Archive of Our Own

It's been several months since Jonny showed up on their doorstep and Gerry's almost gotten used to having the little brat around. The boy's useful, in a puppy dog sort of way, and he's picking up quickly on how to submit. But Gerry still hates that there's another boy around the house. Everything was just fine, he thinks, when it was just him and Peter. Sure, he didn't get his locked collar until Jonny Lee showed up, and it serves as a perfect distinction between who's the real boy around here and who isn't, but Gerry would happily give it up if it meant he would have Master to himself again.

But Master wants Jonny around, for whatever reasons that Master doesn't share with his slave, and he wants Gerry to help train him. And so Gerry has Jonny doing all the mundane chores: laundry, dusting, cleaning the bathrooms. He'd hoped that it would wear Jonny down, get him to leave. To his great disappointment, Jonny's still there.

Jonny's figured out he's low man on the totem pole. That's okay. He's figured out, too, that Gerry doesn't like him being there. He guesses that's okay, too, although he can't quite figure out what went wrong between Gerry living with him and him showing up at Peter's house. He doesn't mind all the mundane work. It gives him something to do, and it beats having to go out and find a real job. He just wishes he could figure out what he's done so wrong.

"Uh, Sir, this boy's done with his chores for the day," Jonny says, crawling into the study and kneeling up where Gerry's sitting at the computer. "You said he should present himself when he finished."

Gerry turns to look at Jonny. He prods him with his foot. "Horrible posture. How can you expect to please Master if you can't even kneel properly?" Gerry sighs and goes to his knees next to Jonny. His posture is perfect. "Watch. Back straight. Don't fucking slouch. This isn't preschool."

"I'm just stupid, Sir, can't get the hang of it, I guess." Jonny works to mimic Gerry's posture, straightening his back, spreading his knees a bit more.

"You're not stupid. You're just not paying attention." Gerry crawls around to behind Jonny and grabs the boy's wrists. He forces them apart and then back together. "That's how master likes it. Now stand up and kneel down and this time you better get it right."

"Yes, sir," Jonny sighs out, pulling himself up. He really does try harder this time, going more gracefully to his knees, holding his hands right and remembering to keep his back straight. He really wants to make a good impression, to please Gerry, though he imagines that impossible now.

"Passable," Gerry says. "If Master was drunk..." He trails off as he hears footsteps from outside the room. Quickly, he stands up, goes over to the door, and kneels beside it. "Good afternoon, Master," he says as Peter's boots appear in the corner of his vision.

"If Master was drunk," Jonny echoes under his breath. "Weren't that bad." He spins on his knees and crawls over to where Gerry's kneeling, getting into position just as Peter walks into the room.

Peter grins at the sight. Two boys on the floor, one in perfect position, the other obviously trying. "How is my boy today?" Peter touches his fingers to Gerry's cheek. "Correspondence finished? Bills paid?"

Gerry leans in lightly to Peter's touch. "Yes, Master, everything is completed and sent. Your boy was just instructing Jonny on how to kneel properly." Gerry manages to give the impression of glaring at the boy kneeling beside him without turning his head. "He's still learning." He pauses, wondering if he could get away with asking Peter to put Jonny in posture devices, especially a collar. The boy needs to learn how to keep his neck up.

"He is learning, just slowly." Peter likes Jonny, marginally more than Gerry does. He's not sure why, but the waifish boy is growing on him. And he really enjoys watching Gerry train the naive child. "Do you think more drastic measures are needed?" He reaches his right hand and tilts Jonny's chin up. "What does this boy think? Does he have any idea what devious ideas his Master is plotting?"

His Master. Jonny still hasn't figured out how the hierarchy works. Peter's over Gerry and Gerry's over him, but Peter's over him, too. So which Master is plotting. "This boy doesn't know, Sir. He tries to do what Mr. Butler tells him, but he seems to keep failing."

"Now, that's not totally true, is it? Gerry, surely the boy excels at something." Peter's grinning. "It's just his posture needs work."

"He's good at serving," Gerry allows, gripping down hard on his emotions. Don't let Peter know you're jealous. You don't have any right to be jealous. Peter can do whatever he wants. "And he can be very good in bed." That's based on the few times Peter's allowed Gerry to fuck Jonny, not from the time when Gerry had dominated Jonny all on his own. He's a good kid, but why did he have to intrigue Peter so much? "Master never ordered me to go easy on him."

"No, Master didn't. Master would prefer that his boy treat Jonny as he sees fit." Peter hunkers down, leans in and kisses Gerry, full and long and biting at the end. "No mercy, my boy. You do what you need to make him suitable for us." He brushes his lips over Gerry's again. "Remember, I gave him to you to dominate, to take control of."

Jonny can't help but squirm. That's one of the few things Gerry hasn't done since he came into the house. He hasn't taken control of Jonny, not in the way Gerry had for those few weeks it was just them. He smiles at the very good in bed comment, knowing that's truly one of his talents. Maybe his only one.

"Yes, Master," Gerry murmurs against Peter's mouth. In truth, he'd been holding back with Jonny. He didn't want to overstep his place, do more to Jonny than Peter would want him to. And he didn't want Jonny to start thinking of him as a master. Whatever Gerry is, he's still Peter's boy, and he doesn't want anyone to think of him as anything other than that. If he starts doing to Jonny what he knows he can, what he has done before, will Jonny know who to obey first? Will he know who's really on top? But Peter wants a second boy and he wants Gerry to train him. Master's orders come first. Gerry learned that lesson well. "I'll make him good for you, Master. I promise."

"There's something in Gerry's words that concern Peter, set him the wrong way, as if his boy doesn't understand fully what Peter wants. "Make him good for you, Gerry," Peter corrects. "First, he is yours. Then he is ours. He answers to you first, and you answer to me. Are you clear on that?"

"No, master." Gerry wants to look away but he can't. "He has to be yours first. You're in charge. Your boy doesn't want to take anything away from you. He knows its not his place."

Now he's sure Gerry misunderstands. Peter takes Gerry's face in both hands, holds him steady. "You are mine." He splays his fingers out so the tips touch the collar locked on Gerry's neck. "This proves you are first. Always." He leans in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I gave you Jonny to play with, not to take away from what we have, but to add a dimension to it that you seemed interested in exploring." Peter is speaking very slowly, his words breathed out against Gerry's mouth. "Did I misinterpret my boy's desire to dominate another?"

