Please, Master

Ashenivir would never tire of kissing like this—tangled on the couch, the evening belonging to nothing but indulgent lips and warm hands. Rizeth had proven distractible tonight, despite the Arcanum work he had piled up in his office, and Ashenivir intended to take full advantage. He bit at Rizeth’s lip, delighted by the quick, quiet moan the action conjured. Rizeth tugged his hair.

“Behave, Ra’soltha.”

Oh, as if he didn’t like it. Ashenivir bit him again, harder this time, then drew back, adoring the way Rizeth chased his mouth, just as hungry as he was. Emboldened by the sight of his Master’s desire, he caught Rizeth’s hands as they reached for him, and pinned them above his head to the arm of the couch. Rizeth eyed him coolly.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

“If you want to kiss me again, you have to ask the way I do,” Ashenivir teased. “And you have to say please.”

He expected immediate consequences—this couch, he knew from experience, was perfect for over-the-knee spanking. Rizeth didn’t put him over his knee. Instead, he spoke in a low, soft voice Ashenivir had never heard him use before.

“Master, please will you kiss me?”

Heat lanced through him, a surge that went from low in his stomach to somewhere in the back of his throat, and Ashenivir found himself unable to move. Rizeth chuckled and, keeping that same soft tone, said, “Are you enjoying yourself, Master?”

“Oh, no, stop it!” Ashenivir pressed his hands to his face. “How can you sound like that? Is that how I sound to you? Master, I can’t breathe when you do that!”

He dove forwards to bury his face in Rizeth’s neck, cheeks blazing. Arousal burned between his legs, a confusion of want that stole all sense.

“I can sound like that because Lord Stillgleam taught me,” Rizeth said. “You recall I learned much of what I know from him? He rather insisted on my studying both roles before he let me play with anyone else—it’s how I know I do not enjoy serving with such certainty. And it seems you just discovered you do not enjoy playing my role.” His hand slid between Ashenivir’s legs. “Not mentally, at any rate.”

Ashenivir let out a soft whimper. Rizeth carefully unlaced his breeches, and wrapped slow, firm fingers around his cock. “Tell me which part you liked,” he murmured. Ashenivir shook his head. Rizeth squeezed. “Speak, xi’hum. Your Master wants to know.”

“I liked…I liked the way your voice was soft…”

“Like this?” Rizeth spoke right against his ear, again in that low tone without any edge to it, as though he’d do anything Ashenivir asked of him.

“Y-yes. And I liked it when you said please.” Rizeth’s hand worked faster at his cock, and he made a high, strangled sound. “But not you calling me Master, I still hate that, I’m not, you’re mine, you’re mine, you’re—” he fell off into a gasp, fisting both hands in Rizeth’s shirt. The fingers that stroked him were slick, smearing the evidence of his need along his achingly hard shaft. His mouth found Rizeth’s—or Rizeth’s found his, or maybe it was both at once—and he moaned into the kiss.

“Then please, Ra’soltha,” Rizeth whispered, “come for your Master.”

He tipped over the edge with an almost pained cry, and at once went scrambling down Rizeth’s body, fumbling with shaking hands at his laces, pleased beyond words to find his Master as hard as he’d been. Ashenivir took him in his mouth, whining as Rizeth caught his hair and directed his motions.

Oh, this was much better, this made much more sense, forced onto his Master’s cock until he couldn’t breathe.

“Please, Ra’soltha,” Rizeth said some minutes later, soft iron, a request that was not a request at all, “will you swallow?”

Ashenivir obeyed, awash with desire that had his head spinning every which way. Rizeth tugged him up, and swept a thumb over his lips.

“Did you find something new you like, Ra’soltha?” Ashenivir could only nod, utterly overwhelmed. “Do you want to play with it more later?”

“Yes,” Ashenivir managed. He put his face in his hands again. “Master, I love you.”

“I know you do, I love you too—come here.”

He settled half-atop Rizeth in the crook of his arm, curled against his chest.

“Such a reaction,” Rizeth said. “I should say it serves you right, misbehaving as you did.” Ashenivir burrowed closer to him and he laughed, the sound vibrating from his chest to Ashenivir’s. “Well, I shall not abuse this newfound knowledge, entertaining as it might be.”

“You’re going to say please in public, aren’t you?” Ashenivir grumbled.

“I am always polite in public, xi’hum.”

“If you do it in front of Keszriin or Lyzira at dinner, I’m not going to speak to you for a month.”

“Is that so?”

“Well, a tenday.”

“I see.”

“A whole day, at least.”

“Such conviction you have. How fortunate I should be to have you as my Master.”

“Stop it!”

“Oh, will you punish me, Ra’soltha? Shall I fetch the gag and paddle for you?”

Ashenivir hit at his shoulder—Rizeth caught his wrist tightly for a moment before relaxing and drawing him up into a kiss. Ashenivir huffed, though his heart wasn’t in it. Rizeth nipped his lip. “Now will you behave yourself?”

Ashenivir almost bit him back, then thought better of it. He settled down to lay his head on Rizeth’s chest instead, positioned so as to hear his heartbeat.

“Yes, Master.”