Lee chapter 32

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Crying, Lee thought with his face against Bran's shoulder, was very bad behavior-- or so it had been repeatedly impressed upon him by his former master. Lord Dunaev had been more enraged by Lee's crying than by almost anything else, especially the crying Lee couldn't help when he was-- not raped, because you couldn't rape your slave, no matter how badly what you did hurt or tore or bled, or how hard you hit and what awful things you hissed during it. Anything your master was pleased to do to you was his right, which was why crying, even if you couldn't help it-- especially if you couldn't help it-- was a mark of defiance of your master's will, unforgivable ingratitude for the favor of your master's touch, and rebellion against the fact that this was what you were for. Crying when your master touched you or fucked you, when he used you for your purpose, meant you were no good for that purpose, which meant no good at all.

Crying wasn't the worst of Lee's incorrigibly rebellious behavior-- incorrigible no matter how hard he tried, how long he held his breath to try to choke back the tears. Sometimes he couldn't stop himself from screaming, and the more his master punished him for screaming the more he screamed, until-- on more than one occasion-- he'd lost consciousness. Those wakings had been the worst times, when he couldn't understand why his body wouldn't just die.

So it was still puzzling that crying was okay here. But it was unmistakable-- Holden might have missed Lee's crying when he'd fucked Lee from behind, but this morning Lee had been on his back, tears spilling down his temples into his hair as his master's warm dark eyes stayed fixed on his face, and there had been no punishment, no reprimand, not even a frown, just the gentle stroking that brought him to orgasm amid his tears.

Lee had always been ashamed of the fact that crying felt so good to him; Lord Dunaev had been right that on some level he didn't even want to stop, no matter how much punishment he got for it. It was such a relief to let the tears fall, such release of pressure. But if Lee had thought crying felt good when you were being beaten and fucked and yelled at for it, it turned out that crying while two beautiful men kissed and caressed you and whispered to you to come was about good enough to make you lose consciousness in an entirely different way.

So good he'd lost his head. Lee didn't really want to think about what he'd started to say after he'd come, though no one had been angry; they'd cuddled him close between them, kissed him, bathed him tenderly, and Bran was petting him right now while the master's voice rose suddenly from the hall, saying, "Jesse?"

The name meant nothing to Lee, but Bran startled, and so did Inga and Lisa, both of whose heads swung up. Lisa said, "Oh--"

"No," said the master's voice, as Bran moved; Lee moved with him, clinging, his grip tightening, following Bran's body across the room and into the hall, towards the master. The master looked stunned as Bran approached.

"No," he said again. "Somehow she omitted to mention-- what?"

"Is it really Jess?" Bran whispered, and Holden nodded and put his finger to his lips as he listened.

"Here where?" he demanded. "In this country, or-- Fucking Ash, and you weren't afraid you'd be recognized?"

He looked-- not angry exactly, not frighteningly angry anyway, but definitely upset. Who could this be on the phone? Surely no one free, when Bran had referred to him so familiarly. But though Lee's master sometimes sounded very testy with free people, like the doctor at the hospital and Miss Robin and Miss Valor and even his wife, his voice had always been carefully controlled and gentle when he spoke to slaves, whether his own or other people's. Of course, he must have to punish sometimes, and his voice wouldn't be gentle then, but it would still be-- Lee thought-- controlled, not sounding exasperated and fed up like this. At least Lee hoped so. The idea of Holden losing his temper with a slave-- with Lee--

He jumped a little against Bran when his master said sharply, "That's no reason to take unnecessary risks, Jesse!" and then, after a few moments, "Oh, yes, the gods forbid you have a grown-up around to point out when you're doing something stupid!"

He listened for what seemed like a long time then, without speaking, his expression changing in a way that was hard for Lee to read. But he'd always been bad at reading a master's face, anyway. Lord Dunaev seemed to get angry out of absolutely nowhere sometimes, when Lee knew if he'd just been better at reading the signs he would have been able to tell it was coming, and do something to appease the rage before it broke over his head.

"I'm not saying--" Holden began at one point, and then, after a few more moments-- so this couldn't be a slave on the other end, or he wouldn't have dared interrupt Lee's master, would he?-- "Sure you have. Yes. I appreciate that. No," he added. "She isn't."

He listened again and rolled his eyes, leaning back against the wall and looking-- Lee hoped-- a little more relaxed.

"Well, excuse me for being surprised," he said. "It never occurred to me that any group Robin was involved with would actually be helping anything."

He listened again, and then he actually laughed; something in Lee's gut untwisted and relaxed at the sound.

"That, I'd pay good money to see," he said. "Okay, kid. Just stay safe. Otherwise I wasted a hell of a lot of time and trouble on you and your teeth. Yeah, I know who knocked them out," he said, rolling his eyes for Bran's benefit, and Bran laughed. "You want to say hi to Bran? Sure, he's right here."

He held out the phone to Bran, who took it and said, "Jess?"

