A Free Choice (Ganymede Quartet Book 4.5) (17 page)

Henry laughed and turned to kiss Martin’s wrist. “I think the liquor has gone to your head, Mr. Durant.”

“You
are
handsome. I think you’d do very nicely,” Martin told him. “Provided you meet my other criteria.” He sipped his invisible drink and gave Henry a wink.

“What might those be?”

Martin pretended he needed to think about this, but he did not. He knew. As Mr. Durant, he knew.

“I definitely require a sophisticated man. A cultured gentleman.”

“Sophisticated?” Henry seemed slightly taken aback. “Cultured?”

“Yes. A gentleman who’ll be pleased to escort me to exhibitions and performances.”

“Oh!”

“Yes,” Martin said firmly, steeling his resolve. “I want to visit museums and galleries. I want to look at paintings and sculptures. I might even want to attend lectures and meet artists. I want to learn things and be inspired, Mr. Blackwell.”

“Wh-what if a gentleman doesn’t know anything about art?” Henry asked timidly.

“He can learn, can’t he?” Martin cocked his head and looked at Henry expectantly. “It’s just a matter of wanting to do it.”

Henry thought a moment. “I suppose it is that simple, isn’t it?”

“A man such as yourself needn’t be intimidated by anything, Mr. Blackwell,” Martin said with confidence. “Certainly not by paintings.”

“You wouldn’t be annoyed by having to explain everything to…someone?”

Martin gave a low chuckle and shook his head. “No. I’d be happy to tell an interested gentleman whatever I understood, and I’m sure he’d have insights, too.”

Henry frowned, apparently not as certain of this.

“What do you think, Mr. Blackwell?”

“I…think I could endeavor to meet your expectations, Mr. Durant.” Henry reached to touch the knot of Martin’s tie, unable to suppress a broad smile as he fingered the silk. “I don’t think it would be a problem at all.”

“That’s delightful news, Mr. Blackwell. But you know, I’m also interested in the
performing
arts.”

“Oh. Like vaudeville?”

Martin shook his head. “No, not vaudeville. Or, maybe sometimes, but I mean
real
arts. The Philharmonic. Theater and ballet and opera. But mostly I want to hear music.”

“Oh,” Henry said. “Well, there’s no reason I wouldn’t enjoy those things, too. I’m sure I would, if I had you with me. And there’s this piece of music I love, this partita, that I understand is considered
quite
sophisticated.”

Martin laughed. “At the very least, it’s hard to play!”

“The Philharmonic and the like…these are things that can be arranged, Mr. Durant. I am a man of abundant resources.” Henry smiled and bit his lip. “Martin, maybe I shouldn’t say right now, but I love seeing you in a collar and tie. I
love
it.” He laughed and trailed his fingers down Martin’s shirtfront. The coverlet was tented above his crotch and they both looked down at the shape of his covered cock, each very pleased.

Martin lifted his chin just slightly, the better to show off his collar. “I forgot a tie pin,” he noted.

Henry wrapped his fingers around Martins’ throat, holding without pressure. “I don’t mind,” Henry assured him. He ran his thumb over the bump of Martins’ Adam’s apple, his touch light.

Martin laughed, a low chuckle. “You’re very forward for someone I’ve just met.”

Henry laughed, too, and let go of his neck. “I’m irresistibly attracted to you, Mr. Durant. I’m sorry, I got carried away.”

“I do appreciate your ardor, Mr. Blackwell. It’s very flattering. A fellow does like to feel wanted.”

“No one has ever appealed to me more,” Henry assured him. “What can I do to make you choose me? What else do you want from a…gentleman friend?”

“There are little things,” Martin allowed. “But they’re important.”

“Like what?”

Somehow these other desires seemed like too much, more troublesome than asking for paintings and symphonies. They seemed arrogant, beyond the pale. But Henry wanted to hear them. Martin gathered his courage. “I want new experiences.”

“New experiences?”

“All kinds of new experiences. I want a man who’ll share them with me. I want to try different foods,” Martin said decisively. “Chinese food, for instance.”

Henry frowned, thinking. “Chinese food? What do Chinese people eat?”

“Noodles and vegetables and meat. Different spices than we use in America.”

“I’d probably like it,” Henry said, sounding not entirely sure of this.

“Simon and Mr. Ross love it,” Martin told him. “They could take us to good restaurants and tell us what to order.” Telling Henry who he should socialize with was wrong. It was not his place to select Henry’s friends.

“Do you want to spend time with Charles and Simon?” Henry seemed a little surprised, but he wasn’t saying he wouldn’t do it.

