Archive of Our Own

"So, Gerry, would you care to introduce me to this," Peter gives Jonny Lee a look up and down, slowly shaking his head at the rain-drenched blond punk dripping water on the inlaid marble and parquet foyer, "pathetic creature?"

Gerry doesn't look up from the floor, but his fingers tighten around his wrist. Dammit, he should have known Jonny Lee would try to find him. But what part of breaking up didn't the boy understand? It was over. Gerry had gone back to Peter and Jonny Lee was free to do whatever it was he did. Seems the boy couldn't understand even something as simple as that. "Yes, master. His name is Jonny Lee Miller."

Jonny Lee runs a hand through his hair, sluicing water down his back, which he shrugs off. Master? He's more than a bit puzzled. Doesn't understand at all why Gerard's here and with this man. "Sir," he says, "I was just wanting to talk to," he stammers slightly, unsure of the right words to use, "uh, Mr. Butler, Sir."

"Ah, so this was your little experiment, Gerry. Adorable in a guttersnipe sort of way." There's not even a hint of niceness in Peter's voice. "Do you plan on him staying?"

"If master wants." That's the correct answer to give, but Gerry can't help the large surge of jealousy at Peter's question. Peter's his and he's Peter's and there's no room for someone to usurp Gerry's place in Peter's life.

Stay? Jonny Lee smiles at the thought. He wants Gerard, doesn't understand why he left when they were having so much fun together, doing so well. "If master would allow, I would very much like to stay."

For a moment Gerry isn't sure who 'master' refers to, then he kicks himself down again. Jonny Lee's a parrot. He'll call Peter his master without even realizing what it means.

Peter's finding himself quite bemused. He steps forward, cups Jonny Lee's chin in his hand and tilts his head, staring into the hazel eyes. "Do you have any idea what you just said?" He doesn't wait for an answer. He knows the answer. This boy has gone under, he's sure of it, but he hasn't played their games. "Gerry, would you care to explain it to your boy?"

Jonny Lee swallows hard. Boy. Now he's sure he doesn't know what he's getting into. Except he knows he likes the feel of Peter's hand on him, the power rush that fills every muscle, wants to drop him to his knees. But he doesn't move because Peter's hand still holds him

Gerry's very obviously unhappy to explain, but his master gave him an order. "Yes, master. Teak, you just offered yourself to Mr. Wingfield. And he goes far beyond anything you and I ever did."

"Offered," he echoes. "How's that different from what you did?" He glances at Gerard, as much as Peter's hold will allow, then back to Peter. He shivers, more from the wet clothes turning cold than anything being said or done.

Peter laughs.

"That, boy, is a difficult question, and one best not answered standing in a chilly foyer." Peter releases Jonny Lee, turns to Gerard. "Get him cleaned up and in warm clothes and bring him to the study. You have a half hour, so don't dawdle."

"Yes, master," Gerry says quickly and without any emotion. He rises from his kneel, hands still behind his back and glances pointedly at Jonny Lee. Without looking to see if Jonny Lee follows, Gerry exits the room and starts walking towards his room.

Jonny Lee follows, quickening his pace to catch up with Gerard. "I'm sorry," he says, "I didn't know what to do. Don't wanna be by myself."

Gerry stops walking and he turns to glare at Jonny Lee. "And so you followed me?!"

"Well, it made sense. You said we ... and I thought ..." He stops talking and drops to his knees, lacing fingers behind back, just like Gerard showed him. "I want you, Pire. So badly I can't think straight."

Oh, for the love of God. "Get the fuck up." While he can't deny Jonny Lee looks good on his knees, Gerry's not a dom anymore. Or, at least, not as much of a dom. He's Peter's boy now and he likes it that way. "I'm not the master around here. There's only one man around here you kneel to and that's Mr. Wingfield. If you came here because you wanted to have sex with me, you just signed yourself up for something way over your head."

He's more graceful than he should be getting back to his feet and Jonny Lee's starting to shiver more intensely. "Mr. Wingfield, he's your, master?" He stumbles over the word. "Does that mean you can't have me?"

"Yes." Nitwit. Jonny Lee should have put two and two together before he got here. He shouldn't have come and ruined everything. Now Peter's going to interrogate him about his relationship with Jonny Lee, maybe have them fuck for his entertainment, maybe have Jonny Lee top Gerry. And nothing's going to be the same. So if Gerry's a little more angrier than he should be, well, fuck it all, he has a perfect right. "It means he owns me. He's my master. My dom. Capice?"

"Yes, Sir," Jonny Lee snaps, head down, eyes lowered, obviously contrite. "Understood perfectly, Sir." He's shaking, almost uncontrollably, as the rain seeps through every layer. "Pire, could I change clothes? Please?"

"Yeah." Gerard turns to continue leading the way, then shrugs. "Get out of your wet stuff now. We're close enough to the laundry room to get them in there, and then it'll be all that quicker to get you in the shower."

Jonny Lee skims off jumper as he toes out of trainers and doesn't bother to unbutton the ripped Oxford shirt as he skims it off over his head. Then it's jeans, which peel off much more difficultly as they're soaked through. He does it quickly, efficiently, not even thinking about the more seductive nature of undressing, then gathers everything up in his arms. "Where's it go, Sir?"

Gerard opens a door a few yards down and to the right. He doesn't bother to flip the switch, only taking the clothes from Jonny Lee and placing them in a small pile. Then he's out and leading Jonny Lee down a short hallway. "Here's my bathroom. Be quick about it. I'll find some things of mine that will fit you."

