by Piper Scott
“Then let’s see what you’ve learned.” Sir gestured toward the door with a nod of his head, and Gabriel found himself obeying his word without a second thought. “Maybe you can teach me a thing or two.”
The quiet delight Gabriel took in thinking that he, of all people, could teach Sir anything turned his tiny smile into a near-grin, and he bowed his head to hide his enjoyment. He stepped to the side to allow Sir passage through the room, then followed him out the door to the kitchen.
11
Cedric
The blade passed close to Gabriel’s knuckles, each chop slicing the potato he held into thin medallions. The pieces wilted onto the cutting board, and Gabriel left them where they fell.
He finished one potato and moved on to the next.
The confidence with which he wielded the knife was uncanny, and for a while, Cedric only watched. It was his first peek at who Gabriel could be if he only stopped doubting himself. This was the omega Cedric wanted to see emerge from Gabriel’s psyche. Whatever had happened to make Gabriel hide him away from the world was a crime, and Cedric resolved to make what was wrong right.
“Who taught you to cook?” Cedric asked. He leaned against the counter, listening to the sharp side of the knife hit the cutting board in rapid succession.
“I did, Sir,” Gabriel admitted in a timid, but pleased voice. “Sometimes if I didn’t cook, then… then none of us would eat.”
Cedric studied Gabriel’s face to search for meaning, but all he found was guarded disappointment. Eyes on the potato, posture deflated and meek, it looked like Gabriel was trying to disappear into himself.
The Lowe family wasn’t poor. Cedric knew there was a difference between having money and being cared for, but there was no excuse why any of the Lowe children would go hungry. Rumor had it that the Lowe estate had its own staff—groundskeepers, maids, and chefs included. Had it all been a lie?
Cedric let it go. Gabriel wasn’t ready to be pushed. “What’s your favorite food?”
The knife stopped. Gabriel set it on the counter and pushed the end of the potato to the corner of the cutting board, leaving the medallions in a heap in the middle of it. “I like saltine crackers.”
“Saltines?” Cedric raised an eyebrow.
A smile troubled Gabriel’s face—Cedric couldn’t describe it any other way. What should have been joyous fell flat and lacked energy, like Gabriel was forcing himself to believe that he was happy. The smile was a sham, and Cedric saw right through it.
“When I was living away from my family, sometimes when… when I was good, I’d be given them as treats.”
The statement was innocent, but it scurried down Cedric’s spine like a centipede on the run. He resisted a shudder and rested against the counter as Gabriel scooped the slices into his hands and nudged the sink’s tap with his elbow. Cold water rained down from the faucet, which Gabriel used to wash the starch from the potatoes.
There’d been a time in Cedric’s life when simple pleasures like that spoke to him on a higher level. The gift didn’t matter half as much as the giver, and beyond that, the circumstances behind the gesture were most important of all. When he was Gabriel’s age, Brittany had shown him it was true. Under her command, even pain had been a gift.
But Cedric didn’t get the impression that Gabriel’s statement had come from the same place.
“You know…” Cedric moved from the counter to stand behind Gabriel at the sink. He came close, allowing his groin to meet Gabriel’s ass and his chest to meet his back. With deliberate intention, Cedric traced the fingers of one hand up along Gabriel’s hip and to the subtle inward curve of his waist. If Gabriel gasped, the rushing water drowned it out. Sparks ignited old emotions desiccated by time, and Cedric let them burn inside of him, aware that he was playing a dangerous game.
Cedric leaned closer, letting his lips brush the back of Gabriel’s ear. “…I’m sure we can arrange for better treats if you’re good.”
Some of the medallions tumbled from Gabriel’s hands. Cedric cupped his beneath Gabriel’s, letting the water rush between their fingers as he held his omega’s hands still.
Timid Rabbit…
“Would you like that?”
The tiny noise Gabriel made was neither affirmative or negative, and when he spoke, his voice was a touch more frantic than it usually was. “M-my hands are cold, Sir. May I please stop the water?”
“Are the potatoes ready?”
