A Most Personal Property (Ganymede Quartet Book 1) (48 page)

They both moaned as Henry pushed his prick inside and Henry paused a moment, his hands on Martin’s hips and looked down on his prick half-sheathed in Martin’s ass, and it was amazing that he could put part of his body inside another person’s body and it would feel so good to them both.

Martin reached back blindly, pawing at Henry’s hip and thigh, and Henry held Martin’s hips and thrust the rest of the way inside him. Martin let out a triumphant cry and clawed at the coverlet, and he continued to call out wordless encouragements as Henry did as he’d asked and fucked him hard, slamming into him over and over.

“Just like that; keep doing that,” Martin said, his voice all breath. “Oh,
god
, Henry,
Henry
!” Martin’s left shoulder moved in precise little jerks as he worked his cock beneath his body. As Henry drove into him from behind, Martin braced against the headboard with his right arm. Hard, jolting thrusts, Martin crying out each time Henry’s hipbones smacked against his ass. Henry tried not to worry that he was hurting him; Martin, obviously, was loving it.

Henry wanted orgasms for himself, of course, and he certainly had this goal in mind, but what he really cared about was making Martin happy, doing what Martin needed done. He had meant what he said: he really wanted to know all the ways to make Martin come.

Martin shuddered and went still and cried out a single anguished
Henry!
and came, and this was so gratifying to Henry that he came, too, two hard thrusts later. He rested, catching his breath, with his hands on Martin’s hips, caressing his buttocks, and looked down at his own diminishing cock in Martin’s body and twisted his hips to keep it inside as long as possible.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” Martin said, pulling away to lie on his side, letting Henry’s cock slide out of his ass. “I need to lie down.”

“Did I hurt you?” Henry asked, worried. He lay down facing Martin and reached to push his hair out of his eyes.

Martin smiled and shook his head. “You did everything perfectly, Sir.” He bit his lip and paused, his eyes flicking up to meet Henry’s for a shy moment before he looked away again. “What you did for me, Sir…kissing me like that…”

Henry flushed guiltily. Martin had seemed to enjoy it, but he might think Henry was disgusting anyway.

“I never imagined you’d do any such thing for me, Sir. Never in my wildest dreams.”

“You liked it?”

Martin beamed at him. “Oh, I
loved
it, Sir. I loved it so much!”

Pleased and relieved, Henry let out the breath he’d been holding. “Do you know, Martin? Is there a word for that, for what I did? I-I never heard of anyone doing it before.”

Martin shook his head. “I don’t know a good word, Sir. But it’s very special, don’t you think? Very intimate.” He leaned in and kissed Henry very tenderly, and Henry had worried that Martin might not want to do this knowing where Henry’s mouth had been, but clearly it did not bother him.

“Do you want me to do it for you, Sir?” Martin asked, his mouth close to Henry’s ear and his arm around Henry’s neck.

Henry blushed anew. “No,” he said. “No thank you. I’ll just do it to you for now.”

Martin frowned, a pretty pout. “That doesn’t seem fair, Sir.”

Henry frowned back, stubborn. “
I
get to decide what’s fair, don’t I?”

“Well, of course you do, Sir,” Martin said deferentially, stroking Henry’s hair back from his forehead. He kissed him again and said, “You’re my wonderful, generous lover, aren’t you, Henry?”

“That’s what I want to be,” Henry admitted. It was a flattering statement, but he thought it was probably accurate, too. He liked the idea of himself as a generous lover, even a skilled lover; that perhaps this was a thing he could be good at to make up for all the other things he didn’t do so well. He couldn’t ask, of course, but he didn’t think it likely that any of his friends were putting their mouths in unusual places.

Martin sat up abruptly. “Let me just get us cleaned up, Sir.” He slid to the side of the bed and swung his feet down. “I’ll be right back.”

Henry lifted his head to watch Martin walk toward the bathroom and let it drop to the bed when he rounded the corner. He closed his eyes and listened as Martin ran the taps and splashed. Having completed his ablutions, he returned with his basin and washed Henry’s cock and fingers.

“Sir? May I wash your face, Sir?”

Henry felt his cheeks grow hot. “Er, yes, of course.” He closed his eyes while Martin used a corner of his cloth to wipe the skin around Henry’s mouth. The soapy cloth smelled of vetiver, Martin’s soap, and Henry liked the idea of having Martin’s scent on him.

