another snippet
Here's another 'snippet', though it's a bit lengthier. :) Sean and David, two characters pierson and I created for a couple of RPGs who have grown and commandeered many incarnations and universes, until they're pretty much original characters. This universe is one in which slavery is still legal. I know that can be a squick or a kink depending on how you go, and I think we handle it a bit differently.
This one was a NaNo attempt one year; I'm still considering it a WIP and this is somewhere in the middle of the main action. Backstory and snippet behind the cut:
Sean was a 'gift' to David, a talented artist (of paint and photography), from his manager, as David tends to get focused on his work and let little things like housekeeping and bills slide. Figuring he needed a keeper, his manager bought and paid for Sean - in David's name.
David, from a family of abolitionists, was not at all thrilled with Sean's arrival. Nor did he want to partake fully in Sean's areas of training, much to Sean's chagrin.
They've worked out a bit of a truce and working relationship at the time of this snippet.
* * * * * * *
Sean and David - Slave!verse
David makes a small sound of pleasure when the warm water hits his scalp, and Sean keeps his smile inward. They've learned a lot about each other since he'd shown up at David's door, unexpected and unwanted, a gift from David's manager. Sean's had to discover a wealth of patience, diplomacy and subterfuge in order to find his place in David's household, but the gradual relaxing of tension had given Sean a greater sense of accomplishment than he could have expected or anticipated.
And maybe, just maybe, he's worn David down on the whole idea of freeing him. At least, David hasn't tried to bring it up in a while, though Sean doesn't doubt it's still lurking in the back of his mind somewhere. The abolitionist in David runs far too deep for him to concede defeat that easily.
Sean wants to sigh and smile about the situation. He does neither, instead bows to the task at hand. He gloops a small dollup of shampoo into the palm of his hand and works it into a lather, glancing about the room as he does so. He's still not completely comfortable here in the studio, David's inner sanctum, but it's a measure of how well he's easing himself into David's life that he's been given grudging access here.
They wouldn't even be here - the bathroom is a much likelier candidate for the shampoo and haircut he's managed to finagle David into accepting - but it hadn't taken many Tuesdays before Sean had put his foot down and demanded David update the studio instead of using the bathroom to mix his paints. The studio renovations had been the start of David's unbending, Sean's certain of it. His suggestions and improvements brought real smiles to David's face.
And the low, roomy sink where David now mixes his paint - far better suited for the job than the bathtub - is also much better suited to the job Sean does now.
Sean gives himself a mental shake and begins to work the shampoo into David's scalp, earning something much closer to a moan. He keeps his body loose and relaxed, posture perfect as he's been trained to be. He doesn't show a hint of how that sound goes straight through him, how he'd like nothing more than to drop all professionalism and do any and everything he can to make more sounds like that emerge from David. He's good, and he knows he could.
But David's forbidden it, made it very clear that the more carnal aspects of Sean's training are not welcome, will never be welcome. And so the closest Sean will ever come to hearing those sounds from David will be in moments like this.
He shoves the disappointment down low. He knows what his reactions mean; his training warned of it, detailed the signs clearly and repeatedly until he could recite them in his sleep.
Infatuation.
Some owners, Sean knows, prefer their slaves to be devoted, to be tied to them by more than just training. But such ties are dangerous; they can lead to abuses or a slave forgetting their true place. Sean never wants to bring that kind of shame upon his trainers, or David. So he drinks in the sounds David makes, pushing his reactions down into a mental box, to be opened only when he's alone, when no one will know.
And he torments himself, dragging nails lightly against David's scalp, using the deft touch as he's been trained, and outwardly ignoring the sounds David makes.
Finally he's finished with the shampoo and conditioner, and taps David lightly on the shoulder, trying not to let his hand rest too long against his shoulder. David pushes himself upright and grins at Sean, who quickly lowers his eyes to the floor to hide what that expression does to him.
