Possessions
by Mythdefied
November 2004
The sun was warm on his face, shining in through the wide open windows.
Such a clear, bright day. Somewhere outside, not too far away children
were laughing as they played, so happy and carefree, that sound.
Snippets of conversation became audible before disappearing again as
people walked up the street, just yards from the window. Wheels and
hooves clattered on the stones out there, carts and soldiers going
about their business. A normal day. It should've been. But the blood
was too red.
It was still spreading out, an ever-widening pool under the limp,
glassy-eyed body that had once been Medyr, a slave, and Joxer's friend.
Medyr's hair wasn't so blond anymore, not with the dark stain growing
beneath his head, the fine hair soaking up the color, and his skin
didn't look so pale now either. The deep gash across his slim neck was
so wide, gaping, such a deep, deep red, like the splashes of crimson
across his arms, his face, a shocked expression permanently fixed there.
Joxer shivered, despite the heat of the sun. His hands were rubbing
slowly at his arms and he couldn't stop them, couldn't stop staring.
The wall was hard against his back but he still pressed against it,
wishing it could disappear and he could run, far away. But there was no
escape, not from this. He knew better.
skrik The sound of a blade
across a whetstone.
"I can't believe you made me do that, Jox." skrik "I don't even remember the
last time I got my blade caught in a spine. Do you have any idea what that does to the
edge?" skrik One more careful
pull over the stone and Jett held up his dagger, the edge catching the
sunlight, gleaming bright and sharp.
"That's better." Jett twirled the dagger once, then slid it into the
sheath buckled around his thigh, the whetstone disappearing into a
pocket inside his vest.
"You didn't have to do anything, Jett," Joxer said, and it was like
someone else was saying the words. He could hear that it was his voice,
feel his lips moving, but he didn't feel like it was him saying it.
Maybe he wasn't even here at all. Maybe it was someone else, seeing
Jett standing over their best friend's body.
Jett looked up sharply, gaze fixing on Joxer. "Didn't I?" He smiled,
and it was a chilling thing to see. "I saw what was happening, Joxer.
Are you gonna lie and tell me I didn't?"
"You didn't," Joxer said, and suddenly everything seemed more...real.
The crawling feeling over his skin, the chill moving through him, the
cold bite of fear deep inside, and determination, because he hadn't done anything wrong. Had he?
"We weren't doing anything," he said, licking dry lips. "M--Medyr..."
He forced his eyes from the body, forced himself to look at Jett, to
meet that remorseless gaze. "He--he was just teaching me a few words
from his language."
"Is that right?" Jett cocked his head to the side, his tone becoming
calm, reasonable.
Joxer shivered harder and took a completely involuntary step back, or
tried to. He was flat against the wall though and the door and window
were both too close to Jett; he'd never make it if he tried to run.
What was the point anyway? Jett would always find him.
"So he was teaching you, huh?
That's what he was doing, looking at you like that, smiling at you?"
"I kept messing up the pronunciation! We just...it was funny, Jett, we
were laughing at that." Joxer thought he should be crying now, mourning
his friend. He could feel the tears just beneath the surface, wanting
so badly to get out, the sobs waiting to come, but they stayed there,
just out of reach, and they always would. That was weakness, and Joxer
knew he was weak enough already without showing that. Jett would be
disappointed--more disappointed if he let that out.
Jett sighed, a long-suffering sound. "Now what've I told you about
lying to me, Jox?"
Joxer shook his head in rapid denial as Jett stepped over the body,
avoiding the still growing pool of blood as he walked towards Joxer,
steps swift and silent. Joxer tried in vain to press himself further
into the wall.
"I--I'm not lying, Jett! I'm not!"
Jett's hand slammed into the wall next to Joxer's head; Joxer cringed,
jumping at the loud slap of flesh against stone.
"Don't tell me I didn't see something," Jett said, voice low, tense as
he leaned in, nose brushing Joxer's. "It wasn't just that slave, you
were encouraging him, Joxer. Giving him that little smile of yours,
looking at him from under those pretty eyelashes. Did you get him to
touch you?"
"No! It wasn't like that,
Jett, I mean it!" Joxer swallowed hard. He wanted desperately to look
away from those cold brown eyes, but where to? Jett's eyes filled his
vision. "I wouldn't do that, Jett," he said, trying for reasonable,
already knowing it was futile. "You know I wouldn't. Because I--I'm--"
"Mine?" Jett pulled back slightly, enough to give Joxer a hint of
breathing room. "Because you're mine, Joxer?" Like it was really a
question.
