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Morning found him curled against Timaios and not wanting to move, to open his eyes, or to think.

He nuzzled closer to his Owner, breathing in the sandy scent of him. “Like a Riesling,” he muttered, and then froze, blushing.

There was a hand in his hair and the chest under him was shaking lightly in laughter.  “Sandy, mmm? That’s a nice way to put that. Thank you, Ctirad.”

“Sir?”  He didn’t move, didn’t peek up at his Owner, but the urge was there. Continue reading →

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Danny was, Ctirad noticed, not wearing a uniform or any sort of suit, just a chef’s jacket and loose pants. Danny was also a woman, as far as Ctirad could tell; she had platinum-blonde hair in loose curls to the tips of her pointed ears and darkly tanned skin, her chef’s jacket covering the type of physique that made Ctirad think she doubles as a bodyguard.

She set down a tray laden with food on a small table Ctirad had not noticed before and bowed politely to Timaios. “Will that be all?”

He snorted. “Don’t bother being on your best behavior for Ctirad here; it’ll just make him try to live up to your standards. Danny, this is Ctirad, by the way, the newest member of our household. Ctirad, this is Danny, my chef, among other things.”

Ctirad did his best to ignore the surge of jealousy that washed over him at what those other things might be. Timaios might be being kind at the moment, but Ctirad had absolutely no reason to assume that he would treat Ctirad as anything but a pet in the long run.

He nodded politely at Danny. She grinned at him with brilliantly white teeth.

“Pleased to meet you, Ctirad.” Her eyes stayed on his face and her smile seemed genuine. “You tell me if there’s anything you like eating or hate eating, all right? No need for you to eat beets if you can’t stomach them, just ‘cause his Nibs here thinks they’re the best.”

Ctiard did his best to hide his confusion. “I will, but I can eat pretty much anything, ma’am.” She wasn’t wearing a collar, after all.

“Just Danny. Or if you’re helping in my kitchen, chef. The ma’am stuff is for – well, not for me. Okay?”

“All right, Danny.” He might like helping in a kitchen. It had been a while, but it did tend to come with more food.

“Boss, you’ve got those sweats that didn’t fit you still in your bottom drawer? They should be long enough for your new guy here, and then he doesn’t have to worry about his butt sticking to the chair. I’ll be back for the plates later.”

Danny swept out before Ctirad could quite figure out what was going on, leaving even Timaios looking a little off-balance. “She’s a wonderful chef,” the boss muttered, as he headed towards his dresser and pulled out a pair of sweat pants. “Like she said.” he tossed Ctirad the pants, made a face, and said very carefully, “You have my permission to be dressed at any point where I haven’t specifically ordered you to be naked.”

Ctirad waited.

Timaios smirked a little. “Ctirad, please put your pants on. I have not specifically asked you to be naked, after all, and dinner will go easier if you’re clothed. Then come sit here at the table – in a chair,” he added hastily. “We can play with the whole dom/sub aspect once I’m sure you can make a choice about it.”

That sentence only made sense to the part of Ctirad’s brain that he had learned to ignore, so he followed the orders and put on the new pants – they were long on him, but would have been too short on Timaios – and sat down in the indicated chair.

The food smelled so good he was struggling not to drool. He waited patiently. He still wasn’t sure when the trap would spring closed.

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