The master went past Lee, still smiling a little, and back into the kitchen; Lee hesitated, trying to decide who to stay with, and opted to remain where he was. He could hear his master talking in the kitchen, and Lisa answering, but he couldn't make out any more than the tones, which sounded respectively amused and slightly apologetic. Bran was saying, "Oh, only around twenty times a night, depending on what we're doing."

He laughed, too. Lee was starting to think he liked this Jesse person, whoever he was.

"You're awful," Bran said happily. "How's Quen?" His eyes widened for a second. "Medical school? How did he-- Seriously? Even without high school? That's-- no, that's beyond great-- does he like it? What about you?"

He listened for a long time, long enough that the master came back in eventually; Bran glanced up at him and said, "Jess, this is fantastic, but we're sort of expecting a phone call about-- Yeah, okay. You, too." He laughed again and went pink. "Don't-- Okay. Yeah. Absolutely. I-- Hello?"

He broke off and hung up, grinning at Holden. "He hung up on me. He sounds busy."

"It agrees with him," said Holden, grinning back. "Lisa says--"

The telephone rang again, interrupting him, and Bran stepped quickly away from it and back to Lee's side as Holden nearly lunged for it and said, "Hello? There you are. What's going on? Is Valor--"

Lee watched the changing expressions of his master's face again for a while as he listened. It was easier to watch and observe when the shifts in expression weren't directed at you, when whatever was coming wasn't coming at you. If the master was getting angry, it wasn't at Lee-- and he wouldn't take it out on Lee either, Lee was almost sure about that.

"She did what?"

The tone, and Holden's face, made Lee spin to press his own face, trembling, against Bran's neck. Bran hugged him close and bent his mouth to Lee's ear.

"It's okay, Lee," he whispered. "He won't hurt you."

"Put him on the phone," said the master. "I said--" Lee burrowed so hard against Bran that he almost knocked Bran off-balance-- "put him on."

There was a longer pause. Bran was cradling Lee close, kissing his hair, and then another hand on Lee's shoulder nearly made Lee jump out of his skin; his heart squeezed so hard he thought it had stopped as he looked up at his master, who was still holding the phone up to his ear with one hand while he rubbed gently at Lee's shoulder with the other.

"I'm not angry at you, kid," he said, touching Lee's cheek, and to Bran, "Valor hit Yves. Slapped his face."

The sudden jolt of tension that shot through Bran's body frightened Lee more than his master's voice had, a moment ago; he pulled away from Bran, taking a step back, and saw that Bran was nearly white. Holden reached out and cupped Bran's shoulder in his palm, squeezing it reassuringly.

"Yves?" he said into the phone. "Hi, sweetheart." His palm cupped the back of Bran's neck. "Don't be ridiculous, love. You know you would have had to tell me. It's better that it wasn't while I was in the same house as Valor."

He fell silent and ran a hand, very gently, over Bran's hair before he said, "Of course," and, after a longer silence during which he carded his fingers softly through Bran's curls, "No, not really."

He took his hand away from Bran's head and put it to his own furrowed brow, touching lightly, before he said, "In point of fact, she's not my daughter."

Lee looked up at Bran, who was wringing his hands together and biting his lip.

"Oh, sweetheart," said Holden, softly, into the phone. "Don't. She's not worth it."

He sank down, slowly, still listening, onto the floor, and sat there with his back against the wall, twisting the phone cord absent-mindedly around his finger.

"Of course I'm coming home," he said, finally. "But I think it's best if Valor's gone before I get there. I'll be bringing Inga with me-- she can stay with us until we can find her a good owner." He listened again, then said, "Then I'll see her in court."

"Master," Bran whispered, dropping to his knees beside Holden. Holden held up one finger without looking at him.

"I'm listening," he said into the phone, and reached out in the silence that ensued to grasp Bran's arm and pull him in against his side. "What makes you think I'm not calm?"

Lee didn't like being the only one standing, so he sank to his knees behind Bran. Nobody paid any attention to him.

"Just for that?" Holden said. "No. But if she allowed her lover to wreak havoc in my household, neglected and abandoned Greta, jumped on a train the second I tried to talk to her about any of it, waited until I wasn't around and invited you to speak freely on the subject of her behavior, and then slapped your face? Yes. I'd divorce her."

Bran grabbed at Holden's arm, and Holden looked at him and put his finger to his lips.

"But she's not," he said to the phone. "She's Argounov's daughter. And apparently blood will tell. Yves," in a softer tone, "sweetheart, don't. Not over the phone. We'll talk when I get home. I'll be there as fast as I can, I promise. And I'll listen to everything then. Okay?"

He looked sad as he listened before he said, "Yes, of course. Don't I always? I love you, Yves. I'll be home in a few hours. I'll see you-- No, that's okay. When I get there. Yes. I love you. Bye."

He lowered the receiver to his lap and sat there staring at it with an air of bemusement until it started making a beep-beep-beep noise, which seemed to rouse him slightly; he looked up at Bran, and gave him a small, bewildered smile.

"Hell," he said. "I've got to make a new will."

Club 8 – The Beauty Of The Way We're Living