"Quick about it," he mutters, turning on the faucet, temping the water up till it's near scalding. Not a smart thing to do, as he steps in and realizes, the pinprick sensations nearly slamming him into the tile wall. But he stands there, letting the water pelt him, wash away the London rainchill and bring back some sense of feeling to his fingers, now flexing against the tile as he leans under the jet's spray.

Gerry rummages through his drawers until he finds a pair of jeans that never quite were long enough. He takes that and one of his blue oxford shirts and steps into the bathroom. He has several towels ready. When Jonny Lee gets out, he'll quickly be dry. Gerry doesn't like to keep Peter waiting.

Jonny Lee doesn't waste any time, almost rinsing out the shampoo before it's on his hair, then steps out into the waiting towels, letting Gerard help him as much as he wants, sensing the hurriedness. "Thanks," he says, towel-drying his short hair.

"Don't mention it." And Gerry means that. Don't mention to Peter that Gerry was rushing the new boy. He doesn't know how Peter would take it and right now Gerry gets the feeling that if he puts one toe out of line, he's out on his arse so hard he'll bounce.

"Is he gonna be mad at you, for me being here?" Jonny Lee pulls on the jeans, just a smidge too long but nothing that a roll-up won't fix, and shrugs into the shirt. "I didn't mean to get you in trouble, Pire. If I'd known." He's not sure what it was he needed to know. They'd broken up, and Gerard had left with barely a good-bye, but it hadn't been enough for Jonny Lee. He wasn't ready to give it up. And, he thinks as he buttons the shirt and rolls up the sleeves, he doesn't have a clue what he's just walked into, but he's not leaving that either.

Nice of him to be so concerned now that there's no way to undo it. "I don't know if you've gotten me in trouble. I don't know if he's going to be mad at me. Probably a little of both," Gerry admits, "possibly a lot of both. I don't second-guess my master."

"No, I suppose you don't." He's running out of things to say, ways to take the blame on himself, the tension out of the room. He's fucked up royally, and he's starting to realize it. "Uh, um, shoes? Or is barefoot okay?"

"Barefoot's fine. Oh, and here." Gerry opens the medicine cabinet and tosses a small tube at Jonny Lee. "Get yourself ready."

"It's a given?" He looks confused because he is as he fingers the tube. "I thought we were talking. In the study."

Gerry sighs. "You think he's going to keep you without seeing how well you perform first?"

"Uh, no, guess not." Jonny Lee takes care of prepping, tosses the spent tube in the wastebin and shrugs the jeans back up, buttoning them this time. Just slightly big, they ride his hips. He bends down and rolls up the jeans' cuffs. "Ready, Sir."

Gerry gives him a once-over. Jonny Lee looks a little disreputable, but it'll keep. "Good. Ready to really meet master?"

"Yes, Sir." He follows as Gerard moves out of the bathroom. "Is there anything I should know? Do?"

Gerry ponders the question as he leads Jonny Lee to Peter's study. "Yes," he says finally. "Don't screw up." With that, he knocks on the closed door and kneels.

Peter's spent the last near half hour pacing slowly in front of the fire, contemplating exactly what he's going to do with the arrival of one Jonny Lee Miller. Obviously, this is the result of Gerry's experiment on the dom side. He acknowledges the knock with a firm voice. "Come in, boys," he says, settling into one spot on the Persian rug beside the hearth. He thinks he'll let it play out, see where it goes.

Gerry reaches up and turns the handle. He crawls into the room and kneels up at Peter's feet. He can hear Jonny Lee following him in, but he doesn't spare a look behind him to see how Jonny Lee's doing.

Jonny Lee walks into the room, but drops to his knees at Peter's feet beside Gerard, staying completely silent, casting eyes downward.

"Now, let us continue the conversation. Jonny offered himself to me." He crosses an arm over his chest and fingers his chin with his free hand. "It is an interesting proposal. Having two boys. What do you think, Gerry? Would Jonny fit into our life?"

No fucking way would he. Teak's too inexperienced, too new. He wouldn't mesh. He'd take up all of Peter's time in training and it'd be like Gerry isn't even there. But, dammit, he's the submissive here. He doesn't make the decisions. "If master wants him to, this boy will endeavor to make him fit."

Peter knows Gerry too well, better than he knows himself. He's hiding something, not being honest, choosing to stay safely behind the submissive mask. Peter chooses to be playful. "What if I gave him to you, Gerry? Yours to control, train, discipline." He smiles. "Under my tutelage, of course."

Jonny Lee feels like he's not even in the room, being talked about like property being passed between two men. And he admits the feeling isn't all bad. In fact, it's a bit arousing. He shifts his weight slightly.

Gerry flushes. His legs spread slightly and his shoulders roll forward as he tries to disappear somewhat into himself. But he can't evade the question. "If master wants his slave to do anything, master knows he needs only to hint that he wants it and his slave will obey."

"What master would like at the moment is a direct, honest answer to a direct question. Does his boy think he can do that?" Peter waits on asking the question until he's assured of Gerry's compliance.

Fuckity fuck fuck fuck. "Yes, master," Gerry whispers. "This boy is sorry, master."

Contrite attitude is always appreciated, and Peter will reward Gerry later for it, but at the moment, he has a matter to resolve. "The question then is this: Do you want this boy?"

There's no right answer and this time Gerry isn't searching for the answer that will please Peter the most. There's no truthful answer to does he want Jonny Lee. He likes him, thinks he's great in bed, but he doesn't want him usurping Gerry's position. Does he want Jonny Lee, no strings attached, outside of Peter's influence? Yes. Does he want Jonny Lee as a rival sub, as a possible boy for Gerry to train for Peter's pleasure? Umm... "Yes, master."