Henry kept his eyes closed as Martin set the basin on the nightstand and climbed onto the bed. He then opened his eyes and rolled to his side to look at Martin lying next to him. He was so handsome, so exactly what Henry wanted to see, and he smiled at Henry with such affection. Henry reached out and hooked his hand around the back of Martin’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss. Martin returned the kiss eagerly, wrapping Henry up in his arms and legs, and Henry wondered if they could do it a third time, if their bodies could take it, if they would have time.

Martin answered that question for him, breaking off their kiss to say, “Sir? I’ll need to dress soon for my dinner, if that’s all right.”

“Whatever you need to do,” Henry assured him. He ran his hand up and down Martin’s side, cupped and squeezed his ass, and responded with gratitude when Martin kissed him again and kept kissing him. Henry loved the clean taste of Martin’s spit, the exquisite sensation of Martin’s tongue twining around his own. He loved the softness of Martin’s lips and the faint hint of stubble on his sharp jaw. Martin moved against him and moaned, and the sound resonated in Henry’s chest and made his cock twitch hopefully.

Martin laughed softly and broke their kiss, his hand on Henry’s cheek. “I have to get dressed and go down, Sir, or I won’t eat…but I don’t want to leave you. I want to lie here kissing you forever.”

Henry loved the sentiment, but a good master wouldn’t starve his slave. “Go on,” he said. “Go get your dinner.”

Martin gave him a chaste peck on the lips and got up from the bed. As he walked away, Henry noted he had a bruise on his hip where Henry had been holding onto him earlier, and was both concerned that he had hurt Martin and oddly proud that he’d made such a mark.

Martin returned a few minutes later fully dressed, his hair tied back neatly. “I’ll be going then, Sir, but I won’t be long. Do you want your dressing gown, Sir?”

Feeling bold, Henry stretched long, luxuriating in his nakedness, and noted that Martin watched him with undisguised longing, his cheeks pink and his lip held between his teeth. Blushing at his own daring, Henry said, “No, I’ll just wait for you like this.”

Martin plainly liked this idea, beaming at Henry, his gaze full of erotic promise. “I’ll have that picture in my head all during my meal, Sir.” He reached down and touched the hollow of Henry’s throat, then traced a line down his body to his cock, which reared instantly alert. “It’s a lovely picture, Sir.” He bent and kissed Henry’s lips, just a glancing touch, and gave him a shy wave as he left the room.

As the door shut at Martin’s back, Henry grabbed his pillow and hugged it tight. He rolled around in a giddy daze, full up with extravagant feeling for Martin and with the near-certainty that Martin felt just as he did. His prick was hard, insistently hard, and so very wet. He touched himself, blushing and aware of the unlocked door, and quickly made himself come yet again, vividly remembering the feeling of Martin’s asshole clenching under his tongue. After he caught his breath, he rose and went to the bathroom and washed the semen off his chest and belly and looked at himself in the mirror. He thought he had never looked happier.

Henry dozed until Martin returned to stroke and pet him awake, and he pulled Martin down to lie on the bed with him.

Martin clung to him and licked his ear. “I thought of you, Sir.” The stirring warmth of his breath sent shivers down Henry’s spine.

“I thought about you, too,” Henry confessed. He thought of how he’d had to touch his prick and felt his cheeks grow hot. He buried his face in Martin’s neck and pulled him close, squeezing him breathless.

“Sir, Sir, you have to dress.” Martin patted and pressed at his shoulders and chest, making space between their bodies. “I’ll be in trouble if you’re late, Sir.”

He would be. Very little was expected of Henry at this juncture in life, but promptness at mealtimes was extremely important to Father, who considered tardiness a serious character flaw.

Henry let Martin go and reluctantly got up to be dressed. His prick got hard again simply because Martin was near and so very handsome, and Henry had to close his eyes and think hard of unpleasant things (declensions, pictures of cunts, Adam Pettibone) to calm his body down.