“Y-yes.”
“Then you may.” Cedric nuzzled the back of Gabriel’s head, letting his soft blond hairs meet his cheek. Then, sure to take his time, he turned off the tap and took a step back. Gabriel hurried from the sink to the counter and dumped the potato slices on the clean cloth Cedric had laid out for him. Without a word, Gabriel made haste to pat them dry, as though if he worked frantically enough, he could forget what had just happened.
If he felt anywhere close to the chemistry that Cedric did, Cedric knew he wouldn’t forget.
Every now and then, Gabriel glanced over his shoulder in Cedric’s direction. Each time he saw Cedric looking back, he looked away and tightened his shoulders, like he expected to be hit. There’d been a time in Cedric’s life when he’d relinquished his power to another, and he knew what it felt like to be aggressively pursued—to have greedy eyes devour his body, and to be the object of the heinous appetites of men—but that meant he understood what Gabriel was feeling, too.
He’d never forget the way she’d made him feel nervous knots of excitement in his stomach, and in her honor, Cedric sought to gift another the same delight.
More than anything, he wanted Gabriel to know what true submission was.
Gabriel dumped the potatoes onto a baking sheet, then drizzled them with the olive oil Cedric had brought out. As he sprinkled them with salt and pepper, Cedric put himself in Gabriel’s shoes. When he’d met Brittany, he’d made the choice to fall to his knees before her and to obey her every word. There’d been no doubt in his heart and no desperation in his soul—he’d given her his agency because it was what he’d wanted, and he’d thrived off the attention he’d received not only from her, but from the men in The Shepherd who’d lusted after an alpha so sure of himself that he wasn’t afraid to embrace submission.
It wasn’t the same story for Gabriel.
Until Cedric knew his narrative, he’d operate with caution. The fledgling relationship they now shared needed to be nurtured, and Cedric wouldn’t rush it. He wasn’t acquainted with Gabriel very well, but no matter what kind of a person Gabriel was, he deserved better than that. No matter what it took, Cedric would meet his needs in any way he could. He would find the confident omega who’d been so certain with the knife, and he’d coax him out of hiding.
Gabriel slid the baking sheet into the preheated oven and dusted off his hands, then looked nervously over his shoulder at Cedric. Chicken was already cooking on the stove, and there were peas in the freezer waiting to be heated. Dinner wouldn’t be long.
“Everything is cooking now, apart from the peas,” Gabriel said, bowing his head. “Does that please you, Sir?”
Cedric came to stand in front of him. He lifted Gabriel’s head with a single hand and ran his thumb across his lips. “You please me, Gabriel.”
Gabriel’s cheeks turned pink, and his eyelids fluttered. “Thank you, Sir.”
No matter how Sterling inflated the importance of the job, Cedric’s task was simple. He’d teach Gabriel what it was like to be valued.
No more saltines.
12
Gabriel
The dishes slid beneath the suds, sinking to the depths of the sink. Gabriel watched them disappear, but it wasn’t long before his attention was diverted.
Sir was back.
The force of his presence made itself known to Gabriel before his body did, but when it did come, it was bold. Sir’s arms slipped around his waist like they’d always been together—like Sir actually thought Gabriel was worth his time. Then, in a low voice aga
inst the back of Gabriel’s ear that made him shiver with delight, Sir spoke. “Dinner was delicious.”
No matter which way he twisted his thoughts, he couldn’t find a reply. Gabriel opened his mouth, but the gesture was futile. No words came.
“It’s been a long time since anyone’s cooked for me,” Sir admitted. As he spoke, his hands began to wander inward, tracing over Gabriel’s hip to arrive low on his stomach, near his groin. “I’d forgotten how nice it is. You please me, Rabbit.”
Rabbit.
Sir’s hands stroked the flattened part of Gabriel’s stomach that would one day swell with child. Fingertips like magic, palms treating him to wonder Gabriel had never known, made a tiny gasp spill from between his lips. His cock started to harden.
“R-Rabbit, Sir?” Gabriel asked. Arousal changed the sound of his voice, but he couldn’t hide it. Sir drove him crazy.