Jonny Lee listens. Does he want me? For what? He almost doesn't hear the answer for trying to figure out what's going on. Then the yes filters into his brain and he's smiling, eyes still down, not daring to look anywhere else, not knowing what he's supposed to do, but assured that he's not supposed to look up.

"That's my good boy," Peter says, almost affectionately. "Now, I believe we should get a better look at this new boy." He settles himself into a chair near the fire. "Show him off for me, Gerry."

"Yes, master." Gerry smiles. This part will be easy. He stands up and motions Jonny Lee to do the same. He moves to stand behind Jonny Lee and his arms come from around to start unbuttoning Jonny Lee's shirt.

This is familiar. Pire's undressed him like this before. Never with an audience, but that's not a problem. He holds his arms out to the side, away from his body, not helping until he's told exactly what to do.

Once the buttons are all undone, Gerry smoothes his hands down Jonny Lee's chest and slowly teases the shirt off. His thumbs flick over Jonny Lee's nipples but only once the shirt is halfway off does he return to start rubbing harsh circles into them.

Jonny Lee shudders, the shivering this time not from the cold but the heat of a lover's hands rubbing flesh. He corrects himself. Lover? Master? He won't ask, not now, thinks it best to be quiet, other than the low whimper when Gerard's fingers circle back over quickly sensitizing nipples.

Gerry gives Jonny Lee's nipples a good pinch before standing back and sliding the shirt off Jonny Lee. He folds it quickly and puts it to the side. When his arms enclose Jonny Lee again, one hand wraps around Jonny Lee's stomach while the other delves down into Jonny Lee's pants.

"Yes, please," he murmurs, unable to keep the words in his throat, rolling his head back onto Gerard's shoulder.

"Shhh," Peter whispers out. "Please explain the rules, Gerry. Don't want him breaking them before he gets started."

Gerry grins, his hand quickly finding gold. He strokes Jonny Lee slowly, matching words to actions. "You don't beg. You don't speak unless spoken to. You aren't allowed to come without permission. Politeness is next to godliness. Master's word is final."

"Yes, Sir," Jonny Lee responds, assuming a polite acknowledgement that he understands is acceptable. He bites back the moan that's straining along with his cock.

"Good." Gerry smiles a little more and leans down to nibble at Jonny Lee's neck. He knows exactly what sort of reaction this gets and he wants Peter to know just how beautifully Jonny Lee can respond.

And he does respond, breath hitching as the nibbles increase in intensity, hands sliding back to clutch at Gerard's legs, hold himself steady, body arching and the moans perch themselves on the room's stilled air.

Peter is impressed at the beauty of it all, as much at how his boy handles Jonny as Jonny's reactions. He understands the need for control, and knows too well there's no reason for Gerry not to bolt again, want more. So what better way to keep a slave happy than to give him a slave of his own. "Nicely done, my boy," he offers, a brief moment of praise. "And your recitation of the rules was remarkable. You are close to earning a place in my bed this evening."

"Thank you, master," Gerry says, grinning widely. His happiness is more from the words than because of the boy he has in his arms. Gerry didn't miss the deliberateness of Peter's words. Jonny Lee was just a boy, but Gerry's Peter's boy. That, together with Peter's approval, is enough to make up for anything. Gerry almost bouncing as he continues touching Jonny Lee. He hasn't slept with Peter in two weeks and he misses it.

Jonny Lee so wants to ask questions, but he bites each of them back in turn. Am I allowed to help? Why can't I beg? Am I his boy or yours? He focuses on responding to the touches, twisting his body to the left to get more of himself into Gerard's hands.

Gerry keeps his eyes on Peter as he slowly tugs the jeans down Jonny Lee's hips. Once they're as low as they can go, he starts playing with the fly, pushing into Jonny Lee so that his boy bends in an obscene position.

Peter can't deny his arousal at his boys' play. His eyes belie a smile, subtle but there. He's missed Gerry too much, missed that mouth and the sound that throat makes choking on his cock, missed the way ropes twist and abrade those wrists because Gerry struggles more than he should simply because he knows Peter likes it. But watching Jonny Lee writhes under Gerry's hand, Peter understands why his boy was gone for so long. The boy is precious. "What is his best use, Gerry? This boy of yours, is he good for anything other than looking pretty?"

Gerry's grin widens. "Yes, master. He gives a killer blowjob." Gerry can well remember sneaking off into a trailer at three in the morning and pushing Jonny Lee to his knees with a simple order to suck. And Jonny Lee had delivered oh so well. Gerry knew that Peter would appreciate this talent. Peter liked a blowjob more than anyone Gerry had ever blown. Not that that list was very long.

"Is that true, boy?" Peter makes direct eye contact with Jonny Lee, who, to his credit, doesn't immediately look away.

Speak when spoken to. "Yessir, it is, Sir." He hesitates on the words. "Would the master like to know first-hand?"

"The master would like to watch the boy suck Gerry, so that he may fuck you while you pleasure me."

Gerry's hand tightens instinctively around Jonny Lee's cock at Peter's words, then he forces himself to let go. He steps back to give Jonny Lee room to kneel.

Jonny Lee thinks Peter has the most brilliant ideas and he turns around, sinking to his knees. "May I use my hands?" he asks, looking up, tongue sliding out over teeth.

Gerry knows that the question isn't directed at him so he doesn't bother thinking of with he'd prefer. Instead he just braces himself. Peter probably won't give him permission to come and what with Jonny Lee's mouth, it's going to take his all not to come.

