A Collar and Tie (Ganymede Quartet Book 4) (7 page)

“I don’t think it’s necessary to call. We’ll go soon,
though,” he decided. “We’ll finish eating and say goodbye to Jesse and the
others.”

They ate more chicken and drank more punch and Henry sent
Martin back to fill their plate again while he listened to Jesse’s friends talk
and tease one another. Together they cleaned the plate and Martin handed it off
to a Wilton slave.

Henry turned somewhat reluctantly to face Gene. “I’m afraid
we have to go. I’ve really enjoyed meeting you.” He looked around the circle.
“All of you. And of course it was great to see you again, Eli.”

“Leaving so soon?” Perry asked, seeming quite disappointed,
and certainly it was only because he wanted a chance at Martin, but Henry
imagined for a moment that
he
was the one Perry would miss and turned a
brilliant crimson to the tips of his ears.

“My parents want me home for dinner,” Henry explained,
though he thought it possible they wouldn’t even notice if he wasn’t there.

All of the boys shook Henry’s hand and all the slaves said
farewell to Martin. Warren whispered something in Martin’s ear that made him
pull back sharply and laugh in surprise.

“I hope we see you again,” Joel told him. “Jesse will have
to arrange something.”

“I’d like that.” Henry looked around. “Where is Jesse? I
still have to say goodbye to him.”

Eli pointed him out, standing with a group of girls in the
family parlor. Henry made his way through the crowd with Martin close behind.
“Jesse!”

“Oh, Henry. Come here.” Jesse beckoned eagerly. “You need to
dance with these girls when the band starts up again.” The girls all smiled
expectantly at Henry and he gave them a bashful smile in return.

“I’m sorry, I can’t. I need to go home. I wanted to say
goodbye and to thank you for the party.”

Jesse looked crestfallen. “So soon?”

“I didn’t make arrangements to stay out,” Henry explained.
“I don’t want to give them any reason to forbid me coming here again.”

Jesse responded to this exactly as Henry had hoped he might.
“Oh, certainly not! I don’t want you to get in any trouble. I want us to be
able to see each other often in the future. Well, let me walk you out.”

They waited in the hall while the footman got their coats
and hats. Martin and Russ said their goodbyes and Jesse insisted on a hug. He
walked them outside and stood waving from the steps as they walked toward the
corner.

“Did you have a good time, Sir?”

“I did. How about you?”

“I liked Mr. Wilton’s friends’ slaves very much, Sir, and it
was good to be reacquainted with Warren.”

“Hey, what did he say to you as we were leaving?”

“Sir?”

“You know what I’m talking about. You seemed startled and
you laughed.”

“Oh. Oh, that, Sir.” Martin averted his eyes, his cheeks
pink, and an amused smile twisting the corners of his lips. “He said something
about you, Sir.”

“About me?”

“He liked the look of you, Sir.” Martin leaned close, so
close his lips brushed Henry’s ear. “He was disappointed he wouldn’t get to
suck your cock.”

Now it was Henry’s turn to blush. “He told you that?”

“He’s a very naughty boy, I think, Sir, and Mr. Vermeulen
encourages him in that regard.”

“What, encourages him to pursue other masters?”

“I understand he finds it entertaining, Sir. He’s very fond
of Warren and likes to indulge him in that way.”

It was a shocking idea. Henry thought about this a few
moments. “Do you wish I’d do that? Encourage you to pursue other boys?”

Now it was Martin’s turn to think. “Well, Sir,” he said
slowly, “I only want to make you happy. I know you very well, I think, and I
don’t believe you’d ever want me to do any such thing, so, no, I don’t want you
to encourage me to do something that would make you miserable.”

They reached the omnibus stop and stood waiting under the
streetlight. Another young man and his slave also waited a few feet away.

“I don’t want you to get bored with me,” Henry said in a low
voice. “But I don’t want to share you, either.”

“I’m not bored of you, Sir.” Martin leaned in, so close that
Henry was sure anyone looking would think they were kissing, and said, “I
thought about it all day, Sir. About how you’re going to fuck me and make me
come so hard.” His breath was hot, his voice throaty and rough in Henry’s ear.

“That
is
what I’m going to do,” Henry promised. He
met Martin’s eyes, dark with lust, and wished he could pull Martin close, crush
him against his chest and kiss him senseless, but of course he could do no such
thing.

