InsaneJournal

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Entry tags:	gambler, keptverse

The Gambler – Part Three
This is the third part of the third story (first part, second part) that began with The Games (six parts) and continued with The Network (one part), and The Players (seven parts)

The story may be regarded as fanfic set in poisontaster's Keptverse. It is being written as part of wrimowrimo. I also updated the cast list here.

Part Three

Richard was still asleep. Gerard considered going downstairs to start breakfast. He did a mental coin-flip, and it came down tails. He put his hand on Richard’s shoulder, on the blanket covering it, and pressed down, moving his thumb firmly from pectoral to collarbone.

Richard’s eyes opened like a window. He stared up at Gerard, and a familiar expression seemed to fall over his face, changing its cast like a shadow on the sun.

“You awake, Richard?”

Richard swallowed, licked his lips, and his mouth twitched. “Yes, Sam.”

“Wanted to let you know. I’m not sending you back to the arena. We’re gonna have sex, shower, then have breakfast, before it’s time for lunch.”

Richard nodded. He didn’t move.

“Okay. Get up here.”

After a moment, Richard sat up. He left his blanket behind on the floor, and climbed on to the bed naked. He wasn’t turned on. Gerard figured, actually, he hadn’t seen anyone quite that unaroused since the last time he’d had to share a cold shower. Richard kept his eyes fixed firmly on Gerard’s face, as if he were trying to ignore Gerard’s nakedness.

It was easy enough to arrange Richard: as last time they’d done this, though his breathing was effortful and he seemed heavy-limbed, he didn’t resist at all. Gerard settled himself against the headboard, with Richard against him, one arm round Richard’s shoulders, the other hand free to explore.

Richard didn’t say a word. He had evidently been trying to keep looking at Gerard’s face: when Gerard had him settled, his head tilted back against Gerard’s shoulder, he was shivering, his face passive, but his mouth twitched again in half a smile.

“Okay,” Gerard said. “Let’s get some shit cleared up. I don’t plan on hurting you. I am not a guy who gets off on that. Relax. Let’s talk. How’s the head?”

Richard looked momentarily, very startled.

“Come on. Talk to me. How’s your head feel?”

“It’s … it’s fine.”

“You woke me up,” Gerard said. “Last night was going to be the first time I got to sleep for eight hours straight in a week. I would not have been happy with you for waking me up, but what got me mad enough to push you through a wall was…”
What the hell are you wasting time for? His free hand had fastened on Richard’s upper arm. What if he’d leaked about last night’s delivery? He wanted to hurt Richard: he should not, must not. Quite deliberately, he loosened his grip, spread his hand, slid his fingers through Richard’s chest hair to touch his nipples, circling each one with as gentle and precise a touch as his control could achieve. He glanced at Richard’s face, smiled deliberately. “Nice.”

Richard’s face was passive again. But he wasn’t shivering.

“Well, I thought you were planning to run, Richard. And I was pretty goddamn tired, and that made me mad.”

Gerard paused. He was thinking. His hand was still on Richard’s chest. He wanted to say something like I’m sorry I gave your head a whack like that, but what could he say? He had the right to knock Richard about. To hit him harder than he’d hit Richard last night. To beat seven kinds of crap out of him if he felt like it, just because he felt like it. And they both knew it. He would hit Richard again, if he had to, if he thought he had to. Apologies just didn’t sound right, under those circumstances.

“All you wanted was to sleep beside the bed instead of on it, and you could have had that without getting me mad if you’d asked me before I went to sleep. So next time, ask.” He was looking Richard directly in the face, and when Richard tried to look away, he put a hand out to stop him. “You’re my property. I’m a guy who takes care of what’s his. I want cooperation from you. Are you paying attention to me?”

Richard’s mouth twitched again. “Yes, Sam.”

There was a lot more that could be said. Gerard decided not to get it said then. There was a pure kind of absurdity in having sex with Richard right now: Richard was completely unaroused, and Gerard wasn’t turned on at all: all the attention he could spare for his libido involved spending all his time really not getting turned on by the idea of hurting Richard. A pure kind of absurdity and a real bright line: Gerard hadn’t thought about it at all last Saturday, too full of planning about what to do with the canary, but this was the first time he was sure of, in his life, that he was about to have sex with someone whom he knew hadn’t and wouldn’t consent to it.

“Okay,” Gerard said. He dropped his hand to Richard’s chest again, feeling a ridiculous impulse to say Let’s go or, worse yet, Get comfortable – we’ll be here for a while.

Richard had a nice growth of chest hair. Gerard spent several minutes running his hand through it, all the way across and around, down as far as his belly, enjoying the way it felt against his palm and fingers: Richard’s nipples tightened smoothly under Gerard’s seeking tingertips.

“Good,” Gerard said out loud.

“What do you want me to do?” Richard asked.

Gerard looked at Richard’s face again.He’d liked this: it was dull but it was …nice. There was no particular rush and no immediate goal: he was free to spend minutes exploring the texture of Richard’s chest hair versus armpit hair, to test the sensitivity of right nipple over left, palming Richard’s belly and circling his navel. It had felt almost like being a normal person, with a normal safe life, in bed with his boyfriend on a Saturday morning…

Well, aside from the convict collar round Richard’s throat. And the lack of expression on Richard’s face. And the way Richard was lying passively, his hands almost unmoving, only twitching sometimes when Gerard found a sensitive spot. What do you want? What do you want to do? Do what the hell you want! He’d have said that to almost anyone he was in bed with: he couldn’t say it to his property.

