Title: A Silver Bracelet
Fandom: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (TV)
Length: 700
Pairing: Grant/Strange
Rating: R/NC-17
Content notes: choose not to warn
Author note: Part of You Can Be Had: Extras; thanks to theicescholar for suggesting the bracelet, and to kalypso for the Runesmith connection. This one is for Owl-by-Night, who requested it; thanks to her for prompting my first fic of 2017!
Summary: The bracelet’s a flat band of silver, engraved with Elvish characters.



The bracelet’s a flat band of silver, engraved with Elvish characters. There’s no need to spell out what it means – they discovered early on that they both read Tengwar – but Jonathan looks at him so hungrily that Grant relents.

“Do you know what that says?”

Jonathan nods, and croaks out “Yes.”

“Tell me, then,” Grant says, holding his gaze.

“It says –” Jonathan stumbles over the words and tries again. “It says Property of C Grant.”

“Very good,” says Grant. “It’s for you, if you want to wear it.”

They both know he does, after the collar conversation, but Jonathan needs to say it, and Grant needs to hear him.

“Yes,” Jonathan says. “Please, yes, I want to.”

The collar conversation was weeks ago now, coming out of nowhere and taking Grant completely by surprise.

“Would you really like one?” he’d asked, as neutrally as he could manage.

“I don’t know,” Jonathan admitted. “I think so, sometimes. I want something that says I belong to you.”

Putting a collar on your lover sounded more like the kind of thing Art would do. Which was how this had started, with Jonathan’s response to William’s new leather choker and what he thought it meant.

“Do you need a reminder?” Grant asked, tracing a line around Jonathan’s neck with his thumb. “I’d like to think you could remember this.” He leaned close to kiss the notch at the base of Jonathan’s throat, teasing at it with his tongue until Jonathan moaned and surrendered, begging Grant to stop doing that and fuck him right now.

The conversation ended there, but something about it had stayed with him. So when Dave the lampie at the Menier came back from his holidays doing tech at Mancunicon over Easter, sporting a bronze bracelet with Firebrand on it in Elvish, Grant asked who’d made it and did they do commissions, because he’d like to get something made for his partner. Dave, cheeky sod, said he didn’t think Runesmith did cockrings, and Grant said that wouldn’t be necessary.

Jonathan stares at the bracelet in Grant’s hand. He’s so lovely like this: trembling and flushed, his eyes dark with arousal, erection straining against his jeans. Grant briefly considers rubbing the bracelet along that tempting curve, but instead he asks “You’re sure about this?”

“Yes,” Jonathan says. “Please, I want –”

“Yes?”

“I want you to put it on me.”

Grant takes his hand and kisses it, first the back and then the palm. He kisses the inside of Jonathan’s wrist, nuzzling at the tender skin there until he whimpers. So deliciously sensitive: he’s been known to come just from Grant kissing and licking him there at the end of a long session of edging.

Not today, though. Grant puts the bracelet on, and kisses him on the mouth, a too-quick teasing kiss that makes Jonathan buck against him and cry out in frustration.

“Undo your jeans and get your cock out,” Grant says.

Jonathan catches his breath, but does as he’s told.

“Very good,” Grant says, caressing him with deliberate lightness.

Jonathan’s cock is so hot and tight already, heavy and flushed dark with blood. He gives a choked cry when Grant brushes his thumb over the wet tip of it.

“Now stroke yourself off,” Grant says. “No edging, fast or slow as you like.”

“Oh god,” Jonathan says. The silver bracelet catches the light as his hand moves, slow at first, then faster and greedier, till he’s panting and shuddering, right on the edge.

“Please,” he says. “Please, can I?”

“Yes,” Grant says. “Come now.”

Jonathan comes with a deep groan that Grant feels from the roots of his hair to the soles of his feet. His own cock is painfully hard now, but he’s not going to rush this. He takes hold of Jonathan’s chin and kisses him, a deep filthy kiss that makes Jonathan moan again.

“You like your present, then?” Grant teases him.

“So much,” Jonathan says. “Fuck.”

“Tell me more,” Grant says with a grin. “Or show me, if you’d rather.”

Jonathan is plainly lost for words, but he drops to his knees and shows Grant exactly how much he likes his gift, to their mutual satisfaction.