Duck! (Avian Shifters Book 1) (9 page)

Ori nodded. “Finally, a woman at one of the nests that didn’t want me, directed me to the Anderson Nest. She said it catered to all avian men, regardless of species.” He sipped his tea. “It sounded perfect. I guess it was. I mean, they let me stay.”

Raynard tightened his grip on his own cup of coffee. The less he thought about Ori’s treatment at the nest the less likely it was that he’d want to kill someone. He cast around for another topic.

“You said you had foster families plural?”

Ori nodded. “Seven altogether, sir. I…I wasn’t very good at fitting in.” He blew gently on the surface of his tea before taking another sip. “I don’t know if it’s because I’m not really… Maybe it was just me…” He forced a smile. “The clumsiness didn’t help… There was always something that would break, then I knew it wouldn’t be long before the social workers would be sent for to take me back.”

There was a wistful tone in his voice that clawed at something inside Raynard. As changes of topic went, his choice had been bloody awful. Ori didn’t say anything else as they finished their drinks. Raynard wasn’t sure what to say either. Finally, he stood up and it was impossible to let the silence linger any longer between them. “Come on, fledgling. Time to go home.”

Ori smiled up at him, as if Raynard had somehow chanced to say the perfect thing. Raynard ruffled Ori’s hair as he stepped past him. For the first time, Ori didn’t flinch at all at the sight of a raised hand.

As he made his way out to the car, Raynard found himself feeling rather pleased with himself as well as his submissive.

Chapter Five

Ori stepped reluctantly away from the huge window. He’d already lingered in the attic room for far too long as it was. Raynard had given him permission to go down to the main part of the house, and Ori had been living under his roof for more than long enough to know that permissions and orders were merely the two sides of the same coin.

He should have gone back to the library an hour or more ago, but somehow, he hadn’t quite been able to bring himself to leave the shadowy, little attic space. Even now, Ori couldn’t drag his gaze away from the sky. Every so often, he saw a brown dot that just might have been his master, circling high above the house.

Stretching his wings, Raynard called it. Ori took a deep breath and let it out very slowly. He knew what kind of mood “stretching his wings” put his master in. He’d be inclined to tease when he finally returned and came to the library in search of him.

When he stormed into the room, Raynard would call him to sit at his feet and read to him. And with every word he said, Ori would get more and more nervous, more and more desperate for Raynard to want them to do more than merely sit. But Raynard would still make him wait until he was given permission to set the book aside and find a better use for his mouth than reading aloud.

For a moment, Ori managed to turn away from the window, but a second later, he looked helplessly back through it. It had been several lifetimes since Raynard had decided Ori didn’t have permission to come via his own hand, and in that moment, Ori felt every second of that time pressing down on him.

Part of him was aware that it had probably been far less than a month since his last climax, but it was impossible for him to be certain.

He wasn’t sure what date he’d been brought to his master’s house, when he’d been given his collar, or even what day it was right then. Living with Raynard had a simple rhythm to it. Dates weren’t important when everything could revolve seamlessly around Raynard leaving the house and coming home, when everything could be decided by what Ori’s master was doing and how Ori might best please him at any given moment.

Ori smiled joyously into the evening air as his hand crept up to stroke his collar. It was a good way to live a life. Pulling himself away from the window, he finally forced himself to leave the room.

Down in the library, he’d barely picked up a book and lowered himself to his favourite place on the hearth rug when he heard a footfall on the stairs. As usual, after his flight, Raynard hadn’t bothered with inconvenient human things like clothes. He strode into the room, as naked as Ori—or maybe even more so, since he didn’t have a collar.

Ori stared across at him, as mesmerised as ever.

“Good book, fledgling?”

Ori swallowed, but he couldn’t even tear his eyes away from Raynard for long enough to glance at the title.

Raynard’s usually immaculate hair was disordered, windblown and wild after his flight. But what caught Ori’s attention was the look in the hawk’s eyes—something truly feral flashed there in a way it never had before.

Instead of moving to his usual chair, Raynard flung himself carelessly onto one end of the leather sofa opposite the fire, all long limbs and perfect lines of muscle. “Answer the question,” he snapped.

The book… Ori managed to look down at it. “It’s one I’ve read before, sir,” he stuttered out.

Raynard’s eyes narrowed, his attention focused on Ori the same way a true bird of prey might stare down at some small, furry animal scurrying around in the undergrowth—or perhaps at some scared little duckling, sitting vulnerable on the edge of the lakeside.

