by Kim Dare
Another hard thrust. Raynard dropped Ori’s wrist and pushed his hand down between their bodies. He jacked Ori’s cock hard, fast and unrelenting, his eyes daring Ori to come without permission. Ori bit down on his bottom lip as he scrambled for control, his free hand clawing at Raynard’s shoulder.
“Come.”
Ori tossed his head back, his nails biting into Raynard’s skin as he came, spilling between them. Gasping for breath, Ori struggled to keep his eyes open, not wanting to miss the sight of his master coming just a moment after him.
Raynard jerked, throwing his head back. Then each muscle froze as he lost himself in the pleasure racing through his veins. The whole world seemed to stop as Raynard came, as if the sight of him distracted the entire universe, and it had to pause to admire the sheer perfection of him.
As the last of his ecstasy drained from his expression, Raynard’s strength seemed to leave him. All his weight came to rest on Ori, pinning him to the blanket from tip to toe.
No pretence, no politeness. Ori was Raynard’s to do with as he pleased. If Raynard wanted to sleep like that all night, Ori knew he’d love every minute he spent trapped underneath him, barely even able to draw breath as his muscles cramped and his joints turned numb.
All too soon, Raynard came sufficiently back to his usual self to roll away and lie next to Ori. It wasn’t a large mattress. A double would never have made it up the stairs into the little attic room.
On the tiny single, they had no choice but to snuggle as they rested. As much as Ori wanted to lie motionless and not disturb Raynard, he couldn’t help but try to rearrange himself a little more comfortably as the minutes passed.
“Still sore, fledgling?” Raynard stroked his hands down Ori’s arm as he guided him nearer.
Ori helplessly leaned into Raynard’s touch, letting it soothe the muscles it passed over. “It’s fine, sir.”
Raynard gathered him close, cradling him against the heat of his body. “You’ll feel better once you complete your full shift.”
Ori burrowed a little deeper into Raynard’s embrace.
“Nervous?”
Ori shrugged.
“You’ll be fine,” Raynard promised.
“Yes, sir.”
It would be fine. Ori knew that. He rubbed his cheek against Raynard’s chest, taking strength from his strength.
A sneaky little voice in the back of his mind reminded him that he’d thought it would be fine last time too. But everyone’s attitude toward him had changed once he’d completed his half shift and… Ori held back a sigh.
Everything would be fine. Raynard’s right hand rested idly on his chest, just next to Ori’s head. Reaching up, Ori stroked his fingers over the tattoo on the inside of Raynard’s wrist.
Raynard lifted his head to see what he was doing. Ori was about to pull his hand back and apologise for overstepping some sort of invisible line, but Raynard merely bent his hand back, offering the species mark to be inspected more easily.
Ori cautiously ran his fingers over the mark, tracing the jagged lines of it with his fingertip.
“What does it feel like, sir? Shifting, I mean,” he asked.
Raynard seemed to think about it for a long time. “It’s as if a part of you that can’t flourish when you’re in human form is being freed,” he offered eventually. “The first few times can be difficult. It can be painful until you get used to it. But it’s worth it. So very worth it…”
Ori smiled as he stared up at the expression of pure peace on Raynard’s face. Then his smile faltered. “Do you wish…?” His courage deserted him, the rest of the question died, unspoken.
“Ori?” Raynard prompted.
Ori frowned across at the window. “Do you wish I was a hawk instead, sir?”
Raynard chuckled. “Two male hawks seldom lie comfortably together. I doubt even a male and female would make a good pairing if it wasn’t for some shifters’ innate desire to breed.”
Ori glanced up at him.
“I’m very happy with the man I have, fledgling. Don’t let all that nonsense a few fools spout about your supposed betters turn you into as much of an idiot as them. All species have their strengths and weaknesses, the things they are known for.”
“What are ducks known for, sir?” Ori whispered, his fingers still tracing Raynard’s tattoo.
“Most find their way into the service of others for good reason. They’re hard workers. Strong. Resilient. They enjoy pleasing other people. They’re loyal, dedicated and affectionate. Ducks have always made fantastic submissives,” Raynard recounted, almost matter-of-factly.
Ori dipped his head as a pleased little blush stole its way to his cheeks.
“And there are a couple of lesser known traits,” Raynard went on, his tone of voice changing slightly. “Some of them have a way of sneaking under a hawk’s skin so that when he least expects it, he finds himself with a servant who becomes a submissive, with a submissive who somehow becomes much more to him than even that.”
Ori couldn’t bring himself to lift his gaze and see what might be in Raynard’s eyes. Instead, he kept his head on Raynard’s chest and listened to his master’s heart beat out a slow, steady and reassuring rhythm, while his own pulse raced faster and faster.
Raynard took hold of Ori’s hand and held it up so his wrist was clearly visible to them both. As Ori watched, Raynard painted a symbol on the skin with his fingertip—mapping out where the mark stating his species would rest, just over the vein.
“A copy of it will need to be added here too,” Raynard said, transferring his attention to the tag hanging from Ori’s collar.
“I’d like that, sir,” he whispered.
Raynard pressed a kiss to the top of his head and relaxed back against the mattress.
