ucius had done some re-arranging when his Legilimency had found out exactly what the other boys had said to—and about—their new peer. He’d been deeply shocked, and disappointed, to find such thoughts, particularly who had them—it had not been so surprising with Comet and Eclipse, they had sharp tongues; and Comet in particular had a rough humour that could run slipshod over delicate boys—but it was never this malicious, and even so, Moon should have kept them reined in. Moon simply not stepping in had been shocking. Moon was the eldest, and Lucius had previously thought he would take to the new boy, as he usually did take to new boys; but seeing how he had felt when meeting this new boy, the contempt and disgust, how he had silently allowed such talk to go on with no interference….
It had been tiring for Lucius to fix, not because it was difficult—muggle minds were full of guilt, and it was easy to make them think they’d done something worth apologising for, worth grovelling for—but it was distasteful precisely because it was so easy, and all too tempting to simply pull all ugliness out; but that would mean Mantis would receive no apology, no balm to his fears, and his trust would erode even further.
The only boy that had escaped correction was Dream, who had tried to sit next to the new boy, offering his quiet presence as a shield between the new boy and the others. Dream had told him of the passage, and tried to change the subject of conversation several times; but if Dream had a fault, it was shyness, and the most he could do was give the new boy an escape route.
Dream had been a good boy, and the contents of the many empty plates outside the door were now swelling his soft belly. In the morning, Lucius had promised to fill him using the largest of the enema nozzles, with as much warm, heavy fullness as Dream’s body could stand. Dream liked to push his limits, and Lucius did not let him do it often, for Dream would do himself a great deal of mischief, if allowed. But it was a good reward to dangle for times like this, when Dream could overcome his shyness. Now, Dream was in the alcove bed Lucius kept in one corner of the room, very soundly and contentedly asleep behind the doors, carved to blend in with the mahogany that panelled the walls.
Lucius had been rereading one of his favourite short stories when the patterned knock came at the door; he smiled to himself, and waved a hand, the door unlatching. ‘Come in,’ he lilted, setting the book aside, watching as the boy slipped inside with the smallness of a cat, quietly closing the door behind him, holding the knob carefully so it didn’t even click as he shut it.
‘Come,’ Lucius said, patting the bed, and saw the tension, the skittish edging closer, wanting to obey but fearing coming within arm’s reach. ‘Come, pet, it’s alright,’ Lucius coaxed, feeling more and more like he was speaking to a cat. ‘Come, Master wants to pet you, poor darling. No wonder you ran away from the other boys.’
That reassured the boy enough to perch on the bed, stripping down impatiently and crawling on only after he’d gotten naked again, pushing his head under Lucius’ hand like a cat. Lucius chuckled, skritching behind his ear and along his jaw the same as he might with a real cat.
‘Miaow,’ the boy said, in a low, feline voice, and Lucius smiled.
‘Not quite the petting I had in mind,’ he purred, stroking the backs of his fingers down that throat, smoothing to the side of that soft neck and over one shoulder. ‘But you are my friendly little cat, aren’t you, darling?’
‘Nnnnn,’ came the feline noise, surprisingly low in that narrow little chest, and he draped over Lucius’ lap, turning over onto his back. Lucius took the invitation and stroked that soft belly—gently, when he felt the tension, the startle.
‘Shh, it’s alright…’ Lucius crooned. ‘You’re safe, darling…’ He stilled his hand until he felt that body relax beneath, before stroking with the satiny grain of the dark hair on that belly. Such a small, soft belly, but he’d be able to remedy that, soon….
‘I’m not in trouble?’ came the small voice.
There it was, finally. ‘No, precious,’ Lucius said, still softly stroking. ‘The boys were jealous, and terribly wicked to you. I’m so disappointed in them, what must you think of me.’
‘You… care what I think about you?’ he asked, looking up at Lucius with furrowed brow, and then raised a brow, ‘Or is this a bit you’re doing?’
