Duck! (Avian Shifters Book 1) (5 page)

* * * * *

By the time Ori had been under his protection for a few days, it seemed to Raynard that everything had fallen into a simple but effective routine. It generally centred around Raynard making sure he remembered the difference between what he was permitted to do to the image of Ori while he lay alone in his own bed, and what he was allowed to require of the actual man the rest of the time.

Still, Raynard was starting to believe he had quite a good read on the boy. When Ori came to stand before his desk and appeared to be even more wary than he usually did when arriving there on his own accord, Raynard had no doubt what brought him there.

“Did you keep the pieces?”

“Sir?”

“From your expression, you don’t think whatever’s been broken will be easy to replace.”

Ori blushed, but he shook his head.

“There’s something else you want to speak to me about?” Raynard prompted when Ori failed to speak up of his own volition.

Ori stared silently at Raynard’s desk for a few more seconds. His eyes rested on some paperwork, but he seemed to be more interested in getting his thoughts in order than reading a boring business contract upside down. “You said my duties here would be the same as they were at the nest, sir,” he finally said.

“Broadly,” Raynard allowed, relaxing back in his chair to study Ori more comfortably. He was wearing the clothes that Raynard had selected and purchased for him—black trousers and a white shirt of discreetly good quality. The simplicity suited him well, even if the way he was standing, with his hands in his pockets, didn’t show the tailoring to its best advantage.

“At the nest…” Ori faltered. “I mean, some of the other shifters who visited the nest…some of the…” He took a deep breath. “There are other ways I could be serving you, if you wanted me to, sir.” He risked a brief glance up.

Raynard caught Ori’s gaze and held it. There was no doubt what he was suggesting. The only question Raynard had was whether Ori had picked up on his attraction to him and felt some sort of submissive need to accommodate it, or if he simply assumed that any man who took him into his household would wish to use him as a whore.

“You’re not at the nest now,” Raynard said, choosing each word with care. “That sort of service isn’t required here.”

Ori looked down. Fresh colour rushed to his cheeks. “I didn’t mean any disrespect, sir. I just thought…”

Raynard nodded. Ori stopped trying to explain himself. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, pushing his shoulders up, making him look even younger and less sure of himself than ever.

“You’re not in trouble,” Raynard reassured, as gently as he could muster—which admittedly wasn’t very, right then. “You may go back to your duties.”

For the first time since he made his offer, Ori seemed to breathe. “Yes, sir.”

He backed away from the desk. He had to take one of his hands out of his pockets to open the door. The front of his trousers didn’t settle into place the way Raynard expected. His hands hadn’t been the only thing altering the line.

Talking about servicing his master hadn’t just made Ori nervous. It had made him hard.

Suddenly, there was one more potential explanation for the offer and it quickly expanded to push all alternatives out of Raynard’s mind. It was just possible that Ori’s offer hadn’t been made for his employer’s benefit. Staring at the door Ori had closed neatly behind him on the way out, Raynard soon found his own fly in much the same, tented state.

By the time a few more days had passed quietly between them, Raynard had become used to staring at doors Ori had left through, trying to work out exactly what to think of the boy. He’d also become accustomed to looking forward to seeing Ori when he arrived home after another day doing ever more frustrating battle with his uncle’s lawyers and business associates.

He never knew exactly what the little fledgling would have achieved while he was gone, but seeing Ori blush when he was offered even the tiniest scrap of praise inevitably eased Raynard’s mood.

As he walked into the house that particular day, a little over two weeks after Ori had come to serve him, Raynard heard a noise emanating from the library. A nudge had the door swinging silently open. Ori had obviously been to work on it, eliminating the squeaks and creaks from the hinges.

Raynard paused in the doorway, staring intently across the room. It wasn’t quite what he had come to expect from his rather shy little duckling, but it was one hell of a ‘welcome home, sir’.

Chapter Three

Ori made his way slowly down the library ladder. Balancing the heavy box of books awkwardly on one forearm, he kept a firm grip on the mahogany rail with his free hand as he descended. Some of the books he’d collected looked old and valuable. It wouldn’t do to fall and drop them.

Stepping off the narrow wooden rungs, Ori flexed his bare feet against the rug that covered the floorboards in that corner of the library. Even as he relished standing on the more comfortable surface, he frowned.

He’d been so sure he’d got the fire established properly this time.

Placing the box of books carefully on the library table, he turned to the fireplace.

A blaze was still flourishing in the huge hearth. It hadn’t gone out again. Yet a cold draft still swirled around his ankles. Ori’s frown deepened. Raynard would never be able to use the room comfortably while—

“Hello, Ori.”

Ori spun around. Raynard stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable as he took in every detail of the scene before him.

“You’re back early!”

It sounded like an accusation, as if Ori didn’t think the man had the right to walk into his own house whenever he damn well pleased. Ori mentally cursed himself for letting the words slip out, but it was too late to drag them back.

As Raynard continued to stare across the room at him, his reaction became easier to interpret. He looked amused rather than angry. That was good. Raynard’s gaze left Ori’s face and travelled down. That wasn’t good.

