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maculategiraffeMeant to catch up on more of my comments and reading just now, but oh dear, oh dear, I shall be late. I have three more places to be before five o'clock. Maybe tonight. Here's some more early Jer/Holden.
"Holden," said Jer long-sufferingly, "you have to eat."
Holden shook his head, which was more response than anybody else had gotten out of him since the master had pushed him in the door of the slave quarters, with a fresh set of bruises and smelling unmistakably of having just been fucked; he'd stood there for a minute, then lain down on the floor with his eyes open, staring straight ahead. He'd been there for about three hours now with no sign of budging; Candys, who outranked Jer now, had kicked him a couple of times, but Jer had kept Penny and Aron from bothering him beyond yelling at him a little, and had left him alone himself, hoping he'd snap out of it given time and space. But he wasn't so well-fed-- having managed to bite, more or less literally, most of the hands that might have considered feeding him in the two weeks since he'd been here-- that he could afford to miss a meal altogether, which was what he'd do if he didn't get up soon.
Jer sat down next to him and patted his arm.
"Quit being such a baby," he said bracingly. "So he fucked you. You're a sex slave, if you hadn't noticed. Sex slaves get fucked by their masters. It's really not a big deal."
He expected one of Holden's trademark glares for that, and was all set to roll his eyes in return, but the gaze Holden turned on him, bleak and sick and empty, made his own stomach sink a little despite his conviction that Holden was making a huge deal about nothing. Obviously it wasn't nothing to Holden, but Jer was really having a hard time relating to a nineteen-year-old sex slave who acted like sex was some kind of unbearable trauma.
Of course, Holden had acted more or less this same way when the master had ordered his hair shaved off, so Jer was leaning towards him just being an enormous drama queen by nature. He wasn't looking forward to Holden's first serious whipping. Argounov usually left the discipline of the new slaves to the veterans, and since Holden had a tendency to make himself into more trouble than it was worth to deal with-- that and the fact that Jer was still ranking high and could deflect the others-- he'd managed not to get himself anything worse than a few kicks and slaps and punches on the hall. But if Holden didn't shape up soon, Jer wasn't going to be able to protect him much longer, and if this was how Holden reacted to sex and haircuts, he might just combust from the indignity of a whipping.
Jer was really starting to wonder about this former master of Holden's. Holden refused to talk about him, ever, but judging from the way Holden had been acting, his former master had never hit him, yelled at him, restrained him in any way, restricted his diet, suggested he wear makeup, suggested he cut his hair, or had sex with him. Either that, or Holden was clinically insane.
Or both. Couldn't rule out both.
"Come on," Jer said, rubbing his palm over the scant, dark stubble on Holden's head. Holden had attacked Penny when she tried to touch his newly clipped hair, getting her flat on her back and wrapping his hands around her throat before Jer could pull him off and punch him helpfully in the face. But when Jer touched him there now, Holden just shuddered slightly and didn't move. "You're too skinny already, Holden. You miss a meal, you might get sick."
Holden turned his face to the floor and mumbled something inaudible. Jer was heartened to have gotten even that much response out of him. "What's that?"
"I want to die," Holden repeated.
Well, that wasn't heartening.
"No you don't," said Jer firmly. "Snap out of it, Holden. Seriously. This is getting ridiculous. I get fucked all the time-- all of us do, because we're gods-damned sex slaves. And it's not like you were a virgin." He hesitated, and then, although it was pretty damn close to impossible-- but then, so was a slave as badly behaved as Holden having lived to be nineteen-- added, "Uh-- were you?"
"No," said Holden, and Jer was pretty sure a trace of you moron had sneaked in there with the creepy flat little voice.
"Well, then," he said, pressing his advantage. "What's one more? You're going to have to get used to it, you know? And not just from him. I mean, I'm not going to rank this high forever."
Holden rolled his head around to look up at Jer, who stared back levelly until Holden said, without affect, "You've been protecting me. From the other slaves. Haven't you."
Jer shrugged automatically, looking away.
"I didn't know," Holden said eventually.
"Whatever," said Jer, not sure if Holden's total obliviousness was unbelievably infuriating or kind of adorable. Though again, you couldn't rule out both. "So will you come eat?"
"I'd throw up," said Holden, rolling back over and talking to the floor again. "It won't kill me to miss a meal."
