A Proper Lover (Ganymede Quartet Book 2) (18 page)

“Sir,” Alex said, holding them out for David and the other boys to see, “what should I do with them? I can’t carry this many around.”

“There must be a dollar’s worth there,” David said. “See if you can trade them in for a dollar bill.”

“But I’ll have to count them, Sir,” Alex complained. “I don’t want to count them.”

David sighed. “Alex, just do it. That’s an order.”

“Sir—”

“Did you hear me?”

“Yes, Sir,” Alex said sullenly, slinking off with his pennies.

David shook his head, obviously embarrassed for his friends to have seen this exchange. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him,” he said in a low voice. “He can be such a brat!”

“Could your dad’s companion maybe talk some sense into him?” Victor asked. “When my older brother’s slave acted up, our dad’s slave put the fear of god into him. It only had to happen the once before he started behaving better.”

David considered this a moment. “Maybe I should do that,” he mused. “But I don’t want to turn this into a bigger deal than it has to be. I don’t want the other slaves in our house thinking that he’s a problem.”

“Why do you care about that?” Philip asked. “He’s the one who should be worried about his reputation, not you.”

David shrugged. “Yeah, maybe.” He turned to the nearest machine, a lung capacity tester, and put in a coin, ending the discussion of Alex’s behavior.

They all tested their lung capacity (Philip’s was highest) and then Henry made a show of checking his watch.

“Oh. Looks like it’s time for me to go. I have some errands to do before I go home.”

Victor looked surprised. “Oh. Well, all right, Henry. It was good to see you.”

“See you Monday,” said David.

“You’ve got better things to do, I guess,” Philip said snottily, turning his back on Henry, and Henry stood blinking at his back a moment, bemused, before calling to Martin.

Martin came to him at a trot. “Oh, how I hate Alex, Sir!” he said in a low voice. “He just pokes and pokes at me!”

“Forget about him. Let’s go get sundaes,” Henry suggested. “Will you like that?”

“Yes, Sir, that would be lovely,” Martin agreed as they left the arcade. “I overheard you tell your friends you have errands. What errands are those, Sir? I wasn’t aware we needed to do anything downtown.”

“Oh, I was lying,” Henry told him. “I just wanted to get out of there sooner rather than later.”

“Oh! Sir! I know you don’t like Mr. van Houten too well, Sir, but you’re friends with Mr. Spence and Mr. Maxwell, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but you don’t like Alex or Davey. We came downtown to have a nice time, and I don’t think making you spend time with Alex is anything close to nice.”

“Thank you for considering me, Sir,” Martin said, sounding very pleased. He nudged Henry with his shoulder, which was almost as good as an embrace under the circumstances.

Henry got a Neapolitan sundae and Martin got strawberry ice cream with caramel sauce and whipped cream and they ate at a little table, their legs tangling beneath the marble top. Henry finished his ice cream first and stole bites of Martin’s while Martin laughed and tried to protect the dish within the curve of his arm.

“You know, if you would just eat it faster, I wouldn’t be able to steal as much,” Henry told him.

Martin laughed and scraped the bottom of his bowl with his spoon. “If I eat as fast as you, Sir, I’ll get an ice cream headache.”

Henry felt good seeing Martin so cheered. Tasting the sweetness of the ice cream in his own mouth, he suddenly longed to taste it on Martin’s tongue; they could not get home fast enough.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked, standing up so quickly that his chair almost went over backwards and he had to lunge after it to keep it from hitting the floor. A group of girls at a nearby table giggled and shrieked at the spectacle and Henry felt a hot flush color his cheeks.

Martin stood, too, lips twitching as he tried not to laugh. “Absolutely, Sir.” With swift steps, he reached the shop door and held it open for Henry to pass.

As they waited for the omnibus, it began to rain, spitting drops. When the omnibus arrived, it was so crowded that they both had to stand, and Henry took the opportunity to lean a little on Martin, who said, “Sir!” in a cautioning tone but did not move away.

At their stop, Martin got down first, as usual, but then offered Henry his hand. Henry took it as he climbed down from the car and held it a moment longer as they stood on the sidewalk, in full view of dozens of people, none of whom noticed or thought anything of it. Henry wondered how much they might be able to get away with, hiding in plain sight.

Randolph let them in and took their coats. Martin shrank a little beneath Randolph’s gaze, though to Henry’s eye Randolph looked serene and unconcerned.

