A Most Personal Property (Ganymede Quartet Book 1) (44 page)

Henry had hoped Martin would put his hands on it, or his mouth, but instead Martin said, “Oh, your boots, Sir!” and dropped to his knees. He tugged up the hems of Henry’s trousers to get at his bootlaces. “Apologies, Sir, I’m doing this all out of order. I’m just so eager to have you naked!” Henry lifted his feet, right and then left, to have his boots removed, then impatiently kicked his trousers toward the corner. Martin knelt up and kissed his cock, glanced up at him and smiled, that mischievous tilt to the corners of his mouth, and Henry felt like he might swoon.

“You have such a beautiful cock, Henry, did you know?” He cocked his head, curious, and looked up at Henry. He apparently wanted an answer to his question.

Henry cleared his throat. “Uh, no. No, I didn’t know.”

“Oh, yes!” Martin assured him. “Nice and fat and straight, Sir, and a perfect length.” He squeezed it and leaned forward to slowly swipe his tongue across the wet head. Henry’s knees buckled and he reached for the edge of the nightstand for support. “You taste so good to me, too.”

He pressed his pursed lips against the tip of Henry’s cock and slowly sucked in the head, cheeks hollowed, the fans of his lashes fluttering as he took Henry in to the root, digging his fingers into Henry’s hips and making a little satisfied grunt that Henry felt more than heard. He then pulled off, slow suction and swirling tongue, everything feeling so excruciatingly good that Henry could scarcely breathe. Henry felt very uncertain of his ability to remain standing.

Martin smiled up at him and Henry felt shameful heat suffuse his face.

“May I ask you something, Sir?” Martin gave Henry’s cock a couple of strokes with a loose fist.

“Of course,” Henry said breathlessly. “Anything.”

“All that time before you finally touched me, Sir, you were blushing every day. Were you thinking something dirty every time your face was red? Your face was red so often, Sir, I couldn’t help but notice.” He licked Henry’s cock and smiled at him again. “Each time, I hoped you were thinking about me.”

“I was,” Henry admitted, cheeks burning. “I was thinking how much I wanted you, and imagining what it would be like if you wanted me, too.”

“And what’s it like, Sir? What’s it like being wanted by me?” Martin took Henry’s cock deep into his mouth and pulled back slowly, making Henry tremble and gasp. He sucked on the head and tongued the slit and let it slide out of his mouth. “What’s it like, Henry?”

“I feel like I’ve won all the prizes,” Henry admitted. “What I imagined a lover would be like is nothing compared to what you really are.”

Martin smiled, seeming quite satisfied with his answer. “We’re well-matched, aren’t we, Sir?” Before Martin could suck him in again, Henry put a restraining hand against his cheekbone, cupping the side of his face.

“I-I think I need to lie down,” he said apologetically, giving Martin’s hair a smoothing pat.

Martin laughed and patted Henry’s hip, then reached for a hand up. He kissed Henry on the lips lightly and then more lingeringly. “Let’s get undressed then, shall we, Henry?”

Unlike prior nights, Martin didn’t just fling clothes around the room with no regard for where they might land. He put Henry’s soiled linens in the laundry basket and hung his dinner suit in the wardrobe. Naked, Henry lay on the bed and watched him work, his hard cock nodding over his belly. Martin undressed in the middle of the room, unselfconscious as ever, but took his clothing back to his own room to hang up. He returned in his pajamas and dressing gown and picked up the basket.

“I’ll just be a minute, Sir, and then I’ll help you with—” he nodded toward Henry’s crotch “—that.”

Martin must have run all the way; he was back in no time at all, and he locked the door and stripped off his pajamas, leaving a trail of garments from the door to the bed. Henry’s prick had deflated somewhat while Martin was gone, but perked up again as he watched Martin walking toward him, kicking his pajama pants aside with a flick of his toes.

“Come here.” Henry held his arms out, welcoming. Martin beamed at him, that smile as precious as rubies, and climbed on top of him, letting himself be drawn down to rest on Henry’s chest. Henry ran his hands over Martin’s back, from the sharp wings of his shoulder blades to his perfect round ass, and buried his face in his hair and breathed him in. They curled around each other, petting and stroking and fitting together more and more closely, kissing deep and slow.