"Won't do you any good, either," said Jer, encouraged that Holden was talking, and if not talking sense, at least not talking about wanting to die. Actual sense might be a little much to ask. "Come on, punk. I'll give you first grab off my plate."
"I'm not hungry, Jer," said Holden, but he cooperated mechanically as Jer started to haul him up from the carpet.
"Good, then you won't eat much," said Jer. "I'm losing weight, you know. Be nice if you didn't piss everybody else off so bad that I'm the only one feeding you."
"When am I going to get my own plate?" Holden asked, swaying a little as Jer let go of him.
"Sometime after you straighten up and start acting right," said Jer, grabbing him by the wrist. "And quit making me carry you to meals like a damn child."
That night, in the dormitory room with six beds, five of which were currently occupied, Jer was almost asleep when someone touched his arm. He jumped, startled, then held still as somebody, who by the size and shape and sheer weirdness just had to be Holden, crawled into bed with him.
He reached up and groped for the head just to make sure-- the master never came to the slave quarters at night, but you never knew when a master might change his habits-- and then whispered, "What the fuck are you doing?"
Holden didn't answer for a minute. He moved closer, pressing his naked body up against Jer's in what might be his version of seduction or might just be a bid for more room in the narrow bed. Probably the latter, since sex seemed to be some sort of problem for him.
"You don't understand," he said finally, in Jer's ear. "You don't know what it's like."
"What what's like?" Jer whispered back. He was pretty sure he did know what whatever Holden had in mind-- being a slave, being fucked by Argounov, having his hair shaved off as punishment, being hungry, feeling sick, wanting to die-- was like, but it was probably smarter to peacefully concede the point to the lunatic who had just climbed in bed with him and was muttering craziness in his ear.
Holden laughed softly, which was unexpected, but fit in with the whole "lunatic" thing.
"Maybe you do. Maybe it was just me," he whispered. "Does he ever make it good for you?"
"What?" Jer wasn't up to this at this hour of the night. "Who? The master?"
"Sex," Holden agreed. "Does he? Or did he just want to hurt the hell out of me? Because I'm a bad boy?"
The last words were an audacious purr. Jer was having trouble gathering his thoughts, and really hoping Holden wasn't about to stab him in the neck with a shard of mirror glass or one of the other homemade weapons you heard about insane slaves using to attack people. That wouldn't exactly be fair. He should stab Argounov. Or Penny. Penny wouldn't be missed too much.
But his hands were empty; Jer could feel them against his chest, both of them. Holden had burrowed his face into Jer's neck, and seemed to be waiting patiently for a reply.
"It's not always bad, with him," Jer offered finally, cautiously.
"Not bad isn't the same as good," Holden pointed out.
Jer shrugged, resigning himself to Holden's strangeness. "It's not his job to make it good for us. It's the other way around."
"Is it ever good for you?" Holden persisted. "Not just not bad. Has it ever been?"
"What, sex?"
"Being taken," said Holden. "I know you like fucking. Aron told me. Being fucked."
When Jer didn't answer, Holden drew in a long breath, and then let out a long sigh, and then he kissed Jer on the mouth.
Tenderly, slowly, softly, like Jer hadn't been kissed in-- ever, frankly. It was weird, and it was nice, and it didn't make sense, and it was more of Holden's craziness-- but it was nice, it was sweet, Holden's arms were wrapping around him, pressing their bodies closer together, sliding his leg between Jer's legs, kissing and kissing and kissing, and Jer, sleepy and confused and worried and aroused, kissed back.
His arms went around Holden, too, because it seemed the thing to do, so they were hugging in what wasn't necessarily a sexy way-- not that Jer would have said no to that, except that Holden had just about lost his mind over being fucked earlier today-- and then his brain caught up with his body, and he broke away and whispered, "Wait, wait, do you-- are you--"
"I want to make it good for you," Holden said softly. "I'm really good at this, Jer. I can make you come from being inside you. Please let me--"
"You want to fuck me?"
"Please," said Holden again. "Please let me, just once, never again if you don't like it, you can fuck me afterwards if you want, please, Jer, I'll behave, I'll do anything you want..."