"Hmmm," Peter muses aloud. "Should I allow him?" Rhetorical question; he doesn't expect an answer. He catches Gerry's gaze, knows the turmoil raging in his brain over how hard it's going to be to not come. There's no need to make it easier. "I believe so. For this time. Just to make it a bit more interesting."

"Yes, master," Gerry mutters, even though he knows that Peter wasn't speaking to him. The words help center him, remind him of his place. Peter's in charge here and Gerry will wait until Peter allows him.

Given leave, Jonny Lee works his fingers over the buttons of Gerard's jeans, undoing the denim efficiently and skimming it down just over the crest of his hips, just to make access easier. He cups Gerard's cock in his hands, pulls it to his lips, dropping a kiss on the head before sucking it in, slowly, exactly like he'd been instructed by the man standing before him, working himself down its length.

"You have my leave to control him, Gerry, as you did outside this house," Peter says quietly, knowing Gerry won't take the initiative himself.

Gerry's hand is tangled in Jonny Lee's hair almost before Peter finishes giving permission. He wants to pull Jonny Lee forward, he wants to hurry this, but at the same time he wants to make this last. He wants to show Peter all of Jonny Lee's tricks. He wants to show his master just how well Gerry's trained his boy. And so Gerry just grips down hard and makes no move to take control of the blowjob.

Jonny Lee hollows his cheeks, sucks harder, twisting his tongue in that way he knows Gerry likes, slipping his fingers between Gerry's legs, stroking the heavy sacs.

Gerry's eyes close as Jonny Lee sucks him. Teak's so very very good at this. So fucking good. His control is straining at the seams as he fights with himself not to force Jonny Lee to deepthroat him, and looking at Peter right now would shove him over into no man's land.

On a whim, Peter pushes himself from the chair and walks to stand behind Gerry, his hands going up on his boy's arms, chin resting on the shoulder. "Tell me, Gerry," he whispers harshly against the throat, "do you want to fuck him? Or would you rather come like this? Flood his throat and choke him? Just for me?"

At the sound of Peter's voice, Gerry's eyes snap open and he stares blankly ahead to where Peter should be. He doesn't want to think about where Peter actually is. It's too arousing to think of him being sandwiched between his lovers, one on his knees in front of him, and one holding him from behind. If Gerry didn't know better, he'd beg to be fucked. But since Peter asked him a question...Gerry swallows hard and his fist pushes Jonny Lee's head forward minutely. "Both, master," he says, voice strained with the effort of just not fucking coming until Peter says he can. "Come down his throat and fuck him. For you."

"Then do it, boy." Peter slides his hands down Gerry's arms, lacing their fingers together in Jonny Lee's hair. "Come for me. Fuck his throat." He kisses the exposed flesh over the shirt's collar. "And then we'll see about fucking him proper."

"Yes, master." Gerry says, not able to stop himself from taking the order literally and thrusting forward into Jonny Lee's mouth. He moans. "Thank you, master."

Jonny Lee nearly chokes from the sudden thrust, but quickly recovers and relaxes his throat enough to take the cock, opening wider, not sucking so much now as just being fucked, used at will. And not giving a damn about it.

Three more thrusts and Gerry's coming hard down Jonny Lee's throat. He's gripping Jonny Lee's head so hard that he thinks that strands of hair are imprinting themselves on his skin. He doesn't care.

Swallowing isn't an option as the come floods his throat, pushing aside any gag reflex that might've wanted a say, and Jonny Lee goes strictly on instinct, holding steady and sucking hard until Gerry's spent and pulls back, letting go of his hair. His head hurts from the hold Gerry had, and his throat is raw. He kneels back, looks up, a slightly wry smile on his face.

Gerry drops his hands back down to his sides. He feels drained, like he's just been beaten within an inch of his life and Peter hasn't brought him down yet. He turns in Peter's arms but doesn't kneel. "May this boy do anything for you, master?"

In turning, Peter's hands move from Gerry's fingers to his hips and then slide over his boy's arse. "Yes, my boy may kiss me."

Gerry smiles lightly and leans forward to kiss Peter. He can feel Peter's hands on him and he wants them fingering him, stretching him, fucking him. But right now there's his master. He parts Peter's lips with his tongue and then lets Peter take control of the kiss.

Peter takes control, pushing his tongue through parted lips and demanding obedience. He slips his hands over his boy's flesh, parting the cheeks, teasing at the opening there, knowing his movement will push Gerry farther into his mouth, closer to his body, almost over the edge again.

He can feel every tiny movement Peter's finger makes and he pushes himself closer to Peter, his tongue exploring Peter's mouth. Jonny Lee's for the moment forgotten. All Gerry wants is more.

Jonny Lee watches, almost studying the play between the two men, how Gerry gives in to Peter, lets him take control, just like Gerry'd taken control of Jonny Lee in past weeks. He knows he shouldn't interrupt, but he wants to crawl over to them, start at Peter's feet and worship from the ground up. He doesn't understand it.

Peter slowly pulls back, biting Gerry's lip, drawing the faintest taste of blood. "My boy tastes divine," he says, licking at the copper flavor. He glances over Gerry's shoulder at the kneeling Jonny Lee. "C'mere, boy."

At the specific order, Jonny Lee knee-walks the couple of steps, then drops his head to the floor, kisses the toe of Peter's boot. "Yes, Sir?"

"You did train him well, my dear boy," Peter says, his hands still playing with the flesh of Gerry's ass. "What shall we do with now? Tell me what plans you had for him."

Gerry runs his tongue of his lip, tasting his blood. Peter's right. It tastes divine, all the more so because his master gave him the cut. "Nothing concrete, master. I was mostly looking to see how far I could take a novice."