"No, master." Gerry whispers. "Master didn't. But his boy wanted to make it absolutely certain. He wants to dominate, but he doesn't want Jonny, or anyone, to think that Master's boy is at all equal with master. Your play likes playing with Jonny, although he thinks that Jonny isn't doing as best he can, but your boy does not want Jonny to wonder who it is that owns him." Peter's words reassure him. First. Always. It's what he's been needing to be reminded of. When Peter talks about his boy, he's talking about Gerry, and he always will be.

Peter will always think of Gerry as his boy, no matter who else might be in the house. Jonny is an experiment of sorts, a way to allow Gerry to tap into his dom side without jeopardizing the balance they have. Peter won't have Gerry leaving again. Ever. Beyond the master/slave dynamic they have working, Peter truly cares about Gerry, loves him even.

"Now, let me watch you at work, my boy. Continue your lesson with young Jonny." He offers one more kiss, a promising one. "And if I enjoy myself, then my boy will be rewarded later tonight."

Gerry grins. "Yes, Master. Thank you, Master." He looks Jonny, making sure that he doesn't turn his back on Peter. "Alright, Jonny, let's see how you kneel." He places his hand on top of Jonny's laced fingers. "This you're doing right. Good boy."

"Thank you, Sir," Jonny says, genuinely pleased at the praise, the touch. Peter's words have crystallized his thoughts a bit. He belongs to them both, but is meant to serve Gerry most directly. He can handle that. It gives him focus. And so he tries to straighten his back, hold his neck up properly.

"Better." Gerry is impressed that Jonny remembered to correct for the small things. "But don't look ashamed of yourself. You're proud to be a boy, aren't you?"

"Yes, Sir," Jonny says hesitantly. When I figure out what being a boy means. "I'm, uh, this boy is proud to belong to such perfect masters."

Peter's satisfied with Gerry's assumption of control, so he takes a seat in the chair opposite the desk, quietly watching, waiting to interject when needed.

"Master" Gerry corrects. "You belong to Peter. He just lets me have at you." He strokes the back of Jonny's neck. "And if you're so proud, don't hang your head. It makes you look like you want to hide."

"Master," Jonny repeats. "Yes, Master." He immediately raises his head, Gerry's touch tingling and causing him to jerk up. "Your boy doesn't have the experience that Master's boy has with this. He's sorry he's not better."

"Don't be sorry for your lack of experience," Gerry corrects. "Be sorry because of your lack of effort."

"Is Gerry correct, Jonny?" Peter asks quietly. "Are you not putting forth the effort to please him? That is a boy's first priority."

Jonny thinks for a long minute. Effort. He thought he was making it. He does everything Gerry, and Peter, ask of him. "Master," he says to Gerry, "would you show your boy what effort is required of him? He wants to please you."

"I'm not your master," Gerry says coldly. "Remember that."

"Uh, yes, Sir." Jonny tries to think where he went wrong, how he must've misunderstood something, somewhere. "Would Sir show," he starts stuttering, "please, this boy, what he's doing wrong?"

"He will." Gerry moves into a crossed-leg position in front of Jonny. "Have you ever had to go to a boot camp for a movie you've done?"

"No, not really." Jonny looks at Gerry, uncertain of how to interpret his new position. "Never done that kind of film, Sir."

"Then imagine. Pretend you're at attention. How do you hold yourself?"

"Straight." He catches on. " Like a rod. Grandda use to play soldier with us. Said my posture was for shite." Jonny consciously tries to straighten his back, pull his shoulders up and back. "More like that, Sir?"

"Better." Gerry smiles. "Must better." If Jonny keeps up this sort of enthusiasm, he could really start to grow on Gerry again. What an unsettling thought. "But straighter. Like a ruler."

"That's 'bout as straight as I can get, Gerry," Jonny says, not thinking that he's not using Sir or anything else he's been taught. "Hurts to do any more."

Gerry swats him. "Then hurt. You're not here for you. You're here for him." He points to Peter with his chin. "You're here for Master and so you do what he wants, and he wants you to be as straight as fucking possible. Got it?"

Peter wants to compliment his boy. On his tone. His words. On how watching him is getting Peter hard. But he doesn't. He smiles when Gerry nods in his direction, silently watching the reactions his boy elicits.

"Yes, Sir. For Master. Straight." Jonny stiffens, pulling his shoulders back tautly, the muscle burn immediate and sharp. He's hurting, not used to this position, definitely unsure that he can hold it more than a minute.

Gerry pats Jonny's shoulders and upper back, feeling the strain. "Good," he says, as if it's high praise. He grins. "Other than this, you are most certainly not supposed to be straight."

Good. That is praise. "No, Sir, your boy isn't straight at all. He's rather well bent," Jonny says with an equal grin. "Where it counts to be that way."

"Bright boy." Gerry says, consciously imitating Peter's tone as Methos. Dark and smooth. A Horsemen wannabe, or just his adoring slave. "We don't like straight people around here. Especially not straight, vanilla people."

"Well, this boy definitely isn't vanilla, Sir. And he's willing to prove it," Jonny spurts out, not sure of why he's saying it. "Whatever Sir and Master want, he's willing to try."

"Then stand up." Gerry prompts. "And then kneel back down again. Properly this time, and we'll see just how willing you are to try."

"Yes, Sir." Jonny stands up, takes a deep breath and kneels back down, quickly and in what he thinks is the most proper he's ever done it, keeping his back straight, neck stiff and remembering at the last moment to lower his eyes.

Gerry stands up and walks around him, checking posture and position. He looks at Peter. "Your boy thinks Jonny has it, master."

Peter smiles, nods. "He seems to have gotten the concept, Gerry. Very good instruction." He steeples his fingers. "Now, what would you do with him next? This boy so eager to please."

Gerry would love to see Jonny blow him, but while he thinks that Peter would take it in stride, he knows it would be rude to ask. And he knows that Peter would never let him come during instruction. Gerry likes orgasm control, but not that much. "With respect, Master, you boy thinks Jonny could use some instruction on how to clean Master's boots properly."

"That's an excellent idea, Gerry. I don't believe Jonny's done that for his Master." Peter settles back into the chair, stretching out his legs. "And I know my boy excels at cleaning Master's boot. So, bring him over and start the instruction."

