A Superior Slave (Ganymede Quartet Book 0.5) (6 page)

“It’s important to you, isn’t it?”

“
You’re
important to me.” Charlie seemed so lovelorn, so woebegone, and it moved Martin to be especially tender with him.

“Then you can be the last. The last before I have a master.” He unbuttoned Charlie’s drawers and spread them open around his hard, wet cock jutting up. Charlie had a pretty cock, pink and tan surrounded by glossy black hair. “I’ve always liked your cock,” Martin told him. “You respond so nicely to everything I do.” He leaned in for a deep, languorous kiss while he played with Charlie’s foreskin, hiding and exposing the head of his cock while Charlie panted into his mouth.

“Let’s play that game,” Martin suggested, sliding off the seat to kneel on the floor of the car. “The one where you make me do it. Do you want that?”

Charlie gave a shaky moan. “I’d love that,” he managed, his voice sounding constricted and breathless.

Martin put his hands on Charlie’s thighs and leaned in to breathe on his cock. He nosed around the base, smelling and nuzzling, and every now and then giving it the barest flick of his tongue, just tiny licks.

“Oh, god, wait,” Charlie said. “Let me just—” He shrugged his braces off his shoulders and wriggled out of his trousers and drawers, pushing them down to his ankles and sitting with his naked ass on the dusty, worn upholstery of the train bench. “I don’t want to miss anything,” he said. “Your hands, your mouth, your hair—I have to feel all of it.” He was very emotional saying this, and seemed near tears, his hands shaking as he reached for Martin and drew him close, Martin’s cheek pressed against his belly.

Martin put his arms around Charlie’s waist and kissed his golden skin. “Hey,” he said. “Charlie. Come on. Make me do it.”

Charlie laughed and gave a wet sniff. “All right.” He buried his hands in Martin’s hair and steered his head into position, his cockhead sliding slick along Martin’s cheekbone. “Put it in your mouth.”

Martin acted as though he might do this, but then turned his face to the side, deflecting Charlie’s cock into the hair at his temple. He huffed hot breath on Charlie’s balls and gave a glancing lick to the shaft.

“Go on.” Charlie tightened his fingers in Martin’s hair and gave his head a little jerk. “Put it in your mouth, dirty boy.”

“Make me,” he whispered, breathing the words over Charlie’s wet cockhead. “You have to
make
me do it.”

Charlie pushed Martin’s head down in his lap, but Martin kept his mouth closed and again Charlie’s cock slid into his hair. Charlie made a little grunt of frustration and shifted in his seat. He kept one hand in Martin’s hair and grabbed hold of Martin’s chin with the other and attempted to force his jaw open. Martin put up token resistance, but let Charlie open his mouth wide enough to fit his cock inside.

“Suck it,” Charlie insisted, giving Martin’s head a little shake. “Go on. Get to work.”

Martin kept it in his mouth, but simply bathed it in his hot breath for a bit, keeping his tongue away. Charlie squirmed and lifted his hips against Martin’s mouth.

“Do your job,” Charlie murmured. “Show me how well you can do this.”

Martin chuckled and at last licked Charlie’s cock, wet and salty, and then sucked, cheeks hollow, while Charlie moaned and pulled his hair.

For a few minutes, Charlie let Martin do what he wanted, working the length and sucking on the head, but then he asked, “How deep can you take it, do you think?”

As a reply, Martin took him in to the root, the fat cockhead in his throat making it hard for him to breathe. Charlie held him there, hands fisted in his hair, pulled him off, then pushed his head down again, over and over, setting his own erratic rhythm. He held Martin’s head down, cock choking him and cutting off his air, and Martin trembled and struggled for breath, verging on panic and very aroused. He gagged and gasped and all the while kept his tongue moving around Charlie’s cock, kept working to suck and swallow around the head. Charlie did it again and again, at unpredictable intervals so that Martin was never prepared, never knew which breath would be his last. Martin didn’t really want to be hurt or truly forced, but he liked being
made
to do things, liked being told he’d been a good boy when he’d done them.

Charlie held onto Martin’s jaw with one hand, the other fisted in his hair, and shoved his cock deep into Martin’s throat, moaning with pleasure. As he continued to suck, Martin struggled awkwardly out of his own braces, unbuttoned his own trousers and drawers, and let his hot, hard cock spring forth into the cool air of the train compartment. The faint breeze gliding over his wet cockhead made him shiver, and he wrapped his fingers around the shaft, gave himself a squeeze.