"And how far did you take him? I want to know how much of my teaching my boy passed on." Peter pulls his hands up Gerry's back. "Show me now, Gerry. What would you do with him? This boy kneeling at my feet."

"Yes, master." Gerry thinks for a moment. What would he do with Jonny Lee? "I'd have him show his obedience in some way. Give him a task or an order and see how well he completes it." And that's entirely from Peter's teaching, Peter's example. Gerry wonders how much of that Peter will notice. Knowing Peter, all of it.

"Excellent, my boy. Exactly as I would do." Peter nudges Jonny Lee's chin with his boot. "Kneel up, boy."

Jonny Lee does so, hands behind back, head straight and eyes down. He swallows at the thought of what his masters might ask of him. Doesn't balk at the thought of answering to both of them. It seems right all the sudden.

"Now, then, Gerry, do just that. Order him to obedience." Peter turns Gerry in his arms, so he's facing Jonny Lee, and wraps his hands around Gerry's waist, a completely loving move.

Gerry long ago gave up control to Peter so when Peter turns him, Gerry goes. He's surprised as fuck to feel Peter's arms embrace him the way they do. It's...normal. It's a normal gesture. Something a man would do to his lover. Gerry finds that he likes it. He likes it probably more than he should. "Yes, master." Gerry considers all the things he could order Jonny Lee to do. Settles on what is probably the safest course of action. "Boy, lick master's boots."

Jonny Lee doesn't look up, but just lowers his head and starts licking Peter's boots. He's assumed Gerry meant Peter by master, but he's not certain. He is certain he'll be corrected if he's wrong. He swipes in tongue in short strokes, pressing and licking deep, pulling the dust from the leather. This isn't his favorite thing to do, but he's being obedient and he knows it's making Gerry look good, and that's all that matters.

Peter is impressed with the boy's immediate response. He almost purrs out the words to Gerry. "You make me very proud, my boy. Tonight you sleep with master." The words make Peter feel better. It's been too long without his lover, his boy in his bed.

Gerry's amazed at how well Jonny Lee managed to obey. Peter has Gerry wrapped in his arms and so it has to be hard to get at his boots without banging into legs. Jonny Lee's good at what he's doing, and normally Gerry would be jealous, but he has Peter's words in his ear. Tonight you sleep with master. It's his favorite reward and Peter knows it. Gerry's grin is wide enough that his cheeks hurt. "Thank you, master."

Jonny Lee's nearly finished with the second boot, trying very hard not to nudge legs and come in too close contact. He's damned aroused at this point, cock hard and wanting, and as he finishes, he doesn't look up or raise his head, just keeps down, dropping back to kisses on the newly cleaned leather.

"Show your boy to his room and then come to mine, Gerry." Peter kisses the back of Gerry's neck. "I want you kneeling when I finish my shower. Don't undress. Just be waiting in the center of the room."

"Yes, master," Gerry replies happily. He nudges Jonny Lee with his foot as he disentangles himself from Peter's arms. He leads Jonny Lee out of the room and down the hall to the small room where Gerry sleeps when he doesn't sleep with Peter. Next to it is a room about the same size with linens stacked neatly on top of the bed. "You'll sleep here. Bathroom's the door to the right."

Jonny Lee follows, crawling at first, then standing when they reach the door, walking down the hall behind Gerry. "Yes, Sir, this will be fine." He leans into the wall. "Did I do all right, Sir? What you needed me to do?"

"You did fine." Gerry's not in Peter's bad graces. In fact, he's being allowed to sleep with Peter. "More than fine. You were brilliant, boy."

"Your boy really tried." He hesitates, almost not wanting to say how much he's missed this closeness, how much he wants everything. "Sir, is it permitted to ask for a good-night kiss?" He doesn't dare ask for anything more, not even for permission to jerk off.

"To ask?" Gerry shrugs. "Yeah. To get one? Not without master's permission." That's not entirely true. Peter's given Gerry no instructions on how to deal sexually with Jonny Lee, but Gerry's assuming that the usual rules apply. No sexual encounters unless he's begged first.

"That's fair, Sir." Jonny Lee sort of rolls himself from the wall into the doorway. "Are there other house rules I should know? I know you said no coming without permission. So, do I beg you for that? Or your master?"

"You beg master. And you don't ask for it." That's a rule Gerry had an easy time accepting when he first heard it, even though he'd never even attempted orgasm control beforehand. It just makes sense. Your master controls you. Completely. "Master lets you come when he feels like it. Otherwise, you don't touch yourself."

Jonny Lee suddenly makes the distinction in his brain that Gerry's not referring to himself as master. "Then only Mr. Wingfield is master. You're not? But he gave me to you, to control." He's genuinely confused. "What do I call you? Just Sir?"

"You can call me anything you like. Mr. Wingfield is the only authority." Gerry's under no illusions that he's to dominate Jonny Lee when Peter's not in the room.

"Yessir," Jonny Lee snaps out, sliding on into the bedroom, looking around. He just wants to get naked, get in bed and stop thinking. "I guess I'll see you in the morning, Sir," he says, turning around and starting to push the door shut.

"Good night, Teak," Gerry says and he closes the door. It's a quick walk up to the master bedroom. Normally being ordered to come up to Peter's bedroom would mean that he would kneel outside and wait for master to let him in, but Peter's given him permission, and so he enters the room and closes the door quickly behind him. Gerry can hear the shower going so he settles down on his knees to wait for Peter to finish.

