A Most Personal Property (Ganymede Quartet Book 1) (53 page)

“I’m touched, Sir, that you care enough for me to feel jealous. Though all these situations occurred in the past and they’re nothing to be jealous about now.”

“Well, that’s good sense,” Henry said, laughing, “but it’s hard for me to reconcile all the same.” He kissed Martin lightly, then with more purpose, as Martin’s arms came around his neck. He broke the kiss, remembering: “Oh,” he said. “Thank you for the macaroni. It was my favorite part of dinner.”

“You’re quite welcome.” Martin shifted in his arms, turning so his back was against Henry’s chest. “Do you want to try it in a new position, Sir?”

They fucked lying on their sides, Henry holding Martin’s top leg up while he drove into him from behind, Martin twisting his upper body so they could kiss. Henry came in Martin’s ass and stayed there while Martin finished himself with his hand, Henry more aware of the harshness of Martin’s breathing than usual, Martin’s ribs expanding back against his own chest. Henry kept Martin with him long after he’d gone soft and slipped from Martin’s body, after Martin had tried to get up once already. He kissed the nape of Martin’s neck and tasted the salt of his skin and thought:
mine
, fiercely possessive, before he at last let Martin go.

Monday morning, Joshua was flush with pride. Over the weekend, he had finished second in a city-wide fencing competition, and his Miles had finished first in the slave division.

“Oh, that’s interesting,” Henry remarked. “Martin did fencing, too, back at his House. He was really good at it, I understand, but I’ve never seen him do it. Congratulations, by the way.”

“You should let Martin keep doing it,” Joshua urged. “And you should try, too, Henry. It’s so much fun. You’d be a bit behind starting out, of course, but you’re good at sports anyway, aren’t you? You’d catch up in no time.”

Henry did not want to burden himself with schedules and discipline and undue exertion. It was a happy accident he was decent at sports; quick reflexes and good balance meant that he never embarrassed himself trying new things with his friends, but he wasn’t motivated to try them on his own simply for the sake of sport.

Henry looked around for Louis, who was on the other side of the forecourt talking with Freddie. Passing by the slaves, Henry thought to congratulate Miles. He stopped and put a hand on Miles’ arm.

“Sir?” Miles immediately gave Henry his full attention.

“I just wanted to congratulate you,” Henry told him. “Josh tells me you won a fencing prize.”

“I did, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” Miles beamed. Henry had never paid much attention to him before, and he was better-looking than Henry had realized, with caramel skin, close-cropped dark curls, and hazel eyes. He was tall and lean, and Henry had never happened to noticed, but he surely must be graceful, too, if he was such a crackerjack fencer. Henry was surprised to find him so attractive, but he was no match for Martin, at least not in Henry’s eyes.

“You’re welcome.” Henry clapped him on the shoulder and moved on.

The first bell rang and they all filed inside. Martin seemed in poor humor in the cloakroom, sulky and distant, but Henry had no idea why, and it didn’t seem wise to ask where everyone could hear in case it turned out he had done something stupid. He wracked his brain, trying to remember having done anything ill-advised since waking. As they parted, Martin said his usual
Goodbye and good day, Sir
, but sounded haughty and decidedly malcontent.

At lunchtime, Martin watched him cross the refectory to his seat with reproachful, wounded eyes, but Henry still didn’t know what he might have done. In search of reassurance, he dropped his fork and Martin brought him a new one but held it so that their fingers did not touch, so all Henry got out of the encounter was a clean fork.

Henry began to feel angry and worried. He had no idea what he had done and Martin hadn’t given him any hints. After the meal, as they filed out into the yard, he kept his distance from Martin, unsure of how he should handle his slave’s fit of pique and not wanting his own feelings hurt any further. This moodiness seemed quite unlike Martin but, then again, he didn’t really know Martin very well at all, did he? It had only been these past few (wonderful) days that they’d opened up to one another, but admittedly that had been mostly sex, not exactly an intellectual communion.