“Are you touching yourself? Don’t touch yourself.” Charlie gave Martin’s head a little shake. “Hands off.”

Martin groaned a complaint around Charlie’s cock, but brought his hands back to rest on Charlie’s tensed thighs.

Charlie began to lift his hips hard against Martin’s mouth, holding his head in place. Martin’s throat felt raw, his jaw was tired, and he’d drooled spit all down his chin, but he was incredibly aroused, incredibly aware of the shape of Charlie’s cock in his mouth and pushing into his throat. He dimly recognized that Stuart had come to watch, leaning over the back of the seat and whispering in Charlie’s ear, and knowing he had an audience made what was happening even more exciting. He whimpered and dug his fingers into the hard muscles of Charlie’s thighs, and Charlie began to make low, frightened cries, his hips jerking erratically, and then he stilled and shot against the back of Martin’s throat.

Martin gagged, struggled to relax his throat, and swallowed, the taste of Charlie bitter against the back of his tongue. Charlie held Martin’s head in place a few seconds longer, then let go his grip on Martin’s hair and smoothed it into place. Martin looked up and saw how much Charlie was going to miss this, was going to miss
him
, and his throat tightened. He looked away and blinked rapidly, unwilling to start crying. They’d all go to quality people, and they’d meet new groups of slaves, and they’d play with these new boys, and it wouldn’t be the
same
, but it would be just as good as what they had now. It
had
to be. Real life had to be better than training, didn’t it?

“Get up here,” Charlie said, his voice rough as he gave Martin’s ear a little tug. “It’s your turn.”

Despite his churning emotions, Martin was still very excited, very hard and wet. He slid his trousers off his hips as he got up from the floor and sat on the bench beside Charlie, who reached out to stroke his hair, looking as though he might cry.

Stuart darted forward and kissed the corner of Martin’s mouth. “Good job, Martin.”

Martin laughed softly. “Thank you. What did
you
think, Charlie?” But it was cruel to have asked that, perhaps, because he could see what Charlie thought, what Charlie felt. “I think you liked it,” he decided, relieving Charlie of the need to say anything at all.

Charlie reached for Martin’s cock and gave it a few strokes. “How do you want it?”

Martin pushed Charlie’s hair back off his face. “Just regular,” he said. “You can be sweet. I don’t need to choke you or anything.” Charlie was game for anything, he knew, but he didn’t actually
like
being made to do things the way Martin did.

Charlie got to his knees and went to work, giving Martin the tenderest treatment, loving and dirty, his tongue busy and slippery, and his mouth so hot and wet. Martin let his hand rest on the back of Charlie’s head, encouraging him down and deeper but not forcing. Still leaning over from the seat behind, Stuart kissed Martin’s neck, being careful not to leave marks, and Martin tilted his head to give him better access. Martin was so excited from playing the rough game that he was already close to coming. He shifted in his seat and spread his thighs further apart.

“Finger me,” he urged, tilting his hips to make it easier. “Please, Charlie.”

Charlie pulled off his cock long enough to wet his fingers in his mouth and then sucked it in again. He pushed his fingers into Martin’s asshole and Martin drew a sharp breath and moaned. It wouldn’t be long now. Charlie’s fingers crooking inside his body, Charlie’s tongue swirling around the head of his cock, Charlie’s other hand snaking beneath his shirt, pinching his nipple.

“Oh, god,” he said. “
Charlie
!” He bit his lip and came, shuddering and suddenly very emotional. This was the last time, the very last time they’d be together. Stuart took hold of his chin and turned his head so he could kiss him full on the lips, and when Stuart broke for air, Charlie got up from the floor and was waiting to kiss him.

Martin loved to taste his own spunk in another boy’s mouth, and all his friends knew this about him and indulged him in it, as they all indulged one another to the best of their abilities. Would he get along as well with his new friends? They’d be from different Houses, most likely, and they’d have different traditions, and what if they weren’t as friendly and generous as the boys he’d grown up with at Ganymede? He was excited about new boys, new bodies, but he didn’t want to give up these familiar boys, the playful partners of his youth. He felt his eyes well with tears and pulled Charlie close, his shoulders hitching with silent sobs.

“Aw.” Stuart petted his neck and his jerking shoulders. “You poor thing.”

It was mortifying, even though Charlie was crying, too.

