A Collar and Tie (Ganymede Quartet Book 4) (10 page)

“I-I might feel better about it if the person watching was
someone we’d never see again.”

“A stranger?” Martin seemed baffled. “You’d rather be
watched by a stranger than your own cousin?”

“You think that’s odd, don’t you?”

“I wouldn’t say
odd
, but it does surprise me.”

“Jesse’s so
interested
,” Henry explained. “He’d have
questions for me. He’d have questions for
you
. He’d want to talk about
what he’d seen, and I don’t want to talk about it with anyone but you. With
someone we’d never see again, there’d be none of those questions, none of that
conversation.”

“Where would we meet a person we could do such a thing
with?” Martin asked, sounding very doubtful.

“Reggie will know,” Henry said with a confidence he didn’t
entirely feel. “He might not want to tell me, but he’ll know.”

“If you don’t mind me saying so, that seems quite risky, and
playing a game with your cousin seems very safe in comparison.”

“I want to do the things you want to do, Martin,” Henry told
him. “I want you to be happy, and I don’t want you to get bored. I’m just very
possessive of you, you know, and I hate the idea of someone else being intimate
with you. Sharing a little bit of you, just a glimpse, with a stranger I’ll
never see again seems so much easier and so much less complicated than sharing
you with someone we’ll be seeing all the time.”

Martin shifted in Henry’s arms, his back pressing more
firmly to Henry’s chest . “I do think I
understand
, though I don’t
agree
.
I think we could have so much fun with your cousin.”

“Would you say no to letting a stranger watch?” Henry asked.

“No,” Martin admitted. “I would like that, too, though
honestly I’d prefer your cousin. I like Mr. Wilton and I like his friends. I
think we could have fun with them, and I believe we could have it on your
terms.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think they’d let you watch, and I think they’d let you
keep me to yourself. They would want to see what we do together, of course, at
least as much as you’d be willing to show.”

Henry imagined that for a moment. Watching beautiful boys
fuck while Martin sucked his cock, even rode his cock. The guilty thrill he’d
get catching a glimpse of Perry Whitman’s cock. He couldn’t even begin to
imagine how grateful Martin would be, how eager he’d be to do whatever Henry
wanted. Of course, he was like that anyway, but Henry thought there’d be an
extra layer of willingness, of abandon and surrender and heartfelt thanks. It
was heady stuff.

“I’m not saying no,” Henry said. “I’m still thinking about
it, all right?”

Martin sighed. “Of course. You may think about it as long as
you like, obviously, Henry.” He was clearly disappointed, and just as clearly
trying not to let it matter.

“You did a lot of it at Ganymede.” It wasn’t really a
question. He knew this. By now he knew this.

“Did a lot of what?”

“Public sex. Showing off. Orgies.”

“I don’t know about
a lot
…” Martin was obviously
uneasy with the turn of the conversation. “It wasn’t uncommon, though. You know
this, Henry.”

“How would it happen, anyway? Did you plan to do it?”

“Sometimes, but usually it just came about naturally. I’d
come back to my room after a lesson and the others would be piled together in
one bed. I could join in or not, as I wished.”

“Who all was in your room again? Stuart and Charlie and Leo
and…?”

“Leo and Sandy.”

“Sandy. That’s right. I don’t know why I can’t remember
that.”

“It’s short for Alexander. Maybe that would be easier to
remember.”

“I know Richard was your favorite—”

“Richard and I were very close,” Martin hurried to assert.

“Yes, Richard was your favorite, but after he died, who did
you seek out?”

“Seek out?”

“For sex, Martin. Come on. Please don’t pretend you don’t
know what I’m asking about.”

“I’m sorry, Sir.
Henry
.” He cleared his throat.
“After Richard, it was my friend Georgie. Noah’s bedmate.”

Henry laughed. “I feel a little sorry for Noah, you know. I
know Richard liked you better, and I suspect Georgie did, too.”

“He was very fond of me,” Martin agreed. “Of course,
everyone was very kind to me after Richard died. Very welcoming and generous.”

Henry could imagine this easily. Uncharitably, he imagined
that they were probably all thrilled that Richard was gone, clearing the way
for their own claims on Martin’s attention.

“It’s not that I don’t understand the appeal of another pair
or two of hands,” Henry said, “or another cock or two. I’m sure I’d like it
myself. I’m sure I’d
love
it, as a matter of fact, but I’m afraid of
what I might be giving up if I let myself have that.”

