A Most Personal Property (Ganymede Quartet Book 1) (52 page)

Later, in Henry’s room, Martin said, “Well. What did you think of that story, Sir?”

“It’s a bit pornographic.” Henry held out his wrists for Martin to remove his cufflinks. “I feel sorry for Pearl having to read it. Mother chose the book, yet she didn’t even seem to be listening tonight!”

Once Henry was undressed, Martin changed into his pajamas and took their laundry downstairs. When he returned, his thoughts were still on risqué books.

“Have you read many dirty stories, Henry?” Martin shed his pajamas and joined Henry in the bed.

“Not really,” Henry admitted. But he did tell Martin about the psychiatric case studies that James had read to him. “They were sort of exciting, in a way, but they made me feel a bit sick, too. Only the ones about cocksucking were anything I was interested in, but all of them made me feel…really aware of my body. Obviously, I remember them pretty well, though! What about you, Martin? What sort of dirty stories got passed around Ganymede?”

“Oh, there was a book, Sir, that we all read in secret, though our teachers must have known we had it. I don’t know what it was called because the cover was missing—as were some of the pages, for that matter. It was
very
dirty, Sir! It was from England, I think, as some of the words were different than we use, and it was about a family who all had sex with one another, mothers and sons, aunts and nephews. I know that feeling you referred to, Sir, excited and sick. You don’t
want
to like it, but you
do
, in some deep way, and your prick responds just as it would to something you really want.” He moved closer to Henry and put his hand on Henry’s chest, over his heart. “There is another story that I do find pretty exciting, Sir, but I’m afraid I’ll make you mad if I tell.”

“Why would I be mad?” Why were people thinking the worst of Henry today?

“Because it’s your story, Sir. It’s
Drake’s Progress
, and maybe you won’t appreciate me…perverting it.”

Henry laughed. “Just tell me, Martin.”

Martin came closer still, finding places for his legs. He ran his hand over Henry’s chest, along his collarbone. “Well, Sir, I’ve only read two installments, but even so, it just seems to me like there’s something…more
involved
about Theo’s relationship with George, that there’s something they’re not quite showing, Sir, but it’s really there all the same.”

“You think that?” Henry tried not to give anything away, but he was excited to hear this.

“Yes, Sir, I do. The way they’re close, the way they take care of each other…it seems to me that Theo might be in love with George.” Martin looked apprehensive, as if he expected to be chastised for this opinion.

“Well, that’s very interesting,” Henry said. “Because the entire reason I’ve kept up with the story for all these years is that I think Theo is in love with George, too.”

“You’re not just saying that, Sir?” Martin beamed at him, delighted. “You see it, too?”

“It’s always seemed so obvious,” Henry said. “I’m a little reluctant to admit I’m following the story to my friends because of that, because I’m afraid of what it says about me. But I’ve always thought I couldn’t be the only one who saw it. There must be others besides you and me, don’t you think?” Martin nodded, and Henry continued. “When I read it—or when you read it, now—there’s this feeling I get, like the
next
installment will make everything clear, and they’ll declare their love or kiss or something, but of course it never happens. But I have such a sense of anticipation!” Henry felt such exhilaration, sharing this with someone after all this time.

“So from the very beginning of the story, Sir? It’s always been like this?”

“
I
think so,” Henry said. “You ought to go back to the beginning and catch up. From the day Theo bought George, he’s been completely devoted to him.” He thought of Theo walking away from the whipping post, carrying George’s bleeding body across his shoulders; the image still gave him a thrill. “And then, there have always been scenes that don’t seem really necessary to the plot, but where they’re tending one another’s wounds with their shirts off, or making long speeches about camaraderie and what a great guy the other one is. Those have always been my favorite parts of the story.”

“Sir, did you ever think about Theo and George when you…did you have fantasies about them?” Martin thought a moment, then added, “Do you
still
have fantasies about them?” His hand was low on Henry’s belly, just his fingertips stirring the hair above Henry’s prick.

