Chapter Nine

Ch apter Nine

“We gotta slay the dragon!” I scream as I run up the hill, holding my s word high.

“Wait! My sword broke,” the small voice calls from behind me.

“Oh.” I stop, looking around on the ground for a suitable replacement. “Here y’go, Mikey.” I hand the sturdy looking stick to m y brother.

“Thanks, D.” He gives it a few practi ce swings.

“Now c’mon!” I turn to start my run back up the hill. “He’s gett in’ away!”

I wake up slowly to the sounds of chirping morning birds muffled behind a thick curtain. My eyes adjust to the sunlight bleeding through the edges, and whatever the blurry green thing in my vision is comes into focus. Once the fact that it’s a person crosses my mind, the rest of my brain finally kicks into gear, and the memories of the last two days come flooding back. I stop myself from jerking away in surprise, not wanting to risk waking the sle eping orc.

At least he’s not spooning me this time. We went to bed on separate sides of the bed last night but once again migrated back to the center. This time I’m curled up in the crook of my bedmate’s arm, my head on his shoulder and my arm thrown over his chest. Being this close to his armpit, it’s hard not to smell the man. Considerably better than the locker rooms back home.

Home... My mind drifts back to the dream I was having. Why was I dreaming about Mike? I mean, besides the whole “leaving home two months ago without telling anyone including your twin brother” thing. I’ve gotten pretty good at burying the guilt from that under all the stress and fighting. I can’t remember ever having any dreams about him before. Or anyone else from home. I don’t usually remember my drea ms at all.

I can’t say I’ve been missing home or even my family much up until now, but knowing that I might not see them again for months or even longer is drawing out a small pang of homesickness. Maybe I could send Mike a letter? I drop that line of thinking quickly. Telling Mike would most likely mean telling everyone else, and I am not ready to do that. Gods know how pissed off Dad probably is, or what he’d do to get me back there. I wonder how long the academy took to tell him I was gone. Can’t imagine they’d even want me back at this point. What would I even say? Especially given my current situation.

A situation that at present includes my dick pressing firmly against an orc’s thigh, my leg thrown over his. Something I have been pointedly ignoring until now because… Family. Gross . But that is proving hard now that I also really need to pee. Which is the only reason I’m hard at all. That’s... That’s what I’m gonna keep telling myself. Just like how the only reason I haven’t untangled myself is so I don’t wake him.

It’s not like I’ve been getting some of the best sleep I’ve had in months. Maybe ev en longer.

Ironstorm suddenly shifts, forcing me to move enough that I finally feel the urge to stretch my limbs. I hiss, not realizing my mistake until it’s too late when my erection grinds into his flank. Fuck . The noise and my movements are enough to rouse him, his head turning slowly to meet my gaze, his own eyes still bleary with sleep. He lifts his head and takes in the rest of the scene b efore him.

“Morning,” his chest rumbles, his unused voice rough like gravel. “Seems as though you are an ear ly riser.”

I nod my head, still too asleep myself to get the intended double entendre. I’ve always gotten up pretty early. Habit , I guess.

“Here.” He reaches over to unlock the chains I forgot were attached. “So you may take care of that.”

His nod downward finally makes the joke click in my head, and I can feel the first of what I’m sure will be many times I blush today. I carefully lift myself off his chest, pulling away from his body and ignoring the sticky trail I’ve left on his thigh as I move off the bed and into the bathroom. After some aiming and a little concentration, I manage to relieve my very full bladder. While I’m washing my hands, Ironstorm slides in behind me to take care of the s ame needs.

“I feel like bacon for breakfast. Do you like bacon?” he asks me while drying his hands.

“Sure.” Who doesn’t? Besides ve getarians.

“Good.” He joins me in the hallway outside the bathroom. “I left you something to change into on the bed. See you in the kitchen.” He passes me wi th a wink.

