Duck! (Avian Shifters Book 1) (4 page)

Raynard stroked his fingers slowly up and down his shaft. His touch was barely more than a tease, but the image of Ori standing in the nest wearing nothing more than that skimpy pair of shorts, still had him quickly hard.

In his private little fantasy, he saw Ori hook his thumbs into the waistband and push the shorts slowly down his legs. He glanced up at Raynard as he stepped out of them, just a little bit shy now he was completely bare before him, hard cock exposed for his inspection.

He stepped forward, coming closer to Raynard, before losing his courage a few feet away from him. An approving nod was all the encouragement he needed to close the last of the gap between them. Ori lowered himself to his knees and glanced up at Raynard through his lashes.

“How may I serve you, sir?” The words were whispered very softly, full of submission and the simple hope that he’d be allowed to display how much he wanted to please his master. And in this version of the world, that is what Raynard would be, not his employer, but his master.

Raynard gasped as he finally wrapped his hand properly around his cock, cocooning the sensitive skin within his palm and fingers. Still keeping his movements slow, he kept most of his attention devoted to the fantasy playing out in his mind.

As Ori stared up at him, waiting patiently for his answer, Raynard watched an image of himself step forward and bury its hand in the fledgling’s hair, making the messy strands follow the route his grip created for them and wiping away any previous lover’s touch.

A little gasp escaped from Ori as Raynard guided his lips to the tip of his cock, but there was no hint of reluctance. Ori nuzzled gently at his shaft, rubbing his face against his crotch before lapping enthusiastically at the head.

Raynard’s free hand tugged at the bed sheet as the image in his mind tightened its grip on Ori’s hair, dragging him even closer.

More of his shaft slipped into Ori’s mouth. A pleased little sound surrounded the tip with vibrations, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through him as Ori lifted his hands to rest them on Raynard’s flanks.

Raynard tightened his hand around his cock as he imagined Ori sucking greedily around him.

The fantasy version of Ori kept its eyes closed, seeming to savour the taste on his tongue. Raynard stared down, watching his shaft disappear into the boy’s mouth, then reappear, slicked with saliva as Ori pulled back only to quickly dive down to suck him back past his lips again.

Raynard’s hand guided the fledgling’s movements, but as Ori blinked his eyes open and looked up, there could be no doubt that he was exactly where he wanted to be. He whimpered his own pleasure as Raynard slid farther into his mouth and strengthened his grip on Raynard’s sides, as if he was fighting against the temptation to reach down and take himself in hand.

Rocking his hips, Raynard pushed his cock against his palm as pre-cum leaked down his shaft, slicking his strokes. It wasn’t a hot willing mouth, but inside his head, he saw each perfect detail as Ori held his head still and let him thrust between the thin, pink line of his lips.

Mentally lifting his gaze an inch or two, Raynard let his eyes meet Ori’s. He came, hard and fast, arching off the mattress as his cum spilled against his stomach. He worked his shaft more frantically than ever as white-hot pleasure raced through him, coaxing every ounce of bliss out of each available moment until he finally collapsed back against the bed.

His hand was still wrapped around his cock, turning sticky as his semen dried, but Raynard kept his eyes closed as he watched the image of Ori pull away from him. A shy little smile touched Ori’s lips as he remained kneeling before his master, waiting to see if it would please Raynard to give him permission to come, too.

No expectations, no demands, just a simple trust that his master would take care of him and see that the right decisions were made for both of them.

Raynard blinked open his eyes and stared at the ceiling. He didn’t look at the empty bed beside him before he let his eyes fall closed again and allowed sleep to creep into the corners of his mind.

* * * * *

By the time Raynard stepped through the kitchen doorway the following morning, he’d put all fantasies firmly out of his mind. Ori was his servant; Raynard was his employer, nothing more.

Raynard stopped short on the outskirts of the room and checked his wristwatch. It was indeed early in the morning—at least by his standards. Apparently, ducklings favoured a different brand of timekeeping. Ori had obviously been up and working for several hours.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee floated across to Raynard, as if it had noticed him in the doorway and couldn’t wait to make very good friends with his taste buds. Ori was apparently far less aware of his presence.

The boy had found a scrubbing brush somewhere, and was on his hands and knees making good use of it on the far side of the kitchen.

“Good morning.”

Ori spun around to face him as he scrambled to his feet. Heat rushed to his cheeks as if Raynard had walked in on him doing something secret and shameful.

The sight of the boy blushing did nothing to help Raynard keep the thoughts that had remained with him through most of the night at bay. He really was a pretty little thing when his submission came to the fore.

Turning his attention pointedly away from Ori, Raynard looked around the room. It was barely recognisable as the shadowy space they’d walked through the previous night.

“What time did you get up?”

Ori glanced at the wall above the countertop. The clock hanging there proclaimed it to be ten past two. No doubt it had been declaring the same time for weeks.

“I’ll see if I can fix it, sir.”

Raynard turned his attention back to Ori. “It probably only needs to be wound. There should be a key somewhere.”

“Yes, sir,” Ori murmured.

Raynard ran his eyes over Ori’s body again. The clothes he’d worn when he left the nest were already more than a little worse for wear. “You’ve been working hard.”

Ori glanced up at him, his eyes full of confusion, almost as if he thought Raynard was joking.

It wasn’t the boy’s fault he’d been thrown in the middle of such a mess. Raynard reached out to ruffle Ori’s unruly mop of hair in gentle praise as he made his way past him.

Ori tensed, obviously expecting a blow. He blushed when he received the exact opposite. He soaked up Raynard’s approval the way only a true submissive could.

As Raynard approached the coffeemaker, Ori took half a step forward, then hesitated.

“You’re allowed to speak,” Raynard offered.