Henry blushed. “Well, yeah. It started out pretty innocent, really, just thinking about touching, skin touching skin. Then it got a little strange for awhile, with lots of ideas about cleaning wounds as excuses for them to touch more. But the more stuff James told me and Louis about sex, the more things I wanted to try.” He lowered his voice, as if there was someone else in the room who might overhear. “I wanted to try kissing, and I tried to imagine them doing it. I practiced on my arm. I would imagine Theo sucking George’s cock and I really wanted to try that, as well,” he admitted, feeling his cheeks grow even hotter. “I wanted to be the one on my knees. I wanted to know what a cock would feel like in my mouth. I wanted to know what it would taste like. I wanted that so much, Martin, but it’s not something a gentleman can ever do. I’m glad I’ve done it now, of course. It’s even better than I thought it would be. But it says something about me that I’ve done it. I’m not who everyone thinks I am.”

“You’re just curious, Sir,” Martin said soothingly. “You’re a very loving person, Henry. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“What about you?” Henry asked. “What kinds of fantasies do you have?”

Martin smiled. “Before I was sold, Sir, I had a fantasy that I’d look out over the salesroom and I’d see a boy, and I would just
know,
I’d know that he’d be the one…and that was you.”

“Not really.” Henry did not think this likely.

“It’s true, Sir. I saw you across the room and it was as if time stopped for just a moment. I can’t explain it, but it was more than just you being tall or having exactly the sort of looks I like. You stood out for me like there was a light shining down on you, Henry, and I wanted more than anything for Mr. Paulsen to bring you to me. I felt such a strong connection to you, Sir, even before we met, just watching you make your way through the salesroom. And then, when we did meet, I couldn’t tell if you liked me or not, you were so reticent, and I was afraid you didn’t. And then you left, Sir, and I wanted to beg you not to go. I met you early in the day, if you remember, and there were so many others after you, all poking and prodding and taking peeks at my prick. All day I was wishing I’d been more forward with you, Sir, but that isn’t the Ganymede way, and I do value my training. And then I was on stage, and everyone was bidding, and it wasn’t until I’d sold and been brought down from the stage that I knew who’d taken me.”

That sounded quite terrifying, actually, and of course Martin had had no say in the matter. He couldn’t protest that he’d been bought by the wrong family, or that he didn’t want to be with his new master.

Henry wasn’t sure he believed Martin had really experienced this mystical attraction to Henry—it sounded like a combination of flattery and embellishment—but he seemed to
think
he had.

“When you thought about being sold, what did you want from your master?”

“I—I’m ambitious, Sir, in my way. I want good things for myself. I wanted to be in a nice house, with a kind master, and I wanted to do such a good job that my master would care for me a little more than he was meant to. I wanted my master to think to make it nicer for me when he fucked me, Sir, because I really do love getting fucked, and it can be so sweet when it’s done right. I wanted my master to touch my cock, even though it’s forbidden, because I love another man’s hand on my cock. Those are the things I hoped for, Sir, and, as you well know, you’ve given me all that and more. So much more.” He bent his neck and pressed a kiss to Henry’s chest. “When I understood you wouldn’t swap me, Sir, I thought that no one would ever kiss me again. It’s a depressing thought, isn’t it? I thought my cock had been sucked for the last time.”

“Who did it?”

“Sir?” Martin looked up at him, blinking.

“Who sucked your cock? Who was the last one to do it? A teacher?”

“Sir, are you sure you want to know? Talking about these things seems to upset you.”

“I’ll be fine,” Henry insisted. “I’m just curious.”

“Well, Sir,” Martin began reluctantly. “Well, it was Charlie. My friend, Sir.”

“The one you asked after when you were sick.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Henry had held onto an idea that the boys at Ganymede were practicing with teachers, stoic adults, all business, but of course it made sense that it would have been the beautiful boys practicing on one another. “Were you and Charlie…was he your lover?”

“Charlie was
not
my lover, Sir!” Martin seemed to find the very idea ludicrous. “We were friends. We did things for one another out of friendship, Sir, nothing more.”

“Did you do sex things with other boys, too, or just Charlie?”

“It was important that we have a variety of experiences, Sir, so we could be prepared for any eventuality.”

“So, the answer is ‘yes.’”

“Yes, Sir,” Martin said reluctantly.

It suddenly occurred to Henry. “Stuart is from Ganymede.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Have you done things with Stuart?”

Martin hesitated. “Henry…”

“You have.” A horrible sinking feeling in Henry’s gut. “What have you done with him?”

