A Most Personal Property (Ganymede Quartet Book 1) (58 page)

“What is it?” Miss Flannery was confused. “It was all right with me. I liked it, Mr. Blackwell, I did. I wanted you to do it.”

“I can’t.” Henry stepped away from her, backing up to the opposite wall. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.” He looked at Louis, who had his hand in Miss O’Malley’s drawers, and realized he would have to wait until Louis was done with whatever he was doing to leave the little alley.

“Why not?” She stepped forward, taking his hand in hers. “Is there someone else in your heart? Is that why you’re so indifferent to me?”

Henry seized upon this gladly. “Yes,” he said in a low voice, hoping Louis wouldn’t hear, “there is. It is a forbidden love, but it is love all the same.”

She clearly liked the romance of this. In an equally secretive tone, she said, “And you’ve never even kissed her!”

“Until now, I’d never kissed a woman,” Henry agreed.

“You wanted your first kiss to be with her,” Miss Flannery said, sounding genuinely regretful. “If only you had told me, Mr. Blackwell! I would not have been so persistent! I’d have been very understanding!”

“My friends think I’m weak, pining away like this,” Henry said, mining a surprising vein of creativity as he nodded toward the end of the alley and all the boys waiting there. “I don’t like to mention it in front of them.”

“You’re sensitive,” Miss Flannery decided. “That’s what I felt about you, that’s why I liked you.” She thought a minute, then said, “I’ve read stories like this, but I’ve never known someone who had a forbidden love before. Why can’t you be with her?”

“Our fathers don’t get along,” Henry said. “Bitter enemies, in fact. And in families like ours, you have to do what your parents want.”

“Can’t you run away together?”

“No,” Henry said firmly. “We’d have no money if we did, and it’s expensive to keep slaves.”

“Oh, of course,” she said. “You both have slaves who’d have to come along, too. That’s certainly a rich person’s problem. Isn’t it a bother sometimes to have a slave?”

Henry thought of Martin, how fond he was of him, how much he enjoyed being with him, and was able to definitively answer, “No.” He shook his head firmly. “It’s really not.”

Louis made a muffled groan and slumped against little Miss O’Malley, who was making little high-pitched wheezing sounds and squirming.

“Oh, my goodness!” Miss Flannery whispered. “What are they doing?” Henry did not answer her; it was plain they were doing something they ought not.

Miss O’Malley yelped, shuddered, and kissed Louis a final time before putting her skirts in order, and the four of them exited the passageway to the hoots and catcalls of their friends.

On the train back to the city, Martin stood in the aisle at Henry’s side, his hand on the back of Henry’s seat, his fingertips just touching Henry’s shoulder. Miss Flannery, sitting by the window, kept up a stream of chatter, seeming to require nothing of Henry but the merest simulacrum of attention. The girls all participated in the telling of complicated, rambling stories about their boardinghouse and their work at the shirt factory; stories that never quite came to a point, but were entertaining nonetheless.

At the station, they said goodbye to their new friends, exchanging chaste kisses on the cheek before parting.

“I hope you and your beloved find a way to be together,” Miss Flannery whispered in Henry’s ear. And then, in a normal tone of voice, said, “It was so nice to meet you, Mr. Blackwell.”

“Likewise, Miss Flannery.” Henry watched her walk away with her friends, flooded with relief. The girls turned back frequently, giggling and waving, but they had to get back to their boardinghouse in time for their meal and couldn’t dawdle.

As they waited for the omnibus uptown, Joshua and Freddie were cold towards their friends, unhappy about how things had turned out with the girls.

“Next time,” Freddie said, “
we
get the girls, not you jerks.” Joshua nodded in vigorous agreement.

“You said it yourself, Josh,” Charles pointed out. “They’re the ones who decide.”

“I don’t think you’re a bit more handsome than me, Gordon,” Freddie said irritably. “I don’t know why she picked you anyway.”

“Obviously,
she
thought I was,” Gordon retorted snidely. “It doesn’t matter what
you
think.”

“What
are
you doing, Louis?” Robert’s remark drew everyone’s attention to Louis, who was sniffing his own right hand.

With a sly grin, Louis extended his fingers toward the rest. “Do you want to smell it?”

“Smell what?”

“Oh, god!” Henry grimaced and turned away. “Ugh, Louis! That’s gross!”

“It’s not gross, you prude! It’s
amazing
!”