Martin sighed and ran his fingers through Henry’s hair. “It’s nice to do it like this, isn’t it Sir? Henry? To not be in such a hurry.”

“Mmm,” Henry replied, meaning agreement. He strung a line of kisses across Martin’s collarbones and rolled him onto his back. He tilted his hips against Martin’s, sliding his hard prick alongside Martin’s, thin skin hot and silky.

Martin spread his legs, nudging Henry with his knee so that he came to rest more definitively between them. “I’d love it if you’d fuck me, Henry, I really would.”

Henry was prepared to do anything Martin asked of him. “We’ll need the oil, then.”

“Please, Sir.
Henry
.”

Henry sat back on his heels and reached for the nightstand drawer. He took out the little bottle and pulled out the stopper. “How much do I need?”

“Too much is better than too little, Sir, but we don’t want to make a mess of the sheets.” Martin brought his knees up toward his chest and reached around to either side to pull his buttocks apart, exposing his hole. The light from the bedside lamp allowed Henry to see everything in sharp detail: the underside of Martin’s cock with its prominent vein, his balls in their wrinkled sac sliding to either side, the smooth expanse of skin between balls and asshole, and the hole itself, dusky and tight, looking far too small to fit his prick.

Henry ran his oily finger from the underside of Martin’s cockhead, down the length of the shaft, between the balls, all the way to the pucker between his cheeks, and pressed inside. Martin felt so warm, so velvety, and the tight channel seemed to suck his finger in. Martin made a little satisfied sound and hitched his knees higher. “Another one, Sir, please!”

Henry put in a second finger and then, after the addition of more oil, a third. Martin moaned and squirmed, pushing his hips hard against Henry’s hand, forcing his fingers in deeper. “Are you ready?” Henry asked him, quite sure that he was.

“Oh, yes, Sir, I’m
so
ready!”

Henry lined himself up as best he could, leaning over Martin, supporting himself on his left hand and aiming his cock with the right. As before, it felt like it wasn’t going to be possible, but with a little extra force he was inside, the tight sphincter squeezing the head and all down the length of his cock. Martin made a wanton sound, an abandoned wail, and pushed his hips toward Henry’s. Henry bent to kiss him and Martin wrapped his legs around his back.

“Let’s make it last, Sir,” he suggested in a breathy voice. “Not too fast.”

“Whatever you want,” Henry assured him. “But call me by my name, Martin. Say ‘Henry.’”

“Henry,” Martin said, almost a purr. He smiled and kissed Henry again. “I love your cock. You feel so good to me.”

Henry blushed. Such an intimate compliment! “So do you,” he offered shyly. He shifted, an experimental movement of his hips, and the tight drag on his cock was intensely pleasurable, and it must have felt so to Martin, too, for he moaned and said, “Oh, just like that, Sir!”

Henry did his best to comply. Steady pumping, long thrusts, almost all the way out and then a hard drive back in, Martin panting in rhythm with his thrusts. It felt better and better and a sort of buzzing numbness came over him, giving him enough distance that he could hold off his orgasm, though he felt in truth he could spill at a word from Martin, a hint of permission.

Martin took hold of his own cock and began to work it in time with Henry’s thrusts. “
Henry
,” he breathed. “Oh, Henry! You feel so good!” He tossed his head side-to-side on the pillow, his hair falling across his face. “Keep doing that; you’re going to make me come so hard!”

“Do it,” Henry urged. “Come for me.”

He kept moving and watched as Martin’s hand sped up over his cock. Martin arched his back, let out a series of escalating cries and went still as his cock jerked, spattering his chest with pearly fluid. Henry took this as his cue and thrust a few more times, harder, with more purpose, and came with a satisfied groan. Leaning over Martin, braced on straight arms, he rocked his hips against Martin’s ass, feeling his cock slowly soften, and caught his breath.

“Henry.” Martin reached up and stroked his cheek. “My beautiful Henry.”

