7. Good Boy
There wereflowers in Ferrin’s office.
At first, he wasn’t sure if it was a ploy by King Adrien to ease his mood before asking for yet another wild favor. Adrien’s Hawks were causing chaos in Duciel already, thanks to a series of high-profile cases involving nobles exploiting their servants. The nobles were near pissing themselves, commoners were signing up for the Hawks in droves, and Sabre de Valois was handing over warrants with an air of barely-restrained delight. Adrien was well on his way toward either inciting a full-scale revolt or becoming a folk legend, and it was Ferrin’s job to somehow keep him alive.
Ferrin checked the card attached to the flowers and sighed as he recognized Silver’s looping handwriting.
“Don’t forget to eat lunch for once,” he read aloud. That was a moot point anyway, since he hadn’t made lunch in the first place.
Then he saw the tin next to the flowers, wrapped in a violet ribbon.
“Ah,” he said, tugging the ribbon free. The tin was full of buttery cookies. “Someone wants to be flogged today.”
Some submissives, like King Adrien, liked to appeal to their other halves by being insufferable brats. Even Sabre, who was a relatively reasonable fellow for a noble, was often found teasing his husband on the rare occasion they attended court together. When Silver wanted to be spanked, he was good. After all, spanking was a reward, wasn’t it?
There was even a handkerchief under the cookie tin, which likely meant he wanted to be spanked until he came. The embroidered S+F was just because Silver was…well, Silver. He was fond of little touches of whimsy and romance, Ferrin had learned.
It was remarkable, what he’d done to Ferrin’s life in such a short time. Ferrin was going to regular weekly dinners with his family. There were paintings on the walls of his small, once-featureless house, rugs on the floor, and curtains that blocked out the light in a desperate attempt to make Ferrin sleep in. He even took his days off instead of sneaking over to the palace for lack of anything else to do.
Now he had flowers and butter cookies as a secret code for spank me until I’m crying. Truly, the world was full of wonders.
Silver appeared at his office door just as the bell rang to mark the end of Ferrin’s shift. He’d artfully tousled his hair and was staring at Ferrin with the kind of doe-eyed fondness that made Ferrin so flustered, he didn’t know how to respond to it. Other men would have swept Silver up in their arms or called him my dove or my darling, but all Ferrin could do was nod in greeting and push away from his desk.
“You look so handsome,” Silver said.
That was also code, in its way. Silver probably wanted Ferrin to fling him over his desk then and there, but they had strict rules about that sort of thing after Ferrin had nearly given Silver a concussion with his knee when someone walked in while Silver was kneeling underneath the desk.
Ferrin walked over and tipped up Silver’s chin. Silver stood on his toes as Ferrin kissed him, and reached up to wrap a dark blue scarf around Ferrin’s neck.
“It’s getting cold out,” he said, a little breathlessly, as Ferrin drew back.
Ferrin adjusted the scarf. It was sturdy and soft, not like the wispy things the nobility shivered in for the sake of fashion. “Good boy.”
Silver beamed.
He was in rare form on the way home, walking with perfect posture, offering to carry Ferrin’s bag, and glancing sidelong at him every five seconds as though to reiterate can’t you see how good I am?
“You’re not exactly being subtle,” Ferrin told him, as he unlocked the front door.
“I like to think I’m being restrained,” Silver said, waiting for Ferrin to enter first, and then got to his knees to help remove his boots. “I almost sent you a proper lunch from the kitchens, but I figured that might be overdoing it.”
“You can just say you want to be turned over my knee.”
“But begging is fun,” Silver said. He blinked wide, sad eyes up at Ferrin. “Sir.”
Ferrin made a warning sound, and Silver laughed. Really, submissives didn’t know how much power they had—well, Silver probably did, and King Adrien. But the doms who thought all submissives did was look pretty and make appreciative noises clearly hadn’t met a brat or a good boy, because Ferrin was already on the verge of giving in, and he hadn’t even taken off his coat.
“I’ll start a fire,” Silver said, and went running off toward the hearth, which he had turned into a cozy nook complete with low cushions and a tray to hang cups for tea and chocolate. As a former thief, Silver was still a bit of a magpie, spending too much of his monthly stipend on barely useful but aesthetic decor. Ferrin felt guilty about it now and then, but he never spent much of anything. Besides, pretty things weren’t so terrible, really. They were starting to remind him of Silver. The week before, Ferrin had even bought, entirely on impulse, a porcelain figure of a crow painted gold just because he thought Silver might like it.