“Oh, please, Sir—”

“It’s all right,” Henry insisted, though he wasn’t sure that was actually true. He immediately wondered about the other Superior boys, as well, but was afraid to ask. Charlie and Stuart were bad enough! “I’ll admit I’m jealous, but I know it’s not your fault, Martin. If you hadn’t been trained, I wouldn’t have you now.” And he would repeat that to himself until he started to believe it. He didn’t know how he’d be able to face Stuart now without punching him in his stupid princely face. “It’s all right,” he repeated. “Tell me what you’ve done with Stuart.”

“Oh, Henry,” Martin sighed. “It doesn’t matter, really—”

“Stop stalling,” Henry snapped. “Just tell me, will you?”

Martin narrowed his eyes a little and pressed his lips together, giving Henry a sharp look. “Very well, Sir.” He took a deep breath and let it out. “We did everything.”

“Everything,” Henry repeated dumbly.

“Everything, Sir,” Martin confirmed with a nod, not looking Henry in the eye. “Manual, oral and anal, and kissing, of course, Sir.”

Stuart had kissed Martin, had fucked his mouth and his perfect ass, and whenever Stuart looked at Martin standing beside Henry he would know that he’d had him first. The thought made Henry dizzy with a despairing rage, and his head buzzed like it was full of bees. Charlie, who Henry couldn’t even remember, had been bad enough, but Henry
knew
Stuart! This was intolerable!

“If you don’t mind my saying so, Sir,” Martin said gently, “I don’t think you should ask me about my time at Ganymede. You don’t like the things you hear, but there’s nothing that can be done to change what’s already happened.”

“Everything I’ve done to you, he did first,” Henry said dully, stunned.

“Well, not
everything
, actually, Sir,” Martin told him. “Stuart wouldn’t lick my ass, Sir, and you’ve been so giving and enthusiastic in that regard.”

Henry grabbed onto this idea desperately, with both hands. “But you love that, don’t you? He wouldn’t do it?”

“I do love it, Sir. It feels incredible.”

“Did they teach you to do that at Ganymede?”

“No, Sir. It wasn’t required.” He put his hand on Henry’s arm and looked into his eyes. “Stuart wasn’t my lover, Sir.
You’re
my lover, doing the things only a lover will do.”

Henry liked the sound of this, though he was still upset, and thought he was probably going to stay upset a long time. “Don’t other masters get jealous? What do your friends tell you? It can’t be only me!”

Martin thought on it for a moment. “I think Mr. Ross gets a bit jealous, Sir. He’s quite attached to Simon.”

Charles couldn’t be that jealous over Simon, Henry thought, not if he was swapping him with the others, as Henry knew he was doing.

Henry must not have looked appeased, for Martin continued, saying, “I belong to you now, Sir, and I’ll never be with anyone but you again unless you
want
that.”

Henry could not foresee that he’d ever want any such thing. “If you could choose, Martin, who would you be with? Me or, say, Charlie? Or how about Stuart?”

Lips pressed tightly together, Martin scowled, annoyed. “Sir, it would be you, of course!”

“Doesn’t it bother you that you don’t get a choice in the matter, though?”

“But I
did
choose you, Henry, and then your father bought me for you. It all happened exactly as I wanted.”

“What if you’d been born free, then? What if you weren’t a slave? Do you think we might have ended up like this anyway?” Henry fervently wanted the answer to be yes.

That Martin doubted this was instantly apparent. “I suppose, Sir,” he began hesitantly. “Our paths might have crossed had I been born richer or you poorer. But in truth, my people, as such, sold themselves into slavery generations ago. I know that Mr. Blackwell came up from nothing, or nearly so, Sir, but there must have been enough there to keep his family from selling its children.”

Henry didn’t particularly like this answer, though it was certainly factual. It was not in the least romantic, however, and he’d been hoping for a little romance. “Well, I should have been attracted to you in any case,” Henry said, angling for words in kind. He did not say, and did not like to dwell on the fact, that he would never have dared approach a free Martin for fear of exposure as a deviant.

“Be assured, Henry, you’re everything I want in a man.”

They lay quiet a moment. Martin insinuated himself into Henry’s embrace and Henry kissed the top of his head. “I’m sorry,” Henry told him. “I’m going to try not to be so jealous, but it’s hard for me.”