He could order Richard to touch him, of course. Yeah, that would work.

“Do what I’m doing,” Gerard said, for want of anything better to say.

What Gerard was doing, without any particular rush, was turning Richard on. And that was itself turning Gerard on: even this kind of dull safe sex was good enough for that. No rush, no pain, so surge of pleasure to break down barriers, just easy handling.

Richard’s hands on him were almost more of an annoyance than a turn-on: Richard wasn’t into this, but that was mattering less and less to Gerard, except that the awkwardness of Richard’s touch was not what he wanted: getting Richard helplessly turned on was the goal, and he was getting there. He had coaxed Richard to a shivering erection at last, and turned him easily then to nest his own hard cock between Richard’s thighs, keeping one hand firmly on Richard’s cock, his other arm holding Richard across his chest below his throat, nicely positioned to throttle if Richard fought back: he hadn’t, though when Gerard turned him he had heard a small, choked off sound of protest.

He’d have liked to fuck Richard’s ass. But this was good: easy, slow. Felt good. He could make Richard twitch and shiver with a touch. He liked that. Richard’s muscles were clenching up, his breath was coming harder and faster, and his hips were beginning to jerk and twitch involuntarily: Gerard grinned, feeling his mouth stretch wide in humourless pride and pleasure, his hand on Richard’s cock dancing him in a steady rhythm as Richard’s squirming pleasured him: he made Richard come, feeling the other man’s deep grunt of involuntary pleasure as much as hearing it, and then, not overwhelming but with a deep sense of release, Gerard came.

He could almost have gone to sleep again, holding Richard, breathing in the warm sweaty human smells of both their bodies joined. He did not, but the silence of the room, the sound of their breathing, was strangely peaceful; he didn’t have any impulse to move.

How often can you cross a bright line?

There really wasn’t anyone to ask.


Richard’s clean clothes were all over the floor of the holding cell: Gerard found him another couple of cartons from the last delivery of groceries, and stayed propped in the doorway to watch him clear them up. There had been too damn much letting Richard shut himself in here.

He was going to have to shut Richard up somewhere while George was here. Gerard thought about it.

“Richard.”

Richard’s hands stopped moving: he looked at Gerard.

“I’ve still got to shut you in here sometimes,” Gerard said. “From now on, you’re not going to be allowed in here unless someone lets you, OK?”

Richard nodded. He went back to rolling up his socks into pairs.

“I’ll order another mattress for in here.” Gerard leant his elbow against the doorway. “And something for you to sleep on through in my room, I guess.”

Richard looked up again. This time, he looked startled. He said nothing.

“Well, I’m fine with you sleeping with me,” Gerard said. “Just fine. But if you’re not going to wake me up at four in the morning when you crawl out of bed, you need something else to sleep on. Don’t you?” He paused. Richard said nothing. “I asked the arena management once, after I got to look through the dorms there on business, how come your guys are so quiet?”

Richard’s eyes seemed to get larger: an effect of pupil dilation. He hadn’t moved and the slightly startled expression on his face hadn’t changed. But if the eyes didn’t lie, he was as much in shock as he had been last night, right after Gerard had banged his head off the floor.

“Yeah, and they told me how they keep you quiet in there: they don’t beat you for making noise – talking or crying or screaming – they gag you. Between one shift and the next. You don’t get to talk, you don’t get to eat, you don’t get to drink. That ever happen to you, Richard?”

“Yes,” Richard said, after a moment. His voice was shaky.

“For talking?”

“Someone spoke to me.”

“They’ll gag you for that?”

“I didn’t report her,” Richard said. “I was new.”

“Ever happen to you again?”

“No.”

“Is that a bright line for you?” Gerard asked, without thinking about it: he was contemplating the implications of “I was new.”

Richard swallowed, hard. He was kneeling hunched up, hs hands together in front of him, his head tilted back up uncomfortably. His voice was wavery. “Yes, it is.”

“Right,” Gerard said. He stared down at Richard. On the one hand, he wanted to ask “How many times can you cross a bright line?”

On the other, what he’d planned to do was say something comforting. And his speaking without thinking about it had just sent Richard from a state of mild shock into a state of… tremor.

“Richard.”

Richard was already looking at him. More or less. He didn’t look away or change the direction of his gaze. He didn’t say anything.

“Jesus Christ,” Gerard said. He went over to drop neatly to a squat beside Richard, and began to finish what Richard had started. Rolling socks. After a moment, Richard began to work again, but his hands were trembling.

“Richard…”

You do what you have to do. You do things you never would have supposed you’d ever do. You cross a bright line you knew you’d never step over, but once you did it and you’re still alive, that’s something you know about yourself.

“After this, we’re gonna have something to eat,” Gerard said. “Okay?”

Richard kept his gaze on him. His face was set in a frown. His eyes still looked too dark. He nodded, without speaking.

“You get to talk,” Gerard said. “No one’s going to gag you for talking out of turn. Well, you get to talk to me, I still don’t want you bugging my kids. But I’m getting tired of the silenced voice routine, okay?”

Richard nodded. He seemed to catch himself, and said “Yes, Sam.” His voice shook.

The clothes were folded and back in cartons. Gerard said, finally, not knowing what else to say, “It’s not a crime to be able to live with yourself afterwards, Richard.”

He wasn’t even sure it was true. Not in his own field of action, at least. He thought that Richard looked at him oddly, but all Richard said was, again, “Yes, Sam.”

to part 4