Ficlet for tuawahine
Sorry I don't have an update for Spliced ready yet, it looks like it might be a while. I'm sorry about that. It's given me more trouble than I was prepared for. (I blame Matt.) :D
In the meantime, tuawahine wrote me a ficlet, so here's one for her:
Characters: Brett, Jenna, Derrick
Prompt: Jenna/Brett, before he was sold, Brett worries he went too far
Timeline: Five years prior to the start of the story, when Brett belonged to Derrick.
Length: 683 words
What had he been thinking?
It wasn’t Brett’s place to express concern over his future if his master were accepted for that eight month long archaeological dig. Worry silently yes, say anything, no. Either he’d be sold or he wouldn’t. And yet when he’d caught a private moment with his master’s cousin, he’d found himself carefully asking her, “Ms. Warren, what will happen to me if Master Derrick goes away?”
He shouldn’t have asked her, but he’d no one else to talk to. And ever since that first day, when she’d rescued him from his master’s friends, he’d felt this unbearable longing to be closer to her. It was terrible for him to wish she owned him instead; his master wasn’t a cruel man, and that was really all that mattered. Yet he couldn’t seem to control the feeling.
If she had helped him once, maybe she’d help him again? That desperate thought had propelled the words from his mouth. Startled by the question, she’d frowned. “I don’t know, Brett.”
The moment had passed without any reassurance given, and he’d become ashamed of his forwardness. But her frown had remained, worrying Brett further. Would she report his inappropriate behavior to his master?
She hadn’t the other day, but she was here again now, alone with his master. After bringing them drinks, he’d been dismissed. If she did bring it up, he was glad he wasn’t there to hear it. But his master would just punish him later; as always, there’d be no escape.
“Brett,” his master called then, making him wince.
He entered the room with his head bowed. But he’d worried for nothing. Although Ms. Warren gave him a lingering look that made him quiver with repressed desire, his master barely spared him a glance. All he wanted was another drink.
As he brought it to Derrick, his eyes strayed to Ms. Warren’s auburn hair. It looked so soft, it was almost worth a beating to touch it. But his manners were too ingrained; he would never dare be so improper. Especially to her, who he respected so much. He retreated to the edge of the room, ears perked for another dismissal. Thankfully, he got one and returned to his room, away from the temptation that was Jenna Vanlean-Warren.
A while later though there was a knock on his door - a knock? - before it opened. His master’s cousin smiled at him, and he felt mingled happiness and dismay.
“Brett,” Ms. Warren said, his name upon her lips causing a disturbing warmth. Shameless, that her smooth voice had such an effect on him.
Mentally shaking himself, he dropped from the bed to kneel on the floor. She’d never been in his room before - at least not outside of his fantasies. Best to pretend the bed didn’t exist.
“I spoke with Derrick,” she said, oblivious to his discomfort, “about your situation if he goes away.”
That drew his full attention.
“If he leaves, you’ll stay with me while he’s gone.”
He must’ve gaped like a fish. Tamping down the rush of joy, Brett composed himself before speaking. “Oh Ms. Warren, thank you.”
He prostrated himself to cover his smile and express his gratitude. This seemed too amazing to be real. He would’ve gladly kissed her feet, along with other things.
“No need for that, sit up,” she said. He obeyed, his mind still reeling. To live with her, to serve her…
Her fingers stroked his hair, and he struggled not to lean into the caress. Except for that first night when she’d briefly held him, his hair or his shoulder were all she ever touched. He closed his eyes, wondering if she would fondle other parts of him if he lived with her.
Too soon she left, and he climbed back onto his bed, his scalp still tingling. In the privacy of his tiny room, he allowed himself a beaming smile at the wonderful possibility of serving her. But that was all it was, he cautioned himself a minute later. A possibility, not a certainty.
Now he worried that his master wouldn’t leave him.
In the meantime, tuawahine wrote me a ficlet, so here's one for her:
Characters: Brett, Jenna, Derrick
Prompt: Jenna/Brett, before he was sold, Brett worries he went too far
Timeline: Five years prior to the start of the story, when Brett belonged to Derrick.
Length: 683 words
What had he been thinking?
It wasn’t Brett’s place to express concern over his future if his master were accepted for that eight month long archaeological dig. Worry silently yes, say anything, no. Either he’d be sold or he wouldn’t. And yet when he’d caught a private moment with his master’s cousin, he’d found himself carefully asking her, “Ms. Warren, what will happen to me if Master Derrick goes away?”
He shouldn’t have asked her, but he’d no one else to talk to. And ever since that first day, when she’d rescued him from his master’s friends, he’d felt this unbearable longing to be closer to her. It was terrible for him to wish she owned him instead; his master wasn’t a cruel man, and that was really all that mattered. Yet he couldn’t seem to control the feeling.
If she had helped him once, maybe she’d help him again? That desperate thought had propelled the words from his mouth. Startled by the question, she’d frowned. “I don’t know, Brett.”
The moment had passed without any reassurance given, and he’d become ashamed of his forwardness. But her frown had remained, worrying Brett further. Would she report his inappropriate behavior to his master?
She hadn’t the other day, but she was here again now, alone with his master. After bringing them drinks, he’d been dismissed. If she did bring it up, he was glad he wasn’t there to hear it. But his master would just punish him later; as always, there’d be no escape.
“Brett,” his master called then, making him wince.
He entered the room with his head bowed. But he’d worried for nothing. Although Ms. Warren gave him a lingering look that made him quiver with repressed desire, his master barely spared him a glance. All he wanted was another drink.
As he brought it to Derrick, his eyes strayed to Ms. Warren’s auburn hair. It looked so soft, it was almost worth a beating to touch it. But his manners were too ingrained; he would never dare be so improper. Especially to her, who he respected so much. He retreated to the edge of the room, ears perked for another dismissal. Thankfully, he got one and returned to his room, away from the temptation that was Jenna Vanlean-Warren.
A while later though there was a knock on his door - a knock? - before it opened. His master’s cousin smiled at him, and he felt mingled happiness and dismay.
“Brett,” Ms. Warren said, his name upon her lips causing a disturbing warmth. Shameless, that her smooth voice had such an effect on him.
Mentally shaking himself, he dropped from the bed to kneel on the floor. She’d never been in his room before - at least not outside of his fantasies. Best to pretend the bed didn’t exist.
“I spoke with Derrick,” she said, oblivious to his discomfort, “about your situation if he goes away.”
That drew his full attention.
“If he leaves, you’ll stay with me while he’s gone.”
He must’ve gaped like a fish. Tamping down the rush of joy, Brett composed himself before speaking. “Oh Ms. Warren, thank you.”
He prostrated himself to cover his smile and express his gratitude. This seemed too amazing to be real. He would’ve gladly kissed her feet, along with other things.
“No need for that, sit up,” she said. He obeyed, his mind still reeling. To live with her, to serve her…
Her fingers stroked his hair, and he struggled not to lean into the caress. Except for that first night when she’d briefly held him, his hair or his shoulder were all she ever touched. He closed his eyes, wondering if she would fondle other parts of him if he lived with her.
Too soon she left, and he climbed back onto his bed, his scalp still tingling. In the privacy of his tiny room, he allowed himself a beaming smile at the wonderful possibility of serving her. But that was all it was, he cautioned himself a minute later. A possibility, not a certainty.
Now he worried that his master wouldn’t leave him.