Zuchter's voice answered Maverick's knock. "Come in." I heard a door slamming inside the room.
My heart thundered as Maverick pushed open the door to the room. Come on, Wynn, I told myself. You can do this.
The aroma of popcorn hit my nostrils at once. Zuchter was halfway to the door, a big grin on his face. "Marc's in the bathroom. I think he's checking his headfur one more time or something." Probably in semi-panic mode. Like me. That explained the door slamming.
Zuchter was bubbly with excitement. "Did you decide what movie you want to see? Maverick was saying probably a comedy. Something light, anyway."
Maverick elbowed me. "Any ideas?"
I shook my head helplessly. My voice would be shaking if I tried speaking.
Zuchter suddenly exclaimed, "Oh! I'm sorry, I'm making you stand in the doorway. Come in! I'm sorry, there's not many places to sit. It's not as big as you guys' room. We can all just sit on the bed, if that's okay."
Just the one bed, I noticed. That relieved me, to a small extent. At least Marcus wasn't so single-mindedly focused on me that he wouldn't even sleep with Zuchter.
Maverick suggested, "Maybe that one where the boy falls in love with his executioner..." He stopped as the bathroom door opened, and Marcus stepped out, looking both excited and a little terrified.
I froze. I tried to breathe, but my diaphragm was paralyzed. I shot a look at Maverick, who looked as astonished as I felt. Maverick gave a quick headshake, clearly saying No, I had no idea he was going to go this far.
Marcus had been to the hair salon, where they had straightened and dyed his headfur. The style, the color, were Marshall's. Marcus had even had them dye his eyebrows. A complete job.
Maverick doesn't even know the half of it, I realized, as my eyes dropped down to look at the rest of Marcus. Maverick was only familiar with Marshall's face.
The tight brown jeans, the sheer golden shirt with black highlights. The gold-colored sandals. They looked identical to...
Marcus easily read my thought. "They told me it's the same outfit my brother wore to his hanging. Bailey brought it back with him afterwards." He looked down and adjusted the shirt, and looked back up at me with a tentative grin. "It fits."
It does indeed, I thought.
Even that subtle difference in the shape of his chin seemed to add to the impression, rather than subtract. It simply made him look like a more-determined-than-usual Marshall. Not at all inappropriate, considering the situation.
The heavy metal First Year slave collar was the sole exception to an otherwise perfect Marshall impression. He might have covered that with a golden choker, I realized. Maybe he wanted to hang onto that one piece of his own identity.
Maverick cleared his throat. "Zuchter, what do you think of watching the movie down in my room?" He picked up one of the huge bowls of popcorn. "And stay over so we can get to know each other."
I couldn't see Zuchter's face, but I could hear everything I needed to know in Zuchter's voice. Like every other Academy boy, especially the First Years, Zuchter held Maverick in worshipful awe, both for his legendary abilities and his astounding body. Spending a night alone with Maverick went beyond anything he'd imagined could ever really happen. All of this was in his whispery, "Sure, I'd like that."
I heard the door closing. I was barely able to remember whose departure it signified. I only knew it meant I was alone with Marcus.
I continued staring helplessly as Marcus walked toward me, took my hand and guided me to the bed. I couldn't think of a response other than a nod when Marcus said, "I think we should talk."
After a few moments of silence, Marcus began speaking, looking at the floor. "I think I could always tell how much Marshall meant to you. I'm so proud my brother could have that much effect on anybody. But I didn't really know how it might be affecting the way you acted toward me." He looked up at me. "It's true, what Maverick told me, right? About... what you've got going on, in your head?" He tapped his own head.
I nodded, and finally managed to speak. "Maverick knows me better than anybody."
Marcus nodded. "You're really lucky to have him as your roommate. In a lot of ways."
I managed a small smile. "More than I can count."
"Wynn," Marcus started, then stopped, seeming to search for the right words. He went on after a moment, "There are things you'd want to say to Marshall, if you could. Right?"
"I... I do talk to him. A lot. I always have."
"But he doesn't answer back."
"Well..." I looked down. "I get... thoughts, in my head, and I feel like he put them there. He's helped me so many times."
Marcus stared at me until I finally looked up. "Wynn, you know our family got some of Marshall's fur. I'm wearing him now, tucked away inside my shorts. Talk to him. He's here now."
Looking at Marcus. Looking at Marcus. A feeling washed over me that went far beyond anything I'd experienced with Marshall's head. An overwhelming sense of presence. "M-Marshall... I want to thank you."
The stallion, the beautiful live golden stallion in front of me smiled. "For what?"
"For... everything. Being here." I gestured at my surroundings — the Academy. "Being part of all this. Everything that's happened since I met you."
A tiny head-shake. "You're here because of who you are. All of the abilities you needed are inside you. I didn't give you those. I only saw them."