There was nothing submissive about the way Raynard lowered his eyes. Ori’s brain finally snapped into action. He brought his hands in front of himself to cover his crotch. It didn’t feel like enough, especially not when being in the same room as Raynard tended to have a quick and noticeable effect on his cock.

Even as embarrassment rushed to Ori cheeks, blood hurried to his shaft, encouraging it to stiffen and rise for Raynard.

Raynard finished his leisurely inspection of Ori’s body. Their eyes met again. Ori quickly looked away. With every moment that passed, he expected to be dismissed so he could fetch his clothes, but no order came.

Finally, Ori cleared his throat. “With your permission, sir?” Incapable of moving his hands in order to make any other sort of gesture toward his escape route, he nodded toward the door. “I’ll fetch my clothes.”

Raynard leaned against the doorframe, apparently in no mood to let Ori leave. “Where exactly are your clothes?”

“In the butler’s quarters, sir.”

“And you’re not wearing them because…?”

Ori swallowed. After the fool he’d made of himself by offering Raynard the kind of service he obviously wasn’t interested in receiving from him, Ori could hardly blame Raynard for thinking that he’d intended him to walk in on a naked man and change his mind. He shuffled his feet as a fresh wave of humiliation coursed through him.

“Ori?” Raynard prompted.

“The dust, sir. It’s easier to…”

“Easier to wash the dust off your body than your clothes?” Raynard finished for him. He took a step forward.

Ori managed a jerky nod in response. The clothes Raynard had bought him were all perfect tailoring and expensive material. They had to have cost a small fortune. There was no way he’d have been able to keep them in good condition if he started cleaning in them. His simple solution had seemed so logical until a few seconds ago.

Raynard strolled closer still. Ori forgot how to breathe. Somehow, he found himself holding Raynard’s gaze as the hawk closed the gap between them. Raynard stopped, barely a foot away.

Ori had to tilt his head back to keep their eyes locked.

Raynard stroked his thumb down Ori’s cheek. It came away smudged with dust.

Ori dropped his gaze to stare down at the digit, completely mesmerised.

“A few days ago, you came to my study.”

There could be no doubt which visit he was referring to. “Yes, sir,” Ori whispered.

“Because you thought you should, or because it was what you wanted?”

His gaze now fixed on the third button of Raynard’s shirt, Ori found himself entirely incapable of making words happen.

Raynard touched his face again. Sliding a knuckle under Ori’s chin, he guided him to tilt his head back.

“I guess what they said in the nest was true, sir,” Ori blurted out, as he realised there was no way he’d be allowed to walk away from the conversation without answering the question. “Head down, arse up is a natural position for a duck.”

Raynard said nothing, but his touch lingered under Ori’s chin, trapping him exactly where he wanted him.

“I’m sorry, sir. I shouldn’t have…I know none of the men in the nest who…I know none of them have your rank, sir.”

“You think that’s why I failed to take you up on your offer, because I consider you to be beneath me?”

Ori swallowed. It was hard to think of two avian species that could be farther apart in the hierarchy. It was equally hard not to picture himself physically pinned beneath Raynard’s body when Raynard used that phrase. Ori’s cock stiffened further behind his hands, as if desperate to push his fingers out of the way and show off for the hawk.

Glancing up, Ori tried to ready himself to hear the worst, but Raynard still looked vaguely amused. Ori dropped his gaze again. His attention fell on Raynard’s fly. The material was pulled taught by a very obvious erection. Ori’s eyes snapped back up to Raynard’s face.

“You were right when you thought my decision had something to do with rank. Hawks are raised to respect their servants—not to take advantage of those who they take under their protection. I don’t order my servants to my bed, Ori.”

“Yes—” Before the honorific could leave Ori’s lips, Raynard moved his knuckle up to rest against Ori’s mouth. Ori’s lips had been slightly parted. Raynard’s knuckle now settled between them, not allowing him to open his mouth to speak, but not permitting him to bring his lips back together either.

“A submissive, however,” Raynard mused, apparently more to himself than anyone else. “That would be a very different matter. Do you know the difference between a servant and a submissive, Ori?”

Ori shook his head, just a fraction. His lips moved against Raynard’s knuckle, making him desperate to kiss it properly.

“A submissive doesn’t simply offer to obey another man’s orders and do his bidding—he truly belongs to his master, and his master may do anything he wants with him,
anything
.” His knuckle slid a little farther into Ori’s mouth. “His master doesn’t just have a right to make use of his submissive’s time and his skills. He owns him. Body. Mind. Soul. Everything.”

Ori whimpered.

“A servant has rights that a submissive can’t lay claim to. A certain degree of freedom. Some level of privacy. The chance to shape his own life and make a great many decisions on his own behalf. Some men find it hard to give up such rights.”

Raynard’s knuckle seemed to fill Ori’s physical world, just as Raynard’s words filled his head. The temptation was too great. He ran his tongue over it.

Raynard smiled slightly. Emboldened by that, Ori looked up and met his eyes. There was a light shining in them that Ori had never seen before. Raynard moved his knuckle slightly, seeming to encourage Ori’s attentions to it.