“It’s called being in love,” his sister told him once, after a family dinner. “Not that I bother with that nonsense.”
“I do,” his brother Will had said. He was leaning against the kitchen doorway, his dark eyes wary. He always looked on edge, these days. “I just didn’t think Ferrin did.”
“Why is it no one thinks I have a romantic bone in my body?” Ferrin asked, and both Will and Louise rolled their eyes. “What?”
“You dumped your first boyfriend because he said I love you,” Will said.
“We were fifteen. He didn’t know what the word meant yet.”
Will and Louise looked at each other again.
“You deal with him,” Will said. “I’m going to sit on the roof and get drunk before Ma and Pa start asking why I’m not a proper officer yet.”
“You really shouldn’t—” Louise started, but Will was already sauntering off, grabbing a bottle of wine off the dining table as he went.
And then, Silver had managed to befriend him. He’d climbed the roof to sit there with Will, and Ferrin had heard them talking about Diabolos through the second floor window. Will had even laughed, once, which happened so rarely that it made Ferrin’s heart ache a little.
Silver knew how to read people. That was his talent, beyond even his skill with tailoring, and when the night was over and Will actually smiled when he said goodbye, Ferrin dragged Silver home and kissed him senseless.
So it was all right, having nice things around for Silver.
“You can strip when the fire is warm enough,” Ferrin called, and smiled sidelong when Silver immediately started undoing his buttons.
Technically, he still had guard reports from the palace to read, but instead, he leaned back on the cushions in front of the fire and stroked Silver’s hair, and the fire warmed Silver’s bare skin as he took Ferrin’s cock in his mouth. He used all his skill, eager and only slightly frantic, drawing back entirely so he could kiss Ferrin’s thighs and tease his balls, then taking him all the way just as Ferrin was about to pull him there by the hair. He kept glancing up at Ferrin, and Ferrin tugged lightly on his hair and moved his hips, groaning as Silver let his mouth go slack.
“Yes, you’re very good,” Ferrin said, as he slowly fucked Silver’s mouth. “You know you’re good.”
Silver responded by humming low in his throat, and Ferrin came, holding him by his fine golden hair. When he drew back at last, Silver made a show of swallowing and tossed his tousled hair out of his eyes.
Ferrin stroked Silver’s jaw. “Do you want my hand, a paddle, or a flogger first?”
“Hand?” Silver was practically climbing into his lap, unable to sit still. “ Then the cane, maybe.”
Ferrin raised his brows. Silver didn’t go for pain often, but then again, he had sent Ferrin flowers earlier. Perhaps he was more hard up than usual. Ferrin kissed him, and Silver grinned when Ferrin patted his thigh.
“Up we go,” he said. “I’d say you earned your reward.”
* * *
The thing was, Silver’s life was pretty damn great.
He had an amazing job making clothes for nobles who mostly said thank you and some of whom, like King Adrien and Lord Laurent de Rue, let him design wildly dramatic outfits with a mix of patterns and materials, just to see how they looked. Adrien, much like his father before him, managed to make every piece of clothing look slightly disheveled no matter how well it was made or how perfectly it was tailored to his tall, lanky frame. Laurent de Rue, on the other hand, would look impeccably attired in seaweed and cobwebs, which could be an interesting statement on Mislia and memory loss, something to think about if he could use seaweed without the smell, and cobwebs without the spiders.
He liked his job, and he liked his messy workshop with the fabric samples on the chairs and the pieces of half-cut, pinned patterns on low tables. He liked the mirrors that were always smudged, the slightly chaotic yet perfectly organized tools, the comfortable chair with the blanket Louise made him that he could nap under, on cold winter days or late nights waiting for Ferrin to finish up with the Hawks.
Thenhe would go home to his little house with his man, the handsome captain of the royal guard,who was actively working to dismantle ages of corruption under the approving eye of a king who was doing the same in his court. Sometimes they went out for dinner, walked hand-in-hand through the district that was beginning to feature more foreign-owned businesses, the combined effect of the king’s gale-force wind of change and a new treaty between Staria and Arktos that made travel from the eastern continent much easier.