"Okay," said Jer, to hush him, and then, considering that this was the first bit of genuine pleading he'd gotten out of Holden and might turn out to be genuine leverage later, which wouldn't be at all unwelcome, "okay, just-- be careful, all right?"
"I'll be careful." Holden was kissing his face now, cheeks and chin and the curve where nose met tear duct. "Gentle. I'll be gentle."
Jer grinned a little. "I'll grab the lube. Stay here."
He pulled away, put his feet on the ground, and fumbled on one of the night tables in the dark, careful not to drop or slam anything and disturb the others, which reminded him, once back in the bed, to whisper to Holden as he poured out from the little bottle, "Don't yell or anything when you come. People are trying to sleep."
"I'll be quiet," said Holden.
Jer was slicking up Holden's hard cock efficiently, and then he started to prep his own ass, but Holden took the bottle from him, and whispered, "Let me."
Jer would have argued that if anybody knew how to do this by now-- but Holden pulled him up, positioning him firmly just like he was Argounov-- and it wasn't like the idea hadn't occurred to Jer before, what with the nobleman curses and the pretty way of talking and the apparent total lack of experience actually being a slave and the-- fragility-- to wonder if there was some kind of a story here, if Holden was used to fucking and not being fucked because-- because his craziness was catching and Jer was acquiring it, apparently, because Argounov wasn't the brightest man on the block but he also was not nearly stupid enough to kidnap a nobleman's younger son or whatever into sex slavery.
Holden the crazy slave had Jer on his hands and knees now-- no, his elbows and knees, chin on his forearms, knees wide apart, hips lifted off the bed, cock and balls dangling. His fingers were already there at Jer's ass, slick and probing, reaching in deep, and they zeroed in on the spot Argounov sometimes hit when he was pounding Jer at a particular angle, the spot that could just about make him see stars for as long as Argounov didn't shift position, and Jer gasped.
"Holden!"
"Shhhh," said Holden with a smile in his voice, stroking against the spot, then reaching around to grip Jer's cock in his other slicked-up fist, sliding up and down it like he was jerking off for Jer. Someone else's hand, manipulating him like that, it was... it was like fucking, or it was like-- it felt good, and Holden's fingers had some kind of rippling action going, squeezing, milking, and he knew how to play with the head.
Holden's cock was pressing up against him now, into the crack of his ass-- it suddenly occurred to Jer that he hadn't ever even seen Holden erect, but fortunately he was a decent size, not so big Jer was worried or anything. He was just wondering if Holden planned to keep this jerking-off action up while he fucked Jer. That might be kind of--
The head of Holden's cock slid in, slick as anything, just the slightest burn, the good kind, and fuck if Holden didn't wiggle it around somehow until he hit up against that fucking spot, which he must have known because Jer quit breathing for a second and Holden made a humming noise of satisfaction and slid in just the tiniest touch deeper and then started, gently, slowly, rhythmically, hitting the spot. Pumping in and out of Jer, and pumping his fist up and down Jer's cock at the same time, with a hand on Jer's back to brace himself, and they were both breathing hard-- they were both breathing hard, and Jer wasn't faking it or anything, he didn't have a brain left in his head to fake anything, because this was fantastic.
It took him a while, what with the fantasticness and the shock and the general weirdness of the situation, to realize he didn't have to hold back his own orgasm, which he normally did when being fucked because it distracted the master and besides it sort of hurt-- usually-- after you came, when your master wasn't done yet. But it was way too damn good anyway, and Jer came with his teeth sunk deep into his own lips to keep himself from yelling out, which he definitely hadn't expected, and three seconds later there was a muffled grunt from Holden and the nails of the hand on his back dug in and the fist on his cock tightened and Jer was still trying not to make noise, there was just too much and Holden wasn't pulling out or taking his hand off Jer's cock and it was too much--
Jer wasn't exactly sure, when it came down to it, how Holden had pulled out, just that Holden was pulling him over into his arms again and they were both covered with sweat and nobody was going to believe in the morning that Jer had let some punkass brat not even out of his training period yet do that to him, except that he also felt weirdly like thanking Holden.
"Was that good?" Holden whispered, all the cockiness-- no pun intended-- deflated to a tiny pleading voice again, and Jer stifled a laugh or a sob and pulled Holden in, pushed the boy's head down on his shoulder and kissed his prickly scalp and whispered back, "Yeah, yeah, yeah, baby, that was good. That was good."