“Giving up?”

“The closeness I have with you. It means everything to me.
It seems like adding another boy or two or three could muddle that, somehow.
Make it easier for someone to take you away from me.”

Martin turned to regard Henry with great seriousness. “No
one will
ever
take me from you, Henry. I belong to you. It doesn’t
matter how many boys see me come, that’ll never change.”

Henry thought that Martin truly did believe this, but after
today, after his own unsettling reaction to Jesse’s friend Perry, he couldn’t
help but think of what it might be like if Martin were drawn to another boy in
a similarly inexplicable fashion. He could imagine unwittingly giving Martin
permission to play with this person in some intimate setting; he could imagine
that Martin would fall in love with this boy and Henry might never know until
it was too late. For all he knew, Martin already had such a boy, someone he
loved in secret, from afar. He simply couldn’t know. He couldn’t control
everything, as much as he’d like to do so.

He would think of other things. Henry kissed the side of
Martin’s neck. “How’s your ass?”

Martin chuckled. “Pleasantly sore.”

“Let me kiss it better.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I want to make you come again before we sleep.”

Martin made no protest, so Henry slid his hand all the way
under the waistband of Martin’s pajamas and took hold of his cock, which
stiffened instantly against his palm. Martin twisted his upper body around so
they could kiss, and together they fumbled all of his pajama buttons open.
Naked, Martin got on his hands and knees and then dropped to his elbows, his
ass high in the air and his back making the long, smooth slope down that felt
so good under Henry’s hands.

Henry parted Martin’s ass cheeks with his hands. In the dim
light, he couldn’t really see anything, but when he touched Martin’s hole with
his tongue it felt a little different, the flesh swollen and puffy.

“You’re tender, aren’t you?”

“This feels good, though. Your mouth feels so nice.” Martin
gave a little wriggle, encouraging Henry to put his tongue back on Martin’s
skin.

Henry was gentle and thorough, making Martin gasp and writhe
and beg his name. When Martin asked if he could touch himself, Henry said that
he could, and Martin moaned in mingled relief and pleasure, trembling under
Henry’s tongue. He came quickly, his voice muffled against the carpet.

“Oh, Henry!” Martin eased himself into Henry’s arms and held
him tight. “You’re so good to me.” He reached between their bodies and took
hold of Henry’s stiff prick. “Let me help you, too.”

Henry shifted, spreading his legs. “What do you propose?”

Martin hesitated a moment. “I-I could do it for you, too,
Henry. If you’d let me.”

“Do what?” Henry was immediately suspicious; he already
knew, though, what Martin meant.

“Play with your ass, Henry. Lick it and touch it. Put a
finger inside.” When Henry said nothing, Martin said, “I think you liked it
when we tried before.”

Henry had indeed liked it, but that was part of the problem.
Liking such things was beyond the pale for a gentleman. “I need to think about
it some more.”

Martin sighed, recognizing defeat. “When you finally let me
do it, you’re going to regret waiting so long.”

“Is that so?” Henry made the choice to be amused rather than
annoyed. He believed Martin was sincere in his belief, and he was probably even
right.

Henry was worried about what ass play would mean about him
as a man, but he was also a bit squeamish. Shit was certainly not a big part of
their sex life, but it factored in from time to time. Occasionally, Martin
would turn down penetration for fear of making a mess, or, more often, he’d go
into the bathroom and clean himself out through some process that Henry didn’t
care to contemplate too closely (though he knew it involved a hot water bottle
and rubber tubing) and would emerge refreshed and eager and ready for anything.
Henry was never worried about Martin being somehow unclean because Martin was
beloved and perfect, but he did not consider his own body so reliable.

“Yes, it
is
so,” Martin said firmly. “I love you,
Henry, and I want to make you feel good.”

“I love you, too…and I’ll think about it. I will. But for
now, just use your hands and kiss me.”

Martin did as Henry asked and kissed him hard while tugging
on his cock. Henry came all over his own belly and chest and Martin licked him
clean, though he then insisted on washing Henry anyway. Henry lolled on the
floor while Martin cleaned his own jism out of the carpet.

“Get in bed,” Martin told him, looking up from where he
knelt scrubbing at the pile. “If you fall asleep there, Henry, I’ll have to
drag you, and you’ll get rug burns.”