"Yes, Master." Gerry grins. He drops to his hands and knees and crawls over to Peter, assuming Jonny will follow. He kneels up at Peter's feet. Looks at Jonny. "Watch me." He leans over the right boot and makes a long sweep of his tongue along the instep, following the bumps and ridges of the leather exactly.

Jonny mimics Gerry's actions, crawling across the room and kneeling up at Peter's feet. "Yes, Sir," he says, watching closely. After a few minutes, he has a question. "May this boy ask, Sir, why you do that? What does Sir get out of licking Master's boots?"

Gerry looks at Jonny like he was insane for having had to ask. "The taste. The feeling of leather beneath my tongue. The excitement of doing this for Master. Knowing I'm being useful. It's like sex and a blowjob all rolled up into one. It's personal service, like drying Master after his shower."

Peter finds himself amused by the exchange. Jonny's asking what he considers an obvious question, being so new to the lifestyle he's tripped into, and Gerry's responding with an equally obvious answer. Jonny doesn't understand just how intense Gerry can be about service. "My boy is correct, Jonny, in that personal service can be quite exciting and fulfilling. Some boys don't find it such, however, and while you will be expected to perform these acts, they may not be what you excel at." He tilts his foot, allowing Gerry more easy access to the leather. "My boy is particularly fond of service, and he more than excels at it."

"Yes, Master," Jonny says quietly, feeling almost chastised by Gerry's quick, complete answer. "This boy has never done these things, so he is uncertain of their appeal." He cocks his head to watch more closely. "Would Sir allow his boy to try it?"

Gerry beams up at Peter and then turns to Jonny. "That is the point." He says. "Now do exactly what I do." Gerry leans down again and presses a kiss to the curve of the toe. He nibbles on the warm, worn leather, licking and sucking every so often. It's much more sensual than simple cleaning and Gerry hopes that Jonny understands that without having to be told. The boy can't be that stupid.

Leaning down, Jonny mirrors Gerry's actions on the opposite boot, pressing a kiss to the toe. He pulls back a fraction, the taste of worn leather strange on his tongue, then tries what he sees Gerry doing. Nibbling, finding the creases and sucking gently. It's awkward, as much in taste as action, and he's uncertain of how quickly he'd learn to like it.

Gerry leans all the way forward and starts to pay close attention to the heal of the boot. He licks down to the sole and then back up again, using his lips and tongue to clean. He can taste more than a little dirt on his mouth, but it doesn't matter to him. Even Jonny doesn't matter anymore. There's only him and pleasing Master.

"Gerry," Peter says softly after a long minute, waiting until his boy is nearly finished, "attention to your boy, please." He looks down at Jonny, who's stopped licking and is staring at Gerry, watching every move, almost mesmerized. "I do believe you've entranced him."

Nothing Gerry could ever do would tune out his Master. He hears the words, but he doesn't understand them. Rolls them over in his mind a few times and then he opens his mouth to object. But...but I'm cleaning your boots! I'm serving you! Don't want to stop, Master. But he knows his place. Reluctantly, and shooting a glare at Jonny, Gerry pulls back and kneels up. He licks the last traces of leather off his lips and looks to Jonny. "Did you see all that?"

Jonny cringes. Gerry's getting fussed at because of him, and Jonny suspects -- no, knows -- that'll only make Gerry madder at him. He can hear it in his voice already, see it in the blue eyes that turn nearly black staring at Jonny.

"Uh, yes, Sir, your boy," he says, immediately falling into old habits, the stammers of youth tripping into his words, "he saw. He watched. Every minute, sir."

"Alright," Gerry says shortly. "Did you do everything I did?" He hadn't been watching. Stupid stupid, Gerry. If you're supposed to train him, you can't get carried away. You can't try to serve master while instructing another. Doesn't work that way.

"He tried, boy," Peter says quietly. "But he got distracted watching how well you were doing."

Jonny blushes. "Yes, Sir. What Master said. This boy tried to follow your example, but he's still not sure of the appeal of it all."

Gerry blushes. "Sorry, Master. Your boy didn't mean to be distracting. He just got a little carried away. Your boy...your boy enjoys serving you very much."

"I know he does. And he does it exceptionally well." Peter's smiling, quite genuinely. "Now, though, I want my boy to continue his instruction with Jonny. I want to watch how he proceeds in teaching another to service."

"Yes, master." The blush doesn't fade. He turns to Jonny. "Did you see anything of what I did?" He'd be mortified to find out that he got so caught up in it that the boy didn't notice anything.

"Yes," Jonny answers quickly, going back to perfect kneeling position. "This boy watched, your every move, Sir. He could do it, though not as well."

"Then do it. Let me see you try." Gerry crawls back a few feet and gets into a better position to watch. "Never learn it until you do."

Jonny leans back down and starts working on Peter's boot. He tries to recall Gerry's motions. Kiss to the toe, long lick over the leather, then sucking. He does it all, slowly finding himself more entranced by the actions than he was before. He pulls his tongue over the edge of the instep and almost lets out a small whimper, catching it at the last moment. It could be addictive.

Gerry gets harder the more he watches Jonny go at it. He's not sure if it's just Jonny, or the way Peter looks leaning back and watching his two boys, or what Jonny is doing. He doesn't think it matters. Gerry clasps his hands behind his back and tries to will his erection to go down.

It doesn't work.

Jonny works his tongue to the heel, tasting the subtle difference in the thicker leather there. He can feel the eyes watching him, and he's getting hard. And he knows he's squirming, fidgeting. It's what he does when he wants to come so badly. But there's the boot at his mouth, and the Master looking down on him. And he's not going anywhere.

"Gerry, your Master has need for your mouth," Peter says slowly. "Come here."

"Yes, master." Gerry crawls over and kneels up next to Peter's chair. "How may your boy please Master with his mouth?"

"He may kiss me, then he may instruct his boy on the finer art of giving Master a blowjob." Peter's close to smirking, seeing just how far he can push his boy before Gerry starts pushing Jonny harder.

Gerry bites his lip. He'd been hoping to be allowed to blow Master himself. Still, a kiss is better than nothing at all, and it's always a pleasure to be allowed to kiss Peter. "Yes, master." Gerry kneels up further, tries to get high enough to reach Peter's face without being awkward about it.