Lucius was surprised into a laugh, at the unexpected familiarity of terms. ‘I do mean it, as it happens,’ he said. ‘I pride myself on how well-behaved my boys are; that they would treat you so is shocking, though I suppose you weren’t at all surprised.’
‘Not really,’ came the cynical answer, then, ‘the implication my top surgery was your wife shearing off my tits as a punishment was a new low.’ The humour there was so sharp it cut both ways. Lucius shifted.
‘Come up here, sit between my legs and let me hold you,’ he ordered, and the boy obeyed, but didn’t quite relax until Lucius put arms around him, pressed his face into Lucius’ shoulder and pet his hair. Lucius knew he could hear Lucius’ measured breaths, and for some reason that was convincing him to relax a little more.
‘Narcissa,’ Lucius said, slowly, carefully measuring his anger, ‘would never, ever do such a thing, even if you were one of her calves—which you are not. I’ve half a mind to get rid of all of them but Dream,’ he muttered, but it was mostly anger, not intention.
‘Was that the one that was kind?’ the boy asked, softly. ‘I was about to say, not all of them were saying awful things. Just the really butch bear and the really femme, um, seal?’
‘Comet and Eclipse. I’ve not heard “bear” and “seal” before…’
‘Well, “Bear” is for like, a fat, hairy gay man. I just sort of made “Seal” up just now…’
Lucius smiled. ‘If I didn’t keep Eclipse hairless, I wouldn’t be able to see all his pretty tattoos and freckles.’
‘Mmm, and I bet he’s so much more sensitive that way…’ the boy said, and Lucius felt him press his thighs together, noted it for later. ‘There was also the other one, with the moon tattoo? He didn’t say anything. He didn’t stop them, but he also didn’t contribute.’
‘That’s not enough,’ Lucius said firmly. ‘Don’t worry your pretty head about it, pet, you needn’t defend any of them.’
‘I’ll defend Dream,’ the boy said firmly. ‘He sat between me and them, he tried, he held my hand. He told me where the secret door was. He’s a good egg.’
‘He is,’ Lucius agreed.
‘Did you… you didn’t mean it, about getting rid of them for being mean to me.’
Lucius would have lied, but something gave him pause; one had to think through a lie’s effects, and the cost of maintaining it. ‘I am not,’ he said. ‘I am giving them a chance to apologise to you first.’
‘I don’t care about an apology, that’s just words,’ the pet said, vehemently. ‘But,’ he said, sighing. ‘I’m the newest and I have zero seniority. I never get along with my coworkers…’ he muttered, mostly to himself.
‘Give them a chance, pet, I’m sure they’ll come around.’ That was a lie he could maintain, because it would happen. ‘Now,’ he said, feeling that the boy had been given enough time to speak on the subject, ‘it is time you knew your new name.’
‘Lay it on me, Slim.’
Lucius tried in vain to choke back a laugh, at that. ‘Boy,’ he said, but couldn’t stop smiling.
‘Sorry, sorry, no disrespect meant, it’s an automatic response,’ the boy rushed, genuinely contrite. He cleared his throat, sitting up and saying, ‘Lay it on me, Master.’
‘Better,’ Lucius said, playfully drawing a fingertip down the boy’s nose gently. ‘I have decided to call you Mantis.’
‘Oooh, spooky. I like it. Why?’
‘Because you are an oracle, and that is what mantis means.’
‘Huh, learn somethin’ new every day…’ Mantis muttered. ‘Mantis. Mantis,’ he said, trying it out. ‘Hi, I’m called Mantis.’ He hummed, thoughtfully.
‘Did you have fun exploring the secret passages, Mantis?’
‘I did. I found the wellspring and sang a song to Hades and everybody.’
‘You were gone quite a while.’
‘I like to sing,’ Mantis said, ‘but as it happens, there was someone down there to talk to.’
‘Who was it?’
‘I never ask the name of a stranger, it’s rude,’ Mantis said primly.
‘What did he look like, then?’
‘It was dark and I haven’t any eyes, at the moment,’ Mantis’ voice turned frosty.
