Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2301797.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Original_Work
  Relationship:
      Original_Male_Character/Original_Male_Character/Original_Male_Character
  Character:
      Original_Male_Characters
  Additional Tags:
      Original_Slash, Slavery, Threesome, Twins, Twincest, Incest, Brother/
      Brother_Incest, Dubious_Consent_via_Slavery, Male_Lactation, Anal_Sex,
      Sex_Toys, Historical_Fantasy, Pseudo-Roman_Setting, Lactation_Kink
  Collections:
      Anonymous
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-09-14 Words: 1437
****** Caristarin and the Slave Boy ******
by Anonymous
Summary
     Caris is aware this moment might have been more of an event had he
     not been a person split in two. By virtue of having another self, he
     knows what it feels like to have another boy's hands on him. But the
     slaves are trained well, and the one they are due to receive is the
     best of his year.
Notes
     A little senseless fun to get me writing. More Pseudo than Roman,
     please don't expect authenticity. I may add to this in the future.
     Read the warnings and the tags please, and thank you for reading :)
Anticipation makes Caris' heart beat fast and his skin twitch. Tarin fidgets
beside him, sandals scuffing at the tiled floor.
"Quiet." Caris nudges his brother with his shoulder. "They'll come. Just be
quiet."
The boys sigh in unison. They're twins, born from the same woman on the same
day. By law they are one person, they share one name—Caristarin. They have
shared one bed their whole life, and someday will share one house, one wife,
they will share their children, and eventually, will share their death.
From today, they will share the bedslave every boy of noble birth is given in
the summer of their fifteenth year.
Caris is aware this moment might have been more of an event had he not been a
person split in two. By virtue of having another self, he knows what it feels
like to have another boy's hands on him. But the slaves are trained well, and
the one they are due to receive is the best of his year.
He's skilled, they've been told. Caris can't help the excitement that makes his
bones ache and his cock hard before he even sees the boy.
There's a knock at the door, and it swings open. Their father enters, but Caris
barely sees him, eyes searching instead for the slave that follows behind.
Eyes bright and shining, pupils blown wide with drugs or wine, the boy enters
with head held high. His hair is the colour of wheat, flows in waves around a
pretty face. He's no older than Caris or his brother, and a little smaller.
Their father leaves, a knowing smirk on his lips. They'll be left alone now,
for three days and three nights, slaves coming only with food, drink, and hot
water for the bath.
Caris links hands with his brother, and they simply stare at their new chattel.
The slave stares back, curious, yet passive.
Tarin is the first to move. He wraps his hand around the rope dangling from
bound wrists, lifts the boy's hands up and away from his body. He loosens the
ties at the shoulders that are all that holds up the slave tunic, and he
watches as it falls away.
Caris gasps as the boy's body is revealed. Pale skin covers soft, pliable
flesh. Plump pink nipples adorn his chest. The cock that rises full and hard
against the boy's rounded stomach is thick and long.
Caris' mouth waters as he imagines holding it between his lips.
"Turn." Tarin nudges the boys shoulder to make him move, then slides his palms
over the boy's back and soft, round ass. "Beautiful."
"He is." Caris finally moves, wanting to feel that skin under his own hands. He
slides his fingers into the cleft of the boy's ass, feels something hard and
unfamiliar. He's filled with something like marble, but it's warm, and there's
a little slickness around it. "Gods. How must that feel?"
Tarin's fingers soon join his own. Tarin turns the object, presses against it
and the slave shudders and gasps. "Good, I'll wager."
"Put him on the bed," Caris says, needing to see the boy laid out for them. He
takes the rope from Tarin's hand, leads the boy away.
He ties the rope, silk twisted with gold threads, loosely onto the iron loop
above the head of the bed. It wouldn't hold any slave should he try to escape,
but it doesn't need to. It's symbolic, and when bound, any slave will simply
wait for direction, a perfect example of docility.
This slave is no exception. He lifts his knees and parts his thighs at a few
light touches of Caris' hands, exposing the hole stretched wide around the
object inside him.