Cupping his hands around Gerry's face, Peter pulls his by up, almost off his knees, and leans down, meeting him halfway. The kiss is claiming, biting, nearly bruising, and Peter breaks it with a whisper. "Your mouth on Master's cock," he breathes out. "Instruct by demonstration, boy."

Gerry's face lights up with his smile. He licks his lips, tastes the kiss. "Your boy...loves you, Master. He thanks you so very much." Gerry ducks his head and grins, lowering himself so he can place himself between Peter's legs.

Jonny backs up, off to one side of Peter's legs, kneels up and lowers his eyes. It's the proper position, he knows, but it also keeps him focused on something other than Gerry's eyes and smile and all the other things he was entranced by in the first place.

Gerry wraps his fingers tightly around his wrist behind his back and then leans forward. He teases at the top button of Peter's fly with his teeth, tugging and lifting until the button pops free. He pulls back, smiling, and looks to Jonny. "Now you do the next."

Gerry wraps his fingers tightly around his wrist behind his back and then leans forward. He teases at the tag of the zipper, tugging and pulling it slowly downwards until it's half undone. He pulls back, smiling, and looks to Jonny. "Now you do the rest."

Easy enough. Jonny laces his hands exactly like Gerry's, fingers gripping tightly, and he moves over, leans in and takes the zipper tag between his teeth, tugging very slowly down until it's all the way and the fly's open. "What now, Sir?" he asks, kneeling back up.

"Now," Gerry says, grinning, "we teach you how silk feels against your lips." He kisses the bulge of Peter's cock through Peter's boxers and mouths it, not too soft so that it can't be felt, but not too harsh that it seems like he's too eager. Just the right blend.

Peter lets out the faintest of whimpers and clenches his teeth together. "Perfect, boy. Pay attention, Jonny. My boy has the best technique."

Gerry lives for such noises from Peter. It's a reward more precious than sleeping in Peter's bed. He lets his tongue out to trace a swirling line down Peter's cock and then pulls back enough to speak. "Got the basic idea of it, Jonny?"

"Yes, Sir. Think so." Jonny doesn't think it looks too complicated, and he easily sees the appeal of this over boot licking. "Should I try now? Or would it better to just watch the whole process first?"

"Try now." He pulls back all the way, giving Jonny room. "Mimic what I did."

"Yes, Sir," he says too eagerly, kneeling down and bending over with more flourish than he probably should. He does just as Gerry did, tracing his tongue over the silk against Peter's cock. It's difficult to restrain himself, not use hands and pull down the fabric, get at the flesh. He's used to the quick-and-dirty, not the tease.

Peter responds with a noise, not the whimper he allowed for Gerry but a resigned sigh. It's obvious the boy has the technique, perhaps even the talent, but he's lacking on the patience. That will come. "Gerry, I believe a bit of patience training would be appropriate for the boy as well." He tries not to smile at the torturous pleasure he's just consigned Jonny to endure at Gerry's hands.

Gerry isn't jealous per se when Jonny does it, but it still gives him a jolt of satisfaction that Peter likes Gerry's performance better. But the fact that Peter isn't pleased sobers him quickly. "Yes, master. Patience training." Gerry smiles. He remembers well his own patience training and it was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to learn. But, somehow, he thinks Jonny will have a harder time of it. And the longer if takes Jonny to master patience, the longer Gerry doesn't have to worry about the boy being better than him at anything.

Jonny Lee finishes the move and sits back on his heels. "What'd I do wrong?" he asks, not waiting to be told what he's supposed to do next or be corrected. He's not at all sure why they wouldn't be just as happy with the way he's acting. "And what's patience training?"

"Training in patience," Gerry answers shortly, smacking him on the arse. "No one told you to stop, boy. Master's right, you need to learn patience."

"Fuck," he lets out at the sharp, sudden pain, although Jonny Lee's not hurt and he's tolerated a lot more. "You said mimic what you did. I did that. You want me to go on? Or do I still need the play-by-play?"

Peter knows Gerry can handle the boy, and he has no qualms of letting him do just that, despite the fact Jonny Lee's sarcastic voice doesn't set well with him. He sits back, settles in and nods at Gerry, knowing he'll understand what kind of reprimand is called for.

Gerry nods back at his master. He understands. The boy's gone one step too far. "You're an idiot," he says harshly, without preamble. "Do you think this is some sort of game, Miller? Some discipline that you can cast off when you're tired of it?" He boxes his ears and then scampers backwards so a second blow won't hit master. "You can't disregard all the rules just because you didn't get what you want. And what," he adds slowly, as if to a child, "are the rules?"

"I'm not," Jonny Lee starts, but it quickly cut off my Gerry's physical attack. "Ouch." He's scrambling mentally to keep up with the barrage. "Rules? Uh, do what you say."

"'Do what you say,'" Gerry mimics. "Not totally wrong as usual, but close. What are the other rules?" He doesn't dare look at Peter. He knows his master is watching, judging, but Peter said that Gerry's in charge of Jonny's training. If he looked at master, he'd start second-guessing himself, wondering just what the hell he's doing. He keeps his focus on Jonny, instead, wondering just how the hell Jonny's going to dig himself out.

"I, I," he starts, stuttering out the single syllable. Jonny Lee's at a complete loss. He can't remember the other rules. He's starting to fidget more. And he knows he's in trouble. He takes a deep breath, tries to calm his voice. "I can't remember, Sir."

He doesn't remember. He doesn't remember. The boy's been here for months and yet he doesn't remember the rules. Gerry was right. Jonny's a horrible submissive. Masochism is one thing. Service is entirely another. "You forgot," Gerry says, as if it was the most reasonable thing in the world to forget the ground rules of any relationship. "Of course, you forgot. You only happen to have a brain the size of a pinhead. Of course you forgot." Gerry sighs theatrically. "Do you suppose you'll be able to remember some time this century?"

Jonny's not stupid, and he knows he knows the rules. He just can't get them from his brain to his tongue. He thinks harder, tries to conjure them up. "Master's word is final," he stammers out, searching for the others. "Um, um, oh, shit," he remembers, "I'm not supposed to speak unless spoken to." He immediately lowers his head. "I'm sorry, Sir. I'll try to do better."

"Try is the key word there, Jonny. You always seem to try. But you don't ever seem to succeed."

