A Master's Fidelity (Ganymede Quartet Book 2.5) (5 page)

Martin did not take the opportunity to confirm or deny this assertion, but instead took the bottle from Tom’s hand and drank deeply.

Simon came in search of the bottle and then lingered. “Mr. Ross is very interested in you,” he said to Martin. “Well, they
all
are, of course, because they’ve had to wait so long, but since this is his party, he’s going to want first crack at you.”

“Mr. Blackwell won’t want to swap,” Martin said, shaking his head.

“He’s here, though,” Simon pointed out. “It’s not like he doesn’t know what sort of get-together this is.”

Martin thought Henry’s capacity for not-knowing was quite vast, but he wouldn’t share that with his friends. “I think he just wanted to come for the regular party,” Martin explained.

“I’ll tell you about Mr. Ross if you’d like,” Simon continued. “Not that there’s anything to worry about. He’s got a nice cock and he’s really very considerate.”

“The one to worry about is Mr. van Houten,” Tom remarked. “He can be rough.”

“I don’t like his dirty talk,” Will put in. “It’s so
mean
.”

“It’s a little depressing,” Tom agreed.

“He called me a ‘filthy little spunk-guzzler,’” Will said. “I didn’t know whether to laugh or be insulted!”

Speaking in a low voice so that the others had to lean close, Simon said, “Davey
likes
it. He likes being talked to like that!”

They all glanced surreptitiously at Davey, who was speaking animatedly with Dick and Alex.

“Well, if he likes it, I guess that’s all right for him…” Will said, his voice trailing off.

Regardless of House, they’d all been trained to be accepting of any sexual peccadillo a master might have, but, naturally, they still had preferences of their own. The idea of Henry spewing mean-spirited dirty talk was laughable, and Martin nearly did laugh, but bit his lip instead and waited his turn for the nearly-empty bottle.

Mr. Ross called out, “Simon! Hey, Si!”

Simon’s spine straightened and his head came up, alert. “Sir?” He nodded his goodbyes to the group and made his way through the crowd to his master’s side.

“It’s starting, then,” Will said, and he was right. Simon disappeared behind the connecting door with Mr. Ross, and they were followed in short order by Mr. Townsend and Dick, Mr. Lovejoy and Julian, and Mr. Maxwell and Alex.

Martin wondered if Henry had noticed the exodus. It did not look as though he had. He was laughing at something his friends were telling him and sipping whiskey from a fingerprinted glass. He wished it was done for a slave to drink with his master at a party like this. He wished he could sit close to Henry and whisper in his ear and remind him of what they had together, how they belonged to each other. He wished he could ask whether or not Henry intended to let Tom suck his cock.

He couldn’t do anything. He would just have to wait.

Martin was feeling a little drunk. When a fresh bottle came his way, he passed it along without sipping. Tom took a swig and handed the bottle off to Peter, and then it was just the two of them, Tom angling his body slightly to separate Martin from the others. He leaned close, radiating heat and intention, and said, “It’s no secret that I’ve liked you all along, Martin.”

No, it wasn’t a secret.

“I’ve wanted you since the day we met,” Tom offered, “and I know you won’t say so out of loyalty to Mr. Blackwell, but I think you’ve wanted me, too.”

Martin did not answer, but felt his cheeks grow hot. Tom wasn’t really Martin’s type, but his sort of beauty transcended type. His fine-boned face was enigmatic and perfectly androgynous but for the faint blue shadow on his cheeks. His cat-green eyes, jet black hair, and milky skin made for an arresting picture. People were always turning to look at Tom, eyes following him everywhere he went. His appeal wasn’t lost on Martin. It didn’t matter, though, if he might chance to want Tom because Martin belonged to Henry, and he would do whatever Henry wanted, and Henry would not want him to flirt with Tom or talk about what kind of sex they could have. Henry would be so wounded if Martin were to indulge Tom’s fantasies even a little bit.

Tom sighed. “You won’t say,” he repeated.

“I’m very devoted to Mr. Blackwell,” Martin reminded him. “You know this, Tom.”

“Listen,” Tom said, standing too close. “Listen, Martin. When was the last time you had your cock sucked?” He did not wait for Martin to answer, but said, “It must have been back on your farm before you came to the city, right?”

With Henry not participating in swaps, this wasn’t an unreasonable guess. In fact, Martin had sucked his friend Charlie’s cock hunkered down in their seat on the train into the city, and then Charlie had gratefully returned the favor.

“I love to suck cock,” Tom said, his lips brushing Martin’s ear. “I’m good at it—ask anyone. Ask Simon or Ralph. Ask—”

Martin laughed and put his hand on Tom’s chest, pushing him gently away. “I believe you.”