“What is it?” asked Charles, who could be slow on the uptake.

“It’s Miss O’Malley, stupid,” Joshua said. “It’s Short Bridget.”

“It is,” Louis said in proud confirmation. “Go on, smell.”

Charles leaned forward, nose wrinkled, and took a tentative sniff. “Oh!” he said, eyes wide in surprise. “That’s not what I thought it would smell like at all!”

“It smells
great
!” Louis said in triumph.

“I thought it would stink,” Charles continued. “It smells…nice. Kind of like the shore. I don’t know how to describe it. You smell, Robert.”

All the boys smelled, all exclaiming their surprise, all having had very negative expectations. Henry hung back, but Louis insisted, so he took a tentative whiff of the extended finger. It wasn’t bad. It seemed related to the secretions that came from a cock, but muskier, though perhaps that was only Short Bridget and not women in general.

Louis then called the slaves in close to let them smell, as well. Martin seemed indifferent, but Julian was clearly affected, breathing it in until Gordon swatted him and told him to stop being a pervert.

Robert asked, “So how was it? What did she do to you?”

Louis proceeded to give a detailed description of Miss O’Malley’s handling of his prick with what seemed to be a great deal of embellishment. It was quite true that she’d had her hand on Louis’ cock, but she certainly hadn’t exclaimed over its size as vociferously as Louis claimed. He described her vaguely as both “soft” and “wet,” which was not in enough detail for the taste of his audience.

On the omnibus, Louis sat by Henry, as usual. He cradled his right hand with the left. “I’m never going to wash this hand again,” he said happily.

“So are you going to court this girl now?” Henry felt he had gotten well clear of Miss Flannery, and that it had been artfully done, but he did wonder how his friends planned to proceed.

“Well, I can’t exactly do that, can I?” Louis rolled his eyes at Henry. “But I have the telephone number of their boardinghouse, and maybe I could meet her sometime anyway. They have this dance hall they like to go to on Saturdays, and you and I could sneak out and go downtown to meet them. What do you think?”

Henry shook his head. “I don’t see a future for me and Miss Flannery.”

“Why not? She’s pretty and she obviously liked you.”

“I don’t know,” Henry said, uncomfortable with the tack this conversation was taking. “It just didn’t feel right. We had no chemistry.”

“So you’d rather stay home and bugger your slave instead of going out on the town with a pretty girl.” Louis shook his head at the shame of it all. “You could get somewhere with that girl, Henry. I don’t understand why you don’t want that.”

Overhearing this, Gordon said, “You got the pretty one and you didn’t even want her?” Exasperated, he said, “You’re such a bastard, Henry!”

“
She’s
the one who didn’t want you,” Henry spat back. “It wasn’t my idea for her to fall all over me.”

“Don’t fight,” Joshua said, putting an appeasing hand on Gordon’s shoulder. “Henry’s right, Gord; it’s up to the lady anyway.”

Henry and Louis were the first to get off the omnibus, calling goodbyes to their friends as they disembarked. Henry turned to look at Martin and Peter as they walked toward the Blackwell house. “Did you have fun?”

“Oh, yes, Sir,” Martin said cheerfully. “The Ferris wheel and the steeplechase were wonderful, Sir. I had a lovely time.” He seemed completely unaffected by the fact that Henry had kissed a woman, as if he had no feelings about it whatsoever.

“Me, too, Sir,” Peter said. “I rode with Miles, and we won the steeplechase.”

“Who did you ride with?” Henry asked Martin.

“With Tom, Sir.”

Not for the first time, Henry felt the urge to meddle in Martin’s friendship with Tom, to punish him by keeping them apart. He disliked this jealousy in himself, and felt resentful of Martin for engendering it.

They reached the Blackwell gate and Louis offered them a final chance to sniff his finger upon parting, which both Henry and Martin adamantly declined.

Randolph let them in and they went upstairs with Henry keeping silent, wounded and mad. He wanted Martin to be upset with him, jealous about him kissing the girl, and now he felt angry with Martin for not being more possessive, more hurt.

“Sir?” Martin’s voice on the stair was quiet, cautious. “Sir, is everything all right?”

Henry waited until they were safely inside his room, the door locked at his back, before he felt able to speak. “I kissed that girl, you know.”

Martin frowned and looked away. “I expected that you did, Sir.”