Peter takes his time, standing under the shower's steaming spray, contemplating the night's events, the return of his boy, the arrival of ... he's not sure what Jonny Lee is, exactly. The water's turning cool as he turns it off, steps out and roughly towels off, just enough to not drip as he walks into the bedroom. The sight that greets him is truly delicious. The towel's draped casually over his shoulder, not hinting at covering his body or the cock that hardens on the sight of his Gerry on the floor, in perfect position.

"Hmmm, do you know what I've missed, boy?" He roughs the towel over his hair once and tosses it aside, leaning naked against the door jamb. "The attention my boy gives me." He pauses, smiles wryly. "Strip for me, Gerry. Then crawl. And lick the shower's dew from my legs. I want to see how much my boy enjoys doing those little things for his Master."

The position Peter prefers his boy to kneel in demands that Gerry keeps his eyes lowered. Even lowered Gerry can see Peter come in, and he itches the raise his head. He knows his master is naked. Peter doesn't care much for modesty. Gerry wants to kneel before Peter and blow him as fast or slow as Peter wants, as hard or soft as Peter wants. Interacting with Jonny Lee shook Gerry more than a little. He wants a tangible reminder of his place. He wants bruises and bites and blows across his face. He wants Peter to fuck him hard and fast and brutal. He wants Peter to have no mercy.

When the order comes, Gerry grins. He loves serving Peter. He loves all those little things that Peter tells him to do, those little inconsequential things. He could get off - has gotten off - on just domestic service.

Stripping means standing and putting on a show, so Gerry gets off his knees. His jeans are already unzipped from the blowjob Jonny Lee gave him, but they're tight enough that they're still hugging his hips. Gerry slides a finger across his throat and then dips it below the collar of his tight black shirt. His other hand massages his cock and he bites back a moan. He's allowed to look at Peter now and the look in his master's eyes is enough to set Gerry on fire. Gerry slides his finger down the front of his shirt and then lifts it up slowly.

It's easy for Peter to remember the first time Gerry had done this, even though it seems like a lifetime ago now. Gerry had rushed it that first night, until Peter had exactingly shown him the right way, standing behind him, fingers laced in Gerry's, guiding his hands through the process of slowly rolling up the shirt.

He watches as Gerry does it himself, fingers wrapping in the fabric and revealing in inches the perfect body beneath, that body Peter knows intimately. With his eyes closed, Peter can trace every bruise long since faded, every cut the whip made that took days to heal, ever welt raised by a cane. He unfolds his arms, slowly stretching his hand over his chest, sliding it down his stomach and under his cock. He languidly strokes down, tugging lightly at the end, repeats the motions as Gerry continues, barely nodding in silent approval of his boy's attention to the details.

The shirt comes off slowly and once it's off, Gerry shakes out his curls. He drops the shirt behind him knowing that he'll have to clean it up later, and starts in on his jeans.

There's a science to getting tight jeans off without looking like an idiot and Gerry has it down perfectly. The fact that his fly is undone is a mark against his routine. Normally he'd play, teasing all the while, but now he merely starts the slide of the jeans down his hips, very very careful not to touch his cock.

Peter doesn't reprimand Gerry for not neatly folding the shirt. He'll add it to the punishment log, deal with it later. He's too focused on watching his boy, smiling at the intense care Gerry seems to be taking to not touch himself. "My boy remembers his lessons well," he says softly, not pausing in the strokes he's gingerly applying to his cock as it hardens, lengthens. "His Master is eager to feel that wanton mouth on his skin."

"Thank you, master," Gerry whispers, blushing hard. Wanton mouth. Gerry's not sure if there's an insult in there, but if there is, he doesn't care. Peter's eager to feel it. There's a certain amount of shame in stripping for his master. The first time he tried it, he'd failed miserably. Peter had rebuked him harshly for it. The point of this, Gerry, is to seduce. Show me why I should be fucking you and not someone who can do it a thousand times better. And Gerry keeps that in mind as he pushes his jeans to pool around his ankles and then bends down to step out of them.

Gerry finishes and stands naked, and Peter realizes something's missing. No collar. That must be rectified. "C'mere, boy. Your Master grows impatient all the sudden."

Impatient. He managed to make Peter impatient. Gerry works hard to hide the grin at that, knowing that it would seen as insolence. He drops to his knees and crawls over to his master, not going slowly, but not going as fast he can. He's taking the time to show off, to impress Peter.

Peter doesn't like being impatient, and it happens seldomly. He relaxes himself as Gerry crawls over, then reaches down when the boy's near enough and pulls him forward and up by his hair. "Very nice, but do realize what's missing?" He tangles his fingers in the curls. "I shouldn't be holding your hair, should I?" He pauses, forces Gerry's head up, his eyes to meet Peter's stare. "Do you know where it is?"

His collar. He's missing his collar. Gerry meets Peter's gaze but wants to look away. When he'd left, he'd taken off his collar and given it back to Peter. It had been the tangible sign that he'd left servitude and Gerry had had to wrestle with the overwhelming urge to keep the collar, to not give it back, to keep something of his master's with him wherever he went. But, like Peter had taught him, his desires didn't matter. He'd given the collar back. Wherever it was, whatever Peter had done to it, wasn't Gerry's business, but he hoped that Peter hadn't destroyed it. "No, master. Your slave doesn't know where his collar is."

"No, he doesn't." Peter yanks a bit harder, pulling Gerry almost off his knees. "Because he gave it to his Master, and didn't ask for it back when he returned." Peter knows Gerry wouldn't ask for it, that the boy feels he has to earn it again. He had nearly tossed it into the fire that first night, out of anger, both at Gerry and himself for not realizing what his lover needed. But then he'd pulled back his hand, saved it, put it away. But Gerry doesn't need to know that. All he needs to know is that he's Master's slave, and Peter thinks the new collar will do that well enough. "However, his Master is thoughtful, and if his boy finishes drying Master off well enough, then he will get a collar again."