“I wasn’t sure how you take your coffee, sir. I found some sugar, but…”

But any milk left there would have gone bad weeks ago. “Black’s fine. No sugar.”

Turning away from the machine once he’d reassured himself that it was in far better order than most of his uncle’s possessions, and probably wouldn’t explode on Ori any time soon, Raynard sat down at the kitchen table.

“Fetch a cup for yourself too, if you want one.”

Having an order to follow seemed to help Ori settle his nerves. His hands were steady as he brought the coffee to the table—just one cup.

“Thank you.” Raynard nodded to a chair opposite him.

Ori perched cautiously on the very edge of the seat.

“Tell me what your duties were at the nest.”

“To follow whatever orders were issued to me, sir.”

Raynard studied Ori carefully. “Did Hamilton speak to you about what you would and wouldn’t be expected to do, what orders other men were permitted to give you?”

Ori shook his head. After a second’s silence he offered, “Mr. Hamilton said permanent arrangements and specific duties will be discussed when I become a fully-fledged shifter, sir. Until then…”

Raynard took a sip of his coffee. It burned his tongue, but he swallowed it down regardless, eager to wash away the bitter taste the eagle’s actions left in his mouth.

Hamilton was responsible for what happened to any
shifter
in the nest. He obviously hadn’t stooped to take care of a mere fledgling who didn’t have a species to call his own. Tempering his anger as best he could, Raynard pushed the matter aside to deal with at a later date and focused in on more immediate concerns.

“As you’ve probably noticed—my uncle’s house lay empty for some time before I arrived. Even when he was alive, he obviously didn’t see that it was properly maintained. It’ll take a great deal of work to set the building in order.”

Ori nodded very earnestly at the pronouncement. “Yes, sir.”

“You don’t appear to be afraid of hard work.” Raynard let his eyes travel around the kitchen again, allowing Ori to see that he was very pleased with his first impressions of him.

Ori dipped his head a little, obviously unused to even such mild approval.

“Find a pen and some paper. Make a list of the supplies you think you’ll need in order to make a start on those tasks that need to be completed most urgently.”

“Yes, sir.” He sounded confident enough about his ability to do that.

Picking up his coffee, Raynard rose from his chair. Ori stood too.

“When you’re done with the list, come up to the study. It’s just off the hall—follow the trails in the dust and you shouldn’t get too lost.”

“Yes, sir.”

Raynard walked away, back up to his study. The prospect of sorting through yet more of his uncle’s jumbled pieces of paper was hardly appealing, but he couldn’t help but be aware that it wasn’t just his destination that made him less than inclined to leave the kitchen. There was something curiously fascinating about the man who occupied the servants’ quarters which made Raynard eager to study him further.

When he heard a soft knock on his study door an hour later, Raynard was more than ready to put his paperwork aside and resume his observations of the boy. “Enter.”

Raynard forced himself to keep his attention on the last page of the document he was reading as Ori stepped into the room and walked across the grubby carpet to stand in front of his desk. When he finally looked up, Ori looked far less happy to see Raynard than Raynard felt to see him.

Raynard bit back the smile that had tried to creep onto his lips. “Ori?”

The boy remained silent for a second, then—“I broke one of the other coffee cups, sir.” He rushed the words out so quickly, it took Raynard a few seconds to untangle them and straighten them out into a sentence that made sense.

From the way the duckling’s Adam’s apple bobbed, Ori seemed to think the breakage was some sort of hanging offense. He stared at the empty coffee cup on Raynard’s desk as if worried it might leap up and try to take some sort of caffeine fuelled vengeance on behalf of its fallen brethren.

Raynard leaned back in his chair and studied Ori carefully. “I’m assuming it didn’t happen while you were juggling them or pitching them across the room?”

If nothing else, the question convinced Ori to lift his eyes and meet Raynard’s gaze.

“No, sir…?” he hazarded.

“Accidents happen—providing they don’t occur through carelessness, they won’t get you into too much trouble with me.”

Ori moved his weight from one foot to another, obviously doubting Raynard’s decision would stand the test of time.

“Ducks aren’t generally known for their hand-eye coordination,” Raynard pointed out, as patiently as he could manage. “Neither are fledglings for that matter. When you’re fully fledged, you may well find your limbs far easier to control.”

Ori smiled, just a fraction, but Raynard saw real relief rushing through him. There was no need to ask if he’d have been punished at the nest. His expression said it all.

“Did you make out the list?”

“Yes, sir.”

Raynard held out his hand for it.

Ori passed it across the desk without a word.

A brief scan down the slightly crumpled piece of paper and Raynard was satisfied that Ori knew what he was doing. Much to Raynard’s relief, it appeared his new charge wouldn’t need to have his every move mapped out for him.

Opening the top drawer of the desk—the only drawer in the entire house that he’d managed to empty of inherited jumble and refill with his own belongings, Raynard took out a credit card and offered it to the boy.

“The pin number is four-five-four-three.”

Ori stared at it as if he’d never seen a piece of plastic before, or perhaps as if it had never occurred to him that anyone would trust a servant with such an item.

“I’m visiting my uncle’s lawyers later this morning. I’ll drive you into town, and you can pick up enough to get started.”

“Yes, sir.”

Raynard waved his dismissal to Ori. Turning his attention to the spider’s web of jottings that were apparently his uncle’s only written record of a business deal that had run into the millions, he nodded to himself.

A servant who was capable of putting the house in order without constant observation would take one thing off his own list of concerns.

Yes, of course
, a sarcastic little voice piped up in the back of his mind.
That is the only thing you’re interested in using the boy for.
Raynard rubbed at the furrow between his eyebrows. He really would have to find a few hours in which to do more than paperwork…