The words shut Jonny's brain down. Don't ever seem to succeed. He wonders if he'll ever be what they want. "Then why don't you just throw me out?" he stutters. "You don't want me anyway."

And Gerry isn't sure if that's not for the best. Jonny seems to be trying, but he's not trying hard enough. If he was, he would have succeeded by now. But Gerry bites his lip. It's for Peter to say if Jonny stays or not.

Peter's been listening, watching. He knows, whether he should or not, what Gerry's feeling, the displacement, the worry that a new boy will change Peter's mind. And he can see how it's rubbing off on Jonny, in the way he doesn't try quite as hard as he could, like he's wanting to fail so Gerry can have an excuse to get rid of him.

But it's not that easy. There has to be a reason Gerry ended up with Jonny when he left Peter's house, and Peter's determined to see it through. He leans forward on the chair, reaches out and runs his hand over Gerry's arm. "I believe Jonny would try harder, and he would succeed, if he knew we both wanted him here," he says quietly. "Tell me, Gerry, what attracted you to him when you met him?"

"His face," Gerry answers immediately. "He looked so elfin and cute that I just wanted to debauch him." That's not a reason for Jonny to stay here, of course, but Gerry's just answering the asked question, not the unasked one.

It's a start, Peter thinks. He slides off the chair to his knees in front of Jonny, touching the boy's cheek. "You wanted more than debauchery, Gerry. Tell me what you did to him. Did he like it?"

Jonny blushes at the touch, doesn't lean into it. Yes, he liked it. He wanted more. He's careful not to say a word, though, for fear of it being the wrong one.

"I think he did, master," Gerard says quietly, remembering. "He arched into my hands and begged so sweetly with his body. And when I sucked and bit, he liked it even more."

"And he obeyed you, I'm sure," Peter says. "Did you take control of his body, Gerry? Dominate him for those, what was it, two weeks?"

"Yes, master." Gerry blushes. "I took control. I dominated him. I used him again and again and I know he liked it."

Peter moves his hand from Gerry's arm to his throat, rubbing his thumb over the pulse point. "You're quite beautiful when you blush. I don't think I see it very often." He leans over and kisses Gerry's cheek. "Why do you think he followed you here? He wants what you gave him. Do you want him to have it?"

Since Peter's just about given him permission, Gerry blushes more. "I want him to have whatever he wants, master. I just...don't want him to replace me. But I know he won't," he goes on quickly. "Master said he won't and master's slave believes him."

"Master's slave should believe that," Peter says, kissing the heated cheek, licking at the blush as if he could wipe it off. "But I don't think Jonny knows you don't fear him. He thinks you don't want him. You and I both know that's wrong." He turns back to Jonny. "I'm right, aren't I? You're afraid of succeeding because you think he doesn't want you to."

"Yes, sir," Jonny says, almost under his breath."

"Speak up, boy. Don't mutter. Tell me what you're thinking."

"I don't want to replace him. I can't do that. I just want," Jonny stammers the words as he gets louder. "I just want to be his, like he's yours. I want to be good, to do it right."

So it's all Gerry's fault. Gerry ducks his head and winces. It's always his fault when things go wrong, though usually it's because master can do no wrong. "I do want you to succeed, Jonny. I want you to be a good boy for master."

Peter lets out a long breath, slow and soothing. "Then I believe Jonny will try harder, won't he? Because master will not have his slave feeling like he's not doing well." Peter knows Gerry too intimately to not be able to pick out the randomizing going through his brain. "

"Yes, sir," he says, rather chagrined. He immediately straightens up, settling into near-perfect posture. "The boy wants more anything to please master's slave," he blushes, "and be a good boy for master."

"I feel like I'm doing well when I'm doing what I'm told to do," Gerry answers. "And...I think Jonny does as well, master."

"You're doing exceptionally well, Gerry," Peter reassures, "except that I think Jonny needs to hear that you still want him." He lets his hand fall from Jonny's face and moves behind Gerry, wrapping his arms around his slave's chest, sliding hands down over his stomach. "You do want him, but you think admitting it will be wrong in some way. Disrespectful to me, perhaps? Talk to me, Gerry." His fingers find and caress flesh. "Tell me what you're thinking, about me, him, the three of us being here together."

Gerry arches back into Peter, almost purring and a little ashamed of it. Shouldn't love tender moments more than beatings. "I want you, Jonny," he says. "I want you here, with master, with me. But," he goes on, trying to twist his head around to look at Peter, "master's slave does think it's disrespectful to want anyone other than his master. It makes me feel like I'm ungrateful."

Peter kisses Gerry's cheek. "My slave is not ungrateful, and he is most definitely not disrespectful. Would you want to give your master what you're giving Jonny? To take control of him? Not be the submissive?"

"What?!" Gerry stiffens in Peter's hands. "No, master, never. Never. Your slave doesn't ever want to take control of you."

"Then it is not disrespectful for you to want Jonny," Peter says, voice calm and hands working Gerry's flesh. He kisses his slave's neck, licking along the collar. "He allows you something you want but cannot have from me. For that alone, I cherish your boy and his place in this house. Now, go over to him, show him what you want and take it."

Despite Peter's ministrations, Gerry's still tense. For one horrible moment, he'd thought he was going to be ordered to...that he was going to have to...that Peter would make him...Gerry flushes red. "Master," he murmurs. "Would you have ever ordered your slave to do that?"

"No," Peter says, kissing Gerry's jaw. "I would not ask my slave to go against his nature. I love him too much for that."

Love him too much for that. "Master loves his slave?" Gerry almost squeaks.

"Master will take care of his boy's needs later, but right now he would like to watch you devour your boy."

"Yes, master." Gerry replies. He'll think about it later. But for now, master's given him and order and so Gerry will obey. He won't think about the possibility that master really loves him. It would only distract him from what he needs to do. Gerry crawls over to Jonny and tilts the boy's head towards him. "Want to kiss you," he says. It's almost a question.

Jonny Lee knows what they're saying is true. He could do better. He's been afraid of his place, worried that Gerry didn't really want him. "Your boy would like that, sir," he says, straightening his shoulders and relacing his hands behind his back. He needed to hear it, but he didn't realize it. Or just wouldn't admit it.

Gerry nods. "I do want you here," he says quietly before moving forward and kissing Jonny thoroughly. Devour, master had said, and so Gerry tries, doing his best to devour Jonny's mouth.