Really, life had been so simple two weeks ago.
"Holden," said Jer long-sufferingly, "you have to eat."
Holden shook his head, which was more response than anybody else had gotten out of him since the master had pushed him in the door of the slave quarters, with a fresh set of bruises and smelling unmistakably of having just been fucked; he'd stood there for a minute, then lain down on the floor with his eyes open, staring straight ahead. He'd been there for about three hours now with no sign of budging; Candys, who outranked Jer now, had kicked him a couple of times, but Jer had kept Penny and Aron from bothering him beyond yelling at him a little, and had left him alone himself, hoping he'd snap out of it given time and space. But he wasn't so well-fed-- having managed to bite, more or less literally, most of the hands that might have considered feeding him in the two weeks since he'd been here-- that he could afford to miss a meal altogether, which was what he'd do if he didn't get up soon.
Jer sat down next to him and patted his arm.
"Quit being such a baby," he said bracingly. "So he fucked you. You're a sex slave, if you hadn't noticed. Sex slaves get fucked by their masters. It's really not a big deal."
He expected one of Holden's trademark glares for that, and was all set to roll his eyes in return, but the gaze Holden turned on him, bleak and sick and empty, made his own stomach sink a little despite his conviction that Holden was making a huge deal about nothing. Obviously it wasn't nothing to Holden, but Jer was really having a hard time relating to a nineteen-year-old sex slave who acted like sex was some kind of unbearable trauma.
Of course, Holden had acted more or less this same way when the master had ordered his hair shaved off, so Jer was leaning towards him just being an enormous drama queen by nature. He wasn't looking forward to Holden's first serious whipping. Argounov usually left the discipline of the new slaves to the veterans, and since Holden had a tendency to make himself into more trouble than it was worth to deal with-- that and the fact that Jer was still ranking high and could deflect the others-- he'd managed not to get himself anything worse than a few kicks and slaps and punches on the hall. But if Holden didn't shape up soon, Jer wasn't going to be able to protect him much longer, and if this was how Holden reacted to sex and haircuts, he might just combust from the indignity of a whipping.
Jer was really starting to wonder about this former master of Holden's. Holden refused to talk about him, ever, but judging from the way Holden had been acting, his former master had never hit him, yelled at him, restrained him in any way, restricted his diet, suggested he wear makeup, suggested he cut his hair, or had sex with him. Either that, or Holden was clinically insane.
Or both. Couldn't rule out both.
"Come on," Jer said, rubbing his palm over the scant, dark stubble on Holden's head. Holden had attacked Penny when she tried to touch his newly clipped hair, getting her flat on her back and wrapping his hands around her throat before Jer could pull him off and punch him helpfully in the face. But when Jer touched him there now, Holden just shuddered slightly and didn't move. "You're too skinny already, Holden. You miss a meal, you might get sick."
Holden turned his face to the floor and mumbled something inaudible. Jer was heartened to have gotten even that much response out of him. "What's that?"
"I want to die," Holden repeated.
Well, that wasn't heartening.
"No you don't," said Jer firmly. "Snap out of it, Holden. Seriously. This is getting ridiculous. I get fucked all the time-- all of us do, because we're gods-damned sex slaves. And it's not like you were a virgin." He hesitated, and then, although it was pretty damn close to impossible-- but then, so was a slave as badly behaved as Holden having lived to be nineteen-- added, "Uh-- were you?"
"No," said Holden, and Jer was pretty sure a trace of you moron had sneaked in there with the creepy flat little voice.
"Well, then," he said, pressing his advantage. "What's one more? You're going to have to get used to it, you know? And not just from him. I mean, I'm not going to rank this high forever."
Holden rolled his head around to look up at Jer, who stared back levelly until Holden said, without affect, "You've been protecting me. From the other slaves. Haven't you."
Jer shrugged automatically, looking away.
"I didn't know," Holden said eventually.
"Whatever," said Jer, not sure if Holden's total obliviousness was unbelievably infuriating or kind of adorable. Though again, you couldn't rule out both. "So will you come eat?"
"I'd throw up," said Holden, rolling back over and talking to the floor again. "It won't kill me to miss a meal."