Obediently, Henry staggered to the bathroom and brushed his
teeth, then fell into bed, and Martin followed him a few minutes later, seeming
satisfied with the state of the carpet.

Martin fell asleep right away, his breathing smooth and slow
and deep, and he nestled close to Henry’s side, an arm thrown over his chest.
Henry stayed awake a little longer. Martin had asked him to seriously consider
two different scenarios—ass play and voyeur games—both of which he had already
promised to think about and had then put out of mind. Martin hadn’t been pushy
or demanding in the least, and Henry was inclined to give serious thought to
these matters in the near future.

It occurred to him very suddenly, and impressed him with its
rightness: he could give these scenarios—or maybe just one of them—to Martin
for a birthday present. They were both things he knew Martin wanted, and while
they weren’t exactly selfless gifts, they certainly weren’t things Henry would
choose to do on his own. If he hated doing them, he wouldn’t have to do them
again, and if he didn’t hate them…well, then, they’d be a birthday present for
himself, as well. He resisted the urge to wake Martin to tell him. It would be
better to make it a surprise, and it would give him time to decide whether he
would allow Martin both or only one, and if so, then which one it would be.

“Rise and shine.”

Henry stretched and yawned and pulled Martin down into the bed,
nuzzling his neck and wrapping him up in arms and legs. He considered whether
he might try to get Martin out of his clothes, but his stomach rumbled, and he
wanted his breakfast.

Henry quickly showered and let Martin shave and dress him,
then went down to the breakfast room. Father and Mother were both there, and
Henry assumed this meant they’d hold off on any talk of parties until another
day, but Mother obviously didn’t care if Father was bothered by their chatter.

Mother waited until Henry was situated, with a full plate in
front of him, before saying, “So tell me about Jesse’s party, darling. Did he
have a lot of guests?”

“He knows a lot of people,” Henry told her. “A lot more than
I do. His class at school is three times the size of mine, plus he knows people
from his ball last year.”

“You’ll meet people at your ball, Henry. That’s what it’s
for, after all, darling.”

“I liked some of his friends very much, and I think I’d want
to invite them to my party.”

“We can invite whoever you’d like, of course. Tell me about
the band, darling.”

Henry told her about the band, at least as much as he knew
to tell. “Martin’s a musician, you know, and he thought they were all right,
but he also thinks we could do better.”

“We have the money for the very best,” Mother pointed out.
“Gilbert and Virginia might have settled for what they could afford.” She drank
her tea and ate a small piece of a currant scone. “Did they have good food?”

“It was very good, and there was plenty of it.” He finished
his first helping of pancakes and gestured for Martin to bring him some more.
“He had a huge cake, but it actually wasn’t big enough for the crowd. They only
lit candles on the one, but they had two more waiting in the wings, and those
got eaten up, as well.”

“We can certainly do that, too,” Mother remarked, nodding.
She turned and looked around the back of her chair. “Pearl, darling, are you
taking notes?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Pearl was indeed taking notes in a notebook
rather like the ones Timothy used, and Henry supposed she might have gotten it
from him.

“Was their house all done up? What sort of flowers did they
have?”

All Henry could remember was some colored crepe paper. He
turned around in his chair. “Martin? Were there flowers?”

“I don’t recall any, Sir.”

Henry shrugged. “There was some stuff hanging on the walls,
what do you call it…bunting? It wasn’t really decorated, I guess.”

“We’ll do better than that for you,” Mother decided. “What
colors do you think you’d like?”

Henry had certainly not considered this at all. “Oh! Um…I
don’t really know.”

“Well, what’s your favorite color, darling?”

Henry thought of his bottle-green suit, of Martin’s
remarkable eyes. “Green, I guess.”

“Green is nice for late spring,” Mother said approvingly.
“It goes with every kind of flower, of course, which makes decorating easier.
What would you say to green and white with lots of colorful flowers?”

Henry had never thought to be concerned with flowers or
party decorations before. “It sounds nice?”

“We’ll worry about a menu later,” Mother decided. “I like the
idea of a sit-down meal, but I suspect you young people would prefer a buffet.”

Henry thought she was right. “Jesse had a buffet.”

“Hiram,” Mother said. “Hiram, are you paying attention?”