On the stairs, Henry asked, “Are you still worried the other slaves are going to be upset with you?”

“Yes, Sir,” Martin admitted. “I’m sure they all think I’m very foolish.”

“They might have forgotten all about it,” Henry pointed out. “They might have other things to think about, after all.”

Martin looked as if he wanted to say something contrary, but instead he bit his lip and kept silent.

Inside Henry’s bedroom, Henry reached for Martin’s hand and reeled him in close, kissing the last sugary traces of ice cream from his mouth. Martin was pliant in his arms, fitting his body so closely to Henry’s that it felt like they were almost one flesh. Henry felt desire for him like a wave, a wave that never stopped crashing over him, and he shuffled toward the bed with Martin in his arms.

“Wait, Sir! I need to tell you something.” Martin put his hands flat against Henry’s chest and pushed him a little distance away. “I-I’ve been feeling guilty about it all afternoon, and trying to figure out how to tell you. Please, Sir. Please listen.”

“What is it?”

Martin looked as if he might cry, eyes cast down and shoulders hunched. “I used it on you, Sir,” Martin blurted, his voice low and pressured. “Hetaeria. I’m so sorry, Sir. I shouldn’t have—”

“Wait, Martin. What?”

“I used it on you, Sir. I wanted you to want me, so I did a spell.” Martin would not meet Henry’s eyes as he said this.

This sounded ominous. “What exactly did you do?” Henry asked, full of trepidation.

“I-I took a penny from your tin, Sir—so I guess I stole from you, as well—and painted it red and put it under your mattress.”

Henry blinked. “Okay,” he said slowly. “What was that supposed to do?”

“Copper is for love and sex, Sir, and red is, too. Oh, and I tied a piece of my hair and a piece of your hair together and wound them around the penny, also, Sir, to represent us.” Now that he was confessing, Martin seemed a little relieved and the words came in a rush. “I put it in your bed so that you’d want me there with you.”

“When did you do all of this?”

“In September, before we got sick. I put it under the mattress the morning of Mr. Briggs’ party, Sir,” Martin said promptly. “I know it was wrong, but I
ached
for you!”

Henry didn’t know what to say. He did not think that a painted penny had made one whit of difference in his feelings for Martin. He had fallen for Martin the moment he’d seen him on the dais at Ganymede.

“I already wanted you so badly, Martin. You didn’t need a spell. But I wasn’t even being very nice to you then,” Henry pointed out. “Why did you want me so much?”

“You were perfectly nice, Sir,” Martin insisted. “I just…I just wanted you, Sir. I was so attracted to you that I was in pain being with you and not touching. You’re the master I wanted, Sir. You’re exactly my type, and you smell so perfect to me, and you’re kind and gentle. I knew all of those things about you right away, Sir. You’re fair and you care about people. You care about
slaves
. Even before we had sex, Sir, there were so many things I liked about you.”

“And after we had sex?” Henry said. “What then?”

“You know what then, Sir. You were so generous. You made me come and come. I’d never dared dream a master would fuck me like that, Sir. You treated me like a lover, like we were equals.”

“And you think I did this because of a spell?”

Martin looked sheepish. “I know it seems silly to you, Sir, but I feel so guilty. I shouldn’t have done it. It might be that you only like me because of the spell.”

“I promise you that’s not the case,” Henry told him with complete confidence. “How do we get rid of the spell, then? So I can prove it to you.”

“If I undo it, Sir. If I take out the penny.”

“All right,” Henry said. “Let’s do it.”

Martin knelt at the side of the bed and slid his hand in between the mattress and box spring and felt around, frowning. “Maybe it’s not here anymore, Sir…”

“Where would it be, then?” Henry asked. “Here, let me help you. I’ll lift up the mattress a little and—”

“I found it, Sir!” Martin looked greatly relieved as he pulled out his hand clenched in a fist.

Henry stepped closer. “Let me see it.”

Worried, Martin said, “I don’t think you should touch it, Sir, if that’s all right.”

“I won’t touch,” Henry agreed. “But I want to see it.”

It was a penny coated in flaking red paint, and there was a little snarl of dark-and-tawny hair matted around it. It was odd to look at. It was obviously a deliberately-made thing, but it looked purposeless and somehow sinister and was a little unnerving because of it.

Martin looked at Henry’s face and saw his unease. “See, Sir? It’s a thing with power.”