“Something” turns out to be a thong. It’s green at least, not pink. And I guess it’s better than being naked. Heavy emphasis on the guess. I take a moment to adjust myself, making sure all my bits and pieces are in the pouch. Not sure how anyone gets used to wearing a string up their ass. I look at myself in the bathroom mirror before walking out to the kitchen. I mean, I don’t want to be wearing it, but I am definitely pulling it off. We’ll have to see if Brull was right about my ass and j ockstraps.

When I finally enter the front part of the house, I can already hear the pork sizzling in the pan. Gods, that smells amazing. Ironstorm is in front of the stove with an apron wrapped around his chest, ass still visible in the back. I stand at the counter for a minute before tentatively walking into th e kitchen.

“Can I... I mean, do you need any help?” Standing around doing nothing makes me f eel weird.

“Afraid there is not much else needed for bacon, pup.” Good point. “Is cooking something you enj oy doing?”

“I liked helping out in the kitchens back home.” I downplay my culina ry habits.

“That is good to know.” He gives me an appreciative nod over his shoulder. “Is coffee something y ou drink?”

“You have coffee here?” Oh shit, I haven’t had a cup of coffee in ages . They ration that stuff like water in a desert at th e academy.

“Red jar on that shelf.” He points to the shelves against the wall to our right. “Sugar should be up there as well.” He bends over to grab a kettle to fill w ith water.

I spot the red jar he’s talking about immediately, the smell of ground coffee hitting me when I lift off the ceramic lid. The sugar takes me a little longer as I sort through some of the other jars. The first few are nothing special, salt, pepper, even cinnamon, but after that, I have a hard time naming them. I recognize one as shockvine and I think another might be grass of Hypnos—also known as hypnograss. These are potion in gredients.

I know this because Mike got really into potion brewing during our last few years of school. There was this week I was having trouble sleeping, and I had a really big test the next day, so he convinced me to try one of his “sleeping potions.” I asked him what was in it and he told me that “it’s mostly just a lot of hypnograss.” And it worked: I could barely keep my eyes open for the next two days. I failed the test but learned to never let my brother use me as a lab rat again.

Now, you don’t have to be magical to brew potions, but it helps. So what exactly is this orc doing wi—

“Everything okay?” I freeze at the question, replacing the lid on the jar an d turning.

“Can’t find the sugar.” I think about asking about what’s in the jars, but...it’s like the more I learn, the less I understand who he is. That’s enough reason to keep it to myself.

“I need to organize that shelf.” He takes the coffee from me and finds the sugar. “I am almost finished; you may wait on the couch if you wo uld like.”

I make my way to the couch, settling quietly in one corner. My ass still feels slightly bruised from the last few days, but after applying another coat of that salve last night, it’s really only a dull ache now. The fireplace in front of me is silent. Has it really only been two days? Barely even that. But it feels like I’ve been here a lot longer. This was not what I had in mind when I left home.

I’m pulled from my thoughts when I feel weight on the couch next to me. I look over to see Ironstorm with a large mug in one hand and a plate in the other. I didn’t hear the bacon stop sizzling. He squeezes in next to me, ignoring the other empty end of the couch as he sets the mug on the floor. Then he hooks his arm behind my knees, lifting and turning me so my legs are over his lap. Before I can react, he drops the plate of bacon onto my thighs and picks up the mug to press into my hands.

I don’t say anything about the manhandling—again, what would be the point?—but I give the mug a tentat ive sniff.

Mmm, coffee. I can see the steam rising from the mug, so I give it a small blow before taking a sip. Still way too hot, but fuck is that good. It’s black, not how I usually take it, but there’s just enough sugar that I d on’t mind.

“It’s good. Thank you.” I hand the mug back, at least until it cools off some.

“You are welcome.” Ironstorm nods and grabs a piece of bacon in his free hand, bringing it to my mouth.

“Seriously?” I sigh at being fed like a child again. “My hands aren’t even tied t his time.”

“Humor me.” There’s the hint of a smile on his lips as he holds the piece t o my lips.