Henry had thought Father was
not
, but he cleared his
throat and in a very grumpy voice said, “I’m listening, Louisa.”

“I’ve walked through the rooms here on the first floor with
Pearl, and I’ve consulted with Randolph and Dora, as well, and at minimum we’ll
need to redecorate the two main parlors, the washroom off the front hall and
the one near the ballroom, the reception room, the sitting room off the
ballroom, and the ballroom itself. Oh, and we’ll need to repaint the hall, of
course.”

Father thought, blinking a couple of times as he ran through
some mental inventory. “I see no problem with that. If you need assistance
finding reputable workmen, you can always enlist Timothy’s aid.”

“That’s very kind of you, Hiram. Thank you.”

Henry didn’t care about any of the other rooms, but he
realized with a sentimental pang that he did not want the ballroom to be
changed, at least not until he’d had a party in it himself. “Mother? Could we
leave the ballroom as it is? I like the way it looks now.”

“Henry, don’t be ridiculous! That wallpaper is older than
you!”

“I don’t care,” Henry told her. “I think it’s the prettiest
room in the house.”

“We could bring it up to date, darling, and I’m sure you’d
like it even more.”

Henry hesitated, on the verge of a childish tantrum. “But I
like it
now
. It would mean a lot to me if we could leave it alone.”

“Henry, really, I—”

Father interrupted. “Louisa! It’s the boy’s party and he
likes the ballroom the way it is. Let him have what he wants and you can
redecorate it later.”

Mother gave a haughty sniff. “Fine.” She turned to look at
Henry and forced a happy expression. “We’ll leave the ballroom alone for now,
darling, but no promises about after the party! I think it’ll be necessary to
redecorate the entire house, eventually—though of course not your father’s
study.” She sipped more tea, ate another bite of scone. “Think about what you
might want done with your bedroom, darling. It’s very old-fashioned and you’re
such a modern young man.”

Henry felt overwhelmed. “I’ll think about it.” He would not
actually do this. He felt he had enough to think about without considering
carpets and wallpaper. He was quiet a moment, then remembered Martin’s
excitement at the idea of a party. “Mother, Martin should definitely be
involved in the planning. He’s good at things like that.”

“Well, of course, darling.” Mother graced Martin with one of
her lovely smiles. “I’ll put your Martin to work when the time comes. There’ll
be plenty to do.”

Henry remained nonplussed by this unfamiliar, invigorated
version of his mother. She was prettier, sharper-tongued, and ate more solid
food, and she certainly took much more interest in him than she ever had in her
previous incarnation. It was promising that it had been weeks since he’d seen
Pearl give her a dose of her medicine, and she was out of the habit of staring
through people with glassy eyes. He liked her better than he ever had, but he
wouldn’t go so far as to trust her as of yet. If she did indeed let Martin help
with party plans, it would go a long way toward solidifying the nebulous
goodwill he felt toward her. In the meantime, he would be watchful and remain
open-minded.

After breakfast, Henry wanted a nap and dozed with his head
in Martin’s lap while Martin read to himself from a novel that Pearl had loaned
him, a favorite of hers from her girlhood. It was about a young woman of good
family, orphaned and slaveless, who went to work for an eccentric man as a
governess for his young ward. Naturally, the orphaned governess and the lord
fell in love, but their union was prevented by the existence of an inconvenient
wife, who was mad and kept locked up in the attic. The wife was attended by a
scheming companion who was nearly mad herself, and this wild-eyed slave plotted
against the governess and did her best to thwart the romance. Henry was quite
over madwomen in stories—over the years, Pearl had chosen many books that
featured them—and expressed surprise that Martin would tolerate this one, but
Martin hushed him and said, “I’m enjoying it, Henry. Please go to sleep.”

Martin woke him for lunch, and then Louis called and asked them
to come cycling just as they were finishing their meal. Henry readily agreed,
and they quickly dressed and rode to the Briggs house.

Waiting in the hall for Louis and Peter to come downstairs,
Henry hoped for a glimpse of the new Mrs. Briggs, but she was not in evidence,
and neither was James, though all the younger Briggses were on view and making
noise. Instead of hiding, this time Alice stood and stared, solemn and creepy,
and it made Henry blush and cringe self-consciously. She would be a very pretty
girl someday—like all the Briggs children except for Louis, she had their
mother’s honeyed coloring—and Louis was quite correct that she was the right
age to be a possible wife for Henry, but she was still only a child, and she
would definitely remain female no matter how old she got.