Henry flushed with pleasure to hear himself characterized thus. He ducked his head shyly as he felt his cock slip out of Martin’s ass and eased himself down to lie at Martin’s side.

Martin propped himself up on his elbow and leaned over to kiss Henry. “I’ll be right back, Sir.” He climbed over Henry’s legs and went naked to the bathroom where Henry could hear him at his ablutions. He returned with his basin and cloth and sat at Henry’s hip to clean his cock and groin. He wore a smile that was a variation on his usual, this one pleased and secretive.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Sir?” Martin looked up at him with a blank, guarded expression.

“Just now. You were smiling.”

The smile returned. “I can’t help it, Sir. I’m so happy. You make me feel so good.”

Henry blushed again. “Put that down,” he said, taking the rag from Martin’s hand, setting the basin on the nightstand. “Come here.”

He gathered Martin into his arms and kissed him tenderly all over his handsome face. They held and petted one another and Henry had almost fallen asleep when Martin shook him awake so that they might brush their teeth. They stood naked on the tile, grinning at one another around their toothbrushes, taking turns to spit in the sink. When they got back into bed, Henry put his head on Martin’s chest and fell asleep to the sound of his heart beating slow and steady.

Henry was not at all accustomed to sharing a bed, and he woke fitfully during the night whenever Martin would chance to shift position or sigh in his sleep, but he loved having Martin in the bed with him nonetheless, loved having his warmth and the smell of his skin always close. Thursday he woke with a start at sunrise as Martin muttered and nuzzled his chest, and he stayed awake a little longer watching Martin’s eyelids flutter and listening to his breath. It seemed miraculous that he could have this, that they could have this together, and he held Martin as tightly as he dared as he drifted to sleep once again.

When he woke for the second time that morning, Martin was leaning over him, fully dressed, giving him a fond, brilliant smile. “Rise and shine, Sir.”

“Good morning.” Henry held out his arms and Martin came willingly into his embrace and kissed his neck, but too soon he withdrew.

“I’ll just start your shower, Sir,” he said, getting up from the bed and gently but firmly removing himself from Henry’s grasping hands. Henry felt that, as the master, he should not have to be always chasing his slave, and wished Martin would be a little more willing to linger with him, but he did as Martin wanted and got up to stumble naked to the shower with only minimal grumbling.

After his shower, Martin dried him, stood by as he shaved, and dressed him in his school uniform, and only when he was presentable did Martin allow him a very few kisses before insisting that he go downstairs for his breakfast.

“Your father will expect you, Sir, you know this.”

Father would, and if Henry made them late, he feared that Martin would hear about it from Timothy. Henry did not want Martin scolded, and certainly not for something that would be entirely Henry’s fault.

“One more kiss,” Henry bargained. “And then we’ll go down.”

Martin allowed the kiss and melted into Henry’s arms, and when they parted, gasping, Martin’s cheeks were pink and his cock strained boldly against the placket of his trousers.

“Well, we can’t go down
now
, Sir,” Martin said with a shaky laugh. Ducking his head bashfully, he turned his back. “I’m sorry, but I can’t look at you, Sir. You’re too exciting.”

Henry’s heart lurched in his chest, and he loved that Martin found the mere sight of him so arousing, but he saw the sense in avoiding the stimulus. They would have to be at the table in minutes.

They made it to the breakfast room just seconds before Father and Timothy, Henry sitting down as they entered, and Timothy cast a stern eye on each of them in turn. Henry blushed to the tips of his ears and kept his eyes on his plate while he ate his usual substantial breakfast.

In the carriage, Henry dared to touch Martin’s hand just briefly behind the screen of his schoolbag, and Martin smiled at him but pulled his hand away with a little shake of his head, and he was probably right that they shouldn’t risk it.

At school, Louis called to him as soon as he climbed down from the carriage and, with a quick backward glance at Martin, full of reckless longing, Henry went to join his friends and Martin went to stand with the other slaves. Watching as Tom put his arm around Martin’s back, Henry envied them the effusiveness of their greetings, though in truth he had no desire to embrace his friends or hold their hands; he only wished to be able to show affection to Martin in public without condemnation or ridicule.