Henry stood with his friends and darted glances across the yard at the slaves. Martin stood between Peter and Tom looking aggrieved. Henry knew that he should take the upper hand, that he should give Martin a stern talking-to about his attitude, but he couldn’t help worrying that he’d done something wrong, and that Martin had a right to complain. Still, Henry was the master; Martin shouldn’t treat Henry this way regardless of how Henry might have wronged him. Henry decided he would have to explain to Martin that this was unacceptable behavior, that he couldn’t treat Henry like this, at least not without letting him know what he’d done.

Gordon elbowed him. “Here. Want some?” He held out a paper bag of lemon drops.

Henry loved lemon. “Yes, please. Thank you.”

“Take a few,” Gordon encouraged.

Henry did so, popping one into his mouth, and Gordon went around the group doling out candies until the bag was empty. David stepped out of the circle and called to his slave Alex and offered him a lemon drop. Henry realized he could do the same; he could take a moment alone with Martin and perhaps discover what was making him behave so petulantly.

Henry took a few steps toward the slaves and called, “Martin. Come here.”

Martin came, perfectly obedient, though his unhappiness was apparent.

“Sir?” Martin stood expectantly, appearing utterly servile, though there was a distance between them that made Henry feel panicky. He’d just shared the best days of his entire life with this boy; it couldn’t be over already!

“I brought you something. Do you like lemon?” He held out his hand with three lemon drops sitting sticky on his palm.

Martin smiled in spite of himself. “Thank you, Sir. I appreciate you thinking of me.” He put the candy in his mouth and in a rather put-upon tone said, “You might want to give one to Miles, Sir, since
you
hold him in such high regard and it doesn’t seem that Mr. Brand is going to share with him.”

“Miles?” Henry was baffled. “What does Miles have to do with anything?”

“I overheard you this morning, Sir. Congratulating him. I fenced with an epée, also, you know, Sir. If you wanted, I’m sure I could win a prize for you if you’d only give me the chance.”

Keeping his voice down, Henry said, “Martin, what are you talking about? I don’t care about any prizes.”

“He’s quite handsome, isn’t he, Sir?” Martin continued. “I wouldn’t have thought he was your type, exactly, but perhaps you’re attracted to a wider range of looks than I’d suspected.”

“Martin, this is ridiculous!” Henry said in a loud whisper. And then it occurred to him. “Are—are you
jealous
, Martin?”

Martin glared at him, looking so hurt, and whispered back, “Of
course
I am, Sir! You praising another boy for something
I
can do better! At least I
think
I can, but I won’t even have the chance to try!”

“Do you want to fence, Martin? Is that it? I can ask Father—”

“Please don’t, Sir. It wouldn’t be appropriate, me having a hobby that doesn’t benefit you.”

This made no sense to Henry. Martin wanted to win Henry a fencing prize, but he didn’t want to fence because Father wouldn’t approve; clearly, he couldn’t have it both ways. Henry shook his head, trying to clear the confusion. “Listen, I was just being nice to Miles,” Henry said. “The only reason I was interested at all was because I know you did fencing in the past.”

“No one else was nice to him, Sir,” Martin pointed out. “None of the other masters said anything. Just you, Sir, and you touched him, too.”

“It was just plain niceness, Martin. You have to believe me. I barely even noticed Miles’ existence before today.”

“Now that you’ve noticed him, Sir, what do you think?”

Henry leaned close and lowered his voice further still. “You’re the only one for me, all right? You’re all I think about. I’ve been worried all morning about why you’re mad at me.”

Martin looked down at his boots, ashamed. “I’m behaving badly, Sir. I’m sorry.” He glanced around. “And we’re attracting attention, Sir. I’m really so sorry.”

Henry looked around, too. Slaves and masters alike were interested in their whispered exchange.

“Here.” Henry held out his hand again. “Take another lemon drop. Don’t be jealous. We’ll talk at home, all right?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“If I could kiss you, I would.” Henry blushed at his own boldness, turned on his heel, and went to rejoin his friends.

“What was that about?” Louis asked.