As the room turned cooler and the breeze continued to swirl through the open window, Ori curled closer still to his master’s warmth and strength.
I love you too, sir.
He couldn’t make himself say the words right then, any more than his master seemed inclined to say them out loud before Ori had a mark on his wrist stating who he was.
Ori smiled slightly as he started to doze. Maybe completing his first full shift was something to look forward to after all…
* * * * *
“Sir?” Ori looked up as Raynard reached for the buckle on his collar.
“The tradition of each avian appearing bare before the leaders of his nest the first time he completes a full shift exists for a reason,” Raynard informed Ori, in the same serious tone that seemed to have lurked in his voice all day.
Ori swallowed. His clothes lay on a chair to his right. It was easy not to care about them, but his collar…
The leather moved around his throat as Raynard hooked his fingers through it. “As much as I’d like to leave it on, it’s best that you don’t accidently throttle yourself the first time you shift.”
It was a risk Ori would far rather have taken than feel his collar being removed, but he forced himself to accept Raynard’s decision. He stood meek and silent as his neck was bared, and left bare for the first time in so many months, without even a silver chain to take its place.
Ori ran his hand over his neck. His eyes met Raynard’s. He moved both his hands behind his back and took up his usual waiting position.
Raynard brushed their lips together. Ori tightened his grip around his opposite wrist as he cherished the brief moment of reassurance. Everything would be fine. Raynard had told him that several times, and he believed his master.
“Go on, fledgling,” Raynard ordered, nodding toward the curtains lining one wall of the shadowy little space.
Nudging the thick velvet folds apart, Ori slipped reluctantly through the gap and onto the stage. A dozen of the elders sat in a semi-circle, every one of them fully clad in a perfectly tailored suit. Between them, they represented almost all the leading avian species.
Taking a deep breath, Ori mov
ed to the middle of the shifting stage and settled himself in his familiar rest position to wait for an order. He felt the gazes of all twelve men running over his naked body, assessing him, some of them with more appreciation than others.
More than a few of them were familiar in that he suspected they were men who had issued orders to him before he had been taken under Raynard’s protection. They hadn’t all been pleasant orders to follow. They weren’t all pleasant men.
Ori closed his eyes for a moment as more and more tension rushed into his body. As he looked up again, a movement at the back of the room caught his attention. Raynard stepped through the door in the far corner and found a vantage point along the back wall. Ori’s nerves settled when he saw him. He noticed a flash of silver in Raynard’s hand and recognised the tag on his collar.
His master was waiting for him. All he had to do was get this over with, and he could go back to Raynard, and to his collar, and everything really would be fine. Ori looked to the highest backed chair in the middle of the semi-circle, to the leader of the nest.
Mr Hamilton nodded for him to begin.
Ori took another deep breath. Releasing his hands from behind his back, he let them hang idly at his sides, just as Raynard had told him he should. Closing his eyes, he searched for that place in his mind where he’d come so close to finding another side of himself once before.
A frown crept to his brow as he pushed his way into unexplored areas of his psyche. As he delved deeper, it became far easier not to care about the men watching him, about the nest, about almost anything.
Some part of him was vaguely aware of his physical body lowering itself so he crouched on the stage, his hands steadying him on the floorboards in front of him. As his senses started to spin, Ori dropped onto his knees.
His mind raced faster, spiralling uncontrollably along paths he hadn’t even been sure existed a few minutes earlier.
His partial shift had been all about scrabbling for something out of his reach. It was nothing like this. He gasped. A small cry escaped him as he felt his body being pulled in a million different directions all at once. His mind rebelled against the idea, panicking and trying to pull away.
Like gravity and destiny rolled into one, something relentlessly dragged him forward, down into a place he didn’t understand; a place he didn’t even know if he wanted to understand.
The stage boards seemed to bow and sway under him, threatening to toss him down into his audience at any moment. Ori shook his head. Pain flashed through his body. And, all at once, it wasn’t his body. He had no control, no say over what happened to it.
For the first time in so many months, fear rushed into the space left behind after his control was ripped from him. It wasn’t his master assuming power this time. It was something both inside him and that wasn’t him at all. Ori tried to rise to his feet. He tried to reach out to the world around him, scrabbling for something, anything, to hold on to as terror raced through his veins faster than he could chase it away.
He dragged his eyes open and looked to the back of the room. He couldn’t see into the shadows, couldn’t focus. The elders were close enough to the circle of light directed toward the stage for him to make them out, but they swirled and distorted before him, their faces blurring and melting until they were barely recognisable.
Ori’s limbs wouldn’t work. Something moved, but all he saw was a flash of white to his side. Pain shot through him again—bright, vivid, and worse than any whipping could ever be. He collapsed forward again.
His body met the boards with a thump. He tried to open his eyes. For a second, everything returned to its usual focus. Then, very quietly, it all faded to black.
* * * * *
A hand caressed Ori’s cheek. He immediately leaned into it, relishing his master’s reassurance. But the hand felt wrong. It was softer, plumper than Raynard’s hand. Ori pulled away from it as he fought to open his eyes.
Men crowded around him on all sides, looming over him. Ori looked past them and between them, seeking out any sign of his master.