I sigh again but lean forward and take the piece nonetheless. It’s still bacon. I swear I can feel the stress leaving my body with each crispy crunch. Damn, have I missed bacon. And steak. And bread that isn’t a week old. And cheese you don’t have to scrape the mo ld off of.

I open my eyes—they closed as soon as the bacon hit my tongue—to see I’m being watched, an amused look in the orc’s eyes as he chews on his own piece. He says nothing, just leans over to grab a book from the table next to the couch.

“Why do you do that?” May as well ask questions at t his point.

“Do what?” He puts the book down.

“Feed me.” I cros s my arms.

“I like it.” He crosses his wit h a smirk.

“You like making me feel helpless?” I narro w my eyes.

“I have other ways to keep your mouth full if you would prefer,” he responds wi th a leer.

“Fu—” Another piece of bacon is shoved in my mouth before I can retort. Whatever . I’ll take bacon over his dick any day. Tastes way better. Probably.

I look up, happy to see he is once again engrossed in his reading and not watching me as I contemplate the flavor of his cock. What is wrong with me? I mean, given the events of the last 48ish hours, it’s understandable, right? The ritual, the shower, the mornings in bed, the “punishment” last night... It’s not like I’ve had a choice in any of it.

But why does that fact seem to make me like it even more? Being tied down, held in place, manhandled... Shit, I’m starting to get hard right now . I have to use my thighs to keep my cock trapped between them. Seriously, David, this is not normal. This is not like that time when you were sixteen and you got drunk at a party with Rich Fulbrush, and you thought he was going to kiss you, but all he ended up doing was puking all over your shoes. This is a stranger, a monster , holding you against your will. He’s beaten you, humiliated you, practically raped you. So if you could maybe stop wondering what it would feel like for him to fuck you while chained to his bed that would be great.

A piece of bacon in my face refocuses my attention, right before a knock at the door draws away Ironstorm’s. He slides my legs off his lap and places the mug on the table, walking around the couch to answer it still as naked as when we woke up. I know I shouldn’t be, but I’m surprised when he opens the door without a second thought. There’s a greeting and some words exchanged with the person on the other side, before Ironstorm is handed a lot of packages wrapped in brown paper. He takes a step back and gestures his head in my direction before the orc at the door pokes his head around the corner to stare at me. After bidding the delivery person farewell, Ironstorm then removes a paper seemingly stuck to the front door before c losing it.

“What was that about?” I ask as he walks the packages to th e kitchen.

“Butcher. I have a standing order delivered every other Ignisday.” He drops the meat onto the counter so he can open the lid on the icebox. “Seeing your appetite these past few days, I told him I needed to start dou bling it.”

“...Sorry.” A joke about having to feed your pets dies on my tongue.

“Nothing to apologize for.” He starts loading the packages inside. “I take it you have not been eating very well on your travels?”

“No. Not really.” I hope I’m not about to get a lecture on human nutrition. “I used to be a littl e bigger.”

“I can tell by your frame.” Satisfied with his organizational skills, he shuts the lid. “Hopefully while you are here, you can regain some of your mass.” He rejoins me on the couch, lifting my legs to his lap once more.

“Why did he want to lo ok at me?”

“He wanted to know if the ranger captain’s new avakesh was as attractive as he had heard.” He feeds me another piece of bacon before unfolding the paper he pulled off the door. “H e agreed.”

The compliment makes me feel a little warm, but like so many other times, I’m not sure what to say. I just chew my bacon. Ironstorm retrieves the mug and takes a few swallows before passing it to me. I do the same now that it is finally cool enough to enjoy.

“I have some news for you.” The paper is refolded and placed to the side. “Your friends are to be brought before a council member in the morning.”

“They ar—” A hand held in the air cu ts me off.

“A proclamation of guilt has already been signed and submitted, so this is largely for determining any penalties or disciplinary action. As the ranger who made the arrest, I need to be there,” he continues before putting his hand down. “I want to make a deal with you.”