“Doesn’t it upset you at all, Martin? That I spent the whole day with some strange girl?”

“Of course it does, Sir. But I don’t get to decide such things for you, after all, Sir. You’re not mine to command.”

“
Yes, I am
,” Henry said between gritted teeth, clutching at Martin’s arm. “Who should command me, then, if not you?”

“Sir, I-I’m your
slave
, Sir. I belong to you, but you certainly don’t belong to me.”

Henry grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. “I belong to you
in my heart
, Martin.” And then, though it pained him to ask, he said, “Don’t you belong to me? In your heart?” He looked beseechingly at Martin’s beautiful face, willing him to feel just as Henry did.

Martin’s eyes were made more vivid by welling tears. “Of course, Henry. Of course I do.” He threw his arms around Henry’s neck and kissed him with a little shudder. “I want to get the taste of that awful girl out of your mouth.”

“Did you think she was awful?”

“I did, Henry. Common and forward and unworthy of your attention.” He began removing Henry’s clothes between kisses, loosening and easing. “I was sorely tempted to spit in her lemonade, Sir. I disliked her intensely.”

Henry laughed, overjoyed at Martin’s litany of jealousy. “You didn’t show me any of this, you know.”

“How could I, Sir? It’s not my place, and certainly not in front of your friends!” He knelt down to untie Henry’s boots and continued, saying, “Imagine, Sir, if I’d thrown a tantrum in front of the others, staking a claim on your affections for all to hear. Not only would I seem a terrible slave, but your friends would begin to suspect there was something more than the usual between us, don’t you think?”

“I suppose you’re right,” Henry agreed reluctantly. He was feeling better about the entire day now. “I spent the whole day miserable with that girl, and jealous that you were having such fun with Tom. I heard you laughing all day long!”

Martin rolled his eyes. “I was making the best of the situation, Sir. That’s what a slave does, you know.” He removed the rest of Henry’s clothes and led him to the bed with a hand on his cock. “Lie down, Sir.”

Henry got on the bed and watched as Martin quickly undressed. “I just needed to know we were both unhappy, I guess. I thought you didn’t care.”

“I’m sorry I gave you that impression, Sir. In actual fact, you’re all I care about.” Naked, he put his glasses on the nightstand and got onto the bed with Henry. He knelt over Henry’s hips and sighed as Henry reached out to play with his cock, rolling the head between his fingers, manipulating and squeezing. Martin tilted sideways, reaching to get the oil bottle, and slicked up Henry’s cock and then himself before sitting back slowly, taking Henry into his body a little at a time.

“Sir, Henry, will you please keep touching me like that?”

“Like I was doing? Like this?” Henry ran his thumb across the wet head of Martin’s cock, pushing at the slit.

“Yes, Henry, like that. Just for a bit. It feels so good.” He let his head fall back, showing Henry the long column of his throat, and lifted off Henry’s lap slowly, then sank down again, just as slow, setting up a languid rhythm. He looked at Henry then, his eyes hazed with lust, and bent to kiss him, his mouth perfect against Henry’s, everything right from the feel of his lips to the taste of his saliva.

“Untie your hair,” Henry told him as he sat back up, and he complied, letting the strands fall loose about his shoulders. Henry kept fondling Martin’s cock without paying much attention to what he was doing, just enjoying the feeling of it in his hand, rolled against his palm or pressed between his fingertips. “I wish there were two of me,” Henry said as it occurred to him. “So I could be inside you and suck you at the same time.”

Martin moaned and squeezed Henry’s sides with his thighs. “Oh, I’d love that, Sir, I really would!”

“I’d probably be jealous of myself, though. Fighting with myself over you.”

Martin laughed and bent to kiss him again, his hair curtaining their faces.

Henry wrapped his arms around Martin’s back and rolled him over. “Can I fuck you harder now?”

“Yes, please, Sir.”

Henry put a pillow under Martin’s ass so as to achieve an angle of penetration that had seemed to work particularly well for Martin in the past, and this repeat experiment proved most successful, Martin crying out with a startled, almost frightened, look on his face as Henry drove into him, digging the fingers of his right hand into Henry’s arm as he worked his cock with the left. Henry wanted to be the best lover Martin had ever had, had ever
dreamed
of, and was thrilled whenever he seemed to exceed Martin’s expectations. They finished together, Martin shouting
Oh god, Henry
, and Henry suffused with a feeling of triumph.