A Collar and Tie (Ganymede Quartet Book 4) (11 page)

“Any pretty girls?”

“The slaves were the prettiest ones, of course, but some of
the girls were good-looking, too.” Henry thought a moment. “There
were
some good dancers.”

Louis snorted. “That
would
be the thing you’d notice.
Say, I want to meet your cousins, you know.”

“You will,” Henry promised, though he hoped to put this off
as long as possible. They coasted to a halt outside the Briggs gate. “Thanks
for inviting us out.”

“Sure, of course. See you tomorrow.” Louis rolled his
bicycle through the gate that Peter held open for him.

The slaves said their goodbyes and Henry and Martin pedaled
toward the Blackwell house. They left their bicycles in the side yard for one
of the footmen to put away and went inside.

Upstairs, they changed out of their cycling costumes but put
no other clothes on. Martin opened a window and they lay naked on Henry’s bed,
skins tingling in a fresh spring breeze. They touched each other in an
unhurried fashion, cocks stiffening and softening again without either feeling
the need to do anything more definitive about their arousal.

“I’m very excited by the idea of a party,” Martin said, his
tone confessional. He had been lying on his back, but now rolled to his side,
facing Henry.

“You’re more excited than me,” Henry noted. “I’m going to
wait and see what happens before I let myself get excited.”

“People do change, Henry,” Martin said gently. “All of the
slaves have noticed the difference, and it really has improved morale below
stairs.”

“I didn’t realize that many of the slaves had interactions
with my mother.”

“Well, it’s because of Pearl, really, Henry, that the slaves
realize anything has changed. Pearl is allowed to eat with us now instead of
always being shut in with your mother, and she’s become so lively and hopeful.
She’s a different person now, too.”

A brisk burst of air came in through the window and swept
over them, and Henry shivered pleasurably in the breeze. Martin had goose bumps
all over his chest and his nipples tightened.

“Ah, that feels good, doesn’t it? Like being licked
everywhere.” Martin’s cock bobbed , standing up stiff.

It did feel good. Henry squirmed a little, just enjoying
being naked. He was hard, too, and wanted Martin to touch him, but he didn’t
want to have to ask. He would see how long he could wait before he
had
to ask.

“Don’t you think that the fact that your mother is
discussing her plans with your father means she’s serious, Henry? I don’t
imagine she’d bring these things up if she didn’t intend to follow through.”

“I’ll believe something is happening when it happens,” Henry
insisted. “When there’s a decorator helping her choose chairs or something,
maybe I’ll start to believe.”

“What do you think of redecorating your room?”

Henry lifted his head off the pillow and glanced around
before letting his head drop back heavily. “It’s always been like this,” he
pointed out. “I’m used to it. I don’t really have any ideas about what it might
look like otherwise. Why? Do you have colors in mind or something?”

“It does seem a little…old-fashioned, if it’s all right to
say so.”

“Of course it’s all right. I just
asked
.”

“Lighter colors would be nice. Lighter furniture. It’s a
very heavy room, I think.”

Henry felt a little sentimental about his room, if only
because this was where he had fallen in love with Martin and had had so much
amazing sex with him, but he supposed it would be just as meaningful to
continue to be in love with Martin with new paper on the walls.

Another gust of air passed over their bodies with a
sensation like being brushed with a thousand feathers, and Henry groaned
without meaning to, his cock thickening with a hard throb. Martin reached
across the distance between their bodies and put his hand lightly, ever so
lightly, on its length. Henry lifted his hips into the touch and turned to look
at Martin, who looked both very serious and very loving. He let go of Henry’s
cock and let his fingers trail up and down the underside, from cockhead to
balls and back again, and he smiled at the impatient sound Henry made.

“I want to see all these plans come to fruition,” Martin
admitted in a low voice, still stroking the underside of Henry’s prick. “I want
to see your whole household happier.”

“It’s our household,” Henry gasped out. “You live here,
too.” He nudged Martin’s hand with his prick, wanting more definitive contact.

“Of course I do, and there is a great deal of self-interest
involved in these desires of mine.”

“If you want the room redecorated, we’ll do it,” Henry
decided breathlessly. “You’ll help me with all the details.”

“If you’d like. I’d be glad to help.” He squeezed Henry’s
stiff cock and then ran his thumb through the secretions on the wet head.

A breeze stirred the air yet again, and Henry moaned aloud.
Martin continued to touch his cock, but only lightly, teasingly. Henry thought
he wanted a more definite touch, but this felt so good, so maddeningly good,
that he couldn’t quite bring himself to ask for more.

“You look beautiful like this, Henry,” Martin murmured.
“Suffering a little.” He laughed and gave Henry’s cock another squeeze.