“What kind of deal?” I eye him suspiciously. Not sure I trust deals made ar ound here.

“If you behave today, if you will willingly submit to some training—which includes following my instructions and not talking back—I will take you to see your friends tomorrow.” He trains a stern look on me. “But you have to actually try , David. I do not want to spend the day figh ting you.”

I consider his offer in silence. Given what we’ve been doing, especially last night, it’s not hard to figure out the kind of training he’s really talking about. The kind of training I was just thinking about and risking my dick escaping its thigh prison. So it’s not like I don’t know I can do it. But...it’s getting hard er to keep convincing him I don’t like this. Whic h I don’t!

Right?

“Will I be able to talk to them?” Staring at them across the room isn’t gonn a do much.

“I cannot promise that.” He frowns a little. “If it is possible, I will do my best.” Better than nothing, I suppose.

“Do you... Do you think they already know about what happened to me?” Like that I lost the match, but I’m not dead. Or that I belong to Ironstorm now and what exactly tha t entails.

“They are likely aware of your loss and also that you still live.” He offers an apologetic look, probably knowing what I’m thinking about. “I cannot say what they may know bey ond that.”

I take a moment to think, but it’s not a hard decision. I want to see my friends. “Okay,” I answer after taking a deep breath. “I’ ll do it.”

The smile reaches his eyes, and he feeds me another piece of bacon. “We will begin after b reakfast.”

I chew in quiet contemplation, the coffee passed back to me twice more before it and the bacon are finished. Ironstorm brings the dishes to the kitchen while I am sent off to the bathroom to clean up. After brushing the last of the bacon grease from my teeth, I rejoin the captain in the living room. He turns to me as I enter after laying something on the couch.

“What’s that?” It’s a...well, it’s not a riding crop, but it’s not not a ri ding crop.

“A tool that will help us later.” Really don’t like the sound of that. “Are you ready to begin?”

“I guess?” He cocks his eyebrow. “Okay, ye s. Sorry.”

“Am I mistaken in thinking you have had some form of military training?” He questions me as he look s me over.

“Kind of.” The knight academy isn’t exactly the military, but there are similarities. “The school I went to was sort of pre-military and trained a lot like one.”

“I was not certain. I think I have heard the word ‘Sir’ from you a total of three times since you arrived.” He crosses his arms, unimpressed. “So we will begin there. I expect that word to become a regular part of your vocabulary going forward.”

“Okay.” Eyebrow. “I mean yes, Sir.”

“Better. This first exercise will hopefully feel familiar: posing and stances.” Uuuggghhh , I hate position drills. The orc maneuvers me to stand in front of the couch facing away, about halfway between it and the fireplace.

“The first is simple: ‘Attention.’” Probably different, but we used that one at the academy. “Heels together, toes pointed out. Back and head straight, eyes forward. Arms straight down, fingers curled into fis ts. Good.”

Not too dissimilar. We’d get that word barked at us constantly so falling in line became seco nd nature.

“Very good. Next is ‘Rest.’ Keep your back straight; move your feet slightly apart.” I keep my posture straight while allowing my legs to take a more relaxed stance. “Good. Now move your hands to the small of your back, and grab your right wrist with your l eft hand.”

I do as asked, turning to him for further in struction.

“Head straight, eyes forward.” I correct myself, biting back a sigh. “This is the position you would take if we were stopped in public, and you were otherwise unoccupied, such as when I saw my friend in the market yesterday. Though I understand the urge your eyes have to roam can be strong.” Was he watching me yesterday?

“Wait, like, any time we’re in public?” Things weren’t near that strict at the academy. “This is something everyone in the city expects?”

“No, most orcs in the city do not.” He walks around me, looking over my posture. “But I am not most orcs. I am Captain Khazak Ironstorm of the Rangers of V’rok’sh Tah’lj. There are over two-hundred men under my command, so my expectations are higher than most, as are the expectations others have of me.” He comes to a stop in front of me, finishing his ex planation.