“He’s in a bit of a mood,” Henry said. “I told him I didn’t like it.” It was true enough.

After school, Martin did seem to be in a better frame of mind. As Henry entered the cloakroom, Martin greeted him with a dazzling smile and was very solicitous in helping him with his books and bag, and then in putting on his coat.

“
You’re
getting good service,” Louis remarked, watching Martin’s busy performance.

Martin’s cheeks pinked, but he smoothed Henry’s coat across his shoulders without a word.

Their ride home on the omnibus was uneventful, and they said cheerful goodbyes to Louis and Peter at the front gate. When Paul let them inside, he informed them that Jerry had called from the stable to leave word that Partita had arrived that morning.

“Can we go see her, Sir?” Martin was eager and excited, ready to turn right around and head back out the door.

Henry was amenable to this idea, but wanted a minute with Martin first. “As soon as we’re changed,” he said by way of agreement.

Martin leaned close on the stair and said, “I’m so excited, Sir!” in a giddy voice. “My very own horse!”

“I’m glad you’re so happy,” Henry told him. “I want you to have things that make you happy.”

Inside Henry’s room, Martin was a little shy. “I behaved so badly today, Sir. As you know, I-I’m very competitive, and when I heard Miles’ news I was a little jealous because I really was a very good fencer, Sir, but of course I won’t have the opportunity to compete—”

“I
can
ask Father,” Henry said. “If you need lessons, or to join a club, or whatever it takes.”

“No, Sir, please don’t. Your father didn’t like the idea of violin lessons, after all, Sir, and those
would
benefit you, in a way. He certainly won’t want to pay for some hobby of mine that you might find quite boring anyway. I don’t miss it
terribly
much, Sir. I just
hated
when you praised Miles for doing something I used to do so well. I started worrying all sorts of crazy things. I thought you’d begin to admire Miles for his accomplishments and I wouldn’t have anything to impress you with. I thought maybe you’d swap me for Miles, Sir, and then Miles would know your cock and it wouldn’t belong just to me anymore.”

Henry shook his head, his mind slightly boggled. “Really, I was just being nice, Martin.” He did like the idea that his cock belonged to Martin, and that they both knew it.

“The way you took an interest, Sir…the way you singled him out. It was like an arrow in my heart, and I just felt so desperate…” Martin sighed. “Can you forgive me for my bad behavior? I won’t do it again, Sir, I swear.”

Of course Henry would forgive him. He couldn’t imagine a circumstance in which he wouldn’t. “I definitely forgive you, Martin.”

“Before we go to the stables, Sir,
Henry
, would you touch me? I want to really feel that you’ve forgiven me.”

Henry opened his arms and Martin came into them with palpable relief, his kisses wet and eager. They undressed where they stood and Martin went to his knees. Henry pulled his cock out of Martin’s mouth long enough that they could arrange themselves before the fire, head to tail. Martin made his exciting, desperate noises around Henry’s cock, and Henry surprised and embarrassed himself by how fast he came, gagging on Martin’s prick. Martin lasted only a minute more, finishing deep in Henry’s throat, his hand on the back of Henry’s head. He turned around and fitted himself inside Henry’s arms and lay there a few minutes, basking in the heat from the fire.

“I feel better, Henry. Do you feel better?”

“I do.” He kissed Martin’s forehead and drew him closer. “Please don’t be jealous, Martin. I’ve waited my whole life for
you
. I don’t care about any of those other boys. If I’m nice to them, that’s all it is—niceness.”

“I-I surprised myself, Sir, reacting as I did. I was trained better than that.”

“How should you have behaved, then?”

“You don’t belong to me, Sir, however much I might wish otherwise. I shouldn’t be so jealous.”

If Henry belonged to anyone, it was Martin, but he hesitated to admit it. “There’s no reason for you to be jealous,” he said. “I couldn’t want anyone more than I want you.”

“That’s very reassuring, Sir,” Martin said with a smile. He wriggled out of Henry’s embrace and sat up. “Now, Sir, can we go see Partita?”