“They’re adventuresome,” Martin said. He was shocked at himself for being so pushy, but he kept talking, kept compounding his error. “They go exploring all over the city. We could have fun with them.” And then, feeling on the verge of insubordination, he said, “Mr. Briggs is very conventional. If we only spend time with Mr. Briggs, we’ll just do conventional things.”

“You don’t want that,” Henry said flatly. Had Martin gone too far?

If he’d gone too far, he might as well go all the way. “No.” Martin was firm, adamant. “I don’t want to be conventional. I don’t want to take unnecessary risks, but Chinese food isn’t risky. It’s just a new experience. And I want new experiences.”

Henry was very still, staring at the rumpled coverlet, seeming stunned.

“Henry?” Martin asked tentatively. He put his hand on Henry’s wrist, gave it a gentle squeeze. “I hope you’re not mad, Sir. I didn’t—”

Henry shook his head abruptly, cutting Martin off. “How long have you wanted things to be different, Martin? How long have you wanted music and art and foreign food…?” Henry’s voice trailed off, quiet and wounded. “You should have said something before.”

“I’m sorry, Sir. I shouldn’t have—”

“No!” Henry grabbed Martin’s hands and held them. “No sirs, Martin, please! I’m not mad at you. You should always ask for the things you want!” His hands were shaking as he clutched at Martin’s fingers. “I just feel stupid, because I didn’t realize—”

“You’re not stupid,” Martin hurried to assure him.

“Well, I don’t know about…much of anything, really. I don’t know about food, or art, or adventures that aren’t in books. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want those things, too. I feel like I should have known, Martin. I should have been asking you what to do all along.”

“You
have
asked me, though,” Martin admitted.

Henry gave him a very dubious look.

“You have,” Martin insisted. “I hesitated to say anything before because I didn’t feel like it was my place.”

“Don’t you know by now, Martin, that I always want to know what you think? Tell me what you want! If you want to look at paintings or eat Chinese food or whatever, you should tell me. It’ll make me happy if you do.”

It’ll make me happy if you do
. Did Henry know what it did to Martin to hear this phrase, so fond and coercive? It served as a tonic to spur him on to greater heights of service, to append dramatic flourishes to his actions. It wouldn’t be enough to look at a painting in a gallery; Henry should meet the artist in his atelier and watch him sketch, ogling nude models in a haze of hashish (Simon and Mr. Ross had tried hashish). He wouldn’t just arrange for Henry to eat any old Chinese food; he would make sure that Henry had the opportunity to eat the very best food, the most authentic, served in the New York equivalent of a pagoda by waiters in dragon robes.

Henry touched Martin’s cheek, breaking his service reverie, and traced the line of his jaw. “Mr. Durant,” he said, “I want to see the world with you. Whatever you might want to do, I’ll do it with you.”

Martin felt such a surge of happy hope, but he laughed and feigned equanimity. “Such a bold pronouncement when we’ve only just met.”

“But did you ever see someone from across a room?” Henry asked. “A barroom, or maybe a showroom? You look up, and there’s the perfect embodiment of all your desires staring right back at you, and you just
know
that person is going to matter more than anyone else ever will? That’s what it was like for me when I saw you, Mr. Durant. Has anything like that ever happened to you?”

Martin felt suddenly weak and overheated, his heart throbbing crazily. “I…yes, Mr. Blackwell. I think our meeting was kismet.”

“Did you finish your drink?”

Martin smiled and toasted Henry with his invisible glass. “Are you trying to get me drunk, Mr. Blackwell?”

“I just don’t want it to spill when I do this.” He put his hand around the back of Martin’s neck, fingertips at the crisp edge where collar touched skin, and drew him in for a kiss.

Silky flesh, fever-hot and liquored, a hint of bared teeth. The touch of Henry’s lips made him moan, back arched, pressing into Henry’s embrace. Tongue delicate and muscular both, mouth hot and wet, sugared and languid. Martin’s heart gave a lurching thud, and his cock went urgently stiff, and all he wanted was Henry. Every cell in his body was blaring, demanding Henry’s attention, Henry’s touch. His asshole clenched around the desire to be stretched and filled. He was nothing but selfish, insistent needs that intensified with every kiss.

Henry broke off kissing, held Martin’s head steady, and spoke with his lips at Martin’s ear. “Do you choose me, Mr. Durant?”

“What?” Dazed and now irritable, Martin would much rather have kept kissing than answer obvious questions.

“Do you choose me?” Hot tongue tracing the rim of his ear, breath making him shiver.