Wow . We’re really not fucking around here. He’s not going to make me run laps or drop and do a bunch of push-ups, is he? No, I suppose he’d prefer to just tan my ass. I swallow thickly even with nothing in my mouth. What the hell have I gotten into? Maybe sensing my feelings, Ironstorm walks o ver to me.

“I will not expect you to follow these protocols all of the time.” He brushes some of my hair behind an ear. “But because of my position, there will be many times where it will be required of you. I have faith you will not disappoint me.” No press ure there.

“Next is ‘Inspection.’ Your feet should be the same as when at Attention.” I bring my feet back together. “Now move your arms up and clasp your hands behind your neck. Keep your elbows out, still standing with your back straight.”

The name of the pose combined with the way Iron— Sir ’s eyes my body as he walks around makes a warm feeling start to pool in my stomach. I feel the occasional tap of his hand as he corrects my posture to his liking. I jump when his palm ghosts over my ass, earning me a spank for breaking form. He comes to another stop in fr ont of me.

“Good boy.” The praise makes me shiver as his eyes rake down my body. “You will take this position when I want to look over your body or inspect your clothing. Or if I decided to allow someone else to.” A vision of last night in Brull’s shop flashes in my head and more heat pools in my core. “Now we will move on to kneeling.”

I want to say the academy never taught us any kneeling positions, but I bite my tongue. Besides, maybe when I’m kneeling, the “problem” growing in the front of my underwear will be less visible. After his expectant look, I wordlessly sink to my knees on the floor.

“The next two positions are variations on what you have already learned.” He takes a step back. “First is ‘Kneeli ng Rest.’”

I think I can figure that one out at least a little on my own. I straighten my back and grab my wrist behind my back, eyes forward. Ironstorm walks around me, inspecting my progress.

“Good boy.” His hand cards through my hair. “You are a quick learner. Next is ‘Kneeling Ins pection.’”

My hands move from my back to my neck. I spread my arms, elbows pointing out as I puff out my chest a little.

“Square your shoulders.” A hand against my lower back helps correct me. “Keep your arms in line with your hips.” When he circles around to my front, I can see he’s picked up the not-ri ding crop.

“Good. Now arms down. The next position is ‘Display.’” He walks around to my left side. “First, sit back on your heels.” I feel the cool leather of the crop brushing against my ass, and I shiver, lowering my weight onto my feet. “Now, spread your thighs.” A foot taps the inside of my thigh after I comply . “Wider.”

I spread my legs even wider, almost uncomfortably so, but that seems to please him. There’s a hum of appreciation, and the riding crop begins to slowly rub against the inside of my thigh, traveling up my leg and almost brushing against the pouch of my thong. My breath hitches, then it’s gone and he’s walking around me again.

“Lay your arms flat over your thighs, palms facing up.” I move my arms, my hands stopping just above my knees. I shift the weight in my legs without thinking about it, earning a quick swat o n the ass.

“Oww!” I move back into position.

“What was that?” He cocks his head.

“Oww, Sir ,” I grit out.

“Better.” He walks around me slowly, lightly running the end of the crop over different sections of my body. I can feel goosebumps rising in its wake, and I have to hold back a shiver or risk another swat. I’m finding I don’t really mind how the leather feels otherwise.

When he comes back around to face me, he kneels down on one knee so we’re closer to eye level. “Normally, I would allow you to use my first name in private.” He brings his hand to my chin, lifting so that I’m looking at him. “For now, it will still be ‘Sir’ until it becomes second nature. But soon enough...” He traces his thumb lightly across my lower lip before pulling back and standing, giving me one last long look.

“Beautiful,” he mutters to himself and my ears go pink. “Only one more for today. ‘Pr ostrate.’”

I stutter in my movement as I’m not actually sure what I need to do, so I look up for in struction.

