More early Yves :)

[maculategiraffe]

I got online to post this and saw this comment. Heh. :)

Takes place chronologically before this one.








"Can you move?"

"No, master," said Yves resignedly, tugging at his bonds to demonstrate. Holden had tied his wrists together and then tied them to the bedframe above his head; each of his ankles was lashed to a corner of the bed, forcing his legs apart. At least the rope was soft.

"You don't have to sound so gloomy about it," said Holden, nestling up to him, his hands possessive, claiming, one stroking Yves' chest, one curled around his upper arm. He kissed Yves on the neck, and Yves shuddered with pleasure and arched to follow the retreating lips as Holden, his hand drifting lower, added, "Do you not like it?"

"I love it when you touch me, master," Yves answered sincerely.

Holden moved closer, reaching up with one hand to brush the hair out of Yves' face. "But you don't like being tied up."

Yves hesitated.

"No lying," Holden reminded him.

"It doesn't upset me or anything, master," said Yves, "but no, I guess I don't like it much."

Holden nodded. "What don't you like about it?"

Yves hesitated again. "I-- never really thought about it, master."

"Think about it now," Holden advised, his fingertips grazing Yves' nipples. "You've been tied up before?"

"Yes, master," said Yves, pulling involuntarily against his bonds, pushing harder up against his master's touch, which grew perversely softer. "My former mistress used to do it to me, sometimes."

"Did you mind it with her?" Holden asked, his fingertips trailing down Yves' belly.

"N-not so much, master," said Yves, trying not to whimper with frustration at the maddeningly soft touch, his own inability to touch back. "Sh-she didn't-- well, it was hard for me to please her, sometimes, when I-- did things. So it was nice when I didn't have to try, and she just-- took what she wanted."

"But you don't want that with me?" Holden asked as his hand wrapped firmly around Yves' erection.

"Master," Yves begged, "oh, gods, master, please, I-- don't I please you, master? With my hands free?"

Holden smiled at him, stroking gently. "You don't really have to ask that, do you?"

Yves tried to smile back while thrusting as best he could into his master's hand. "I-- but master, why-- tie me up, then? Don't you want-- my hands? And-- everything?"

Still stroking, Holden leaned down and sucked Yves' nipple into his mouth. Yves was quivering, biting his lips to keep from crying out.

"Yes," said Holden, and licked his nipple, lazily, swirling his tongue around it. "I want your hands and everything. I love the way you touch me, you know that. But sometimes, I like to be the one-- touching. Just me. No offense, love, but when you get going, you tend to be a little-- distracting."

"N-none t-taken," Yves managed, as Holden kissed his way sensuously down Yves' chest and abdomen, towards his slowly stroking hand.

"That's why I want to tie you down," said Holden softly, between kisses. "I want to see you shiver and struggle to reach for me and not be able to. I want to feel you squirm and hear your breath catch and touch your body exactly the way I want to. And I don't want you to be able to do a damn thing about it, except just-- respond."

Before Yves could say anything, his cock was in his master's mouth, and whatever he was supposed to be thinking about was driven entirely out of his mind for a while.

Holden was sitting up, flushed and licking his lips, when the blood had started to return to Yves' brain. As he watched, panting, Holden reached up to undo the knots at Yves' wrists, then raised the wrists to his swollen lips and kissed them, one and then the other, before crawling down the bed to untie Yves' right ankle-- he kissed it too, softly and a little ticklishly-- and his left, his lips warm where the ropes had been. Then he moved back up and lay down next to Yves.

"Put your arms around me," he said, and Yves complied, cuddling closer as Holden wrapped himself around Yves' body in the sinuous, warm embrace Yves loved. "How was that?"

"Thank you, master," Yves murmured.

Holden laughed quietly. "What are you thanking me for? I thought I was being selfish."

"Yes," said Yves vaguely, drowsy with release and warmth and contentment, "but you were really nice about it."

Holden laughed again.

"I love you so much," he said, and Yves burrowed happily closer against him; he'd never successfully imagined just how good it would feel to have an owner who said things like that. "Thanks for being a good sport. I won't do that again."

That opened Yves' eyes. "You won't?"

"No," said Holden.

Yves waited for one of Holden's explanations for several long moments before he asked tentatively, "Why not, master?"

"Because you don't like it," said Holden, as if it were too obvious to need explanation.

Yves looked at him. "But you do, master."

"I'll live," said Holden.

"So will I," said Yves. "I mean, if you do tie me up again. I'm your slave, master. That's what I'm here for."

"To be tied up?" Holden asked lightly. "I've been misinformed."

"For you to do things to," said Yves. "What do you care whether I like them?"

Holden didn't move or pull away, exactly, but his body, which had been relaxed and draped against Yves', grew suddenly taut and abnormally still.

"I care," he said, with so much tension running through the two words that it scared Yves.

"I know," he answered quickly. "I didn't mean-- please don't be angry, master, I just--"

"I'm not angry, sweetheart," said Holden, just as swiftly. "Not with you, anyway. With myself-- if you don't think it matters to me whether you enjoy things."