"Won't do you any good, either," said Jer, encouraged that Holden was talking, and if not talking sense, at least not talking about wanting to die. Actual sense might be a little much to ask. "Come on, punk. I'll give you first grab off my plate."
"I'm not hungry, Jer," said Holden, but he cooperated mechanically as Jer started to haul him up from the carpet.
"Good, then you won't eat much," said Jer. "I'm losing weight, you know. Be nice if you didn't piss everybody else off so bad that I'm the only one feeding you."
"When am I going to get my own plate?" Holden asked, swaying a little as Jer let go of him.
"Sometime after you straighten up and start acting right," said Jer, grabbing him by the wrist. "And quit making me carry you to meals like a damn child."
That night, in the dormitory room with six beds, five of which were currently occupied, Jer was almost asleep when someone touched his arm. He jumped, startled, then held still as somebody, who by the size and shape and sheer weirdness just had to be Holden, crawled into bed with him.
He reached up and groped for the head just to make sure-- the master never came to the slave quarters at night, but you never knew when a master might change his habits-- and then whispered, "What the fuck are you doing?"
Holden didn't answer for a minute. He moved closer, pressing his naked body up against Jer's in what might be his version of seduction or might just be a bid for more room in the narrow bed. Probably the latter, since sex seemed to be some sort of problem for him.
"You don't understand," he said finally, in Jer's ear. "You don't know what it's like."
"What what's like?" Jer whispered back. He was pretty sure he did know what whatever Holden had in mind-- being a slave, being fucked by Argounov, having his hair shaved off as punishment, being hungry, feeling sick, wanting to die-- was like, but it was probably smarter to peacefully concede the point to the lunatic who had just climbed in bed with him and was muttering craziness in his ear.
Holden laughed softly, which was unexpected, but fit in with the whole "lunatic" thing.
"Maybe you do. Maybe it was just me," he whispered. "Does he ever make it good for you?"
"What?" Jer wasn't up to this at this hour of the night. "Who? The master?"
"Sex," Holden agreed. "Does he? Or did he just want to hurt the hell out of me? Because I'm a bad boy?"
The last words were an audacious purr. Jer was having trouble gathering his thoughts, and really hoping Holden wasn't about to stab him in the neck with a shard of mirror glass or one of the other homemade weapons you heard about insane slaves using to attack people. That wouldn't exactly be fair. He should stab Argounov. Or Penny. Penny wouldn't be missed too much.
But his hands were empty; Jer could feel them against his chest, both of them. Holden had burrowed his face into Jer's neck, and seemed to be waiting patiently for a reply.
"It's not always bad, with him," Jer offered finally, cautiously.
"Not bad isn't the same as good," Holden pointed out.
Jer shrugged, resigning himself to Holden's strangeness. "It's not his job to make it good for us. It's the other way around."
"Is it ever good for you?" Holden persisted. "Not just not bad. Has it ever been?"
"What, sex?"
"Being taken," said Holden. "I know you like fucking. Aron told me. Being fucked."
When Jer didn't answer, Holden drew in a long breath, and then let out a long sigh, and then he kissed Jer on the mouth.
Tenderly, slowly, softly, like Jer hadn't been kissed in-- ever, frankly. It was weird, and it was nice, and it didn't make sense, and it was more of Holden's craziness-- but it was nice, it was sweet, Holden's arms were wrapping around him, pressing their bodies closer together, sliding his leg between Jer's legs, kissing and kissing and kissing, and Jer, sleepy and confused and worried and aroused, kissed back.
His arms went around Holden, too, because it seemed the thing to do, so they were hugging in what wasn't necessarily a sexy way-- not that Jer would have said no to that, except that Holden had just about lost his mind over being fucked earlier today-- and then his brain caught up with his body, and he broke away and whispered, "Wait, wait, do you-- are you--"
"I want to make it good for you," Holden said softly. "I'm really good at this, Jer. I can make you come from being inside you. Please let me--"
"You want to fuck me?"
"Please," said Holden again. "Please let me, just once, never again if you don't like it, you can fuck me afterwards if you want, please, Jer, I'll behave, I'll do anything you want..."
"Okay," said Jer, to hush him, and then, considering that this was the first bit of genuine pleading he'd gotten out of Holden and might turn out to be genuine leverage later, which wouldn't be at all unwelcome, "okay, just-- be careful, all right?"