“Still on your knees, bend all the way over, laying your arms straight out in front of you.” I fold myself over, my hands running along the wood floor as I move forward. “Rest your forehead against the floor. Good.” I can hear him walking around me again. “This isn’t a position I would use often, certainly not in public. But it is a nice view.” I hear the last part coming from behind me, and the warmth in my body spreads downward. “Okay, stand up.”

“Is that all?” I dust off my knees. “Sir,” I tag on t o the end.

“No.” He puts a hand on my shoulder, a grin growing on his face. “Now, we practice.”

For the next hour, Ironstorm—or Sir, as he is intent on being called now—continues to pace around me, barking orders. At least I think it’s an hour; the only clock in here is behind me. It starts simple enough: he says a position and I take it, with him giving nudges and light taps to perfect my pose. Then I have to hold each position for longer and longer periods of time. The standing ones are fine, but I can see why some of the kneeling ones would bother someone after a while, especiall y Display.

The longer I hold a position, the more my mind wanders to other thoughts, which results in me falling out of position. The nudges turn into love taps, which get progressively harder and harder until they’re full-on swats. Every time the leather of the crop smacks against my skin, I bite back a whimper, and my annoyance grows into somethin g angrier.

Once he’s satisfied that I can humiliate myself in place long enough, we take things in the other direction. The orders to change poses start coming in faster and faster, as does the damn crop. Things are already moving rapid fire, then he starts to hit me for moving too slowly . I’m falling onto my knees when I see the crop coming in on my left, and I just fuc king snap .

“AAAHHH!” I yell, catching the crop mid-swing and ripping it from the orc’s hand. I fling it across the room, watching it smack into the wall and land with a thud. “No!” I lock eyes with Ironstorm and point sternly at the offending object like I’m scolding a pet. Apparently my skills in articulation went f lying too.

He looks at me then the crop. I’m expecting a fight, some yelling—you know, anger —but all I get when he turns back is a deep belly la ugh. What?

“That was...” He wipes a tear from his eye. “I mean, I will have to punish you for grabbing and throwing that, but you held your composure much longer than I ant icipated.”

“...What?” Was all of that just to fuck with me? “Did you just make all of that up?!”

“Oh no, the training was very real.” He walks over to pick up the crop. “But toward the end, I was pushing you for a reaction. You lasted almost ten minutes longer than I expected. Now, more training or shall we break f or lunch?”

Are you. Fucking. K idding me?

“Aaahhh!” I yell again, throwing my hands up and falling backward onto the floor. “I quit.”

“So lunch first then?” I hear the response coming from th e kitchen.

“Nope. I quit everything.” I sprawl my limbs out like a snow angel. “Just drop it on my face.”

That gets me another laugh, though it seems he wasn’t joking about lunch. I can hear him rooting around in the kitchen. That’s fine with me. Bacon and coffee, while delicious, isn’t much of a meal. Shit, I really am getting spoiled by the food here. Why is he even making me lunch? I just don’t get an y of this.

“I don’t understand.” I sit up to make my statement to the room.

“What, something with the training?” the orc asks over his shoulder. “We can go over—”

“No, this . Any of it. All of it.” I stand and gesture between the two of us. “Being your, your... avakesh .” The word feels strange on my tongue.

“Well, it is only your third day, I w ould not—”

“No, I mean why would anyone agree to this? Being tied up, molested, humiliated.” The fact that I might have enjoyed some of what’s happened over the last three days is purely i ncidental.

“I think you meant ‘why would anyone agree to this, Sir. ’” Good thing he can’t see me rolling my eyes. “Most people who attempt the Nagul Uzu’gor are less opposed to what awaits them should they fail.” I feel like that’s missing my point.

“Why would they even agree to it in the first place?” Assuming they actually knew what they were agreeing to if they lost. He turns to cock a n eyebrow.

“Most people who attempt it are also not doing so to avoid only a few months in a jail cell.” I can’t see it, but I swear it sounds like he just rolled his e yes at me.