“Do you like it?” Sir grinned against his ear—Gabriel felt his lips stretch in amusement. “My flighty, beautiful, timid Rabbit. I promise, no foxes will come. I’ll keep you safe.”
The vow stunned Gabriel. He closed his eyes and let go of his last inhibitions.
Sex was different than this—whatever this was. Sex was selfish, primal, and empty. When men groped him, Gabriel was always able to shut his brain off. There was no engagement in sex. No pleasure.
But with a few words and the gentle touch of Sir’s hands upon Gabriel’s stomach, Gabriel’s balls ached, and his cock begged for attention.
“I like it, Sir,” Gabriel whispered. He couldn’t do anything else. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me,” Sir whispered back. He traced his teeth along the ridge of Gabriel’s ear, and the hot words he spoke next were made for Gabriel and Gabriel alone. “This is your reward for pleasing me. Enjoy it. Be selfish.”
The hands low on Gabriel’s stomach slipped downward, and Sir cupped Gabriel’s clothed cock. With a startled gasp, Gabriel pushed into Sir’s hand and rubbed himself shamelessly into his palm.
“You’re already so hard,” Sir whispered, like it was a compliment. “Oh, Rabbit, what am I going to do with you?”
Sir’s fingers slid back up to undo the button of Gabriel’s jeans, and Gabriel squirmed as he undid the fly beneath, too. Sir’s broad hand slipped through the opening it had made and toyed with the thick elastic of Gabriel’s briefs while his other hand continued to cup and squeeze Gabriel’s erection from outside his pants.
“I like you,” Sir whispered. His words were silk, smooth and sleek in ways that Gabriel never wanted to lose. “I want to know that you like me, too.”
“I like you, Sir,” Gabriel uttered. Never had he said something as true. There was no more guilt. “I like you very much.”
“Good.”
Sir’s hand slipped below the elastic, allowing his fingertips to brush the head of Gabriel’s stiff cock. With a needy cry, the air left Gabriel’s lungs. It didn’t matter. Sir gave him everything he needed.
“When is the last time someone touched you like this?” Sir asked, his voice a teasing presence against the back of Gabriel’s ear. His hand slipped down and wrapped around Gabriel’s shaft. It started to pump. “When is the last time anyone made you feel this way?”
“Never,” Gabriel gasped.
It was true.
Tears gathered behind his closed eyelids and slid down his cheeks in silence.
It wasn’t supposed to feel good.
“No more saltines.” Sir nipped at his ear. He growled low in his throat and tugged at Gabriel’s lobe. “When you’re to be rewarded, you will be rewarded properly. Do you like to come, Rabbit?”
“Y-yes.”
It had to be a dream. There was no way it wasn’t a dream. The way Sir touched him felt too good for real life. Nothing should have felt so wonderful.
“Then when you’re good, you’re allowed to come. This dick I’m stroking right now? The one that’s so hard for me?” All of Sir’s words were pretty, but Gabriel could barely string together their meaning. Pleasure swirled low in his gut and he knew it wouldn’t be much longer before he couldn’t hold it back. “It belongs to me. I don’t want your hands on it. I don’t want you to come unless I’m the one touching you. Do you understand?”
“Y-yes, Sir.” Gabriel couldn’t help it—he bucked forward into Sir’s hand.
“I want you to know the full extent of the pleasure I can give you.” The honey in Sir’s voice was a new addiction Gabriel couldn’t shake. “I want you to understand why it’s important to be good.”
Everything was tight. Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut and tried to loosen the clenching muscles in his gut, but it was no use. He was going to come. Sir was going to make him come, and he was going to make a mess of his pants.
“When we’re together, I want you to know that your pleasure comes first,” Sir uttered. His hand worked in rhythmic thrusts, tight enough that Gabriel wanted for nothing more. The pressure in his balls grew, and the urge to come welled up inside until it became irresistible. “I need you to show me that you understand, Rabbit. Your cum is your body’s promise to me that it accepts. I need to feel it. I need to see you lose control.”