"But... you helped me see them!"
A bigger smile. "I'm so glad I could do that."
Automatically, I reached out to stroke Marshall's headfur, like soft, spun gold, like so many times before. But now Marshall's head gave warmth to my hand. I could see Marshall's eyes blink. See Marshall's lips twitch upward into another smile. He was here. He was alive.
His face. Marshall's face. I couldn't look away. I could see nothing else. Couldn't see the walls of the tent I knew Marshall and I were in. The tent on the grounds of Dad's house. Couldn't hear the murmurs of conversations among the guests at Andrew's party, though I knew they were just outside, a few feet away. Couldn't hear Andrew's footsteps as he approached the tent, for his time with his slave before the hanging.
But now, I knew, Andrew wasn't coming. The story was rewritten. I could have all the time I wanted with Marshall. No one would interrupt.
Soft lips were suddenly against mine, warm, wet, moving.
I was more familiar than anyone but another Hanging Boy with the body's most basic requirement. I had trained myself to set aside my need for air, taking in what I could get in the tiniest sips, letting myself be satisfied with far less than the minimum, burying the feelings of panic that any untrained person would give in to, until at last the platform supported me again and let me breathe, and my body's need could burst forth in great heaves of my chest.
That was as close as I could come to describing the sudden fire of passion I felt now — the bursting forth of a long pent-up need, as crucial as air, a need to be with Marshall, to stroke his body and feel him respond, to kiss him and feel the kiss returned. I was barely aware I was moaning helplessly, every square inch of my skin alive and pulsating, tingling, as Marshall and I felt each other with our fingertips, first lightly but then more urgently, tasted each other with our lips and tongues, each sensing the other pressed against his body. All of the joys I had experienced since meeting Marshall — learning I'd been accepted into the Academy, passing the Fifteen, earning Maverick's love and giving it in return... I could share all of that happiness with Marshall now, without words, letting the movements of my body do all of my talking for me. There were so many of those joys, and I could take my time expressing every one of them with my body...
My mouth around him sucking, hearing him squeal in pleasure, swallowing... his mouth around me, that incredible hot wetness sliding up and down, more pleasure than I would think possible... feeling Marshall enter me, my knees touching my chest, his cock stroking my spot, so full, so good, so very...
Until the culminating explosion for which "orgasm," or even "both pleasures," was such a completely inadequate word.
I wasn't sure how long I had been lying quietly there on my side, facing Marcus, fondly stroking Marcus's hip with my hand, my lips pressed against Marcus's. Not very long, I decided. We're both still soaked with sweat. It occurred to me we were both naked. I had no memory of how or when we had got that way. I was sure it had been early on, though. I knew every square millimeter of the boy I was holding. With all of my senses.
Marcus's eyes opened, just an inch from mine, and I could feel Marcus's lips curl up into a smile against mine. Marcus said softly, "Thank you," his voice muffled by my mouth.
I kissed him, and backed away just enough to speak clearly. "I want to say thank you too, but I could never say it enough. There aren't enough words. Or enough time in a lifetime." My eyes stung with tears.
Marcus closed his eyes, his smile spreading, and tightened his arms around me. "Don't worry about it."
I stroked Marcus's headfur. "Could you promise me one thing?"
"Anything."
I let some of Marcus's hair wrap around my finger. "Could you have them put your headfur back like it was? The way it is naturally?"
Marcus frowned suddenly. "Didn't you like it?"
I squeezed him with both arms. "I love it more than you can ever imagine. But the next time we make love, I want to be with Marcus."
Marcus's eyes flew open wide. "The next time?" The look on his face said everything. Please, please don't be kidding.
I smiled. "First of many, I hope." I reached over to pull a pillow toward me and slide it under both our heads. Clouds of exhaustion were already fogging my senses. I kissed Marcus again. "Night, Marcus. Thank you. Thank you." One kiss later, I was asleep with Marcus in my arms.
The Next Morning
I waited with Marcus outside the door to my room, listening at the crack. He whispered, "I don't hear anything. They might still be asleep." Making as little sound as possible, I turned the knob and eased the door open.
I started to walk in, then stopped, startled, and choked back a laugh. Behind me, Marcus gasped and jammed his hands in his mouth to keep from laughing.
The two boys on the bed were, indeed, both still sound asleep. Both naked, of course. Maverick was lying on his stomach on top of Zuchter, his head on Zuchter's chest. Zuchter was on his back, his arms stretched straight beyond his head, his wrists joined by handcuffs, with a rope around the central link in the cuffs securing them to the headboard. His legs were spread as wide apart as the bed would allow, his ankles secured with ropes to the corners of the bed.
The slight sounds of our coming in had awakened Maverick, who stirred slightly and stretched his muscles sleepily. He turned his head to look at the door, rubbed his eyes, and smiled. "Morning, hon."
