A Collar and Tie (Ganymede Quartet Book 4) (61 page)

Martin gave him a smile to stop time and said, “Better.
So
much better.”

Henry was so keyed-up he could scarcely breathe, but he
tilted his hips and pulled back until just the head of his cock remained inside
Martin’s body, groaning at the exquisite drag against his skin. When he thrust
back in, a hard slam, Martin cried
Henry!
and clutched at his arms and
looked up at him with liquid, vulnerable eyes, and Henry loved him, he did; he
loved him so much. He did everything he could to show it, fucking him with
practiced skill, setting a frantic pace and then slowing to a blissful crawl
while Martin gasped and begged and clawed at his back.

“
Henry
! Henry, oh, god,
Henry
!” Without any
help from his hands, Martin’s cock jerked against his belly as he came, eyes
closed and back arched. Henry found this desperately arousing and fucked him a
last few hard, deliberate strokes and spilled into him in thick pulses, holding
tight to his hips and making impassioned, wordless pleas.

Henry felt flooded with relief, woozy and happy, swaying
over Martin on shaky arms. He lowered himself to lay on Martin’s chest, eyes
closed, and felt Martin’s arms snug around his shoulders.

“I’m glad that happened,” Martin murmured, kissing the top
of his head.

“Me, too.” Henry held him more tightly.

Martin shifted a little, already restless. “I’ll get up in a
minute and wash us off. You know, I didn’t wash our hands from before. Very
unhygienic!”

Henry laughed. “I think I’ve got all your germs by now
anyway.” He turned his head and licked Martin’s nipple and then bit it.

Martin jerked and made a little gasp. “Regardless, Henry, I
didn’t do my job, and it won’t do for me to start out again with you shirking
my duties.”

Henry didn’t care about duties. “When we’re adults, I’ll get
another slave to do all the work for you, and all you’ll have to do is lie
around in bed making sure you’re ready for me.”

Martin snorted. “Oh, I wouldn’t like that at all! I
like
working. I take pride in doing a good job for you in all areas, you know, not
just sex.”

Henry did know this, of course. “Speaking of work, you’ve
really enjoyed planning this party, haven’t you?”

“Oh, yes! Your mother and Miss Pearl have let me do so much
to help, and I think we’ve planned something quite lovely. I hope you enjoy it,
Henry, I really do.”

“Did you know Louis had been invited?”

Martin hesitated a moment. “Yes. Your mother insisted. He’s
the only one of your friends she knows, so naturally she wanted him invited.
Surely he won’t come, though.”

“He might,” Henry said.

“He might?”

“I got a letter from him this afternoon,” Henry told him.
“Believe it or not, he apologized and gave us his blessing.”

“Oh my! That’s such surprising news, and such
good
news, too.”

“I think so, too. He wants to come to the party if I’ll
allow it, and I think I will.”

“Oh, you should! I had hoped you might somehow reconcile
with him.”

“I think I’ll call him tomorrow,” Henry decided. “Maybe
tomorrow afternoon if we get your hair trimmed in the morning. Do you have any
planning duties we need to work around?”

“No, everything is arranged. Now we just wait for Saturday.
Are you excited? I’m excited!”

“I wasn’t excited before,” Henry admitted. “I was dreading
it, actually. But now—” now that he had Martin again “—now I’m looking forward
to it.”

Martin had apparently decided they’d cuddled sufficient time,
and he squirmed out from beneath the weight of Henry’s upper body. Henry
struggled a moment to keep him still but quickly relented—Martin would become
annoyed if Henry held him, and he’d get up anyway. Martin swung his legs off
the side of the bed and stood.

“I’ll be right back.”

Henry sat up, too. “I’ll come with you.”

They stood together at the sink washing their hands.

“Use the nail brush, Henry.”

Martin washed Henry’s cock and used a lot of soap, making a
puddle of water on the floor between their feet. Martin made to wash his own
ass and thighs, but Henry stopped him with a hand on his wrist.

“Can I do it?”

Martin shook his head. “Oh, Henry—”

“Please? Please let me do it, Martin.”

Martin looked doubtful, but he turned his back to Henry and
braced his hands on the edge of the sink. He stood with his feet separated and
arched his back, a subtle curve. “Go ahead.”