Thankfully, little was required of Henry during either dinner or the family hour that followed. Pearl read, though Henry, slumped in his wing chair, was only aware of her voice and not her words. His mind was fully taken over with thoughts of Martin: his beauty, his charm, his enthusiasm, and the glorious physical fact of him. He didn’t think he was imagining a corresponding interest from Martin, a certain preoccupation with Henry’s tactile qualities, even an appreciation of his personality, such as it was. Henry felt an exuberant relief upon being dismissed for the evening, though he was at pains to hide this from his parents and refrained from rushing his exit. He could not resist the urge once in the hall, however, and took Martin’s arm and pulled him toward his room at a run. Martin laughed, an expression of sheer, giddy joy, and let himself be hurried.

Inside, the door locked, they fell into each other’s arms and kissed until they were gasping. All Henry wanted, all he was driven to do, was to be inside Martin’s body once again, and he backed Martin up to the bed and pushed him down.

“Wait, Sir,” Martin said, his voice all breath. “I’ve got to do my work, Sir. I have to take care of the laundry. Mary will be cross if she has to stay up waiting for me.”

Henry didn’t really care how Mary felt about anything, but Martin
did
, so Henry reluctantly let him up.

“I’ll undress you now, Sir, and you can wait for me in bed, all right?”

“I suppose that’s fine,” Henry said grudgingly. He allowed Martin to quickly undress him, gratified when Martin let out a soft moan of longing as Henry’s stiffening prick was bared before him. Martin gave it a very affectionate squeeze before stripping off his own clothing where he stood. They embraced and Henry felt Martin’s back up and down, from the long curl at the nape of his neck to the firm curve of his ass, and Martin undertook a similar investigation of Henry’s body. He nuzzled Henry’s neck and put his hands flat against Henry’s chest, gently pushing him away.

“Let me do my job, Sir, and I’ll be right back.”

Henry sighed and let him go with a caress. He flopped on the bed, flushed and aroused, and listened to Martin opening drawers in his own room. He returned in short order dressed in his pajamas and dressing gown, which did not entirely conceal his hard prick.

“Can you go when you’re like that?” Henry asked, nodding toward Martin’s groin.

“It’ll go away in a hurry, Sir,” Martin said. “The idea of the maids seeing me like this will get rid of it.” He bent and kissed Henry quickly. “I’ll be back in no time, Sir.”

When Martin returned, he insisted on picking up all the clothing strewn on the floor—their school uniforms as well as Martin’s house uniform and Henry’s dress clothes—and putting it all away.

“Mr. Tim would be so disappointed in me, Sir, if he knew what a mess I’d made,” Martin told him, standing naked before Henry’s wardrobe, dinner jacket in hand. “I have to think about
all
of my responsibilities. I can’t just fuck you and do nothing else, Sir, or I’ll be in terrible trouble.”

When at last Martin was through with his housekeeping, he got onto the bed at Henry’s side and let himself be drawn into a close embrace. The way Martin touched him and the soft, enthusiastic sounds he made had Henry fairly convinced that Martin wanted him as much as he wanted Martin. He felt so attached to Martin, so needful of him, and the feelings were overwhelming, and yet they’d only been intimate for two days!

“I’m so happy, Sir,” Martin whispered, confessional. “I never dared dream I’d have a master like you.”

Henry flushed with pleased embarrassment and recalled what Martin had said to him prior to their very first fuck. “Y-you didn’t know, did you, Martin, what a dirty boy I am.”

Martin laughed, a delighted whoop. “No, Sir, I had no idea! I feel so lucky!” He kissed Henry and reached down between their bodies to stroke his cock. “Will you fuck me again, Sir? We’ll sleep better if we have sex again, don’t you think?”

Henry thought this was undoubtedly true. “I’ll do whatever you want,” he promised. “I want you to get a good night’s sleep.”

Martin laughed again and rolled onto his back, pulling Henry with him. “Oh, Henry,” he sighed. “I really am lucky.”

At school Friday, Henry was reprimanded for his inattention in every class, even math, where he was usually teacher’s pet. He could not help it; his thoughts returning to memories of how sweet his morning had been, Martin drying him after his shower and sucking his cock. Then he’d finally allowed Martin to shave him for the first time, and Martin had been right: he was really very good at it, getting Henry’s cheeks smooth as satin. Martin had only been willing to kiss Henry after he was shaven, pointing out that Henry’s heavy stubble would abrade and redden the skin of his face, which would be a dead giveaway that they’d been kissing. He was glad Martin thought of such things.