Zuchter moved his head, yawned, mumbled unintelligibly, and then suddenly became aware that he and Maverick were not alone. His eyes flew open, and the sudden spasm of his whole body nearly threw Maverick onto the floor. His face was suddenly bright red. The handcuffs clinked as he tried to pull his hands free, then gave up.
Maverick kissed the boy's neck and stroked his arm to calm him. "It's okay, Zuchter, really. Do you want me to let you go?"
In a tiny voice, Zuchter said, "Yes, please." After a pause, he went on, "I need to go to the bathroom."
As soon as Maverick released him, he bolted into the bathroom and threw the door closed.
I gave Maverick a quizzical look. "Why's it such a big deal?" I grinned. "You guys looked really adorable, by the way."
Maverick smiled back and shrugged. "This was something new to him."
"Your idea?"
Maverick shook his head. "That's not what I meant. He just hadn't tried it before."
I looked at Marcus, who still wore an amazed look. "What, you didn't know?"
Marcus shook his head slowly. "I had no idea. We never talked about anything like that." A smile slowly spread on his face. "We'll definitely try out some stuff, though."
Maverick laughed softly. "I knew he hadn't told Marcus. He didn't even know himself. It was a really deep, subconscious thing. I could tell there was something he wanted, but it took me at least half an hour to figure out what it was." Maverick seemed a little piqued that the secret had eluded him for so long. Videos of Maverick's party sessions with guests, in which he divined their sexual needs almost instantly, were often used for classroom instruction, the whole class watching while Maverick pointed out the guest's "tells".
Maybe that was part of the reason for Zuchter's reaction just now, I thought. At eighteen, coming to terms with your sexual identity can be a confusing process. "So I gather he really liked it."
Maverick gave me a big grin. "After the fifth time he came, I decided he probably liked it, yeah." He turned to Marcus. "We didn't get around to trying a blindfold, and I didn't have a ball gag handy, but get those for when you do it. I promise he'll like it. And they have soft leather cuffs at the student store, if you're going to do this a lot."
Marcus nodded. He was getting very aroused.
The bathroom door opened and Zuchter, still blushing, came out, as if he'd finally decided he couldn't stay in there forever. I was still not satisfied I knew all of why Zuchter had been so embarrassed. It seemed significant that Zuchter was avoiding looking at Marcus. I rubbed Marcus's back and whispered to him, "Go tell him it's okay."
As Zuchter bent to pick up his shorts and started pulling them on, Marcus walked over and gave him a hug. "I'm really glad you had fun."
Zuchter finally looked at him, suddenly hopeful. "You're not mad?"
Ah, the last puzzle piece. He's totally in love with Marcus. He couldn't bear Marcus catching him in sex play that went far beyond anything he and Marcus had tried, with a boy he barely knew.
Marcus blinked. "Mad at what?"
Zuchter sighed heavily, and retrieved his uniform shirt. "We both promised we wouldn't have secrets from each other."
Marcus made a gesture of exasperation and kissed him. "It doesn't count as a secret if you didn't even know it yourself!"
Maverick suddenly said, "Oh!" as if he'd just thought of something. "Zuchter, I want to start working with you at practicing hanging with your feet tied together. We all do a little of that occasionally, just in case. But I think you should get to be your class's expert in that, so you can teach the finer points to the other boys."
I frowned. "He can't do a lot of your sexual moves with his legs together."
Maverick nodded. "I know, but I want to work out a new choreography for exactly that. Every year there's at least one buyer who wants to tie the boy's ankles. There's no reason we can't figure out how to give them a better show than they get now." He turned back to Zuchter. "You willing?"
Zuchter nodded, wide-eyed. "Oh, yes! I'd love that!" He hadn't really needed to say anything. I'd seen how his face lit up at the first mention of the idea.
I suggested, "Why don't you two go back to your room and do all your morning stuff, and we'll meet you in the caf for breakfast at about..." I looked at the clock. "Nine, say."
Marcus and Zuchter both glowed. "Sure!" Zuchter looked around to see if he'd forgotten anything, and retrieved the now-empty popcorn bowl.
I walked over to Marcus, put my arms around him and gave him a warm kiss. "Thank you so much, again."
Marcus hugged me tightly. "You're really welcome."
Once the younger boys were gone, Maverick grinned at me. "I guess your night went well."
I took both of Maverick's hands in mine, looked in his eyes, and said slowly, "I really owe you."
Maverick smiled and shook his head briefly. "All paid a long time ago." He kissed me, then turned toward the bathroom. "I'll get a shower started while you get your clothes off."
The door opened suddenly, and Larry breezed in, his shirt and headfur looking a little disheveled. He grinned at both of us. "Hey! 'D I miss anything?"