Henry did a thorough job, wanting to be sure Martin would
find nothing to fault in his execution. When he was done, when every trace of
oil and semen had been removed from Martin’s skin, Henry couldn’t resist
getting down on his knees and kissing Martin’s soap-flavored hole.

Martin shivered and reached back to rest his hand on the top
of Henry’s head. “Thank you. I think you did a good job.”

Martin insisted on straightening the bedding before they
could lie down on the bed again, and while he stood waiting, Henry’s stomach
gurgled.

“Martin? I’m hungry. Are you hungry, too?”

Martin laughed. “We’re always hungry, aren’t we? I think
there’s still cake left from lunch.” He held out Henry’s pajama pants, pulled
out from between the sheets. “We could get dressed and go down if you want.”

Henry did want.

They put on their pajamas and dressing gowns and hurried
down the back stairs to the kitchen.

“Do you remember where the light switch is?” Henry asked in
a loud whisper, feeling the wall beside the doorway.

“This might be it, Sir.” There was a click, but nothing
happened. “Hmm. I guess not. Maybe—”

“Do you need some help, Sir?” It was Ruby in the moonlight,
yawning and rubbing her eyes. “You must be hungry.” She reached into the dark
and clicked a switch and the lights blazed on.

“Hello, Ruby. Mr. Blackwell was hoping he might have some
more of the strawberry cake he was served at lunch.”

“Hello, Martin. Let me just see if there’s any left.” Ruby
went to check in the refrigerator, and while she was out of sight, Henry held
Martin’s hand for just a few seconds and Martin let him do it.

“I’ll just split what’s left here between the two of you,
Sir,” Ruby said, coming out of the refrigerator with a cake plate. “It’s a very
popular cake with everyone, I must say.” She cut the cake into two very
generous slices and put it on plates, and found forks and napkins. “Do you want
milk, as well, Sir?”

Martin said, “Milk for both of us, please.”

Martin carried it all on a tray and they took it up in the
elevator. They were quiet on the ride up, quiet walking down the hall. The huge
house seemed somehow cozy when it was just the two of them awake and moving
about.

They got onto the bed to eat, sitting cross-legged on the
coverlet, glasses of milk on the nightstand.

“Don’t get crumbs in the bed,” Martin cautioned.

“I won’t,” Henry insisted. “I’m not a complete animal.”

They ate in companionable silence, Henry finishing before
Martin, as he always did. He stretched his legs out in front of him and leaned
back on his elbows and watched Martin eat his tidy little bites.

“Would you do something with me? Not now, but someday?”

Martin looked up from his cake. “Oh, most likely. What is
it?”

“I want to go to New Orleans for Carnival.”

Martin went very still.

“From what I understand, anything goes there, and we could
do whatever we wanted and no one would blink an eye.”

“I-I’ve heard that, too. But when would you want to go?”

“Not now, like I said. When we’re grown. Years from now, not
weeks or months.”

Martin was obviously relieved. “Oh, well, in that case, I’d
love to go! It’s a city with such a rich history, and Carnival sounds like such
fun!” It seemed that as long as they weren’t
running away
to New
Orleans, Martin was actually quite eager to go. “There are even slave krewes,
did you know?”

“What’s a krewe?”

“Those are the social clubs that put on the parades and hold
the balls.”

“Could a master go to a slave krewe ball, do you think?”

Martin thought on this a moment. “I honestly don’t know, but
I’m sure I can find out long before we make a visit.” He ate another bite of
his cake and held up the nearly-clean plate. “This was especially good, wasn’t
it?”

“Cook makes the best cakes,” Henry agreed. He remembered
Jesse’s question and said, “Hey. Do you know if she’s making the cakes for my
party?”

Martin used the back of his fork to pick up the last crumbs
of his cake and licked the tines. “She is, and she’s making my cake, as well.
She’s had to make a great deal of cake this week!”

“There’s going to be cake for you? What kind?”

“Chocolate with raspberry between the layers and buttercream
frosting. I’m definitely looking forward to it!”

Hesitantly, Henry asked, “Can…can I celebrate your birthday
with you? With the slaves, I guess? I want to see you blow out your candles, if
it’s all right. If I wouldn’t be in the way.”