Caris' fingers trace the edge, find purchase. He pulls gently, and the slave
moans. The base of the object is flared, seems to narrow as it disappears
inside the boy, but Caris thinks it must flare out again, because with a light
tug it doesn't come free.
He pushes against it, and the boy's body seems to suck it in, swallow it up.
Delighted by the way the boy moans and writhes, Caris does it over and over,
until the boy's cock leaks a puddle on his belly.
On his hands and knees between the boy's thighs, his own tunic slips up to
expose his ass. Cool air washes over bare skin, and then Tarin's hands are on
him, pushing the fine fabric up to expose him completely.
Tarin drags a fingertip down the cleft of Caris' ass, circles his hole. They've
rubbed each other here before, with fingers and cock, or licked with wet
tongues. They've never tried to penetrate, believing it would result in pain,
thinking the hole simply too small to let anything in.
It can't be true. This slave has an object inside him, the narrowest part of
which is easily the girth of three fingers. He squirms back into Tarin's touch.
"There's oil on it." He twists the object again, watches the slave shudder and
cry out. "That is how it's done."
Tarin leaps up, comes back with the jug of oil that always sits beside the
tiled bath set into the floor of the other room. "Pull it free," he says,
smearing oil from his fingers over Caris' hole. "I want to see it."
Caris shivers with excitement and thrusts his leaking cock against the slave's
smooth inner thigh. He tugs more firmly on the object, savouring every twitch
and groan the slave makes as it stretches him wider and wider. He twists it,
and the slave's balls draw up, tightening. Finally it comes free, the slave
cries out, and his cock spills onto his belly in rhythmic jerks.
Caris stares in shock. He never touched the boy's cock, not once. He lifts the
object he pulled out of the boy, inspects it.
It narrows from the base, then flares out again to the thickness of his wrist
and ends in the stylized shape of a foreskin half-retracted over the head of a
cock in soft marble folds. It's shorter than a cock, however, but the symbolism
seems to suggest that cocks can be inserted into assholes, and Caris suddenly
wants.
How tight, and warm it must be. He touches a finger to the boy's ass, marvels
at the way it easily slips into the loose, wet hole. He moves up on his knees
and presses the head of his cock to the opening, and then sinks right in.
He's only ever known Tarin's hand, his mouth. This is so different. Tighter,
warmer, softer. And the slave pants and whines beneath him, so it must feel
good to have a cock inside. "Put your cock in," he pants, willing himself to
open for Tarin just as the slave did for him. "Feels so good."
"You're crazy." Tarin rubs the head of his cock against Caris' slick hole,
pushes against tight resistance. "The boy's been trained. It might have taken
years to stretch him enough."
"Then a finger, god, please." He thrusts into the slave boy, long and slow.
He's close to orgasm, thinks about how it might feel to spill inside this heat
and creeps even closer. "I have to feel it."
When Tarin's slender fingertip breaches him, he falls forward onto the slave,
onto the mess on the slave's soft belly, but he doesn't care. There's a
tingling burn, and it feels strange, unfamiliar, but good to have something
inside him. "More," he begs, spreading his thighs wide.
Tarin's finger sinks deeper, twists and turns inside him. The tip grazes over
some secret place inside that makes Caris see stars. "Again, again." He jerks
his hips, driving his cock deeper into the boy beneath him, and Tarin finds
that place again. Caris seems to explode from the inside when he empties his
balls into the slave.
When he pulls back, panting and exhausted, his eyes linger on the mixture of
oil and his own seed leaking out of the slave boy. The boy looks drowsy and
debauched, and it's beautiful. "Do what I did," he says, pulling Tarin up. "Put
your cock in him, fill him up."
Caris sinks down beside the slave as Tarin slips between the boy's thighs. He
finds a nipple, sucks the sweet milk of his bedslave for the first time, and he
watches as Tarin grunts and moans and finally finds his own release.
Above the bed, there are two ropes. Caris reaches up, pulls on the one that
will ring a bell in the kitchens, instructing slaves to bring hot water for the
bath.
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