Gerry swallows the yelp at the sharp pain of Peter's hand in his hair. It hurts, but not as much as the knowledge that he's disappointed his master yet again. Serves him right if Master tossed it away with yesterday's garbage and never looked back. Serves him right if Master had turned him away the night when Gerry had knocked timidly on his door. Master's being more than kind by even considering recollaring a disobedient slave. Gerry pushes his head forward, wincing at how it feels like half his hair is being pulled out by the roots, and licks lightly at Peter's thighs. "Master is gracious," Gerry whispers. "His slave doesn't deserve it."

"No, he doesn't." Even as he says it, Peter knows he can't deny Gerry the second chance. He cares too much for him, much more than a master should for a slave in an ideal, emotionless relationship. And he's doing rather a good job at licking. "That's a good start, boy. All over. Earn the privilege of wearing a collar again."

As Gerry gets down to Peter's ankles, he's gritting his teeth from the pain. Peter's not giving him any slack, and later Gerry will thank him for it, and the pull on his scalp is getting unbearable. It's going to ache for a while after this, he knows, and in the bad way. But he wants to earn back Peter's collar and so he goes down as far as Peter's toes and then starts working his way back up again.

"Such a good boy," Peter says casually, his hold on Gerry's head not overly tight but enough to cause pain upon movement. "No, not a boy. My slut. My whore. You'd do anything to please me, wouldn't you?"

Gerry almost whines when Peter says he's not a boy, but the next words have Gerry smiling happily against Peter's warm skin. Slut. Whore. He is, and he's given himself to Peter. "Yes, master. Anything to please you." And it's not an idle boast. Gerry can't think of anything he wouldn't do just to have Peter tell him he was a good boy.

Peter allows Gerry to nearly finish before speaking again, gradually easing up his grip until he's released Gerry's hair altogether. He's hard and wanting by now and genuinely pleased with Gerry's ability to avoid his cock while licking the water off his hips. "It would please me now for you to retrieve a cock ring, the largest plug you think you can handle and the riding crop."

The cockring and plug are standard fare and it's the addition of the riding crop that makes Gerry swallow hard. A riding crop. Hurts more than it pleases, but Peter's always so easy on him after he's taken a crop to him. Gerry gives a last kiss to Peter's hip before pushing back and crawling over to the toy closet. The crop is hanging in the inside and the cockrings and plugs are kept in drawers. Gerry picks the first cockring he sees, but spends a few moments assessing the plugs before taking the second to largest one in the drawer. The largest is about the size of a fist around and about eight inches long. Gerry isn't sure if he wants to ever be able to take that.

"Foot of the bed, boy, standing up, all the items placed neatly on the covers." Peter's very precise with his words, his instructions as he moves around the room, retrieves a black box from the dresser and stands by the bed, waiting.

Gerry takes that as permission to stand now and he does, cradling the cockring and plug in his hand. He takes the crop off the hook and then kneels back down again, the crop tucked neatly under his arm. He knee-walks the way to the bed and then stands up roughly, somewhat off balance. He places them on the bed and then stands at attention.

"Very good." Peter places the box on the bed. Standing behind Gerry, he wraps his arm around Gerry's waist and takes his cock in hand, pulling roughly down its length. He smiles at how hard Gerry is already, even after the blow Jonny Lee gave him. "My boy's response time hasn't diminished. Master is pleased at that." He quickly works the cock to full stiffness, retrieves the cock ring from the bed and works it on, not taking much care as to whether he's hurting him or not. "Who do you belong to, boy?"

Gerry's eyes close as Peter's arms enfold him and a small moan slides out as Peter's touches him. He's so hard. So fucking hard. Peter's always been able to do this to him. Some bit of the magic that makes Peter the master. He's just beginning to brace himself for the cockring when Peter slides it on. It burns a little and the pain only serves to make Gerry's harder, which earns a wince of its own. "You, master. I belong to you."

"Yes." Simple, flat answer. Peter roughly nudges Gerry's legs farther apart, grips his neck and pushes him facedown onto the bed. One hand pinning him down, Peter takes the plug in his other hand, looks at it and laughs to himself at Gerry's obvious desire for pain. He presses its tip to Gerry's ass, pushing slightly into the puckered entrance. "Do you want to beg for lube, boy? Or will you take the pain?"

Even pinned cheekdown on the bed, Peter's hand on his neck, Gerry's wondering what will please Peter. Gerry wants to take the pain, but Peter might see that as bravado. And if he begs for lubricant, Peter would see that as a weakness. As usual, there's no way to win. Gerry had prepped before, but that was hours ago and he doubted it would provide much help for a plug of that size. Ah, fuck it all. Gerry wants pain. The crop will give him that, yes, but the pain of the plug is so much more intimate. "Pain, master," Gerry answers, pushing himself back against the plug, taking a little more of it in.

"That's my good boy." Peter pushes, then twists, shoving the plug into Gerry's body a few inches, then draws it back and pushes forward again, slightly harder, forcing it past the point it was before. He repeats the process several times before he has the plug nearly in. Then he pulls it almost completely out, satisfied with the inward progress, and shoves once hard, thrusting it all the way back in.

Gerry manages to stay silent while Peter stretches him, but the shove is too much for him and he screams. It fucking hurts and the hurt is so good that his cock gets even harder.