Ori sucked cautiously against Raynard’s skin. His eyes dropped closed as the taste of Raynard seeped into his mouth.

“There’s no shame in being another man’s submissive, Ori. But if you’re not truly suited to it, if it doesn’t call to something deep inside you, I’d imagine it’s little better than torture.”

Ori whimpered as he tried to suck Raynard’s finger deeper into his mouth. Without any warning, the digit was taken away.

Ori blinked open his eyes. Raynard was still studying him very carefully.

Raynard tilted his chin up. His voice changed. It lost it’s considering quality and became all brisk and business-like. “Make your choice, fledgling. What are you to be—a servant or a submissive?”

Ori could barely breathe, let alone think. He had to swallow rapidly before he could make his throat let words through. “Whatever—” He stopped short when he saw the look in Raynard’s eye.

“Whatever your place in my house, if I ask you to make a decision, I expect you to make it.”

Ori took a shaky breath. There was really no choice to be made. There was only one answer he could possibly want to give. “Submissive, sir.”

Raynard didn’t smile, but the light in his eyes grew brighter. In some way that Ori didn’t really understand, he sensed that he’d pleased Raynard, that he had pleased his master. Closing his eyes for a moment, Ori relished the possibility.

“When you’ve finished your work here, join me in the study.”

“Yes, sir.”

Raynard took a step back. Ori remained perfectly still as he waited for Raynard to leave the room, but the hawk merely stood there, less than a yard away from him. He raised an eyebrow as if asking what Ori was hanging around for.

Ori hesitated. “Shall I fetch my clothes, sir?”

“No.” It was a simple statement of the way things were going to be. No room for argument existed.

Very slowly, Ori nodded his understanding.

In theory, he knew he hadn’t been wearing a great deal when he’d served at the nest. The shorts hadn’t hidden much. But he’d have given anything to be wearing them at that moment.

Standing before Raynard, with his hands still covering his erection, Ori found himself frozen in place. He couldn’t move.

Raynard didn’t stir either.

It was one thing to say he wanted to be Raynard’s submissive, to say he’d obey any order Raynard issued. It was quite another to do it. And as he stood there, Ori knew this was his first test.

A servant would be permitted to fetch his clothes. A submissive was not. He took a deep breath as the differences between the two titles made themselves felt inside his head for the first time.

Tension poured into Ori’s body. Every joint ached. Each muscle cramped. If Raynard had told him to get on his knees, it would have been so easy. It was the idea of calmly returning to his duties while Raynard was clearly able to see how he affected him that made the breath catch in Ori’s throat and threaten to choke him.

Looking up, Ori met Raynard’s eyes one more time. He held his gaze as he finally managed to drop his hands to his sides.

“Back to your duties,” Raynard ordered again.

Ori turned away from him. His legs threatened to give way as he picked up a box of books and carted it the rest of the way across the room, but he made it.

Raynard’s eyes tracked Ori’s every action, trailing over his bare skin. His hands shook with the effort it took to keep working rather than stop and cover himself. A few minutes passed before a movement out of the corner of his eye made Ori look over his shoulder.

Raynard nodded to him, just once, turned and left the room.

Resting his hands on the table in front of him, Ori closed his eyes and tried to make his head stop spinning. Relief at pleasing Raynard glowed inside him, but with it came a kind of fear he’d never really felt before, a terror that Raynard’s approval wouldn’t last forever, that it would be all too easily lost and that once that happened, he’d never be able to get it back.

Taking a deep breath, Ori tried to turn his attention back to his work. He looked around the library, desperately trying to focus in on the task at hand. It was a stunning space, or it would be once it was put in order.

Books had been pushed haphazardly onto the shelves wherever they would fit—and shoved into gaps where they didn’t really fit. Dozens still lingered in boxes, while some of the shelves remained empty. There was several weeks’ worth of work to be done in there, fitted in around his day-to-day duties, but Ori couldn’t help but hope that Raynard might be pleased with the finished result.

Half an hour later, Ori straightened a pile of boxes. Then he straightened them a fraction more, until they couldn’t possibly be any straighter. The simple fact was the tasks he had assigned himself for that day were complete. He no longer had any excuse to linger in the safe solitude of the library.

Taking a deep breath, Ori turned toward the door leading out of the library—the one that would take him back to Raynard, to his master. Looking down his body, Ori bit his lip. He was still as hard as ever. He shouldn’t really face Raynard as he was. Not just erect, but covered in dust too.

It wouldn’t take him long to rush down to the servants’ quarters and jump in the shower. A cold shower would solve all his problems. A hot shower and a hand slicked with shower gel would be an even better solution.

Ori stepped into the hallway and looked toward the door leading down to his quarters. His hand tightened into a fist at his side as he fought against the urge to take refuge there. If Raynard had wanted him to shower, that’s what he’d have ordered him to do. Raynard didn’t forget to mention things like that.

It didn’t matter if he’d lived in Raynard’s house as a servant or as a submissive. Ori knew him well enough to know that, if he’d wanted him clean and presentable, Raynard would have ordered him to be that way.