go over. And Holden certainly wasn't angry, but he was-- unsettled, and he needed his mark on Bran, needed his boy aching and stinging and heated from Holden's hand, whimpering and gasping as Holden pounded into him afterwards.

What wasn't so familiar was Lee, who was still staring into Bran's face, but no longer pale. His cheeks were stained pink, his lips flushed and parted, his eyes wide and his pupils dilated; he was leaning forward slightly, as if drawn in towards Bran by some magnetic force, and altogether he looked about as fuckable as Holden had ever seen him. Holden's arousal, already intense, was threatening to spill over early as Bran rocked ever so slightly back into his hard slaps, sobbing wordlessly and shifting his hip against his master's erection, and when Lee's dark gaze flicked up unexpectedly to meet Holden's eyes, Holden had to swallow a groan himself.

He spanked Bran one more time, hard, for good measure, and reached down first to pull up the sweating bundle of need and quiescence into his lap, then to roll the kid over on his back, pulling up his legs and reaching for the lubricant. He prepared the boy quickly, less meticulously than he might have if he hadn't known Bran was as eager to get down to business as he was-- and leaned over Bran, propping himself on his hands over the beautiful, gleaming body, Bran's face with its dear gray eyes half shut and blissful on Holden's, tilting his mouth towards Holden's, begging wordlessly to be taken.

And Holden took him, his mouth and his ass in one swift thrust of his hips and his tongue, claiming his territory, his home, forgetting everything else as he buried himself deep inside his lover.