“Maybe so,” Henry said, “But it’s not why I like you. Maybe it just made me brave.”

Martin took it apart and burned the hair to nothing with a fireplace match. He scrubbed the penny clean in the bathroom sink and put it back in the tea tin.

Henry waited for him on the bed, fully dressed except for his jacket and boots. “Is it done?”

“It’s
un
done, Sir.” Martin looked relieved and embarrassed. “So whatever happens between us from now on is real.”

“It’s been real all along. Won’t you please call me by my name, Martin?”

“I’m sorry, Henry. I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to remember to do it.”

“Take your clothes off,” Henry said. “I want to look at you.”

Martin folded his glasses and pulled the tie from his hair and put them both on the nightstand. He took off his waistcoat and slipped his braces from his shoulders. He dropped his trousers and drawers to the floor and stepped out of them, kicking them aside. His hard cock poked at his shirttail and his hands shook as he unbuttoned his cuffs. He had spots of color high in his cheeks and was shy of meeting Henry’s eyes. He pulled off his shirt and undershirt and tossed them on the floor. He shook all over, fine tremors that passed through his body in waves.

“Turn around for me,” Henry said softly. “I want to see all of you.”

Martin turned slowly, and with his back to Henry turned his head to look back over his shoulder, his expression hopeful.

“You’re so beautiful to me,” Henry assured him, answering his unasked question. “I love looking at you. You don’t need any spell to make me feel like this.” He stood and took the two steps to stand with his chest pressed against Martin’s back and wrapped his arms around Martin’s ribs. “Do you feel how hard I am?”

In a hoarse whisper, Martin said, “Yes, Henry.”

“
You
make me like this,” he said. “Your body, the smell of you, the taste of you. Just
you
. Not a spell.”

Martin gave a shaky sigh and tilted his head back, exposing his neck, and Henry put his open mouth over Martin’s pulse. Martin shuddered in Henry’s arms and reached back to hold onto Henry’s hip, keeping him close. Henry ran his hands over Martin’s torso, his hard nipples and the trail of hair leading from his navel to his cock, while he kissed his neck. When at last he touched Martin’s cock, Martin cried out and his knees buckled. Henry took his weight and Martin leaned heavily against him and trembled more violently still.

“I’ll show you,” Henry murmured. “I’ll show you that I’m your lover even without some talisman.” He let go of Martin and gave him a little push toward the wardrobe. “Lean back on the mirror..”

Martin surely knew what was coming. “Oh,
Henry
.” Martin turned and kissed Henry on the lips, fleeting but passionate.

“If you want it, you can have this every day of your life,” Henry told him. “I’ll never stop wanting to do this.” He pushed Martin’s chest with his fingertips, pushed him backwards into the mirror, and dropped to his knees. He let Martin’s hard cock slide along his cheek as he fought his way out of his waistcoat and shrugged off his braces. He unbuttoned his trousers with impatient jerks as he took Martin into his mouth and let him plunge deep. Henry gagged as Martin thrust into his mouth and let out a wavering, keening cry, his fingers twisted in Henry’s hair. Henry pulled back to suck hard on the flared head, to rub spirals on it with his tongue. He pulled out his own cock and held it tightly without stroking, just applying pressure.

Martin shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his skin squeaking against the mirror. His breathing came ragged and rough as Henry’s mouth moved over his cock. Henry’s mouth was so wet, salivating for the taste of Martin, and spit bubbled in the corners of his mouth and ran down his chin as he licked and sucked. Martin touched Henry’s head lightly, only lightly, and he shuddered as he met Henry’s eyes and saw the intensity there, the hunger that was only for him.

“Oh,
god
, Henry, your mouth!” Martin said breathlessly, combing his fingers through Henry’s hair and clutching at his ears. “
Please
, Henry…”

Henry took him in deep again and Martin made a helpless sound and thrust his hips at Henry’s mouth. Henry held even tighter to his own cock, which felt too big for its own skin, throbbing and almost painful, and sucked very deliberately, leaning back to pull almost all the way off and then diving back down until his nose was mashed against Martin’s belly. Martin was breathing in great, bellowing sobs, touching Henry’s mouth tenderly, almost reverently, as he sucked.

“Oh, god,
Henry
, Henry!” Martin stilled and Henry took him in as deep as he could, holding onto his ass with both hands. His cock jerked hard in Henry’s mouth and he cried out, wordless but urgent, as Henry choked on his spunk.