“I’d be happy to suck you,” Tom continued, slurring his words. “I
want
to do it.”

Martin shook his head. “Mr. Blackwell isn’t going to want to swap, Tommy.”

“Anything you want me to do, I’ll do for you,” Tom insisted. “Things I won’t do for anyone else without being
ordered
, I’ll do for you just for the asking.” His voice taking on a tinge of frustration, he said, “Don’t you miss being kissed, Martin? Don’t you miss being
wanted
?”

If indeed Martin had spent these last four months having strictly delimited contact with a clumsy master, he’d be panting for closeness with a boy, a
trained
boy, who would know how to touch him and please him, but his situation was different. He had Henry. Henry, who knew Martin’s body like it was his own and treated it with such reverence. Henry, who did all the things Martin liked best without even being asked.

“I don’t miss anything, Tommy,” Martin said firmly, thinking that Tom was too drunk to examine that remark very closely. “I’m happy with Mr. Blackwell,” he insisted.

“Stuart says you’re an amazing fuck,” Tom said very close to Martin’s ear, the tickle of his breath making Martin shiver. “He says that back home everyone loved to have you on the bottom. He says he’s never been with anyone else like you.”

“I doubt that’s true,” Martin demurred, pushing Tom gently away again. Tom’s desire, his hot breath, and the hints of desperation and aggression, were arousing in spite of Martin’s determination to be loyal to Henry, and he was inconveniently hard. He glanced over quickly and saw that Henry was sitting on the sofa, sipping from a nearly-full glass of whiskey. Was he drinking too much? Martin felt it was his responsibility to keep Henry from getting too drunk, but wasn’t sure how he could manage that under the circumstances. He certainly couldn’t walk across the room with a hard cock and scold Henry in front of his friends.

Tom leaned close again, “He says you love to have someone’s mouth on your ass. Is that so?”

Martin bristled. “Stuart never did that for me.” Why was Stuart being so forthcoming, so inconveniently talkative?

“Is it true, though, that you love it?” Tom gripped Martin’s arm tightly and his lips brushed Martin’s ear, lingering, almost a kiss. “
I’ll
do it for you. I’ll put my mouth anywhere you want it.”

“Tommy…” Martin frowned and pulled away, uncomfortable with this entire conversation.

“Everyone wants to see us together, you know. Masters and slaves alike. Because we’re the beauties, see?”

They would make an especially nice picture together, Martin was aware of that.

“I’ve got a nice cock,” Tom said in a loud whisper. “Nice and thick. Little bit of an upward curve. Everyone I’ve ever been inside has told me he liked it.” Tom pressed himself against Martin’s side, warm and sleek and bold, and Martin felt guilty that he stood still for this treatment for even a few moments. Martin couldn’t help it; he felt a surge of arousal at Tom’s words and shuddered. He shouldn’t be listening to Tom talk about his nice cock because if Henry knew, it would make him so unhappy. Henry wouldn’t understand that it was just slave talk, idle seduction; Henry wouldn’t understand that Tom was just drunk and meant nothing—or, at least, very little—by it.

“You have to stop talking like this, Tommy,” Martin told him, trying to sound stern and pushing him away yet again. “Mr. Blackwell would be very angry if he could hear you.”

“Angry at me or angry at you?”

“Both!” Martin snapped. “He might not let us be friends if he knew the kind of things you’re saying.”

“Why? Is he that jealous?”

Martin pressed his lips together in a tight line, frustrated. “Mr. Blackwell is very possessive, as is his
right
.”

“I don’t think of you just as property to own,” Tom scoffed. “You’re a
person
to me, you know—you might be my favorite person.”

“Mr. Blackwell definitely considers me a person, also,” Martin insisted coldly. “Please don’t presume anything about my relation with my master.”

Hearing the acid in Martin’s tone, Tom changed tactics. “I’m sorry, Martin. I know you’re fond of Mr. Blackwell, and there must be reasons for that. It’s just that you never talk about him—”

“He’s very private,” Martin said, slightly mollified. “I won’t ever be talking about him, so you’ll just have to take my word for it that he’s a good master.”

They were quiet a moment, and Tom sighed and took Martin’s hand, playing with his fingers.

“He’s lucky to have you, you know.”

“I’m lucky, as well,” Martin insisted, his tone making it clear he wanted the subject closed.

Mr. Caldwell and Mr. Franklin beckoned to Tom and Ralph, and Tom tore himself away from Martin with obvious reluctance, maintaining eye contact as long as he could manage.