I want to be here. I want you. Need this. Jonny opens his mouth, presses forward, tongue exploring, tilting his head back, meeting Gerry's claim with a counterpoint submission. Need it so desperately.

Gerry doesn't break form except to lean into Jonny, push him almost backwards, waiting for Jonny to come back against him. Put on a show for Master. He explores Jonny's mouth with his tongue, humming happily.

Peter nods approvingly. Much better. All they both need is a little push.

Jonny moans into the kiss, meeting Gerry's exploration with counter-expeditions, tongue bathing the inside of his lover's mouth. Please. More. Make me do everything you want. Want to be good for you.

Master is enjoying the show. Very much so. He's intrigued by the play of light and dark against one another, both so eager to please in their own ways, both wanting the other so badly but afraid to say it. "More," he says quietly after watching the kiss for a minute. "Touch, explore. Perform for me if you will."

Yes, master. Gladly. Gerry's hand slips between their bodies and cups Jonny Lee's balls. He strokes them as he kisses Jonny Lee, wanting to be everywhere at once.

"Oh, Christ," Jonny mutters when the kiss breaks for a moment. "Hands. Please. Can I touch you?" He looks at Gerry, glances over at Peter, then back at Gerry, begging with eyes and grin.

"It's his choice, Jonny, not mine," Peter says, smiling. "You're under his control."

And Gerry just wants Jonny's lips back on his, Jonny's tongue against his own. "Yes," he says, "go right ahead." Then he pulls Jonny back close and kisses him again.

Jonny's hands go to Gerry's waist, seeking flesh, finding it, caressing and digging in. He's slightly unsteady on his knees, being tugged into a more bruising kiss. But it's exhilarating. And it's what he wants. Lips on his. Hands on him. Oh, fuck, those hands, and what they're doing. He moans into the kiss.

Jonny's moan makes Gerry moan, louder. This is a show, he thinks hazily. Master should be enjoying this. He hopes Peter is.

"Very nice," Peter says, at ease once again. "Clothes off now, I think. Gerry, be a good boy and direct this for me. I just want to watch."

Gerry breaks the kiss at the order. "Yes, master," he says. It takes a moment's thought for him to think of the best way to do this. Then he tackles Jonny as best he can from the position, getting the boy with his back to the floor, and starts to pulls up Jonny's shirt with his teeth.

Jonny falls back to the floor, pulling up in the second before he pops his head against the hardwood. It's mindless lust. His hands are tugging at Gerry's shirt, edging it up his back. "C'mon, sir, let me have," he says, politely demanding Gerry move his hands so Jonny can finish working the shirt over arms and head and off. He wants naked flesh, skin on skin, and he wants it now.

"No," Gerry says, shaking his head. "Not until I say." He bites a little at Jonny's stomach and continues nudging the shirt upwards.

Jonny frowns, pouts, but whimpers needily at the bite. "More. Please. Boy will be good. And patient."

Gerry frowns. "Boy will be silent. Master didn't say his boy or his slave was permitted to beg."

He bites his tongue against saying anything else. So hard not to beg. Want it so badly. Jonny nods and goes silent, waiting to be told what to do, how to be used.

Excellent reprimand, Peter thinks, and while he has nothing against hearing either of them beg, Gerry is right in that permission wasn't given. He reminds himself to praise Gerry later, reinforce the behaviour.

Gerry inches the shirt up until it's as far up as it can go and then he pulls Jonny's hands over his head. He leaves a series of licks and small bites on Jonny's chest and then rolls the shirt off with his hands. He folds it quickly and places it to the side before clasping his hands down over Jonny's wrists and biting his neck.

Staying silent is nearly impossible as each lick pulls Jonny closer to a point of no return. His fingers are clutching at Gerry's shirt, at flesh, all trying to get more contact. And that last bite, oh fuck, nearly drives him insane with need.

Gerry sucks until he thinks Peter might be getting tired of seeing it. He moves down, kissing every patch of delicious skin. He works every button on Jonny's jeans until there's none left and then tugs them down, careful not to touch Jonny's cock.

The torture's intentional. Not touching his cock. Jonny knows that. And it takes everything in him not to beg, to scream. So he claws, nails digging into Gerard's flesh, leaving marks that will last for days.

Gerry hisses as Jonny's nails dig into him and he wants to rebuke him, tell him that only Peter can mark him, but to do that, he would have to let go of Jonny's jeans, and he won't allow that. He pulls Jonny's jeans down as far as he can before his jaw begins to ache and he finishes the job with his hands. The folded jeans go on top of Jonny's folded shirt and then Gerry straddles Jonny's waist. "Your turn now."

"My turn?" Jonny asks, almost hesitantly, afraid to speak. He knows he's treading a fine line, that he's pushing the limit of his place. "To strip you, Sir? Or be punished?"

Gerry frowns. "To strip me. No one said anything about punishment."

"Yes, Sir," Jonny says, lowering his eyes. He slowly tugs at the shirt's hem, pulls it up and over Gerry's head. "Your boy apologizes for presuming." He loosely folds it and puts it on the floor beside them.

Not my boy. But to say that would be contradicting Peter, and Gerry would never do that. He squirms as Jonny gets his shirt over his head and then murmurs. "Master said make it a show."

"A show," Jonny echoes, voice low. "Then would Sir let the boy up so he could do this properly?"

Let Jonny on top? Never. Gerry shakes his head. "Do it from down there."

Peter smirks, then bites back the chuckle nibbling at his throat. He could've told Jonny that Gerry wasn't going to willingly put him on top. Another thing to praise Gerry for later; the list is growing, and Peter's quite pleased.

"From down here," Jonny says, musing. "Alright." He works the buttons undone on Gerry's jeans, the angle's awkward and his hand's twisted all wrong, but he manages and then his fingers are slipping under the denim, pushing it back and down over Gerry's hips. "Please, sir, move enough to allow your boy to finish."

That's a reasonable enough request and Gerry's too hard to think about it for too long. He shifts on top of Jonny, letting Jonny pull the jeans down all the way.

Jeans off and kicked aside, Jonny turns his attention to flesh, his hands trailing along the back of Gerry's legs, over his arse and settling on his back. "What would sir like now? His boy's mouth. Or arse. Or cock."