“Did you know, Henry? I’m 10 now,” she said, breaking her
long silence. “I had a birthday last week. I’m growing up.” She made it sound
ominous, as though she were gaining on him with each advance in age, and was
poised to bring him down when she finally turned 16.

Henry started at the sound of her voice. “Good for you!” he
said with false cheer. He could hear Martin struggling not to laugh behind him
and frowned, annoyed. Martin shouldn’t find this so funny.

At last, Louis and Peter descended the staircase, pushing
past the obnoxious little brothers, and Henry was able to escape from beneath
Alice’s humorless scrutiny.

As they rode through the park, Henry said, “Guess what? My
mother wants to have a birthday party for me this year.”

Louis was dumbfounded. “Wait—whose mother wants to do this?”

Henry laughed. “Mine.”

“Excuse me for saying so, Henry, but since when does your
mother want to do anything?”

“Since Christmas. Since my Uncle Reggie came back.”

“I thought he was in Italy.”

“But he’ll be back again. She’s just really happy that he’s
coming home. I barely recognize her. She’s like a whole different person. This
is who Reggie expects her to be, and she’s trying to live up to his
expectations. It’s pretty obvious that Reggie would want her to have parties
for her children, so she’s going to do that, I guess.”

“Well…that’s great. I’m happy for you, really, Henry.” Louis
thought a moment, then grinned. “If James is good for nothing else, at least he
can get us some liquor for the party. You like gin, don’t you?”

Henry immediately thought of getting sick on gin sangaree.
“Let’s not talk about liquor until we get closer to my birthday, all right?” It
seemed like a bad idea, but he wouldn’t worry about it now. He chanced a glance
back at Martin, who gave him an enchanting smile that made him blush. To Louis
he said, “Martin’s birthday is really close to mine, did you know?”

“Maybe you told me, but I didn’t remember.”

“He’s four days older.”

Louis snorted, amused. “You’re practically twins, then.
Peter’s almost a year older than me.” Peter had already turned 17 in late
September, shortly after Louis had brought him home; if there had been any
fanfare, Henry didn’t remember it, and there probably hadn’t been. After all,
people who behaved properly didn’t have parties for their slaves, not even
their companions.

They pedaled around the reservoir and headed for home.

“How is the new Mrs. Briggs doing?”

Louis grimaced. “Oh, she’s all right, I guess. Dad’s still
trying to find her a proper slave, someone the right age, you know? He wanted
to get one from Hestia since all our other girls are from there, but they don’t
have any old ones lying around, so he’s going to have to look at other Houses.”

“Demeter is good,” Henry said, loyal to his beloved Nurse
and all the rest of the Blackwell women.

“Dad will check there, I’m sure. He’ll be checking them
all.”

“Do you still like her all right?”

“Oh, sure. We all do. Janie’s a nice person, if a bit
stupid.” Louis thought a moment. “I don’t know what she saw in James in the
first place, but I don’t think she sees it anymore.”

“He’s handsome,” Henry said, managing it without blushing,
“and he can be a lot of fun, after all.”

“You haven’t seen him in awhile, I guess. He’s looking
pretty haggard these days.”

Henry didn’t know quite what to say to this. “That’s too
bad,” he tried. The days when he dreamed about James, about kissing James’
handsome face, seemed so distant, but it had really been only a matter of
months. Martin’s presence had quite simply obliterated his interest in James.

Martin had changed his life so nearly completely that Henry
scarcely recognized this happy, ardent version of himself. Like his mother, it
seemed he had required a precious human catalyst in order to effect his
transformation. And just as Reggie made his mother want to be her best self,
Henry wanted to be a better man for Martin’s sake. He would be generous, and he
would make compromises, and he would be worthy of Martin’s love, and if that
meant he had to let Martin lick his asshole, then he would let Martin do it and
try to enjoy it.

Louis interrupted Henry’s mental pep talk. “How was your
cousin’s party?”

“I had a good time.” Henry sensed there might be a little
jealousy from Louis over his new social opportunities and felt it wasn’t
prudent to mention how much he’d enjoyed meeting Jesse’s friends, but he did
know Louis would be interested in the girls. “There was dancing, which I wasn’t
expecting, and that was fun.”