“I’ll see you inside, I hope,” Tom said, his yearning raw and apparent, and Martin felt bad for him because he was quite sure Tom would be embarrassed later for having worn his heart on his sleeve. Martin knew very well what it was like to want someone who didn’t want you back, though in his own case it had all been a misunderstanding and Henry had come around in the end. He wouldn’t be doing the same for Tom, though, not unless Henry wanted it, and in all honesty he couldn’t imagine Henry ever wanting such a thing.

Peter came to stand by Martin and handed him the gin bottle. Martin took a little sip and let it sit in his mouth, stinging his tongue.

“Tom’s going to be so disappointed if you don’t play,” Peter remarked. “But I think you’re right, and Mr. Blackwell isn’t going to want to share.”

It was just the two of them and their masters in the room now, everyone else having passed through to the real party.

Mr. Briggs was saying, “…maybe he thought you'd have changed your mind about swapping by now. If he'd have asked
me
, I'd have told him not to invite you. No one needs you being all judgmental, Henry. We’re not doing anything wrong.”

Scowling, Henry drained his glass. “I’m not being
judgmental
,” he insisted. “Just because I don't want to share Martin doesn't mean I care what the rest of you do with your slaves.”

Mr. Briggs did not seem to believe this and flapped a dismissive hand in Henry’s direction.

The connecting door opened and Mr. DeWitt leaned into the room. “Are you two coming?” There were shouts and laughter behind him.

Mr. Briggs turned in his chair and said, “Just a few more minutes, I think.”

“What about you, Henry?” Mr. DeWitt asked. “Don't you want to come in?”

“He doesn't share,” Mr. Briggs hurried to say. “You remember that, right?”

Mr. DeWitt waved this off as if it were of no consequence. “Come in and see,” he encouraged. “Just bring your slave and get in here.”

Henry stood unsteadily, and Martin could see instantly that he was much drunker than he would have anticipated. Guiltily, Martin felt he had been negligent in looking after him, too busy being flattered by Tom’s desperate seduction.

Mr. Briggs seemed concerned, too. He put his hand on Henry’s arm and said, “Henry. Maybe you should just go home.”

Henry shook off Mr. Briggs’ hand. “No, I want to see. Martin, come here. You, too, Peter.”

Martin went, but as slowly as he dared, full of dread. His ears were ringing, hands numb, heart pounding. Henry, defiant, was in a staring contest with Mr. Briggs, his cheeks red. He looked over at Martin and his face relaxed into a smile, but this only made Martin feel more desperate, unsure what the smile meant.

Peter passed through the door behind Mr. Briggs. Martin paused at the threshold, panicked and balking. He wanted to somehow take a moment alone with Henry, to remonstrate with him about this decision, about swapping. Did Henry really want this? Wasn’t Martin good enough? He would do anything for the other masters that Henry asked, anything at all, and he would neither complain nor hesitate to give good service, but he didn’t want Stuart or Tom or any of the others to lay a hand on Henry. He wanted desperately to bargain, except he had nothing to bargain with. He couldn’t ask Henry for fidelity; it wasn’t his right, and it reflected badly on Ganymede for him to show such possessiveness

Mr. DeWitt ushered them inside. This was a game room of some sort with a card table in the center. All of Martin’s friends were naked, all beautiful and fit and aroused—except for sulking Julian, who seemed indifferent to the scene. At the center of the action, Tom was naked on his back on the table, his knees up and his long, silky hair cascading over the edge of the tabletop. He had more chest hair than Martin would have guessed, and more hair on his legs, very black against his white skin. His cock was a nice one, as he had claimed. Martin imagined it would feel good to be fucked with such a cock, but it probably wouldn’t feel better than being fucked by Henry.

Dick stood between Tom’s dangling feet and thrust into him in sharp jerks. Martin stared, fascinated, as Dick fucked Tom, the muscles of his ass clenching and then going slack as he made his thrusts. The contrast between Dick’s cocoa brown skin and Tom’s milk white was very attractive, Dick’s hands like dark stars spread on the backs of Tom’s thighs. At the command of one of the masters, Simon presented his cock for Tom to suck, and Tom opened his mouth with a greedy moan. Alex reached for Tom’s cock with his left hand as he worked his own with the right. Even though Martin didn’t like the idea of touching or being touched by Alex, for just a moment he wanted to be in Tom’s place, with a cock in his mouth and another in his ass. In his most perfect fantasy, he had two of Henry, neither of them jealous, and they fucked him from both ends, filling him up and making him come harder than anyone else possibly could.