“Oh god, Henry, of course I do!”

“Say it.” The sibilant going straight to his cock.

With a frustrated growl, Martin said, “Fine. I
choose
you, Mr. Blackwell. I’m free to choose whoever I want, and I choose
you
.” He took Henry’s hand and used some force to move it down over his cock, which strained at the placket of his trousers.

Henry felt him, shaped him through the fabric, squeezed. “You’re wearing too many clothes, Mr. Durant.” He bit Martin’s earlobe and then caught his mouth in a slick, hungry kiss.

Martin fumbled with his buttons as they kissed, and Henry’s cock was right there, the head wet against his fingertips, and Henry groaned at his touch, the sound of it resonating in Martin’s throat. Martin unbuttoned all his layers and lifted his hips, his cock sliding alongside Henry’s. He wrapped his fingers around them both, and then Henry’s hand joined his, and together they squeezed and stroked, moving in sync.

He looked up into Henry’s face and felt shy of the bare love he saw there, unadulterated and unguarded, but that was what he felt, too, and he dared show it to Henry, plain on his face.

Henry’s expression was so tender, and he bent to kiss Martin, soft as a petal. He whispered, his lips brushing Martin’s as he spoke. “Can I be inside you? I want that so much.”

“I want it, too,” Martin assured him, his voice reduced to a rasp.

Henry rolled off of him. Martin sat up and shed his jacket, untied his boots and pitched then over the side of the bed, kicked off trousers and drawers, and went to work on his waistcoat while Henry tugged the socks off his feet. He shrugged off the waistcoat and collected all the pieces of the suit and dumped them unceremoniously onto the floor. Henry knelt between his legs and reached for the buttons of the shirt, but Martin stayed his hands.

“Henry? Don’t you want me to leave the shirt on? Collar and tie?”

“Oh!” Henry blushed and stammered. “B-but I don’t want to insult you—”

Martin shook his head. “No, it’s all right. It’s just a game.” Here at home, they weren’t trying to fool anyone, and it was just make-believe. Henry could have whatever he wanted.

“Then…leave it on.” Henry blushed. “You look so…” He shook his head, not knowing what to say.

Martin ostentatiously snugged the knot of his tie, watching the gesture’s effect on Henry. “Do you like it?”

“You know I do.” Henry wrapped his fingers around his own cock and gave it a squeeze.

Martin knew what else Henry would like.

“If we met under different circumstances,” he offered, easing back down onto the pillows. “If we were at the arcade, just two fellows playing games, and you saw me looking at the peep shows all by myself…would you approach me, Mr. Blackwell? Would you be brave enough to make my acquaintance?” He pulled up the hem of his shirt to show Henry his cock.

Martin did not think the Henry he’d met at the auction hall showroom would have dared, but the Henry he knew now might be bold enough to approach a free boy.

Henry might have been thinking the same thing. He held his cock in his hand, his lip between his teeth. “I…yes, I definitely would. We’d have our fondness for the peep shows in common. I’d ask you if there were any particularly good ones.”

“I’d say there was a good one of strongmen wrestling,” Martin said. “I’d say it was especially to my taste.” He pulled his shirt further up to expose his belly and lower ribs, a smooth white field setting off the dark pink of his cock.

Henry laughed at this. “I think I’d take your meaning.” He ran his hand the length of Martin’s thigh, bent knee to groin and back again, and Martin’s cock gave a hopeful lurch. “If I asked you to come away from the arcade with me, would you?”

Martin laughed, too. “You certainly move fast, Mr. Blackwell.”

Henry shrugged and gave him a cocky grin. “I’m not one to deny kismet, Mr. Durant.”

“If you asked me on a date, I’d go,” Martin said. “It would be a date, I hope, and not just some sordid alleyway fuck.”

“It would be a date,” Henry agreed, “but I think you’d actually like a sordid alleyway fuck, wouldn’t you?” He wrapped his fingers around Martin’s cock and squeezed.

Martin arched up into Henry’s grip with a soft moan and drew his knees up toward his chest.

“You’d like it if I pulled you into some doorway and fucked you up against a wall.” Henry rolled Martin’s balls against his palm, then stroked his thumb down the cleft between Martin’s cheeks, pressing against his hole. “You’d beg me,” he suggested. “I’d want to take you to a bed, but you’d be in a hurry. You’d insist we only needed spit. You’d be so noisy I’d have to put my hand over your mouth.” He leaned forward and pushed his thumb between Martin’s lips, and Martin eagerly wet it. He thrust his wet thumb into Martin’s hole and Martin clenched around it.