He doesn't need to see David; he can feel it when the grin disappears. “If you're not planning on looking at me when you cut my hair, this agreement is off.”
Sean can't help it; he laughs, and turns to busy himself at the little table he's appropriated for today's tasks. “You're not getting off that easy. You can't go to the ceremony looking like that. No, you agreed to this. I promise you won't be joining Van Gogh any time soon.”
The smile, a little more reserved, is back on David's face, and Sean pauses, considering. “You did say you trusted me and I could have free reign, right?”
“I said I trusted you.” David's voice is a little wary. “I don't know that we actually discussed free reign.”
Sean glances at him; his expression is mock-serious. Teasing, he decides, but there's an undercurrent of worry, too. “What I want to do isn't any style you've had before, but tonight isn't anything you've done before either. I want every eye on you tonight, and I want you looking fantastic when they do so. Do you trust me?”
The pause before the answer is just long enough to show David's giving it full consideration. “Of course.”
Sean doesn't smile; it wouldn't be proper. But he knows he's just given away how much David's answer pleases him in the way he straightens ever so slightly, preening under the implicit praise.
“Then I'll get to work,” he says, and for a time there's only the sound of the shears cutting. There's less opportunity for petting here than at the sink, but he manages, and David's responses are softer, but still audible.
He leaves the stubble of half-beard; he's had time to examine pictures of David in many incarnations, and clean-shaven simply looks wrong on him most of the time. He does shave David's neck, and high on his cheeks, with an old-fashioned straight razor. Finally he's done, and his hesitation before raising the mirror up for David's approval is so slight, he's sure David didn't notice.
David's eyes are on him as he turns forward with the mirror. Sean's expression is placid, but he's happy with the results of his efforts, and he's reasonably certain David will be, too.
“Huh,” David says, blinking at his reflection. “Asymmetrical. It's...different.” Sean can't read his voice; it's pure neutral, and though he stands in one place, outwardly relaxed and still, inwardly he's squirming. David glances up at him and grins. “I don't know if I'll command every eye tonight, but I like it.”
And again, Sean can tell he's preening, but he doesn't care. David's pleasure becomes his own and he doesn't try to hide the smile.
“We're not done yet,” he says, and doesn't snicker at David's look of discomfiture. “I've got your outfit ready in the bedroom.”
It's a tux, of course; the ceremony is formal and David, as the awardee, has to make some concessions. The shirt is embroidered, white on white, and the pattern is atrocious, but once Sean smooths it across David's shoulders, his personal magic makes it look fantastic and right. The tux is tailored, something Sean's spent considerable time and effort on, and it fits David like a glove. He gives the jacket one last brush of his hands, and steps back, considering.
“How do I look?” David asks, and Sean, still looking, answers without thinking.
“Amazing,” he replies, and David freezes for a moment before preening.
“I know you could be ready in no time; are you sure you won't come with me?”
There's a note in David's voice Sean can't interpret and doesn't want to look at too closely, because he knows he'll read into it what isn't truly there, only what he wants to be there. So he ignores it and shakes his head. “No, no. It's-” he says, and David speaks the next word with him. “Inappropriate.”
There's a silent moment, a mix of camaraderie and irritation, and finally David shakes his head, muttering, “I could wish that word had never been invented.” He looks back at Sean after a pause, but Sean can tell he knows the truth of the situation, and bows to it. “Stay home, then,” he says, gruffly, and takes a step towards the door. “And Sean?”
Sean pulls his attention away from the line of David's shoulders and inclines his head. “Yes, David?”
“Thank you.”
He isn't expecting David to glance back at him, and so hasn't hid the wide grin David's thanks has sparked. After the surprise dies out of David's eyes, he matches Sean's grin. “You might also want to know that the Society is broadcasting the awards on its website,” he says. “Wish me luck.”
”You've already won,” Sean protests.
David's grin turns impish. “For the speech.”
“Oh, good luck!” he says, and David gives him a mock salute before leaving.