“Come here.”

Ori stood up.

“Leave the book.”

Crouching down, Ori set the volume carefully on the rug before stepping forward.

A cushion rested on the floor by the side of his master’s usual chair. No similar level of comfort existed next to the sofa. Ori lowered himself to the bare floorboards, but his knees had barely touched the well-polished wood before Raynard spoke again.

“No, up here.”

Ori looked up. Raynard’s expression was still unreadable. All Ori could do was obey and hope his obedience pleased Raynard in some small way. He sat on the edge of the sofa, not sure what to do with himself, not sure why his master had suddenly invited him to share the same piece of furniture.

Raynard slid his fingers into Ori’s hair and pulled him forward. All of Ori’s confusion vanished as Raynard guided his head down toward his lap. Ori licked his lips, as eager as ever to wrap them around Raynard’s shaft.

The grip Raynard had on his hair wasn’t painful, but it was firm. He was definitely going wherever his master took him, and suddenly Ori found his face turned toward Raynard’s stomach rather than his cock.

Bent over in an awkward position, Ori hesitated. Putting his hands out, he attempted to steady himself. He tried to look up and gauge what Raynard wanted him to do, but the angle made it impossible to see Raynard’s expression properly.

“Pull your feet up.”

Ori clumsily obeyed and found himself lying on the sofa, his head resting chastely against his master’s body as Raynard sat upright. Raynard took his hand out of Ori’s hair. When Ori would have tried to sit up, a sharp little tap on his backside stopped him short.

Shock enabled Ori to twist his head just far enough to be able to look up. Raynard stared back down at him.

Lack of permission to move was the same as an order to stay still. Ori understood that now. He froze, not even moving his eyes, until Raynard looked away and silently freed him to drop his gaze.

Ori’s mouth was barely an inch away from his master’s abs. Raynard had to feel his every breath. As he stroked down Ori’s back, Raynard had to sense the tension in him, too.

“I asked you about your book.”

Ori swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

“Tell me about the part you read while I stretched my wings,” he demanded.

Ori closed his eyes. “I…”

Raynard slid his palm back up Ori’s spine. His hand was strong, his touch unyielding. It seemed to creep under Ori’s skin and possess parts of him that he’d never even known about until he met Raynard.

Raynard’s fingers caressed their way down to Ori’s arse again. No tap fell against his skin, but Ori tensed in expectation of one. Desire to feel his master’s hand fall on his backside warred with the need to have Raynard pleased with him until he found he had no idea what he really wanted.

“I only read a few lines, sir. I only stepped into the library a moment before you.” He looked up, fearing the worse.

Raynard smiled his approval. “The word hawkeye exists for a reason. Did you really think I wouldn’t spot you lurking by the window?”

Ori scraped up a shallow breath, forcing air into lungs that didn’t seem to remember how to work on their own.

Raynard’s smile didn’t fade as he looked down Ori’s body again. He stroked the curve of Ori’s arse, back and forth, again and again, making his skin tingle, until Ori had to fight with himself in an effort not to arch his back and push his arse more firmly against Raynard’s hand.

Raynard’s smile broadened, as if he knew what his teasing was doing to Ori, as if he liked knowing just how well he held him in the palm of his hand—not just physically, but mentally.

Raynard slid his fingers between Ori’s thighs. One fingertip brushed against Ori’s hole, pulling a gasp out of him.

Raynard replied with a chuckle, a warm rich sound Ori had hardly ever heard in all the time he’d spent with Raynard. Heat rushed to his cheeks.

Raynard brushed the knuckles of his other hand across the flushed skin. “I’m right to call you a fledgling, aren’t I, Ori?”

Ori dropped his gaze, not sure what the right answer should be. For a horrible moment, he thought Raynard was going to pull away from him, that he’d regret inviting him so close, that he’d send him away thinking him too foolish and inexperienced to serve him.

Turning his head, Ori pressed a desperate kiss against Raynard’s skin. Raynard stroked Ori’s hair in a brief moment of praise before he turned his attention back to the rest of Ori’s body.

Cheeks still warm, Ori helplessly rubbed his face against Raynard’s torso. Wriggling forward, Ori instinctively tried to get even closer to him. More of his bare skin brushed against Raynard’s, and he found himself surrounded by Raynard’s presence. The feel of his flesh, his scent, everything about Raynard called to him, wrapping around him, like a hundred different collars embracing every part of his skin, every part of his being.

