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Joe hates sleeping alone. Growing up he'd slept on a bed in Dylan's room, and when he got older, he almost always slept in his master or mistress' bed unless he was being punished for some reason. Even knowing that Jason and David think they're being nice by giving him space and putting him in the guest room for his first night, it's hard to shake the idea that they don't want to fuck him because they think there's something wrong with him.

He rolls over onto his back and stares up at the ceiling, idly running the tips of his fingers over his chest. It'll itch like hell once it starts growing back, but right now, it feels pretty good. He lets his other hand drift down to his cock and strokes lightly, careful not to let himself get too aroused. If he comes, he'll mess up the 1200-thread-count white sheets and someone--most likely Paul--will have to clean up after him. He's been the target of resentment from other slaves before, and he knows that in a household this small, it could get really ugly.

One of his early trainers had lectured him about not jerking off without permission: "Your body doesn't belong to you; it's not your place to use it unless you've explicitly been told that you can." I doubt these two would even notice--and if they did, they'd be relieved that I was getting off without them having to be involved.

For all that Joe's older than most body slaves, he's in damned good shape, and he knows it. He's not exactly pretty, but he's handsome enough, with what Lady Fiorina always called a "certain rakish charm". Plus, he's a good fuck, he can take it rough, and he doesn't mind a little pain. So why'd they buy me if they don't want me?

Finally accepting that he's not going to be falling asleep any time soon, Joe climbs out of bed and pads into the kitchen. Jason had assured him that if he got hungry or thirsty, he should feel free to go into the fridge, and he could use a glass of water.

On his way back to bed, he hears the distinctive sound of someone getting fucked. He can't help it; he creeps closer to the open door of what has to be David and Jason's bedroom. Paul's room is upstairs; they probably didn't even think about closing the damn door.

"God, you're so fucking gorgeous, like that, all spread out and helpless," he hears David say, and his eyebrows go up. David isn't exactly nelly, but Joe had definitely assumed he was the bottom in the relationship. Evidently not--or not exclusively, at least.

"If you don't shut up fuck me already, I'm gonna tie you down and tickle you next time," Jason growls. The sound--and the image of David in bondage--goes straight to Joe's dick. He presses against the wall and slides closer to the doorway so he can hear better.

David's laughing. "Can I safeword in advance--ow! Oh, no--you're not getting away with that!"

After that, there's nothing to listen to but harsh panting and skin against skin, and Joe's really wishing he could jerk off. Finally he hears Jason exhale David's name on a long, low note, and then a choked-off gasp. Then silence, and Joe's about to tiptoe back to the guest room when he hears David say, "Was it just me, or did you get the feeling that Joe was surprised that we didn't want to fuck him?"

There's a long pause before Jason says, "Not just you. He's probably wondering why we didn't."

"Oh God...this is going to be a huge mess, I just know it."

"I thought he was kind of hot." Joe's not sure if he's imagining it, but Jason sounds a little defensive.

"Well, duh--of course he's hot! You have excellent taste. That just makes it worse, because I want to, and it's just..."

Jason's voice is gentle. "You don't want to be like your Dad."

"Yeah." Another long silence. "I'm not Kate, but there have to be standards, and one of mine is that--"

"That you don't want to fuck someone who can't really consent. I know, David. How many times have we had this conversation?"

"Yeah, but now it's a lot more relevant. I like Paul, but I'm so not interested in having sex with him--oh good lord, it's not that funny." Jason evidently disagrees, because he's laughing so hard that it sounds like he can barely breathe.

"What? Paul's not a bad-looking guy--"

"I know, I know," Jason says, still gasping for air. "I just can't think of him that way. But seriously, what are we going to do? About Joe, I mean."

"Can't we just keep not fucking him?" David says plaintively. Joe has to bite the side of his hand to keep from snickering aloud.

"I guess." Jason sounds distinctly skeptical. "Only I think we're kind of freaking him out because we're not at all what he expected."

There's an understatement, Joe thinks.

David's voice is so quiet Joe has to strain to hear him. "Can you imagine...he's freaked because we're trying not to be assholes. Sometimes I wonder if Kate doesn't have a point."

Jason's shrug is almost audible. "Maybe. I've stopped trying to figure out how you're supposed to do things here."