Right now, though, all Silver was thinking about was being over Ferrin’s lap, pleasantly drifting already. As much as he loved his life and everything in it, there were still times he found himself getting as wound up as a cheap watch. This week, he’d suddenly realized he had six custom orders due after finding himself saddled with not one, not two, but three apprentices. Then there was Louise telling him blandly at dinner last week, you know if you want to marry him, you’ll have to propose or he’ll just show up one day with the paperwork, and knowing she was right.
He was a little on edge, and nothing took that edge off quite like Ferrin’s hand on his bare ass.
Silver wriggled a bit as Ferrin settled back, clearly intent on making him wait for the sweet sting of his bare palm. He wasn’t the sort to look coyly over his shoulder or bat his eyelashes, but he let out a soft breath and tried not to move. When Ferrin finally gave him a smack, Silver shivered all over and gave a happy little sigh. “You’re the best.”
Ferrin gave a soft, warm laugh and his hand came down again, harder than before, and Silver gave a yelp and pressed his face into Ferrin’s thigh. As Ferrin spanked him, Silver felt his cock growing hard and he was pushing back into the sting of it, seeking more.
“If you want it harder, ask me for it,” Ferrin said.
Who wouldn’t? But Silver just wriggled a bit more and said, “Please, sir, tell me what I have to do to earn it harder.”
Ferrin gave a soft laugh and spanked him lightly. “I just told you.”
Silver drew in a breath. “Please, sir, spank me harder.”
“Good boy.” The words sent a thrill through him, and Silver closed his eyes and went blissfully quiet in his head as Ferrin spanked him. He did it perfectly, a steady, even rhythm across his ass and upper thighs, varying only the placement and not the pressure. It was exactly what Silver needed to fall under, and he could feel the last of his tension slipping away as Ferrin reddened his backside.
“That’s good,” Ferrin praised, pausing to lightly scratch his nails over the freshly-spanked skin. It felt amazing, and Silver gave a shuddering gasp as he inadvertently pushed his hips forward, seeking friction on his hardening cock. Ferrin stopped scratching and immediately pressed his hand on Silver’s lower back, holding him still. “No, you’ll take it for me. That’s all you have to do. If I want you to come, you will. If I don’t, then, you’ll have to wait.”
It was so strange how much that settled him, having the choice taken away. It let Silver drift on the thud, thud, smack, smack of Ferrin’s hand, the pain that was settling into a warm buzz, like drinking wine before dinner when he hadn’t eaten lunch. It was so easy to fall into the quiet place that only Ferrin ever managed to send him, with his firm dominance and his perfect control and oh, fuck, Ferrin was shifting now and lifting his thigh just enough to put pressure on Silver’s cock. It would be so easy to grind against that muscular thigh with every smack, but Silver was so close to going under from the spanking that he didn’t want to do something wrong.
He wanted to be good. He loved being good, loved being good for Ferrin, and so he didn’t push or grind his hips or wriggle his ass. He just closed his eyes and let the sensations wash over him, the pain and pleasure both, dimly aware he was making soft sounds and grabbing at the fabric of Ferrin’s pants to keep from sliding off his lap into a puddle on the floor.
“Do you think you can crawl and bring me the cane, my good boy?”
Silver lifted his head, blinking hazily, and thought about it. If he said no, he wouldn’t get in trouble. Ferrin asked because he wanted to know if Silver was able to follow protocol, because if he wasn’t, then Ferrin would readjust the plan accordingly. All Silver had to do was answer the question honestly.
“Yes, sir,” Silver said, because he wanted to, even though part of him thought it wouldn’t be bad at all to let Ferrin use his hand. But as close as he was to going under, he knew he wasn’t quite there yet. Following this last order would probably do it, and if not, a few strikes of the rattan cane would absolutely put him there.
Silver slid off Ferrin’s lap, ass burning, and crawled toward the trunk in the corner of the room. The floor was simple, polished hardwood, but Silver had found a few slightly-damaged rugs at some of the consignment shops around Duciel, and had lovingly restored them so they were thick enough to provide adequate padding for his knees. Silver liked kneeling, and didn’t always love being uncomfortable while doing it. But the slight twinge in his muscles as he crawled toward the trunk where they kept the canes and paddles? That, he fucking loved.
Silver knelt before the trunk and opened it, deftly removing the thin, rattan cane that could have him sobbing if he needed it. He didn’t think he’d need it quite that hard tonight, but he wouldn’t mind a few well-placed strikes to send him into subspace.