The omnibus drew up and they boarded behind the other
gentleman and his slave. The car was perhaps a quarter full and Henry chose a
seat halfway back.

“You could sit with me,” he suggested.

Martin bit his lip and looked around. The other slaves in
the car were standing.

“Come on,” Henry coaxed. “It doesn’t matter what anyone else
thinks, does it? It’s what
I
want, Martin.”

“All right, Sir.” Martin slid into the seat beside him,
their knees touching.

They rode in silence a few minutes, Henry’s knee rubbing
alongside Martin’s.

“Did you get enough to eat?” Henry felt that he could eat
more now, and was certain he’d be hungry again later.

“The food at your cousin’s house was very good, Sir, but I’m
sure I could eat more.”

“You’ve already missed your dinner, haven’t you?”

“We’re missing your dinner, as well, Sir. Perhaps we should
have called.”

Henry waved off this concern. “If Timothy scolds you about
it, tell him to talk to me. You suggested we call and I told you not to
bother.” He rubbed his knee against Martin’s. “Hey. Don’t worry. If we get
hungry later, we’ll go down and have Cook make us plates.”

“I don’t want to be making extra work for the others, Sir.”

“Anything I want isn’t
extra
work, Martin. It’s just
work.”

Martin thought about this a moment. “Well, of course you’re
right about that, Sir.”

“I’m glad you’re not the type that wants to lord it over the
other slaves, Martin, but it’s not putting them out to expect them to do their
jobs.”

“Of course you’re right, Sir,” Martin said again.

When they got off the omnibus, Martin took Henry’s hand to
help him down and held it just a little longer than necessary, giving Henry a
meaningful look, and Henry felt a renewed sense of urgency. They traveled the
distance to the Blackwell gate at a near-run.

Randolph let them in, looking a little disapproving. “Your
parents are sitting down to dinner, Sir. I believe they would like to see you
before you go upstairs.”

“Oh, all right.” Henry hoped he wasn’t in trouble, and
certainly hoped that Martin would not be blamed. He followed Randolph to the
dining room, and Martin followed him.

Father looked up from his plate, his expression unreadable.
“Henry.”

“Yes, sir?”

“You’re late. You were at your cousin’s party?”

“Yes, sir.”

Mother cut in. “Did you have a good time, darling?”

“Yes, ma’am. I had a very good time.”

Father shot Mother a withering glare, which she did not
deign to acknowledge, blithely nibbling her fish.

Father cleared his throat. “Next time, son, have your slave
call to let us know not to expect you.”

Henry felt it prudent to put in a good word for Martin.
“Martin did want to call, sir, but I didn’t think it was necessary.”

“Well, you probably should have listened to Martin,” Father
said dryly. “Did the Wiltons feed you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“If you’re hungry later, have Cook fix you something.”

“I will, sir.”

“I’ll be interested to hear about Jesse’s party,” Mother
said. “Perhaps at breakfast tomorrow, darling?”

Henry nodded. “Certainly, ma’am.”

Mother turned to Father. “Hiram,” she said, “I think we
should have a party for Henry’s birthday this year.”

Father looked up from his paperwork, eyes wide, and stared
at her.

“I can’t imagine you’ll have any objections,” Mother
continued, “seeing as how you let the
slaves
have a big party.”

“No…” Father said slowly. “No objections at all.”

“It does occur to me, though, Hiram, that this house could
use some sprucing up before then. We haven’t decorated since the ‘80s and it
does look a little old-fashioned, don’t you think?”

Father continued to appear somewhat taken aback by this
motivated version of his wife. “Certainly, Louisa, if you want to make some
changes…”

“I do,” Mother said firmly. “I want things to be nice for my
children.”

“You should do whatever you think necessary,” Father told
her. “I only ask that you leave my study alone. I’m quite happy with that room
as it is.”

“That’s settled then,” Mother said with a satisfied smile.
“I’ve already written to Reggie to ask his advice, and I’ll ask Virginia to
help me find a decorator. She’ll have an idea who’s fashionable.”

“I think you’ll enjoy having a project,” Father remarked,
turning back to his papers.

“Will you like that, Henry? We’ll make the house a little
less gloomy, and we’ll have a wonderful party for you.”