“Oh, no,” someone further back in the car said. “Don’t you dare cry or we’ll all cry.”

They all cried, even the twins, who were awakened by and frightened of the older boys’ dramatic emotions.

Martin couldn’t stop. He choked on his tears and hid his face against Charlie’s neck. Charlie was whispering all kinds of nonsense in his ear, about love and never, ever forgetting, and Martin thought those things, too, but it made him a little angry that Charlie would encourage it because they knew better, and had for years. Their futures were tied to boys they hadn’t yet met, not the boys they’d grown up with.

Martin took in a deep breath, shuddered, and tried to forcibly calm himself. They were sixteens, after all, practically grown men, and not a bunch of unsorted twelves! Even when they’d been twelves, they had been tougher than this! He wrested himself out of Charlie’s embrace and dug his handkerchief out of his trouser pocket to wipe his eyes.

In a low voice, Charlie said, “I’m sad we’re going to be separated, but I’m glad you’re going to miss me, too.”

“Of
course
I will,” Martin told him testily. This was
obvious
. “You’re my comfort, after all.”

All throughout the compartment, boys were in varying degrees of distress, tearful and emotive. Mr. Jacob and Mr. Elliott got up from their seats and made their way through the car, attempting to soothe their distraught charges.

“I can’t believe we’re all being such babies, Mr. J,” Stuart sighed, shamefaced. “We should be better than this.”

“Nonsense,” said Mr. Jacob. “Everything familiar is being taken from you, after all. You’re all being very brave.” He kissed Stuart’s forehead and gave his shoulder a squeeze. He had brotherly affection for Martin and Charlie, as well, and slowly made his way back through the compartment dispensing kind touches and kinder words.

Martin wiped his eyes and blew his nose, feeling a little sheepish about his loss of control. It was best to get this tearfulness out of his system now, though, well in advance of the viewing and sale. He couldn’t be tremulous or weepy in front of prospective masters. He needed to be reconciled to beginning anew, with a master of his own. He would miss his childhood friends, but he’d make so many new ones, all the slaves of his master’s friends, and surely there’d be boys he would come to value every bit as much as Georgie and Charlie and the others.

Stuart left his seat to come forward to slip in beside Charlie, crowding Martin against the wall, but Martin didn’t mind it so much this time because Stuart had always been generous with his bedmate, unlike Noah. Stuart was always happy to share Charlie with Martin, and he enjoyed Martin, too. The three of them had had such good times together, Charlie and Stuart both so willing to give Martin what he wanted. Martin had always preferred the receptive role, and it made him very popular with the other boys. A master would like this about him; this he was confident about.

Leo and Sandy came up from the rear of the compartment and sat in the seat behind Martin’s. Sandy’s eyes were red and puffy but he seemed to be making a heroic effort to get himself under control.

“We’re hoping we’ll both stay in the city,” Leo said. “If we’re both in the city, surely we’ll be able to find one another again, and if we can find one another, maybe we can be together somehow, don’t you think?”

Martin thought it would be better to make a clean break, and he thought they should have prepared for it months ago, but it would serve no purpose to tell them this now. He had admired their devotion, and envied it, but it had always seemed a poor proposition to fall in love with a member of one’s own cohort. He supposed he might have been in a similar pickle had Richard lived, but Richard had
not
lived, and Martin didn’t doubt he was a better companion because of it. He would be going to a master ready and willing to be utterly devoted to his needs with no distractions and all past ties severed. Leo seemed resigned to being separated from Sandy, but Sandy was despondent, and if he couldn’t adjust his attitude by tomorrow morning, his melancholy might well affect his salability.

Nothing was going to keep Martin from finding the best master possible. He would not let himself dwell on the past, on his friendships, on the comforts of home. He would make the best possible presentation. He would show all the prospective masters why he deserved to be ranked as top boy, and maybe, just maybe, he’d find a master who had some of the qualities he wanted.

Stuart encouraged Charlie and Martin to switch places, putting Martin in the middle, so that Stuart could pet and stroke him, and Martin was grateful once again for Stuart’s affection and generosity. Stuart was cheerful and pragmatic and not possessive, all excellent qualities in a slave, and Martin suspected that Stuart actually deserved the top boy designation more than he did. He leaned into Stuart’s embrace and closed his eyes. While Stuart and Charlie talked to Leo in low voices, Martin let himself drift into sleep.