"What, like people don't fuck their slaves in Hawai'i? I know that's not true, because you've told me--"

"Yeah, but it's different. We don't sell somebody off because they're old, not when they've been with the family forever. It's just...you don't do it." Joe makes a mental note to see if he can get online so he can go on the backstairs boards and find out if Jason's telling the truth.

"I guess we can just see how NME turns out and go from there, right?" David says. "We don't have to decide anything right now."

"Yeah."

There's another long silence, and then Joe hears someone--he'd bet David--snoring. As quietly as he can, he slips back down the hall to his room.

It's not as though he hasn't dealt with liberal guilt before, but usually it just means he has to listen to annoying litanies of self-justification before he can get laid. This is the first time he's been owned by someone whose principles have won out over the convenience of having a live-in fucktoy. It's almost endearing, in a way, that they're old-fashioned enough to still believe in the whole "safe, sane and consensual" thing.

I've got to be owned by somebody, and these two are probably manageable. Joe decides. And if I can just convince them to fuck me, they'll feel like they have to keep me.

* * * *

It's 10:00 according to the bedside clock when Joe wakes up. He has a brief moment of panic before he remembers that Jason had told him to sleep as long as he liked. Granted, what masters say doesn't necessarily correlate to what they'll do, but from everything he's seen--and overheard--Jason and David probably won't punish him for not being able to read their minds.

He's getting out of bed when Jason knocks on the door as if he didn't have every right to just walk in. Joe goes to his knees, well aware that it's going to make his master uncomfortable. It does give him an excellent view, and the running shorts Jason's wearing don't hide--well, anything.

"Sir."

Jason clears his throat. "Morning...um, it's cool if you want to just use my name--when we're all here, at least."

Joe doesn't roll his eyes. "Thank you, sir, but if you don't mind me saying so, it's probably best for me to get into the habit now, to avoid any slip-ups in public."

"Oh. Yeah, that's a good point....listen, I just wanted to let you know that Paul's got breakfast ready, if you're hungry."

"Thank you, sir. Would it be all right if I showered first?"

Jason blinks. "Uh--oh, yeah, sure. Bathroom down the hall's got a shower, and feel free to use any of the towels and stuff. I'll...be in the kitchen." Based on the front of his shorts, Joe has to wonder if Jason is going to stop off at the bedroom to deal with his noticeable erection before breakfast.

There's plenty of hot water, but Joe doesn't linger; this is California, after all. He dries off in front of the mirror and studies his reflection. Not bad, if I say so myself. Wonder how Jason would feel about me going running with him? He rubs a hand over his chest, which is already starting to get a bit stubbly.

"Oh good, you're out of the shower--we're going to have to get you some clothes I guess, but for now, you can borrow these, although since they're Jason's they're going to be kind of huge, but--"

David breaks off abruptly as Joe turns around. Joe'd seen him approaching in the mirror, and his timing was perfect. David's staring at him, following the path Joe's hand is tracing from throat to navel.

"Thank you, sir. Oh, and I wanted to ask," he adds, as if the thought just occurred to him, "While I was at Commerce, they were strict about removing my body hair. Is that something you and Master Jason would like me to continue?"

"Umm...." With visible effort, David looks up and tries to pretend his attention wasn't on Joe's crotch. He's not very successful. "No, I don't think...all of your--of course, duh, sorry that's obvious--"

"Waxing at least every other day is ideal, but I've found that I can get away with once a week if I shave in between," Joe explains. Helpful slave is helpful. "I don't mind, really--several of my previous owners have preferred me smooth, which I can understand. I'm kind of a hairy guy," he says, ducking his head a little and giving David a self-deprecating smile.

David swallows hard. "Yeah...I don't think that's necessary. We're not going to, ah..."

"Of course, sir," Joe says with perfect composure. "I was simply thinking of it from an aesthetic standpoint."

"Oh. Well, thanks, but I think it'll be okay. When you get dressed, we're in the kitchen." David flees. Joe waits until he's well out of sight before he grins.

-tbc-

Notes: I totally and completely blame poisontaster and her CWRPS series A Kept Boy, which made me want to write about the SGA actors in her universe. This is all her fault. Thanks also to telesilla for giving it a once-over.

The title is from the Duran Duran song, "Skin Trade".

continue to Chapter Three