Alone, Sean doesn't hide the grin as he tracks down David's laptop. “Let's see if you do manage to have every eye on you,” he murmurs, and settles in place for an evening of viewing.
~fin~
This one was a NaNo attempt one year; I'm still considering it a WIP and this is somewhere in the middle of the main action. Backstory and snippet behind the cut:
Sean was a 'gift' to David, a talented artist (of paint and photography), from his manager, as David tends to get focused on his work and let little things like housekeeping and bills slide. Figuring he needed a keeper, his manager bought and paid for Sean - in David's name.
David, from a family of abolitionists, was not at all thrilled with Sean's arrival. Nor did he want to partake fully in Sean's areas of training, much to Sean's chagrin.
They've worked out a bit of a truce and working relationship at the time of this snippet.
* * * * * * *
Sean and David - Slave!verse
David makes a small sound of pleasure when the warm water hits his scalp, and Sean keeps his smile inward. They've learned a lot about each other since he'd shown up at David's door, unexpected and unwanted, a gift from David's manager. Sean's had to discover a wealth of patience, diplomacy and subterfuge in order to find his place in David's household, but the gradual relaxing of tension had given Sean a greater sense of accomplishment than he could have expected or anticipated.
And maybe, just maybe, he's worn David down on the whole idea of freeing him. At least, David hasn't tried to bring it up in a while, though Sean doesn't doubt it's still lurking in the back of his mind somewhere. The abolitionist in David runs far too deep for him to concede defeat that easily.
Sean wants to sigh and smile about the situation. He does neither, instead bows to the task at hand. He gloops a small dollup of shampoo into the palm of his hand and works it into a lather, glancing about the room as he does so. He's still not completely comfortable here in the studio, David's inner sanctum, but it's a measure of how well he's easing himself into David's life that he's been given grudging access here.
They wouldn't even be here - the bathroom is a much likelier candidate for the shampoo and haircut he's managed to finagle David into accepting - but it hadn't taken many Tuesdays before Sean had put his foot down and demanded David update the studio instead of using the bathroom to mix his paints. The studio renovations had been the start of David's unbending, Sean's certain of it. His suggestions and improvements brought real smiles to David's face.
And the low, roomy sink where David now mixes his paint - far better suited for the job than the bathtub - is also much better suited to the job Sean does now.
Sean gives himself a mental shake and begins to work the shampoo into David's scalp, earning something much closer to a moan. He keeps his body loose and relaxed, posture perfect as he's been trained to be. He doesn't show a hint of how that sound goes straight through him, how he'd like nothing more than to drop all professionalism and do any and everything he can to make more sounds like that emerge from David. He's good, and he knows he could.
But David's forbidden it, made it very clear that the more carnal aspects of Sean's training are not welcome, will never be welcome. And so the closest Sean will ever come to hearing those sounds from David will be in moments like this.
He shoves the disappointment down low. He knows what his reactions mean; his training warned of it, detailed the signs clearly and repeatedly until he could recite them in his sleep.
Infatuation.
Some owners, Sean knows, prefer their slaves to be devoted, to be tied to them by more than just training. But such ties are dangerous; they can lead to abuses or a slave forgetting their true place. Sean never wants to bring that kind of shame upon his trainers, or David. So he drinks in the sounds David makes, pushing his reactions down into a mental box, to be opened only when he's alone, when no one will know.
And he torments himself, dragging nails lightly against David's scalp, using the deft touch as he's been trained, and outwardly ignoring the sounds David makes.
Finally he's finished with the shampoo and conditioner, and taps David lightly on the shoulder, trying not to let his hand rest too long against his shoulder. David pushes himself upright and grins at Sean, who quickly lowers his eyes to the floor to hide what that expression does to him.
He doesn't need to see David; he can feel it when the grin disappears. “If you're not planning on looking at me when you cut my hair, this agreement is off.”