Every breath was more strained than the last. Pinpricks danced behind Gabriel’s eyes. No man had ever demanded he come before—at least, not without having come first.
A sharp cry pierced the silence of the kitchen.
Gabriel came into Sir’s hand, spilling so much, he thought he’d never come again.
But Sir wasn’t done yet. Gabriel’s jeans sagged. Then, the elastic band of his briefs started to slip down over his ass.
Sir was going to breed him.
Gabriel’s mouth opened again, and when he spoke, the words came naturally. He knew what men wanted to hear. It was what he’d been trained for. “That was so good, Sir. I want to make you feel good, too. Please, please use me. Let me show you the only thing I’m good at. Breed me, and make me do what I was born to do.”
The elastic stopped moving, and Sir’s hand on his shaft halted. Gabriel found the presence of mind to open his eyes. Sir must have needed more.
“Fuck me. I was born to take your cock. Let me take your come, Sir. Teach me what it means to be an omega.”
Sir’s hand parted from his cock, and Gabriel groaned at the loss of stimulation.
“Sir?” Gabriel looked over his shoulder, the pleasure of orgasm fleeting now that he’d lost the touch of another. He’d never come from another man’s touch before, not even Garrison. It was strange and wonderful, and Gabriel didn’t want it to stop. “Please, Sir. Please. I’m ready.”
But there was a haunted look in Sir’s eyes, and Sir wasted no time in raising the elastic of his briefs and lifting his jeans back into place. What had happened? Had he done wrong?
“Sir?”
“That’s enough pleasure for tonight, Gabriel,” Sir murmured. “I want you to do the dishes, then I want you to go to bed.”
A lump rose in Gabriel’s throat. Somehow, he’d done wrong.
But maybe, just maybe, he could fix things by being good. In that moment, all he wanted was Sir.
At Sir’s hand, dreams of Garrison were eroding into nightmares.
13
Cedric
Breed me, and make me do what I was born to do.
Cedric braced his palms on the wall of the shower stall and squeezed his eyes shut. The memory of Gabriel’s body still spoke to him—the heat of his torso against Cedric’s chest, the silken sensation of his cock in Cedric’s palm, and the smell of his omega as Cedric nuzzled against the back of his head and played with his ear. Gabriel’s body language had indicated that he was ready, but the things he’d said revealed a story far more troubling.
Breed me.
Make me do what I was born to do.
No matter how Cedric tried, he couldn’t escape what he’d heard.
If that was really how Gabriel felt, he couldn’t have sex with him. Hell, he shouldn’t have ever laid a hand on h
im. Disturbing thoughts like those ran deep, and until Cedric rooted them out, he couldn’t reward his omega in the way he wanted to.
Above the noise of rushing water, Cedric heard Gabriel in the hall. The guest bedroom door closed, and Cedric’s guilt built. He’d left his omega unsatisfied and wanting more when he should have been rewarded. It was his mistake. If he’d been strong enough not to shut down completely when Gabriel had demeaned himself in such a way, then he could have carried on and rewarded Gabriel in other ways—worked to stoke his confidence and knock down the walls of ignorance he’d locked himself behind. But that hadn’t happened, and now Cedric had to live with the consequences.
Sterling’s warning made more sense than ever.
Of course he was the Dom properly outfitted for the job—Cedric understood submission well, and that meant he understood that what Gabriel was doing was harmful to his mental health. Submission didn’t mean defeat.
Cedric rinsed the rest of the soap from his body and worked the shampoo out of his hair. When the water ran clear, he turned it off and stepped out of the shower stall. His toes curled against the lush fibers of his bath mat, and for a moment, all he did was breathe.
He wanted Gabriel. The attraction had been instant, and the connection was there. Gabriel had been responsive to his touch, and his body had told Cedric that he was doing right. If he could only get his mind in alignment, then they could continue their sessions the way Cedric wanted them to progress.
But until then—until he knew that Gabriel understood his importance and his worth—Cedric couldn’t touch him.