Henry snorted and gave Martin a sidelong glance. “You like
tormenting me.”

“I do. I love it.” He leaned in and kissed Henry very
softly, the touch of his lips scarcely more than a breath.

Henry touched the side of Martin’s face, fingers along his
jaw. “Kiss me again.”

Martin obeyed, his mouth wet and plush, his lips resilient,
his tongue lively and quick. Henry shivered and deepened the kiss, and Martin
moaned and closed the distance between their bodies, coming into Henry’s arms
to press against him full-length. Henry couldn’t help feeling glad that Martin
had broken first, that Martin had made the push for full contact. They kissed a
few minutes more, rolling around on the coverlet and teased by the breeze,
until Henry broke away.

“Henry?” Martin was flushed and gasping.

“I’m turning around,” Henry told him, doing just that. He
lay so that he could put Martins’ cock in his mouth, and Martin could do the
same for him.

They sucked one another, not hurrying. Henry thought he
could come in a minute, or he could go for hours; it all depended on what
Martin wanted. Martin fucked Henry’s mouth, but with tiny, subtle movements of
his hips, the head of his cock barely moving in and out of Henry’s throat while
he moaned, his own mouth crammed full of Henry. Henry reveled in the flavor of
Martin, the human saltiness of his skin and fluids, and hoped that he tasted
even half so good to Martin. Martin did things to him with his tongue that felt
so wonderful it was all he could do not to just thrust wildly into Martin’s
mouth until he exploded. He did things with his own tongue that he hoped felt
equally unbearable, equally amazing.

Martin surprised him by coming first, groaning loudly around
Henry’s cock and reaching down to hold Henry’s head in place while he shoved
his cock down Henry’s throat. Henry lasted only a little longer, a few sharp
thrusts, and spilled down Martin’s throat while Martin’s cock was still going
soft in his mouth. He felt so full of love for Martin that he was dizzy, off
balance. He turned himself around again and put his head on the pillow next to
Martin’s. They kissed, tasting themselves on each other: Henry liked this;
Martin, he knew, loved it.

Henry rubbed his cheek against Martin’s and drew him close.
“Do we have time to nap?”

Martin put his head up to peer at the clock. “If you want.
Let me just set an alarm…”

Martin picked up the clock and made the necessary settings,
then lay back down and opened his arms to Henry, who put his head on Martin’s
chest and made himself comfortable.

Henry slept, dreaming of a redecorated room where a constant
breeze licked over his skin. There was a party underway, and Martin brought him
a cake bristling with candles, and he blew them all out, and when he took a
bite, the cake tasted of sex.

They came home to a new
Pals
Monday afternoon. They’d
last seen their heroes setting sail for the mysterious and lawless Île Inconnue
for a showdown with Dr. DeSade. The men (and one woman) of the
Dauntless
couldn’t know what kind of reception they would receive on the Island, couldn’t
be sure that DeSade wouldn’t have an army waiting for them. George, although
much improved, was still nursing an injury and wasn’t in fighting form, and
Theo was determined to keep him out of harm’s way.

After reading the summary of the last installment, Martin
put the magazine down. “My throat is a little scratchy,” Martin said. “Let me
go down to the kitchen for some honey and lemon so I can do my best voices.”

“Hurry!” Henry leaned back against the headboard of his bed
fidgeting. He was tempted to pick up
Pals
and just start reading, but he
really needed Martin to read it to him for it to seem complete, correct. He had
not yet dared to ask Martin to speak to him in his George voice during sex, but
it was something he wanted.

Martin returned what seemed like hours later with a teacup
and a plate of molasses cookies. “Cook made these for the slaves,” Martin said.
“They’re not fancy enough to serve to the family, but they’re very delicious.”
He sat cross-legged near the end of the bed, beside Henry’s feet.

“Thank you for getting them for me.” Henry ate a cookie in
two bites. “Are you ready to read? I’m ready to listen!”

Martin laughed. “You’re so impatient.” Smiling, he sipped
his lemon water and at last began to read.

The
Dauntless
had been under sail for five days and
making good time, but suddenly the winds died and they found themselves mired
in the doldrums, surrounded by glassy, flat seas and not moving at all. The
more superstitious members of the crew felt this boded ill for their mission,
and soon everyone had an opinion. Others of these men believed that Jeanette’s
presence on the ship had brought about their current difficulty, that women
were bad luck, and while no one was suggesting she be jettisoned, it seemed
very possible that there were some amongst the crew who wouldn’t have objected
to that solution.

Below decks, Theo and George did their worrying out of sight
of the men, not wanting to lower morale further with their own doubts and
concerns.