‘Very well,’ Lucius said, for that was true enough, and he well knew the frustration of others forgetting what you could not do. He also sensed how afraid Mantis still was, it was in every line of his naked body, the forced playfulness of his chatter. ‘What did you speak about?’
‘Kink, mostly. They were very curious, and didn’t know a lot about it. I wish I could have spoken with them about that in a more instructional way,’ he added, musingly. ‘I love teaching people about that stuff, and it was so beautiful to be able to help someone just starting to understand it….’
He sat up again, shifted to lay back against Lucius. ‘Sorry, my hip was starting to hurt; can I sit like this?’
‘Yes, pet. Don’t cause yourself pain—that’s an order.’
‘Yes, Master. Thank you.’ Mantis settled down again, gesturing as he spoke. ‘…I don’t know if you know what that’s like, I don’t know if you have kids or enjoyed having them around—but that little spark, when you can see it, when you can witness someone figuring a piece of life out for the first time…’ He put a hand to his chest, sighed. ‘Ah, that’s my favourite.’
Lucius listened, and knew quite well who the stranger in the dark must have been; but he was stuck on one particular thing… ‘What, pray tell, is a kink? You seem to be using it to mean something specific.’
‘Ah—a sexual taste that is… novel,’ Mantis said, slowly, haltingly. ‘Anything that isn’t basic reproductive touch-genitalia-until-you-climax stuff. So, a kink in the otherwise straight and narrow.’
Aha, so Draco was asking about the right things. Lucius made note to leave books in his room. He was about to speak, when Mantis said something unexpected and profound.
‘I sort of felt like I was talking to Hermaphroditos while he was In His Solitude.’
Lucius stayed quiet; he was unfamiliar with the god In His Solitude, and wondered what it meant.
‘See, uh, muggles never preserved more than Ovid’s mention of ‘Ditos, so… well, he’s the god of rape survivors, and…’ Mantis trailed off. It felt awful, actually talking to someone with a through-line to the ancient practises when he had been all alone with no way to access that tradition, making it up as he went. He was probably being offensive, or something… ‘Nevermind,’ he said.
‘I want to know, boy. Continue.’
‘I… figured, with all of what happened to him… and with how lustful all the other gods of Olympus are… I… I figured he went down to Dis for a while, to hide, so he knew nobody was looking at him, and it also serves as this metaphor for like… recovering from rape is like that. You don’t want to be perceived anymore, and you do feel like the rapist is forever a part of you—certainly they changed you irrevocably, there’s no going back to before. So… so I call it Hermaphroditos In His Solitude, that time he was in the Underworld. And I never really knew what happened down there, but having a conversation about kink in the dark with a youth like that… it… reminded me? Even though I didn’t know what it was, before, there was that sense of being reminded rather than discovering.’
Lucius smoothed back his hair, kissing his temple. ‘Good boy,’ he murmured. ‘I want to know any of those thoughts. As you said, you are safe here, you needn’t hold your tongue about your faith.’
‘Yes, Master.’
‘Good boy.’
‘When are you going to fuck me?’ was not asked as though he were looking forward to it, but more trying to know when to brace himself.
‘When you’re ready,’ Lucius said simply.
‘You’re kind of a weird Master, you know that?’
‘Unfortunately, I do,’ Lucius said, chuckling, ‘now, as you have had a trying evening, I shall let you sleep in here tonight. Come, under the coverlet.’
‘Why am I put in mind of someone letting a puppy sleep in their bed “Just this once”…’ Mantis teased, as he crawled under the covers Lucius lifted in invitation.
‘Are you a puppy?’ Lucius asked, as the boy settled down gingerly, not relaxing, turned away to lay on his left side, curled up; Lucius laid down beside him, knowing from experience how fraught laying down could be, and how one may be stuck laying in one particular position, one particular side, without variation.
‘Nnnnnenni,’ came the feline miaow. ‘I am the Cat Who Walks By Himself, and all places are alike to me.’
‘Good,’ Lucius said, kissing his shoulder. ‘I much prefer cats.’
He turned out the light.