"Yes, Jett." Joxer nodded. "I wouldn't do it because I'm yours."
"Maybe." Jett's head tilted to the side again, eyes narrowing. "Or
maybe you thought you'd just make sure, see if I'd catch you. Maybe I
haven't paid enough attention to you lately." A hard, cold smile.
"No, Jett!" Joxer couldn't get his voice above a whisper. "I--I--I
didn't think any of that! I
just--we--we were friends!"
"Were you, really? You're such a tease, Jox, you know you are." Jett's
other hand came up, fingers stroking down Joxer's cheek. "You can't
help it. Maybe he just got the wrong message, huh?" Stroking up and
down and Joxer wanted to turn away from that touch, but he knew better
than to try, it would only make Jett angrier.
"M--Maybe," he admitted, because it was possible, wasn't it? Joxer
hadn't meant to send out any
signals like that, but maybe he had without knowing it. What if Medyr
had wanted to be more than friends, because of something Joxer had done
without meaning to?
"Is that what happened, Jox?" Jett's thumb pressed lightly under
Joxer's chin, fingers still stroking. "Did you lead him on the way you
used to do with me? Did you think maybe he might decide to take what
you were offering, like I did?"
Jett's fingers were warm against the chill Joxer felt moving through
him. "I didn't--I didn't mean to, Jett, really."
"But you still did it." Jett shook his head, sighing again. "You should
know better by now, Joxer. I'm the only one who gets to touch you. When
you do stuff like this, well, who's fault is it when people end up
dead?"
"Mine," Joxer said quietly. Because it was, it had to be. If he hadn't
smiled at Medyr, made him think those things, then he'd still be alive.
"Good." Jett's fingers stilled and he let his hand fall, fingers
sliding down Joxer's neck before dropping away entirely. "It's so much
better when you don't lie to me, Jox, when you admit what you did
wrong. Now you can make it up to me."
Joxer couldn't breathe for a moment, a hard shiver working its way down
his spine. But he forced himself to move, to nod before Jett really got
angry, thinking Joxer was refusing. "Okay." His voice cracked as he
reached for the buckle of Jett's belt.
Jett's hand caught his, wrapping deceptively gently around his wrist.
"Uh-uh." Jett shook his head, a tiny smile playing around his lips.
The shiver was back and Joxer had to bite back a whimper. "Jett, not
that, please?"
"You say that like you don't enjoy it." The smile became a grin. "Come
on, Jox."
Joxer let himself be pulled away from the wall, a few steps over to the
small table where just minutes before he'd sat with Medyr, practicing
that strange language that Joxer didn't think he could ever bear to
hear again. He stopped in front of the table, but Jett didn't.
"No, over here." Jett pulled at his wrist and Joxer went without
protest, because that would only make it worse.
"Right here." Jett pulled him around the table, around one of the
upended chairs, taking hold of Joxer's shoulder and squeezing it a
moment later, Joxer's cue to stop. "Yeah, here."
Joxer stood behind the table now, giving him a good view of the rest of
the room, small as it was, of the body sprawled and bloody at the other
end of the room.
Jett released his wrist, his hand moving to the middle of Joxer's back.
A light push, all the hint Joxer needed. He knew this routine. He bent
over the table, bracing himself up on his forearms.
"I don't know why you always wanna give me problems about this," Jett
said, tone conversational even as Joxer could hear the unbuckling of a
belt, the slide of leather against skin. "You like it. You know that."
Jett was right, he had to be. Maybe it did hurt, maybe a lot, but he
always came from what Jett did with him, so he had to like it, didn't
he? He still flinched when the bottom of his chiton was shoved up, bit
at his lower lip when his loincloth was pulled off.
"You're so pretty like this, Jox," Jett said with a sigh.
Joxer couldn't suppress another shiver when Jett's fingers trailed down
his ass, thumb sliding between his cheeks.
"Can't blame anyone else for wanting to see this. But you're mine and
no one else gets this, understand?"
"Yes," he said with a nod, hissing involuntarily when fingers pushed
into him.
"That's what I want to hear." Jett's voice dropped to a whisper and
Joxer felt lips touch the back of his neck, leather brushing the backs
of his thighs. His hands were trembling, he realized, and clenched them
into tight fists.
"Now be a good boy and keep your eyes open."
Fingers pulling out, hand on his ass, opening him more, and Jett didn't
have anything to worry about. There was no way Joxer could close his
eyes, couldn't even look away. The blood was just too red.
Fin
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