“Every minute we founder here is another minute DeSade can
use to prepare,” Theo said fretfully. “Who knows what sort of fortifications he
might have? He could have an entire army of those mindless, vicious Order
slaves waiting for us, George; we simply won’t know until we get there. It
could be a bloodbath.” Theo sighed and pushed his bronze curls back from his
brow. “We could lose, George.” Martin tinged Theo’s voice with weary despair, a
nod to the burdens of command.

George sat at Theo’s side and leaned toward him, clasping
his brawny forearm. “Buck up, Sir. I’m confident we’ll prevail. We’re on the
side of right, after all, Sir. Think of all those poor slaves DeSade has killed
and maimed and tortured, Captain; you’ll avenge them all.” Martin’s George
voice conveyed deep conviction. “You’re a truly good man, Sir. Surely God is on
your side.”

Theo smiled at this. “You always believe in me, George, even
when I don’t believe in myself.”

“This is where they should be saying ‘I love you’ to each
other,” Henry said. “It seems pretty obvious.” He took another cookie from the
plate.

Taking heart from what George had said, Theo went up on deck
and spoke to the men, discounting that the weather could be a portent of
anything, and reminding them that they were on the side of good, and that they
would always prevail against evil.

“So, basically, he just copied George’s speech,” Henry
pointed out.

After two days sitting dead in the water, at last there was
a wind and they were underway again, but Theo was still worried about how long
it was taking them to get to El Refugio, how much time DeSade had had to plan
for their arrival. They had to assume they were sailing into hostile waters and
to be prepared for battle.

There had only been a few sea battles in the course of
Drake’s
Progress
and, as Henry found them boring, he hoped this installment would
not include one, and shared this with Martin, who was also disinclined to
appreciate detailed descriptions of cannons and carronades and evasive tactics.

Theo had Dooley and Jeanette in for dinner and had a frank
discussion with the new Mrs. Dooley about her relationship with her father. “Do
you think,” Theo asked, “that DeSade has any natural affection for you? What I
mean to ask, Jeanette, is whether you might have some influence over the man?”

With tears in her eyes, Jeanette shared that she didn’t
believe her father valued her as anything more than a pawn or tool in his
demented schemes. “I wish I was of more use in that regard, Captain,” Martin
said in Jeanette’s high, clear tones. “But I
can
help if it comes to
fighting, sir. Give me a gun; I’m an excellent shot.”

“Well, of course she is,” Henry said sarcastically. He
reached for yet another cookie. “Do you mind if I eat all of these? They’re
very
good.”

“Go ahead, Henry. I can get us more.”

On their ninth day at sea, land was sighted as the sun was
setting: an island, one that did not appear on any maps. They had reached the
Île Inconnue. Theo elected to wait until morning to make their approach, and he
and George spent a nervous night, everyone on board on high alert.

“If they thought they might die in the morning,” Henry said,
“don’t you think they spent the night trying to have the best sex they could
possibly have? Doing all their favorite things? Putting all their love into
it?” He pictured George bending over for Theo, his tanned back and white ass,
his long hair in tangles. He imagined Theo licking George’s asshole, his balls,
the vein on the underside of his cock. As always, he found thoughts of Theo and
George together powerfully arousing, and he shifted his hips and tugged at his
trousers to relieve the pressure on his stiffening prick.

Martin smiled at him, utterly beguiling, and leaned forward
to squeeze his stocking foot. “You’re such a romantic.”

“I think they did,” Henry insisted. “That’s what
we’d
do, don’t you think?”

“Isn’t that what we do every day?” Martin smiled again and
cocked his head, curious.

Henry blushed with pleasure, so in love with Martin, and
returned his smile.

The crew of the
Dauntless
got up before dawn. The
sails caught a stiff breeze that propelled them toward the island at a brisk
pace. The guns were at the ready. The men were armed. Even Jeanette wore a
pistol. The ship flew the white flag of truce to show their intent. As they
drew closer, they could see that the island was larger and more civilized than
they had anticipated. There was a true city there, spreading back from a
crescent-shaped harbor and climbing high up the sides of the island’s central
mountain, a volcano which had wisps of steam rising from its craggy top.

As they entered the harbor, sailing in between
fortifications bristling with cannon, steam tugs came to meet them, and Theo
and the crew were able to relax a little; they seemed unlikely to be shot at if
they were being given assistance in docking.

Preparing to disembark, Theo was in his best clothes, as was
George. The men of the crew were all as spiffy as they could manage. Jeanette,
with her one dingy dress, simply held her head high, unashamed of her parentage
or poverty. There was a ragtag delegation of armed men and women to meet them
at the pier. Theo came down from the deck of the
Dauntless
armed only
with his natural air of authority, George at his heels. The rest of the crew
stayed aboard, restlessly waiting for Theo to give them leave to debark.