“Half a year is hardly a few.” I stand a s I argue.

“Just so we are clear,” he starts, still focused on cutting whatever is in front of him with the knife he’s holding, “the idea that someone would wager their freedom and risk becoming an avakesh is wrong, but killing someone or being killed for the same reason would be okay?”

“I didn’t...” Glad he’s not looking at me right now. “I didn’t want to kill you.”

“I know.” He says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

“What do you mean you ‘know’?” I wasn’t even sure what was going to happen!

“In the arena.” He speaks over his shoulder while he works. “You had me beat. You sent me face first to the ground, and by all accounts your sword should have been at my neck.” He puts down the knife and turns to me. “Why wa s it not?”

“...I told you. I didn’t want to kill you.” This is making me blush for so me reason.

“My thoughts as well.” He turns back to finish slicing whatever it was he was working on. “Do not misunderstand: I am happy you did not. Spirits know what might have happened if you had followed through.”

People probably wouldn’t have been too happy about me killing one of their own, especially someone so important, out in the open like that. Doubly so considering we weren’t supposed to be killing each other at all. “What would have happened?”

“Honestly, I am not entirely sure.” He seems to be using a different knife to cut into a loaf of bread now. “Killing is not explicitly against the rules. It is also not something that has happened previously, as far as I am aware. As I said, normally when someone issues a ritual challenge, they have already accepted the potential consequences o f losing.”

“Sure, but why ?” Feels like he’s still missing the bigger part of my ques tion here.

“Because the intent of the relationships that result from the ritual is one of partnership. You were not strong enough on your own, so we will make you stronger together .” He speaks without looking up. “Even if they lose, as an avakesh , the person knows they can count on a warm bed, a full belly, and protection. I think the benefits for the party on my end of things are a little more obvious.” He turns his head and gives me a wink. “Again, it is not a risk usually taken to avoid only a few months of j ail time.”

That answer gives me pause, because yeah, maybe I wouldn’t have rushed into things if I took a second to really think about it. Even when I was only thinking I might die, gambling my life against being locked up for a few months isn’t an equal bet. I was just so freaked out, and angry, and worried that I rushed ahead anyway. Logically, I know I should just be glad I’m not dead, but the urge to keep mentally kicking myself is just t oo strong.

“We all act impulsively at times, pup.” A hand holding a torn piece of sandwich is suddenly in front of my face, which apparently has my thoughts written all over it. I turn to see Khazak standing next to me, two sandwiches on a plate in his other hand. “I know you are not exactly thrilled with the circumstances you find yourself in, but I am glad our battle ended the way it did. For both our sakes. Ready for lunch?” He wiggles the sandwich piece i n my face.

I guess things could be worse. I shrug and lean forward to grab it with my teeth, my lips and tongue brushing against his fingers as I do. Damn, not bad. Some type of ham? There’s some leftover bacon from breakfast in there too. I chew and follow him back to the couch, resuming our earlier positions. We eat in relative silence, my brain working overtime to process the new info. The possibility of seeing my friends tomorrow stops me from complaining about being fed again. Though, the way I am basically licking his fingers now makes this feel a lot more intimate than the other times. I stop thinking about it too much, until at one point I lean forward and lick some sauce off his thumb without a second thought and freeze, feeling my face burn red.

It’s early afternoon when we finish eating and move to the kitchen to clean up. There’s not a lot, but Ironstorm still hands me a small towel to do the drying. It only takes us a few minutes together and then Sir is putting things away and drying his hands.

“I do not have much else planned for the day, but I thought we might go for a run.” He throws the towel or a bar above the sink. “Is that something you wou ld enjoy?”

“Running was never my favorite thing to do...” At the academy, if you pissed off your instructor, there was always a chance they’d make you run laps around the courtyard. “But it would be a nice way to get out of the house, Sir.” The “Sir” gets m e a smile.

“Then we will let our lunch settle and do j ust that.”