Henry loved these ideas, these vague plans, but he was still
suspicious that they would never actually come to pass. “Yes,” he agreed
warily. “I think that would be very nice.”

“We’ll plan something lovely for you,” Mother decided. “Your
Martin will help, of course. Neither Pearl nor I have any idea what young
people today like, after all.”

“I think Martin would enjoy that,” Henry offered. It was
quite the understatement; he could practically feel the waves of excitement
coming off of Martin at his back.

Father preferred quiet at dinnertime unless he was the one
talking. He looked up from his paperwork again and said, “You can discuss this
at breakfast tomorrow, yes?”

“Yes, sir,” Henry agreed.

Mother sighed and picked up her fork. “Goodnight, Henry,
darling. I’m glad you had a nice time.”

“Thank you, ma’am. Goodnight, Mother. Goodnight, Father.”

Father mumbled something and waved Henry off.

Halfway up the stair, Martin leaned close and said, “I’m a
bit excited, Sir!”

“I can tell.” Henry laughed. “Don’t get your hopes up,
though, Martin. She might not follow through.”

Martin didn’t want to listen to Henry’s naysaying. “I’m
optimistic, Sir. I think she really wants to do something nice for you.”

“Maybe,” Henry allowed, shrugging. “In the meantime, though,
I
want to do something nice for
you
. I’ve wanted to do it all
day.”

Martin laughed and hung on Henry’s arm for a moment, warm
and close. “You were blushing so much today, Sir…what were you thinking about?”

“You,” Henry whispered, and it wasn’t
not
true,
though there had certainly been a lot of Perry Whitman on his mind, as well.
They reached his bedroom door and he let Martin open it for him. “You and what
I could do with you when I finally got you home.” He pulled Martin inside with
him and pushed him up against the door. The door had seen a lot of erotic use
since Martin had come to live with him; he’d never thought of doors as having
any sexual potential at all until Martin came along.

Martin was eager and insistent, pushing his hips against
Henry’s and hooking his leg around the back of Henry’s calf to draw him in
closer. He looped his arms around Henry’s neck and kissed him hard, impatient
and hungry.

“Slow down,” Henry told him, pressing kisses along Martin’s
jaw and down his neck, over his fluttering pulse. “I promised to fuck you
hard
,
but I didn’t say I’d do it
fast
.”

Martin gave a little moan of frustration and Henry laughed
at him and rubbed his cock through his trousers. Martin shuddered at the touch
and arched under the pressure of Henry’s hand. Henry took hold of the lapels of
Martin’s jacket and jerked it off his shoulders, behind his back and down his
arms, trapping his elbows at his sides. Martin made his frustrated noise again
and squirmed against the confines of the jacket. Henry held Martin in place
with a hand on the center of his chest and a thigh between his legs, and put more
pressure on his cock with his free hand, shaping it with his fingers.

He was feeling a bit…masterful. He didn’t want to
make
Martin suck his cock just now, but maybe he’d boss him a little. “Struggle all
you want,” he suggested. “You won’t get away.”

Martin’s only response was a grunt. He wrenched against his
restraints, his shoulders and elbows thudding against the door as he fought to
free himself. He was strong, but Henry was stronger, though now it took both
Henry’s hands to hold him in place. Martin arched away from the door, his body
pressing into Henry’s. His prick was hard, and he twisted his hips against
Henry’s weight. He made a fretful, impatient sound as he struggled without
success. He shot Henry a defiant glare, panting hard through open lips, and
jerked against the restricting jacket. Was he really mad? Henry didn’t want to
make him mad.

Tentatively, he asked, “Martin? Is this all right?”

Martin snorted and tossed his head. “We’re just playing,
Henry. It’s fun.” He flashed Henry a brief, reassuring smile as he twisted his
shoulders against the door, and Henry had to work to hold him still.

Henry leaned against Martin, pressed full length, his leg
between Martin’s thighs and his hands on Martin’s shoulders, and every time
Martin arched and bucked, it was reckless, rough pressure on Henry’s cock.

“Hard but not fast,” Henry whispered. He bit Martin’s neck
and then licked the place he’d bit.

Martin moaned, the sound half frustrated, half aroused, and
he squirmed against Henry’s weight, shoulders wrenching back and forth as he
tried to free his arms from the jacket. His exertions made him breathe in
short, huffing bursts, and his movements verged on frantic.