“We’ve been expecting you,” Martin said in a deep voice not
quite as sonorous as the one he used for Theo. “Your reputation precedes you.”

“I’m afraid I can’t say the same,” Theo told this speaker.
“You are all quite unknown to me, but I can say with confidence I have no
quarrel with you or anyone here before me. My only concern is the fiend
DeSade.”

“He is protected under the same rules that protect us all.
That doesn’t mean we don’t know what he is. You are welcome here, you and all
your men.” The speaker stepped forward and held out his hand. “Captain Horatio
Valentine. I serve as sheriff for the port. Welcome to Ilha Invisível.”

Theo shook the man’s hand.

Captain Valentine was described as handsome, with long black
hair, sun-browned skin, and startlingly pale eyes. Henry pictured him as
looking like a tanned version of Tom, but chose not to share this with Martin.

Captain Valentine introduced one of the women from the
delegation, a pretty, rough-handed redhead, as Captain Bonnie Smithers, his
deputy.

“We always greet newcomers,” said Valentine. “We like to lay
out the rules to avoid misunderstandings later on.”

“Perhaps I can buy a round at some convivial establishment
while you explain these rules to me and my George,” suggested Theo. Captain
Valentine was agreeable and, along with Captain Smithers, led them to the
Fiddler’s Green Tavern just across from the docks. They drew much interest in
the tavern, though Theo behaved as if he did not notice all the staring eyes.
Theo bought ale for all their party and, with the permission of Valentine and
Smithers, bade George sit and listen with him.

“Many who call this island home are dangerous people,”
Valentine began. “There are countless pirates, brigands and thieves amongst our
number. But even violent and dishonest men desire a safe harbor. Here we afford
one another the courtesies we run roughshod over in the world beyond, and we
require adherence to a strict social contract.”

“What is this contract?” Theo asked.

Valentine smiled. “It will be familiar to you. ‘Do unto
others…’” All at the table chuckled at this. “But in all seriousness,”
Valentine said, “we are passionate about individual rights and autonomy, albeit
only while we are on the island and in the harbor.”

“I was given to understand that weapons are not allowed,”
Theo said, “but I see you and Captain Smithers go about armed.”

“We are the enforcers,” Valentine pointed out. “There are a
handful of us who are authorized to carry guns, my deputies and the
harbormaster, but we certainly cannot use them indiscriminately. However,
rule-breakers are dealt with swiftly and severely.”

“What about duels?” Theo asked. “Might I be allowed to
challenge DeSade to a duel?”

“Of course you may,” Valentine agreed. “But again, no
weapons are allowed. You may challenge him to a fistfight if you like.”

“Ha!” Henry snorted, amused and slightly disgusted. “I
told
you it would be a fistfight!”

Martin laughed. “I didn’t doubt you, you know.” He cleared
his throat, and in Valentine’s voice said, “Duels are a sort of entertainment
here, with crowds gathering and bets being placed. It is considered bad form to
have a duel in private, as in doing so you rob the populace of their spectacle.
There are other forms of dueling here, as well.”

“Such as?”

“Chiefly, drinking duels. We are in one of the prime venues
for such contests.”

Theo sipped his ale thoughtfully. “We didn’t know what to
expect, but this island seems far more sophisticated than we had imagined it
would be.”

“We are people of the world,” Valentine reminded him.
“Well-traveled and just as fond of luxuries as any others. In fact, fonder—so
many of us are thieves, you know!” They all laughed at this. “This is a
permanent home for thousands of men and women and sees constant improvement and
furbishment at their request and with their support.” He drank and added, “Even
reprobates need homes, after all.”

“And what of DeSade?” Theo asked. He signaled to the barmaid
for another round. “He’s a member in good standing of your community?”

Captain Smithers’ pretty face was twisted with an expression
of distaste, but she did not contradict Valentine when he told them that DeSade
had committed no crimes while in port. “He’s a wealthy man and has a fine
house, heavily fortified and staffed with slaves all bearing a red-eye tattoo.”

“All stolen from their rightful masters,” Theo pointed out.

“But not stolen
here
,” Valentine said. “He has
committed no crimes while on this island. We can have no quarrel with him,
however unsavory his reputation off-island.” The barmaid brought the fresh
round and Valentine gave her a nod of thanks. “I mentioned that your reputation
precedes you, Captain Drake. You’re known for fairness and your sense of
justice, and you’re considered a valiant man, even by those who dislike you. We
welcome everyone, but those of us charged with organizing the island’s business
are especially happy to see men like you and your slave find their way to our
shores. This place would descend into corruption quickly enough without a few
genuinely good men to uphold our version of order.”