Silver put the cane in his mouth and crawled back, keeping his gaze lowered, though he appreciated how gorgeous Ferrin looked in the chair by the fire. Unlike Silver, he was still dressed, and he’d done up his trousers after Silver sucked him off, so he looked stern and in charge, and oh, Silver sometimes couldn’t believe this was his man.
You’ll have to ask him, you know—to marry you.
In that moment, if he hadn’t had a cane in his mouth, he might have thrown caution to the wind and just asked Ferrin right then and there.
“Look at me,” Ferrin said, warmly, and Silver glanced up as bidden to see Ferrin giving him that smile that was for Silver and no one else. “Kneel properly, like you’ve been taught, and ask me for the cane. Tell me how many you need tonight, how hard you need it to put you under.”
Silver straightened on his knees, hands behind his back, falling into the calm, comforting familiarity of proper form and protocol. Ferrin took the cane and used it to tip Silver’s chin up. “I’m waiting, pretty boy.”
Silver cleared his throat, lost in Ferrin’s dark eyes. “Three, each side, I think. Not like the last time. Enough so I feel it when I sit down.” The last time he’d asked for the cane, it’d been after a frantic two days of redoing an entire commission for a very picky noble, who’d then forgotten about it entirely and left it gathering dust for two weeks in Silver’s workshop. This wasn’t quite the same situation, though Ferrin had taken care of him then, too.
“Three it is,” Ferrin said, and patted his lap again.
The cane was so much different than a bare hand, and in some ways, Silver preferred the former. It was more intimate, and Ferrin had amazing hands. Silver loved the way he touched Silver after he was finished spanking him, how he’d lightly scratch the sensitive skin, then rub calming circles with his thumbs while Silver gasped and settled for him. When Silver wanted the cane, the appeal was less the sharp, stinging pain and more the controlled, precise way Ferrin wielded it.
When he was comfortably settled again, ass still stinging from the spanking, he closed his eyes and let himself relax in anticipation of the first strike. Ferrin murmured something Silver didn’t quite catch and rubbed his ass once more, and then he felt a slight woosh of air before the cane landed on his upper thigh. The pain blossomed like a flower a second later, and Silver gasped and sank into it, finally sinking under by the second strike.
He was barely aware of Ferrin finishing with the cane, a pleasant sting on his skin and muscles as relaxed as water. Ferrin carried him over to the sofa, and lay down with Silver sprawled naked and half-hard on top of him. He knew that he’d get off eventually, either here in front of the fire or upstairs in Ferrin’s new bed, a large, comfortable mattress with soft, new sheets and a warm comforter Silver had made for him as a birthday gift.
For now, it was enough to be under and let the cares of the week drift away, with Ferrin’s hands rubbing up and down his back. Silver drifted in the quiet place inside his head, aware of only sensation—Ferrin’s hands, the warm fire, the buzz of quiet where there were sometimes too many thoughts.
Silver didn’t doze, exactly, but when he finally blinked his eyes opened and raised his head, it felt like he’d had a nap. A nap for his brain, maybe, which was the best part about being under. He smiled at Ferrin, who’d retrieved a book and was reading it with one hand, idly stroking Silver’s hair with the other. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Ferrin said, closing the book. “Feel better?”
“I do.” Silver stretched, grinned, and gave a suggestive push of his hips. “A lot better. Thank you, sir.”
Ferrin gently touched him on the nose with the tip of his finger. For him, that was practically playful. “Good.”
“Think I’m ready for the rest of the evening’s activities now,” Silver added hopefully.
“What would those be?”
He laughed, leaning in to nuzzle at Ferrin’s shoulder. “Whatever you want, sir.”
Ferrin’s laugh was quiet, but Silver could feel it rumble through him, quiet like the thunder of a distant storm. “Of course.” He ruffled Silver’s hair. “Suppose I want to fuck you on all fours in front of the fire until you’re begging me to come?”
Silver widened his eyes and gave a comical gasp, leaning up again to stare down at Ferrin as his cock grew harder in anticipation of the night to come. “I must have been a very good boy.”
Ferrin pulled him into a hot, heated kiss. “You always are.”
Silver kissed him back, then slid to the floor and went down on all fours, shaking his still-reddened ass in invitation. “I wouldn’t mind being a little bad, right now, just for a treat.”
Ferrin laughed. “I think I can get behind that,” he said, and winked.