And he needed to come so badly…

Ori was sure that shouldn’t have been his main concern. Whatever his master desired was far more important than anything he wanted could ever be. He knew that in a way he’d never really understood anything else. He knew it in the same way he’d known he didn’t really fit into any of the human families that had fostered him.

He hadn’t belonged there—he belonged here, with Raynard—with his master. It was stupid to think about his own petty concerns when he was finally home, safe with his master. But he needed to come so badly…

A frustrated little whimper escaped from the back of Ori’s throat. He lifted his hand to cover his mouth, but Raynard’s fist wrapped around Ori’s wrist before his hand was halfway there.

Ori looked up, his eyes opening very wide in sheer disappointment with himself. “I’m sorry, sir. I…”

Raynard placed Ori’s hand back on the sofa, precisely where it had rested before. He wanted Ori to stay still. Ori closed his eyes and concentrated on obeying that order, but movements kept creeping past his self-control. Raynard’s corrections weren’t harsh. He simply rearranged Ori, putting him back where he wanted him to be. Ori still felt pain rush through him each time his position needed to be adjusted, knowing he had let Raynard down.

Any sounds he was unable to hold back were received rather differently. Raynard never tried to discourage them. If anything, he seemed to repeat those actions that caused Ori to moan and whimper all the more often.

Raynard played him like a virtuoso, coaxing sounds out of Ori that Ori would have never believed existed inside him until he heard them. He squirmed helplessly under Raynard’s touch, feeling even more of his master’s skin move against his body until he finally felt his cock brush against Raynard’s leg. Ori’s eyes snapped open. He gawped at his master, and at the position he now lay in.

Without ever intending it, Ori had somehow travelled farther and farther up the sofa with every minute of teasing Raynard had layered upon his skin. His torso now rested over Raynard’s lap, and his arse was tilted up—offered to Raynard to tease, to spank, to do with as he pleased.

Ori saw the amusement in Raynard’s eyes. He saw the desire in them too and had no idea if he should retreat or not. Raynard had corrected any movement that displeased him—that much Ori was sure of. Seconds ticked past. Ori relaxed slightly as he realised that he
couldn’t
actually be where he was without his master’s approval. Permission was just another word for a command. He was exactly where he should be.

Raynard ran his hand over Ori’s backside again, palming the firm, round muscle. His touch disappeared for a moment, before falling back against his skin. The spank was light and sent tingles and warmth through Ori’s skin rather than pain. Every tendril of heat rushed straight to Ori’s cock as he helplessly rocked his hips, shamelessly rubbing his erection against Raynard’s leg.

Raynard’s hand fell again, still light and more of a tease than a real spank. Then again, no harder than before. Slowly, methodically, his hand made contact with every square inch of Ori’s arse, coating the skin with layer upon layer of heat and frustration.

Whimpering and squirming, Ori prayed for more. When Raynard lifted his hand away from his backside and didn’t immediately bring it back down, Ori held his breath waiting for the first real blow.

Raynard’s hand came down, but it was gentler than ever. Resting his palm against Ori’s arse, Raynard used his fingertips to tap out an unfamiliar rhythm on the fullest part of the muscle. It was as if Ori was nothing more to him than a convenient place to rest his hand while he was deep in thought. But it didn’t matter if that was all the touch represented. Pleasure danced in Ori’s veins. He whimpered again.

The tapping fingers slowly moved down between his cheeks.

Ori squirmed and spread his legs in offering. Raynard’s tapping fingertips found Ori’s hole, making him rock his hips even more frantically. His cock rubbed against his master’s leg with every twitch of his hips, sending wave after wave of pleasure crashing through him.

Raynard’s fingers ceased their tapping and slid farther down between Ori’s legs to cup his balls. He palmed Ori’s testicles, pulling them away from his body as he examined them. Ori’s grip on the edge of the sofa cushion turned white knuckled as he fought to stay still.

His cock nudged Raynard’s leg once more. Raynard wasn’t unaffected. His erection rubbed against Ori’s stomach as he wriggled across his lap, but there was nothing Ori could do for Raynard right then. He was trapped in a world full of sensations, unable to think, let alone serve.

Raynard pressed his thumb against Ori’s hole, massaging the tight ring of muscle and the sensitive strip of skin leading down toward his sac.