"I'll be careful." Holden was kissing his face now, cheeks and chin and the curve where nose met tear duct. "Gentle. I'll be gentle."
Jer grinned a little. "I'll grab the lube. Stay here."
He pulled away, put his feet on the ground, and fumbled on one of the night tables in the dark, careful not to drop or slam anything and disturb the others, which reminded him, once back in the bed, to whisper to Holden as he poured out from the little bottle, "Don't yell or anything when you come. People are trying to sleep."
"I'll be quiet," said Holden.
Jer was slicking up Holden's hard cock efficiently, and then he started to prep his own ass, but Holden took the bottle from him, and whispered, "Let me."
Jer would have argued that if anybody knew how to do this by now-- but Holden pulled him up, positioning him firmly just like he was Argounov-- and it wasn't like the idea hadn't occurred to Jer before, what with the nobleman curses and the pretty way of talking and the apparent total lack of experience actually being a slave and the-- fragility-- to wonder if there was some kind of a story here, if Holden was used to fucking and not being fucked because-- because his craziness was catching and Jer was acquiring it, apparently, because Argounov wasn't the brightest man on the block but he also was not nearly stupid enough to kidnap a nobleman's younger son or whatever into sex slavery.
Holden the crazy slave had Jer on his hands and knees now-- no, his elbows and knees, chin on his forearms, knees wide apart, hips lifted off the bed, cock and balls dangling. His fingers were already there at Jer's ass, slick and probing, reaching in deep, and they zeroed in on the spot Argounov sometimes hit when he was pounding Jer at a particular angle, the spot that could just about make him see stars for as long as Argounov didn't shift position, and Jer gasped.
"Holden!"
"Shhhh," said Holden with a smile in his voice, stroking against the spot, then reaching around to grip Jer's cock in his other slicked-up fist, sliding up and down it like he was jerking off for Jer. Someone else's hand, manipulating him like that, it was... it was like fucking, or it was like-- it felt good, and Holden's fingers had some kind of rippling action going, squeezing, milking, and he knew how to play with the head.
Holden's cock was pressing up against him now, into the crack of his ass-- it suddenly occurred to Jer that he hadn't ever even seen Holden erect, but fortunately he was a decent size, not so big Jer was worried or anything. He was just wondering if Holden planned to keep this jerking-off action up while he fucked Jer. That might be kind of--
The head of Holden's cock slid in, slick as anything, just the slightest burn, the good kind, and fuck if Holden didn't wiggle it around somehow until he hit up against that fucking spot, which he must have known because Jer quit breathing for a second and Holden made a humming noise of satisfaction and slid in just the tiniest touch deeper and then started, gently, slowly, rhythmically, hitting the spot. Pumping in and out of Jer, and pumping his fist up and down Jer's cock at the same time, with a hand on Jer's back to brace himself, and they were both breathing hard-- they were both breathing hard, and Jer wasn't faking it or anything, he didn't have a brain left in his head to fake anything, because this was fantastic.
It took him a while, what with the fantasticness and the shock and the general weirdness of the situation, to realize he didn't have to hold back his own orgasm, which he normally did when being fucked because it distracted the master and besides it sort of hurt-- usually-- after you came, when your master wasn't done yet. But it was way too damn good anyway, and Jer came with his teeth sunk deep into his own lips to keep himself from yelling out, which he definitely hadn't expected, and three seconds later there was a muffled grunt from Holden and the nails of the hand on his back dug in and the fist on his cock tightened and Jer was still trying not to make noise, there was just too much and Holden wasn't pulling out or taking his hand off Jer's cock and it was too much--
Jer wasn't exactly sure, when it came down to it, how Holden had pulled out, just that Holden was pulling him over into his arms again and they were both covered with sweat and nobody was going to believe in the morning that Jer had let some punkass brat not even out of his training period yet do that to him, except that he also felt weirdly like thanking Holden.
"Was that good?" Holden whispered, all the cockiness-- no pun intended-- deflated to a tiny pleading voice again, and Jer stifled a laugh or a sob and pulled Holden in, pushed the boy's head down on his shoulder and kissed his prickly scalp and whispered back, "Yeah, yeah, yeah, baby, that was good. That was good."
Really, life had been so simple two weeks ago.