The scream is beautiful, and it's just what Peter wants to hear. "Master loves that sound from your throat." Pleased with where the plug is, he picks up the crop. "Do you think it again for me?" He starts in on Gerry's ass, a series of quick, well-placed, medium-force strikes.

Gerry couldn't stop screaming if he wanted to. Which he doesn't. He's supposed to scream during a beating. Makes Peter happy. And it's one less thing to worry about. Each twack is accompanied by a scream that hurts Gerry's throat. Peter didn't order him to count, but Gerry keeps up a count in his head anyway. Six.

"How many can my boy take?" Peter lands the crop sharply across Gerry's ass, thudding it over the plug's end before it pops against the flesh. "What's your best night?"

It takes Gerry a moment to get his breath enough for an answer. It gives him time to think. "Ten, master," he whispers hoarsely. "No more."

"Then you'll take 15 tonight," Peter says calmly, knowing he can push Gerry's limits if he needs. "Where are we?"

Fifteen. Gerry groans. "Yes, master." Not even half done. "Seven, master."

Peter quickens his pace, making the next four harsh, fast strokes, each landing a little lower on Gerry's ass, into the crease where the thighs start. He's sure Gerry will feel them well into tomorrow, maybe the next day, and he's equally sure Gerry's relishing each one.

The cockring is going from uncomfortable to unbearable. Eleven. Only four more. He can take four more without coming without permission. He can take four more without coming without permission. It only takes a bit of control. Control. It's what Peter's been trying to teach him. Maybe today's the day he finally learns it.

Peter can sense from Gerry's motions how unbearable the strain must be. Twelfth strike. Hard, landing with a thud. Control's always been hard for Gerry. Thirteenth strike. Equal to the first. He knows how much Gerry probably wants to come. But he's going to have to wait. Fourteenth, harder, but Peter draws the crop down over Gerry's legs. He delivers the last blow across the thighs, harder than all the rest. "Now, does my boy have something to ask?"

The scream for the last one burns as it comes out. Fifteen. Finally. He's crying a little and even the sobs hurt his throat. But Peter's asked him a question and so Gerry needs to respond. He swallows hard. He wants to come, but there's no way he has the voice for it. And as Peter's been telling him, he doesn't need to come. He wants to come. There's a different. Wants can be suppressed. And if Gerry's going to be co-domming a boy, maybe it's time he learned a little bit of self-control. "May your boy have water, master?" The words are slow and spread out but Gerry congratulates himself for being able to say them. His cock is very insistent about wanting to come and ignoring it is harder than Peter always makes it seem.

It's not the question Peter expects. "Sure. Hold on a moment." Peter turns and puts the riding crop on the low table outside the closet, grabbing one of the water bottles before turning back to the bed. "My boy did very well. His master is both pleased and impressed with him." He uncaps the bottle, then hands it to Gerry. "A few sips, then there's one more thing we go to sleep."

Gerry takes the bottle gratefully and takes a few swallows. Then he gives it back to Peter. "Yes, master."

Recapping it, knowing he'll need it again later, Peter puts the bottle on the bed and pulls the box to him. "Let me see. My boy's been beaten. He's plugged." Peter smiles, drops his hand and lightly tugs on Gerry's bound cock. "And he's not coming anytime soon." He pauses, opens the box. "Does my boy want to be my slave again?"

A collar. There's a collar in there. Either that or a tangible sign of ownership. Gerry's mouth is gaping open and his eyes are on Peter's hands. Whatever it is, he wants it. Even if it's something like a ring that he'd need to get pierced for, he doesn't care. If it'll make him Peter's, Gerry wants it. The water's made it a little easier to talk and so Gerry's words come quickly, almost falling over each other. "Yes, master. Your boy would very much love to be your slave."

"Kneel for me, then, slave." Peter pulls the new collar from the box. It's silver and heavy and has a padlock. As Gerry sinks to his knees, Peter wraps the collar around his slave's neck, securing it with the lock. It's a very tangible sign of ownership, much more difficult to remove than the simple leather collar Gerry had worn before. "It doesn't come off, unless I remove it. And if I remove it and destroy the padlock, it never goes back on." The implication is clear. Peter may remove it for various reasons, but he's made it obvious what would signal the end of the relationship.

Gerry swallows hard and promises himself that he'll never do anything that would warrant the padlock's destruction. He doesn't want to leave. He's done it once and he's never doing it again. Later he'll spend hours staring at the collar in the mirror, tugging at it, enjoying the weight of it, the way the padlock swings when Gerry turns his head suddenly. There's no way in hell now that he can forget who he belongs to. As Peter's hand draws back after securing the lock, Gerry holds it in his own and kisses it. "Yes, master."

That's more the Gerry that Peter expects, knows, loves even. He ruffles Gerry's hair with his free hand. "Into bed with you, slave. Master will let you come in the morning." He slowly pulls his hands away and steps back, pulling the box off the bed, turning and depositing it back on the dresser. He's happier than he's been in weeks, maybe longer than that. Gerry made a very big step tonight. He kept control. And he let that boy follow him home. "And then we'll discuss how we're going to handle your domination of Jonny."

Gerry keeps watching Peter for as long as he thinks he can get away with and then, wincing, climbs back up onto the bed. He's warm, well-beaten, and happy. Even the mention of Jonny Lee can't break Gerry's mood. So he wants to come. That's nothing compared to being allowed to sleep with master. He won't be able to move in the morning, which means he won't be able to make breakfast for Peter, but that doesn't matter right now. He has a brand-new collar around his neck, new welts on his arse, and tomorrow morning he'll wake up next to his master. Gerry's never been better.