Four Weeks Later
Larry followed me out of the bathroom, naked, looking a little paler than usual, but satisfied. "Okay, check 'enema' off the list."
Maverick picked up the checklist. "You're totally cleared out?"
Larry giggled. "I'd better be. Feel like I've lost about five pounds." Ted Bloom had been hesitant about whether "Zeke" would have an opportunity for a bowel movement during his two-day captivity. Larry had decided that a last-minute enema before embarking from the Academy would eliminate the need during his two days in the dungeon.
He went to the bed, where his outfit was laid out, picked up the expensive silk briefs and slipped them on. "Oh, hey, where are the shoes?"
"Oh, sorry. I put them away in a drawer. Hold on." I retrieved them as Larry zipped up the bright red shirt.
Maverick helped Larry fasten the shorts. I helped him fit into the jacket that went over it all. He slipped on the sandals, red matching the shirt, knelt to criss-cross the bands over his instep and buckled them above his ankle. He looked up at Maverick. "Shades?"
Maverick handed him the dark glasses with oversized lenses.
Larry put them on and stood upright, turning slowly for us. "How do I look?"
The three of us had spent a long time discussing clothing options. Maverick had suggested the sort of tight-fitting leather pants and jacket that Zeke often wore in his film roles, but it wouldn't fit with the kidnapping story we'd worked out. I'd thought something dowdy might be appropriate, signifying Zeke-incognito, but Larry had been adamant that Zeke hated going unrecognized. Also, it would be harder for Larry to project Zekeness in non-flashy clothing. We finally settled on a casual but expensive ensemble that Zeke might wear for a recreational drive in his car.
The shades were not for disguise. They were, in Larry's words, for cool.
I sighed in appreciation. "You look absolutely perfect, Zeke."
Larry grinned. "That's what I like. A yes-boy."
Maverick looked down at the paper, and grinned triumphantly. "We're down to the last thing on the list!" He went to get the collar from the drawer.
Larry had not worn a collar of any sort for a month. He had resisted the idea of wearing one while travelling to Bloom's dungeon, complaining again that it would interfere with his Zeke self-image, but couldn't escape the need to be clearly marked as a slave when he went out in public. It was a red leather choker-type collar, which would be replaced by something entirely different once we arrived on-site. As a compromise worked out with the Dean, it lacked the usual "property of" legend, and simply sported the Academy logo.
Larry looked at Maverick. "For real? We didn't miss anything? I'm counting on you guys."
Maverick looked at the list one more time. "Everything is checked off." He looked at the clock. "And we should be getting out of here."
Larry turned slowly for one last look around the room, his home for over a month and a reminder of all the love he had shared with Maverick and me. He nodded to himself and then grinned. "Okay, let the show begin."
We left by way of the Party Pavilion, so that all of the students, including the First Years who couldn't leave the secured area, could be there to say farewell. Most of the time, the boys got their goodbyes taken care of early and allowed a Hanging Boy and his entourage for the hanging a private departure, but this was different.
Only a few of the boys came forward, the rest hanging back and waving, shouting "Goodbye, Zeke!" Three boys were holding a banner that read, "WE LOVE YOU, ZEKE!"
Carl had moved in with a new roommate, Patrick, after Blaise's hanging. The two of them caught up with Larry near the door, and Carl sighed, "It's been so great having you here, Zeke." Stacey shoved the inevitable paper and pen at Larry, and he signed the first of several Zeke autographs cheerfully, asking names of some of the boys for the fifth or sixth time. Jack grinned at me, shrugged and called out, "Don't forget to ask them if they need any technical advisors for the movie."
Marcus and Zuchter were holding hands, hanging back a little, not wanting to insert themselves into the drama that was clearly Larry's show. Marcus, his headfur back to its natural color, mouthed "I love you" at me. I smiled and mouthed back the same.
It was easy to read what Zuchter was thinking about. Last week, he had spent an entire night tied up, fondled, sucked, and fucked by Zeke Hillcrest. It was clearly something he'd remember the rest of his life.
Larry finally put his hands up and said, "I've loved meeting all of you. I've got to go because I'm meeting some people for lunch, but I promise I'll never forget you!" Leaving behind a chorus of goodbyes, he finally made it out the door, Maverick and I behind him, both carrying satchels of necessities.
I smiled at Big Bill, our driver/bodyguard for the adventure. I always liked seeing Bill, the only other remaining person at the Academy who'd been at Marshall's hanging. Once we had stowed our luggage and piled together into the second row of seats, he started the limo and drove it slowly out to the street. I looked back to watch the Academy shrink behind us into the distance.
Larry was watching the scenery, lit by the late morning sun, through eyes wide and bright behind the shades. Yes, I thought, he has that same glow. Exactly like Leo. Exactly like Bailey. Exactly like Marshall.