Raynard wasn’t there. Ori tried to sit up.
A hand came to rest on his shoulder, nudging him back against something soft and yielding. “You should rest a little longer, sire.”
Ori looked over his shoulder. Someone had placed a huge velvet cushion behind his back. He looked at the floor around him. There were blankets and cushions everywhere, half covering his naked body.
Swallowing rapidly as he tried to make his throat work, Ori attempted to sit up again. He automatically pulled the blankets more securely over his lap as he rubbed at his temple with his other hand. His head ached in a way he hadn’t even known was possible.
He lowered his hand to his neck, seeking out the reassurance of his collar. It wasn’t there. Even as panic spiked inside him, a few memories stumbled toward the front of his mind.
Raynard taking the collar back so he couldn’t accidently strangle himself with it during his first shift. Stepping onto the stage. The swirling thoughts. The pain.
“My master,” he managed to whisper.
The men looming above him exchanged glances as if they had no idea who he was talking about.
“Mr Raynard,” Ori managed to croak out. He focused in on Mr Hamilton. He knew who Raynard was. “Where’s my master, sir?”
Mr Hamilton stared down at him for several long seconds, his expression very serious. “You should rest, sire.”
Ori frowned. Sire…
His brain wouldn’t work. “I need to see my master,” he repeated. Raynard would make everything fine.
Mr Hamilton turned and spoke to someone over his shoulder. When he looked back to Ori, an annoyed expression lingered around his eyes. “One of the servants has been sent to find him, sire.”
Another man crouched down at Ori’s side. “A drink, sire.”
Ori frowned. He didn’t know what was going on. There were only three things in the world he was sure of—he was scared, he was confused, and he wanted his master. He tried to rise again. When another stranger put his hand on his shoulder to nudge him back down, Ori pulled away from him.
No one was supposed to lay a hand on him but his master. As his mind spun, that was one of the few facts that couldn’t be denied. He shrugged off the man’s touch, losing all ability to be polite and subtle as he did so. The man didn’t try to touch him again as Ori pulled himself to his feet.
“Your clothes, sire?”
Ori hesitated. He looked down at his naked body. He was supposed to wear clothes when other people were around. He remembered that too. One by one, Raynard’s rules arranged themselves neatly in his head, building a framework for him to hold onto in a suddenly uncertain world.
Ori nodded. He wanted his clothes. Raynard wouldn’t like him wandering around the nest naked—not now that the shifting ceremony was complete. He’d made it very clear that this was a specific exception to the rule. The exception was over.
Pushing his way through the curtain at the back of the stage, Ori scrambled into clothes Raynard had bought for him, his hands clumsier than ever. Some hopeful part of Ori had thought that Raynard might be back there waiting for him, but there was no sign of him.
Some of the elders had followed him into the cramped little space, but they were no alternative to his master. They just stood around, useless and in the way. Ignoring them completely, Ori pushed open the door and stumbled out into the hallway. Raynard wasn’t there either, but lots of other men were. A few familiar faces peeked out from the crowd; servants he’d worked alongside stood with men who’d used and abused him during the months he’d lived at the nest. But Raynard wasn’t in the crowd. Turning in every direction, Ori tried to work out which way to go, but there was no path through the other men.
He lifted his hand to touch his collar the way he had so often over the months. His fingers brushed against bare skin.
A movement caught his attention. Everet, the raven who’d followe
d Raynard’s orders and watched over him that first day, caught Ori’s eye before quickly looking down.
Ori dropped his own gaze as he tried to get past the men who lined the corridors. They stepped back to let him through, making a path just wide enough for him.
“In the old library.”
The words were just on the edge of Ori’s hearing. They reached him as he walked past the raven. It was impossible to be sure that they came from Everet, but something of the kindness in the words reminded Ori of that day when he first met Raynard. Ori couldn’t ignore the possibility they were honest. He rushed in the direction of the old library.
Throwing open the door, he staggered to a stop several yards inside the room. On the far side of the high, book-lined space, Raynard stood by a window. He was looking out over the gardens and didn’t bother to turn around to see who had entered the room. Closing the heavy panelled wood behind him, Ori took a deep breath. Everything would be fine now.
Folding his hands neatly behind his back, he took up a position next to the door. Raynard continued to stare out of the window. His face was only visible in profile, but Ori could see enough to know something was wrong. Raynard’s shoulders were knotted with tension; his jaw was clamped shut. Not one muscle moved as Ori watched him from across the room.
Ori’s relief at finding his master drained away. Something was very wrong. While he’d been completing his shift, something had obviously happened in his master’s world, something far more important than any ceremony could ever be—something bad.
“May I serve you, sir?” Ori whispered, unable to simply stand there and watch Raynard in pain.
Raynard closed his eyes. Without any thought of protocol or rules, Ori stepped forward. He broke from his rest position and crossed the room to stand at his master’s side. He laid his hand on Raynard’s arm, desperate to offer him some sort of comfort. “Sir?”
Raynard spun away. He strode several paces toward the centre of the room before he turned to look at Ori for the first time. His eyes moved over Ori’s body, from the top of his head, all the way down to his booted feet and back up again.