Martin beamed at him, teeth glistening in the low light.
“Oh, Henry, I’d be honored. You can come down with me for slaves’ dinner if you
want. I know we’re having macaroni and cheese, too, because I asked for it, and
you’ll enjoy that.”

“You don’t think it’ll make everyone else uncomfortable to
have me there?”

With a steely glint in his eye, Martin said, “I don’t care.
You and I are very close, and I will always include you, and they’ll just have
to get used to it.”

Henry was excited about this, about eating some of his
favorite things in the slaves’ mess on Martin’s birthday. He was suddenly
struck by a thought. “What kind am
I
having?”

“What kind…?”

“What kind of cake. For the party on Saturday. What kind?”

Martin snorted. “Lemon, of course. Lemon with lemon curd and
raspberries in between. It’s raspberry season, you see.”

This was happy news indeed. “I love lemon,” Henry said
dreamily.

Martin snorted again. “This is well-known by everyone.” He
was quiet a moment, looking down at the plate in his lap and fidgeting with his
fork. “Henry?” He looked up and met Henry’s eyes.

“Yes?”

“I want to tell you something important.” Martin sounded
very serious, very solemn.

“Of course.” Henry grew tense, full of trepidation.

Martin drew a deep breath, hesitant. “I-I was very angry
with you. I want you to know.”

“That’s all right,” Henry quickly assured him. “I know I
deserved it.”

“Henry, I want you to understand…if I’d been free, like you
talk about, I wouldn’t have put up with it. I think I would have left.”

The words were offered with some regret, but it was clear
that Martin meant them, and the news was sobering. The silence that followed
Martin’s words was dense and ominous, and Henry’s pulse roared in his ears. For
all his blather about freedom, he did not want Martin to be free to leave.

“You can’t ever do it again, Henry,” Martin continued. “You
can’t be unkind to me, not like that. It hurt too much. I won’t stand it
again.”

“I won’t, I promise,” Henry hurried to assure him. “I don’t
want you to leave!” he begged. “Please don’t leave!” His heart thudded
frantically and he reached for Martin’s arm, clinging to his sleeve.

Martin shook his head. “I’m not leaving. I don’t
want
to. I want to be with you, Henry.” He took Henry’s hand and held it tight.

Henry’s heart leapt in his chest, his limbs twitchy with
panic at the idea that Martin would leave him. Unlike him, Martin was very
capable of making his own way in the world, and he was only a collared shirt
away from the appearance of freedom. He might have easily left in the middle of
the night with the contents of Henry’s tea tin, and Henry would have never seen
him again.

“I’m so sorry, Martin. I was selfish and immature and—”

Martin smiled. “You don’t need to make a list, Henry. I know
you’re sorry.”

Henry stopped talking. Apologizing over and over would have
no cumulative effect; Henry resolved to curtail the impulse to repeatedly beg
forgiveness. What he should do instead was live life from here on in such a way
that Martin understood how important he was, how Henry valued him, how grateful
he was to have Martin in his life.

But he had his own requests.

“Martin?” Henry addressed him carefully, hoping he would be
receptive.

“Yes?”

“I can see now that it was…drastic to leave. I understand
that there are a lot of advantages to staying here, in this house, with
everything my father provides.” Henry hesitated a moment before continuing.
“But I want something more for myself, for
us
.”

Martin seemed wary of this idea. “What do you mean, Henry?”

“We had a lot of fun downtown, didn’t we? I know you didn’t
enjoy every minute of it, but you liked
some
of it.”

“Well, certainly—” Martin began tentatively.

“I want us to be part of that world,” Henry said firmly.
“With all the queers and the fairies and the odd ducks—the people like us. We
can wait until Reggie gets home and let him help us if that would make you feel
better about it, but I want to feel like we’re a part of something bigger than
this bedroom, Martin.”

“Oh, well…” Martin seemed slightly flustered, taken aback.
“I don’t know. There are a lot of things to consider…”

Henry clung to Martin’s hands. “
Please
, Martin. I
won’t force you to do anything, I promise. I won’t make you do anything ever
again, but I want you to say you’ll do this with me because it’s
important
.”
He sensed that Martin wanted to agree and hurried to add, “We can have rules,
Martin. I can follow rules.”

Martin laughed and squeezed Henry’s fingers. “All right,
Henry, we’ll talk about it, but I
will
have lots of rules.”