"Uhhh..." But Peter's instructions were to strip, not to do anything beyond that. Gerry forces himself to pull back, off of Jonny, and return to a proper kneeling position. He should wait for Peter's next order. He shouldn't take that much initiative.

"Two such beautiful men, naked for me. I am lucky." Peter slides to the front of the chair. "More, Gerry. Show me what he's good for. Fuck him. Control him. You have the right."

Gerry grins. "Thank you, master." He doesn't think he's ever been so grateful to be ordered to fuck someone while knowing that there's not much chance he'll be allowed to beg to come. Gerry almost pounces on Jonny, pins his wrists above his head.

The pounce is good. No, great. Jonny's wrists are pinned quickly, hard and sharp against the floor. "Yes," he hisses. Peter's orders are echoing in his brain. Fuck. Control. It's heaven, more than he could want considering how the day started.

What he's good for. Taking pleasure from. Gerry kisses Jonny, harsh and demanding and biting.

Jonny pushes up into the kiss, willing it to be deeper, rougher, more ragged. He tugs his wrists, not really trying to loosen the hold, but struggling with it, wanting to be restrained, confined, used for all the pleasure he can yield.

Gerry presses down harder and rubs his erection against Jonny's thigh. He's going to take what he wants. He's going to control Jonny, hurt Jonny, bring Jonny exquisite torture through pleasure. He grips Jonny's wrists harder and moves down with sharp biting kisses. Jaw, neck, shoulders. Marking him.

Yes. That's what Jonny wants. To be marked, claimed, have every inch of flesh used over and over by this man. It's one of the first things Jonny fell for, the way Gerry could hurt him, could have him begging and screaming at the end of a night. He squirms, but it's only to expose more flesh, to beg silently with his body for more torture.

Gerard's kisses turn deceptively soft until he reaches Jonny Lee's nipples. Then he bites down hard, and squeezes Jonny Lee's hips beneath his hands. He wants the first of Jonny Lee's noises. He wants to hear it. He wants it.

The noise starts as a whimper, builds to a moan, low and haunting, and as the bite deepens, tugs at his flesh, it's nearly a scream, delicious and echoing off the walls. Jonny bites back the need, the desire to beg for more, to plead for the pain. Gerry hasn't given him permission for that yet.

A scream. It's beautiful and Gerry wants more. He pulls back, nipple still between his teeth and then lets go. He wants Jonny to wear his bruises tomorrow. He wants Jonny to hurt and know who made him hurt and know why. Because Master said so.

Master is quite pleased watching the lovers at play, impressed at the control Gerry's taking over Jonny. There will most decidedly be rewards later. He wants more, but he's patient, letting his boy stay in charge of the scene's direction.

Jonny's second scream is louder, the pain more intense, nipple oversensitized as Gerry pulls back. The pain's good, rich and laying end over end, but it's not enough. He wants the bruises, arches up in silent demand for them, for Gerry's hands to work over his body.

But Gerry's in charge here and he isn't going to give Jonny anything until he damn well wants to. He repeats the process on that nipple and then moves to the other one, biting and stretching and working each nipple until just a slight touch will hurt.

Screams are echoing off the walls, muted and muffled by whimpers as Jonny's body writhes under Gerry's deliberate torture. He knows he'll be bruised come morning, that he'll be barely able to walk, and he won't mind at all. He'll be happy, knowing Gerry did it. And that Peter was watching. He'll feel connected, at home.

Fuck him. Those were the orders. Once he's done with Jonny's nipples, Gerry moves lower, tongue teasing the short hairs on the way down to Jonny's cock. "Beg," he orders. As soon as the word is out, he wishes he could take it back. Peter hadn't said he could tell Jonny to do that and so Gerry looks nervously over at Peter. "If it's alright with Master."

Peter nods. "It's perfectly alright with Master." He smiles. "Don't second-guess yourself, Gerry. You're doing excellent."

Beg. The word Jonny's been craving to hear. Permission to ask for what he wants. "Oh, please, Sir, your boy wants to be fucked. He wants to he pounded into the floor, to feel every bruise as it's made." He shudders at Gerard's touches, encroaching so close to where he wants his lover to be. "Ohgod, please, more."

Gerry relaxes at the reassurance. He's not breaking any rules. Master doesn't mind that he's marking Jonny. And the begging is so good, just as good as he remembers it being when he owned Jonny. He nuzzles Jonny's cock and kisses the head. "Beg for it."

Jonny's cock jerks against Gerry's lips. "I want it. Your cock filling me. Fucking me. Just another hole to be used. Omigod, please." He's on edge, could come on a word, cock throbbing and aching, and breath raggedly hissing. "Sir, yours. Take it."

"Looking for this?" Peter says, casually tossing a couple packets to the floor at Jonny's side. "I doubt he had the foresight to prep himself," he grins, "so you decide how much he gets."

Gerry grins. "Thank you, master." He takes the lubricant and condom packets into his fist and then starts working to drive Jonny crazy with his mouth. He uses all the skills he learned under Peter to stop himself from choking and to tease Jonny as much as possible.

Going crazy is a very short trip for Jonny. His body's electrified from Gerry's touches and the mouth around his cock is nothing short of mind-numbing. He's pleading for more, begging with writhes and squirms and, "ohgodfuckplease, fuck me, sir, please."

This feel good. Surprisingly good. He'd forgotten how it was to have control over someone else. Peter was right. Maybe this was something he needed. Gerry bites down ever so slightly and then pulls back. "If the boy wants it, the boy should get into position."

"Yessir," Jonny blurts out, the bite interrupting anything more he was going to say. He pulls himself up and turns over, hands and knees, arms crossed at the wrists, forehead pressed against them.

"Very nicely done, Gerry," Peter praises. He's hard, wanting his boy as much as he wants to watch his boy take Jonny. But he's patient, and he'll wait till later, when he can savor the moment, the feel of Gerry's surrender, his sinking down to just where Peter wants him.

Gerry pats Jonny's arse and then bites it. Hard. He has an urge to spank Jonny, but he thinks that might go too far. And he doesn't want to wait. Wants to fuck Jonny as hard as he can and show master that he can be a good boy. They can both be good boys. And maybe if he's good enough, master will let him come. Gerry opens one packet and slicks his fingers. He stretches Jonny enough, doing it quick and dirty. He doesn't want to take too much time with that. The condom goes on next and Gerry gets up behind Jonny. Looks to Peter one last time, a question clear on his face.