Sean can't help it; he laughs, and turns to busy himself at the little table he's appropriated for today's tasks. “You're not getting off that easy. You can't go to the ceremony looking like that. No, you agreed to this. I promise you won't be joining Van Gogh any time soon.”
The smile, a little more reserved, is back on David's face, and Sean pauses, considering. “You did say you trusted me and I could have free reign, right?”
“I said I trusted you.” David's voice is a little wary. “I don't know that we actually discussed free reign.”
Sean glances at him; his expression is mock-serious. Teasing, he decides, but there's an undercurrent of worry, too. “What I want to do isn't any style you've had before, but tonight isn't anything you've done before either. I want every eye on you tonight, and I want you looking fantastic when they do so. Do you trust me?”
The pause before the answer is just long enough to show David's giving it full consideration. “Of course.”
Sean doesn't smile; it wouldn't be proper. But he knows he's just given away how much David's answer pleases him in the way he straightens ever so slightly, preening under the implicit praise.
“Then I'll get to work,” he says, and for a time there's only the sound of the shears cutting. There's less opportunity for petting here than at the sink, but he manages, and David's responses are softer, but still audible.
He leaves the stubble of half-beard; he's had time to examine pictures of David in many incarnations, and clean-shaven simply looks wrong on him most of the time. He does shave David's neck, and high on his cheeks, with an old-fashioned straight razor. Finally he's done, and his hesitation before raising the mirror up for David's approval is so slight, he's sure David didn't notice.
David's eyes are on him as he turns forward with the mirror. Sean's expression is placid, but he's happy with the results of his efforts, and he's reasonably certain David will be, too.
“Huh,” David says, blinking at his reflection. “Asymmetrical. It's...different.” Sean can't read his voice; it's pure neutral, and though he stands in one place, outwardly relaxed and still, inwardly he's squirming. David glances up at him and grins. “I don't know if I'll command every eye tonight, but I like it.”
And again, Sean can tell he's preening, but he doesn't care. David's pleasure becomes his own and he doesn't try to hide the smile.
“We're not done yet,” he says, and doesn't snicker at David's look of discomfiture. “I've got your outfit ready in the bedroom.”
It's a tux, of course; the ceremony is formal and David, as the awardee, has to make some concessions. The shirt is embroidered, white on white, and the pattern is atrocious, but once Sean smooths it across David's shoulders, his personal magic makes it look fantastic and right. The tux is tailored, something Sean's spent considerable time and effort on, and it fits David like a glove. He gives the jacket one last brush of his hands, and steps back, considering.
“How do I look?” David asks, and Sean, still looking, answers without thinking.
“Amazing,” he replies, and David freezes for a moment before preening.
“I know you could be ready in no time; are you sure you won't come with me?”
There's a note in David's voice Sean can't interpret and doesn't want to look at too closely, because he knows he'll read into it what isn't truly there, only what he wants to be there. So he ignores it and shakes his head. “No, no. It's-” he says, and David speaks the next word with him. “Inappropriate.”
There's a silent moment, a mix of camaraderie and irritation, and finally David shakes his head, muttering, “I could wish that word had never been invented.” He looks back at Sean after a pause, but Sean can tell he knows the truth of the situation, and bows to it. “Stay home, then,” he says, gruffly, and takes a step towards the door. “And Sean?”
Sean pulls his attention away from the line of David's shoulders and inclines his head. “Yes, David?”
“Thank you.”
He isn't expecting David to glance back at him, and so hasn't hid the wide grin David's thanks has sparked. After the surprise dies out of David's eyes, he matches Sean's grin. “You might also want to know that the Society is broadcasting the awards on its website,” he says. “Wish me luck.”
”You've already won,” Sean protests.
David's grin turns impish. “For the speech.”
“Oh, good luck!” he says, and David gives him a mock salute before leaving.
Alone, Sean doesn't hide the grin as he tracks down David's laptop. “Let's see if you do manage to have every eye on you,” he murmurs, and settles in place for an evening of viewing.
~fin~