"Master," Yves protested, "that's not what I meant. Of course I know it matters to you. You just said you wouldn't ever do something again just because I don't-- don't like it as much as I like everything else you do with me. Do you think that might clue me in that you care whether I enjoy myself? I'm not an idiot."

Holden chuckled softly, his body relaxing a bit.

"No, you're not an idiot," he agreed. "So tell me, why shouldn't I stop doing something you don't like?"

"Because I'm your slave," said Yves again. "I'm here for your pleasure, not mine."

"Is this like the time you talked me into beating you for no reason?" Holden asked. "Now you want to talk me into using you for my own selfish gratification? Sweetheart-- I think you might be confused about what eloquence is for."

Yves smiled a little. "No, master-- I mean--"

"Go ahead," said Holden, when he hesitated. "Make your case."

"Yes, master," said Yves, and thought carefully before beginning, "It's just, when I was a kid-- but old enough to know I was going to get sold, I-- well, I didn't really mind the idea. Not much, anyway. It wasn't like I was ever going to have the chance to do anything particularly exciting, if I was free. Being a slave-- well, I thought it would be okay. I'd serve my owner, and if I did well, he'd-- or she'd-- make sure I was taken care of. It seemed sort of-- fair, like having a job and getting paid, you know? And I was going to-- I thought maybe I'd be good at it. Serving."

Holden reached up and touched Yves' cheek, so gently Yves shivered. "I think you'd be good at pretty much anything you put your mind to."

"Well, yes," said Yves, and blushed when Holden smiled at his ready agreement. "I-- well, I don't mean to sound arrogant, but--"

"But you're a genius," said Holden. "I know. So-- slavery being your profession-- you'd like to excel as a slave, is that it? And if I don't expect anything of you that you wouldn't want to do anyway, I'm cramping your potential for excellence."

"Well-- sort of, master," said Yves. "I know it sounds ridiculous--"

"No, I get it," said Holden. "And thank you for not just pretending to love everything I do to you-- I know that would be easier."

"With some owners, maybe," said Yves, grinning. "With you I'm liable to get my books taken away for lying."

Holden grinned back. "This is true."

"But can't you just-- well, use me, sometimes?" Yves pursued. "I'm not saying make me do things I hate, but I honestly don't mind being tied up, except that I like being able to-- touch back, and use my hands, and all that. But it doesn't scare me or anything. I mean, why did you buy me, if not to-- use me?"

"That's a good question," said Holden, making Yves' heart skip a beat before he added hastily, "I mean, no, I don't mean-- gods, sweetheart, you're fantastic, you're perfect, I don't know what I ever did to deserve-- But that's the point. I didn't deserve you, I don't, it was just sheer stupid luck, getting hold of you. I never think things through ahead of time, and that's fine when it's just my own dumb ass on the line, because either my luck holds or it doesn't-- but now I've got you, and I'm responsible. And I'm making it up as I go along, the way I always do, and that's not fucking good enough. Not when I've got you to take care of."

Yves bent his head and laid it down on Holden's shoulder, and Holden's hand came up to stroke his hair, as he'd known it would. There were things, like that, that he already knew about Holden.

And then there were things he was still finding out.

"When you were fourteen," said Holden, stroking, "when you were plotting to be the best sex slave in history, I was nineteen, and I was probably still living with the first master I ever had, who never made me do a single thing I didn't want to. And then, sometime during that year when I was nineteen, I got turned over without warning or ceremony to a man who made me do quite a lot of things I didn't want to, and half killed me when I fought back. So."

"But with your first master," said Yves, his cheek still resting against Holden's shoulder, "didn't you ever do anything you didn't much like for its own sake, just because he liked it?"

"Sure," said Holden. "Anything he wanted. I worshipped him. And then, like I said, he fucked me over. Those aren't great memories, now."

Yves thought about that for a while, lying against the warmth of Holden's body, before he spoke again.

"Would it help--" he began. "What if you weren't just making it up as you went along, and doing whatever you felt like? What if there were-- rules? About when we only do things we both like, and when you just-- take what you want?"

"What kind of rules?" Holden asked, sounding interested, if slightly skeptical.

"Well... do you play chess, master?"

"I know how," said Holden. "Why?"

"What if you and I played for stakes?" Yves was liking his own idea; he hoped his master liked it too. "That way, if you won, you could-- claim your winnings. Do things to me that you like, and I-- don't, so much. I'd be pleasing you and you'd be happy, but it wouldn't be like you were just ignoring how I felt, you know?"

"Hmmm," said Holden, pensively. There was a brief silence before he said, "What if I lose?"

Yves smiled against his master's skin. "Well--"

"You little minx," Holden said, with an answering smile in his voice. "What evil things have you been dying to do to your poor innocent master?"

"Nothing too terribly evil, master," said Yves, lifting his head with a grin into Holden's laughing face. "When should we play our first game?"