Peter nods. "Yes, Gerry. Yours to control." He smiles at his good boy.

He hadn't really been worried that Peter would change his mind, but the words are still reassuring. Gerry lines himself up and, with one last look to Peter, starts a long thrust inside.

Jonny's body nudges forward, Gerry's thrust not brutal but demanding all the same. It burns, the pressure's unyielding, and he wonders if there's such a thing as too much prep. Can't be, not to take this. Jonny shifts his weight, spreading his knees and legs, opening his body wider. Yours. To take. To control.

It's slow. Gerry makes sure it's slow, and it kill him to do it, but he wants to impress Peter. He wants to show Peter that he's not a slave to his desires, that's he's a slave to Peter. Peter wanted him to claim Jonny and this is how you do it. You should them that they're yours and that you set the pace. That's what Peter taught him. The top has all the control, the bottom has none. And that's how it's supposed to be.

Damn, it's slow. Jonny wants to push back, to force himself onto Gerry's cock. He's not supposed to do that, though. He's just to take it, take whatever the master of his body wants to give. He slips his forehead off his wrists and pounds against the floor instead of pushing, something to balance out the desire to seek more. But, fuck, it's good. It's just what he wants, Gerry's cock drilling into him.

Peter's pleased with what he sees. Gerry's showing him exactly what he's been taught. He's claiming Jonny, making the boy his own and, most importantly, not losing sight of the fact that Gerry belongs to Peter. They both belong to Peter, but Gerry's his, first and always.

Gerry thinks he can feel Peter's gaze on him, and it makes him want to impress Peter even more. He keeps the rhythm. It's slow and it's going to kill him and probably Jonny too, but it's for Peter. Gerry isn't going to do anything more until Peter says he can.

The slowness is surely going to kill Jonny. There's no doubt of it. And death isn't a bad thing, not going like this, with a cock shoved so far up his arse he's stopped breathing. He twists around to glance at Peter, trying to read what's not there, a promise of this ending, of it happening again, of anything. But Peter's couching his emotions, his grin thin and faint.

"It's your call, Gerry," Peter says, voice quiet. "Whenever you choose. However you want to let him have it."

Gerry wants to make Jonny beg, but that would require a measure of control that he doesn't have. Peter always makes orgasm control look so easy. Gerry isn't sure he can give it to Jonny hard, isn't sure he can deal with fucking Jonny like that, so hard and fast and fantastic, without coming without permission.

"So the question remains now, does anyone get to come?" Peter's voice is calm, flat. "Do you want to come, Gerry? Inside your boy? Or on him?"

Gerry shivers at Peter's tone. There's no assurance that he'll get it. Peter might just want to hear his boy beg. Gerry swallows hard and tries not to thrust harder. Jonny feels so good, so hot, tight around him and so fucking good. "Inside, master." He doesn't want to pull out. Pulling out would be hell, and he isn't sure he could make it. "Please, master, if your slave is allowed to."

Jonny smiles. Yes. Inside. Please. Now. He's to the point of begging, but he's not suppose to ask for anything. Just take what the master gives.

"Slave is allowed. Encouraged, even." Peter's grin widens. "Make him scream, Gerry, then he'll be begging to come himself."

Yes! One in a millionth chance and master gave him permission. He just hopes that Peter meant now, because there's no way in hell Gerry can hold back. He gives Jonny a harsh thrust and comes.

Fuck, yes. It's excruciating, not being able to come when Gerry does, so Jonny screams just to let out the energy, his body clenching tight around Gerry's cock.

"I think your boy wants to come, Gerry. Are you going to let him?" Peter's smirking, more than pleased at how his boy's pounding into Jonny, dragging the squirms and cries from Jonny.

Gerry hadn't thought that would be his choice. But since it seems to be, he's not in the mood to be merciful. "No, master. If it's his choice, your slave says no."

Peter's infinitely pleased with Gerry's decision. "Excellent, slave." Gerry's so much better at this than he realizes. He'll be a perfect master for Jonny. Poor, dear Jonny, who's squirming and biting his lips at the conversation around him. "When you are finished, I think we should take a bath. Upstairs. And then crawl into bed. Jonny can make himself a place on the floor. In the hall outside the bedroom, perhaps. Does slave like that idea?"

Gerry nods quickly. "Yes, master. Your slave likes that idea very much." Finished here? He's already finished. Master just needs to give the word.

"Stop then, Gerry." Peter stands up. "You may crawl upstairs if you wish, or walk. You've earned a choice." He glances at Jonny. "He looks rather spent, Gerry, and exasperated. I'd say you've done an excellent job of torturing him."

"Thank you, master." Gerry winces as he pulls out. He'd prefer to crawl after master, but he probably needs to tend to Jonny.

Jonny moans. His whole body's aching, most noticeably his cock. He's hard, has no hope of coming anytime soon. Other than that, and being on edge and not knowing where he's going to wake up, Jonny's fine. Perfect. Happy.

Gerry isn't sure what to do. On the one hand, master gave him an order. On the other, he can't just leave Jonny like this. It'd be wrong. He looks up at master, the question clear on his face.

It takes a moment, but Peter realizes the dilemma Gerry's debating. His boy tends to do best with very specific instructions, not liking to make interpretations about how to act. "It would be best," he says softly, "to take care of your boy before attending to your master. That way, your attention won't be diverted."

Sigh of relief. "Thank you, master." Gerry prods Jonny carefully. "Are you okay?"

"Not sure, Sir." Jonny winces at the prodding. "Sore. Hard. Other than that, feel used and wonderful."

"Good." That was the idea. Well, the used part of it. He hadn't cared if the wonderful happened. "Can you deal with the rest of the night?"

"Think so. From what your master said, boy's sleeping on the floor." Jonny pushes himself up on hands and knees. "Does that please you?"

"Yes." Gerry grins. Peter's letting him sleep on the bed. Or, at least, they're going to be doing something in bed. That's his favourite reward.

"He'll make do till morning." Jonny turns around, still on his knees. "If Sir is ready, his boy will follow him."

Peter's moved to the study's door and is leaning against the jamb, arms crossed, watching the interaction. It's what it should be, Jonny showing proper respect and Gerry not giving more than is necessary. Life's going to be very interesting come morning.