Page 45 of Garden of Poisoned Delights

“I do,” his brother Will had said. He was leaning against the kitchen doorway, his dark eyes wary. He always looked on edge, these days. “I just didn’t think Ferrin did.”

“Why is it no one thinks I have a romantic bone in my body?” Ferrin asked, and both Will and Louise rolled their eyes. “What?”

“You dumped your first boyfriend because he said I love you,” Will said.

“We were fifteen. He didn’t know what the word meant yet.”

Will and Louise looked at each other again.

“You deal with him,” Will said. “I’m going to sit on the roof and get drunk before Ma and Pa start asking why I’m not a proper officer yet.”

“You really shouldn’t—” Louise started, but Will was already sauntering off, grabbing a bottle of wine off the dining table as he went.

And then, Silver had managed to befriend him. He’d climbed the roof to sit there with Will, and Ferrin had heard them talking about Diabolos through the second floor window. Will had even laughed, once, which happened so rarely that it made Ferrin’s heart ache a little.

Silver knew how to read people. That was his talent, beyond even his skill with tailoring, and when the night was over and Will actually smiled when he said goodbye, Ferrin dragged Silver home and kissed him senseless.

So it was all right, having nice things around for Silver.

“You can strip when the fire is warm enough,” Ferrin called, and smiled sidelong when Silver immediately started undoing his buttons.

Technically, he still had guard reports from the palace to read, but instead, he leaned back on the cushions in front of the fire and stroked Silver’s hair, and the fire warmed Silver’s bare skin as he took Ferrin’s cock in his mouth. He used all his skill, eager and only slightly frantic, drawing back entirely so he could kiss Ferrin’s thighs and tease his balls, then taking him all the way just as Ferrin was about to pull him there by the hair. He kept glancing up at Ferrin, and Ferrin tugged lightly on his hair and moved his hips, groaning as Silver let his mouth go slack.

“Yes, you’re very good,” Ferrin said, as he slowly fucked Silver’s mouth. “You know you’re good.”

Silver responded by humming low in his throat, and Ferrin came, holding him by his fine golden hair. When he drew back at last, Silver made a show of swallowing and tossed his tousled hair out of his eyes.

Ferrin stroked Silver’s jaw. “Do you want my hand, a paddle, or a flogger first?”

“Hand?” Silver was practically climbing into his lap, unable to sit still. “ Then the cane, maybe.”

Ferrin raised his brows. Silver didn’t go for pain often, but then again, he had sent Ferrin flowers earlier. Perhaps he was more hard up than usual. Ferrin kissed him, and Silver grinned when Ferrin patted his thigh.

“Up we go,” he said. “I’d say you earned your reward.”

* * *

The thing was, Silver’s life was pretty damn great.

He had an amazing job making clothes for nobles who mostly said thank you and some of whom, like King Adrien and Lord Laurent de Rue, let him design wildly dramatic outfits with a mix of patterns and materials, just to see how they looked. Adrien, much like his father before him, managed to make every piece of clothing look slightly disheveled no matter how well it was made or how perfectly it was tailored to his tall, lanky frame. Laurent de Rue, on the other hand, would look impeccably attired in seaweed and cobwebs, which could be an interesting statement on Mislia and memory loss, something to think about if he could use seaweed without the smell, and cobwebs without the spiders.

He liked his job, and he liked his messy workshop with the fabric samples on the chairs and the pieces of half-cut, pinned patterns on low tables. He liked the mirrors that were always smudged, the slightly chaotic yet perfectly organized tools, the comfortable chair with the blanket Louise made him that he could nap under, on cold winter days or late nights waiting for Ferrin to finish up with the Hawks.

Then he would go home to his little house with his man, the handsome captain of the royal guard, who was actively working to dismantle ages of corruption under the approving eye of a king who was doing the same in his court. Sometimes they went out for dinner, walked hand-in-hand through the district that was beginning to feature more foreign-owned businesses, the combined effect of the king’s gale-force wind of change and a new treaty between Staria and Arktos that made travel from the eastern continent much easier.

Right now, though, all Silver was thinking about was being over Ferrin’s lap, pleasantly drifting already. As much as he loved his life and everything in it, there were still times he found himself getting as wound up as a cheap watch. This week, he’d suddenly realized he had six custom orders due after finding himself saddled with not one, not two, but three apprentices. Then there was Louise telling him blandly at dinner last week, you know if you want to marry him, you’ll have to propose or he’ll just show up one day with the paperwork, and knowing she was right.

He was a little on edge, and nothing took that edge off quite like Ferrin’s hand on his bare ass.

Silver wriggled a bit as Ferrin settled back, clearly intent on making him wait for the sweet sting of his bare palm. He wasn’t the sort to look coyly over his shoulder or bat his eyelashes, but he let out a soft breath and tried not to move. When Ferrin finally gave him a smack, Silver shivered all over and gave a happy little sigh. “You’re the best.”

Ferrin gave a soft, warm laugh and his hand came down again, harder than before, and Silver gave a yelp and pressed his face into Ferrin’s thigh. As Ferrin spanked him, Silver felt his cock growing hard and he was pushing back into the sting of it, seeking more.

“If you want it harder, ask me for it,” Ferrin said.

Who wouldn’t? But Silver just wriggled a bit more and said, “Please, sir, tell me what I have to do to earn it harder.”

Ferrin gave a soft laugh and spanked him lightly. “I just told you.”

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