olden times for Tommy

[oohforeshadowing]

The great country pile isn't their speed, really.

Double had their lovely house in London, bought and paid for by their adoptive father - a High Fae of some high regard, who'd been fretting about their lands and accounts falling into strangers' hands when he passed on. It was a heartrending story, of course, and Double was...well, positively delighted to be anything the old man wanted them to be. For the right price.

Shapeshifters have long since had a bad reputation for sliding into the upper echelons this way. They hadn't been in penury to begin with, by any means, but 'lovely house in London' money and 'vast estates with mining wealth and hundreds of rate-paying tenants' money is not the same by some order of magnitude.

The old man died peacefully in his bed, well over a century old, and left the manor house and everything that went with it to their sole heir. Who is going to sell it all, eventually, but it feels tasteless not to even let their 'father's' body grow cold.

They move in after the last of their furniture has been transported, and lets the housekeeper give them the tour. They cut quite the figure: long blond hair pinned up in curls, a jacket and blouse tailored tightly to a corseted waist, the snug high-waisted breeches favoured by most males. Their tail is the most exposed part of them and the woman they're following keeps eyeing it like she's not sure if it's obscene or not.

"...show you the stables, your grace," she says, as she walks ahead to the outbuildings.

"Ah. I suppose we ought."

Comments

[oohforeshadowing]

"It's my pleasure."

They've already cleaned themself up a little, so now they can focus on Tommy, carefully wiping the mess off his belly, the mess of oil and come between his thighs.

"Hauling all that hay and manure around is really working for you," they chuckle, fingers tracing the muscle of his abdomen.

[bleak_midwinter]

"Oh, I can heartily recommend it," he laughs, laying back so they can do their work. He's undone the hobble around his other hand and dropped it to the floor.

"Horseriding itself is no light work either."

[oohforeshadowing]

They give one strong thigh a fond rub, thumb lightly tracing a welt.

"I can tell. Can you roll over for me, darling?"

[bleak_midwinter]

"Yes, ma'am." He rolls over, pillowing his head on his arms. His thighs and ass are a mess of welts and marks, plenty of places that'll come up in deep bruises.

"You've got a hand on you, too."

[oohforeshadowing]

"I have indeed. Shifters are stronger than we look. It's not something Fae enjoy, they think shows of physical strength are primitive."

The rolling of eyes is almost audible. They warm a little salve between their palms and then start massaging it into battered skin.

[bleak_midwinter]

"Well, humans like it. A lot."

Just like they like this- he groans when the salve hits his sensitive skin and relaxes into their touch.

"No one's ever thrown me like that. You can do that again sometime."

[oohforeshadowing]

"I think I might," they chuckle. "Or..."

They take a shallow breath.

"Maybe next time, you could throw me."

[bleak_midwinter]

"Oh, yeah?" He turns his head on his arms so he can briefly look at them, eyes glittering.

"I could do. I have done. You like getting thrown around as much as you like throwing?"

[oohforeshadowing]

"I've...had less experience of it," they admit. "But I've always enjoyed it immensely."

[bleak_midwinter]

"Why have you had less experience with it? Not enough people daring enough to do so?"

[oohforeshadowing]

"Not enough people who appreciate that their role comes to an end when the game is done," is the nuance they add. "I've been beaten and degraded and humiliated by partners and it is delicious in the moment, but...not so much over the breakfast table the next morning."

[bleak_midwinter]

"I just plan to be very smug over breakfast tomorrow," he promises them. "And wince every time I shift on the journey home."

[oohforeshadowing]

"And I plan not to demean you in the slightest, darling," they tell him, with a small solemn smile. "If anything, I admire you all the more."

[bleak_midwinter]

"How lovely to have been admired in the first place. I'm not usually the type to be appreciated, let alone admired."

[oohforeshadowing]

"I find that hard to believe. Even when I first saw you with your - how did you put it? 'Boots full of horse shit', you were quite the sight to behold."

They top up the salve on their hands for another pass, moving down to his thighs.

"I'm shocked that you aren't married, frankly. Or are women not to your taste?"

[bleak_midwinter]

"No, they are. Anyone that catches my fancy is, really. But being physically appealing is not the same thing as being admired for other qualities."

[oohforeshadowing]

"Well, I shall be selfishly rather pleased to have been a standout in that respect," they tell him, and bend down to press a kiss between his shoulderblades. "Can you stay like this a little while to let it take?"

[bleak_midwinter]

"Yes. As long as you stay and entertain me."

That little kiss spreads warmth throughout his body.

"Would you tell me where you grew up?"

[oohforeshadowing]

They are not only prepared to do this, but also to feed him a piece of chocolate.

"When I was young? Italy. Sicily, the little island in the sea? A beautiful place. Much warmer than here. Lemon trees and olive groves, and ancient cities."

[bleak_midwinter]

He takes it, happy to lie there and be pampered for just a moment.

"It sounds like a dream. Why did you leave it?"

[oohforeshadowing]

They smile faintly.

"Business. What else? My parents had, ah, concerns in London which needed their closer attention, or they believed they did. We moved when I was - perhaps twelve years old? That was when I first met the Duke."

[bleak_midwinter]

"I realize now I don't know how old you are?"

He reaches a hand out for another sweet.

[oohforeshadowing]

They give him a delicate little biscuit, sparkling with crystallised sugar.

"I turned twenty-five not long before moving here. And yourself? I struggle to guess."

[bleak_midwinter]

"Well, all humans look alike." He takes a biscuit and happily pops it into his mouth.

"Thirty-two, I think. Around there."

[oohforeshadowing]

They hum thoughtfully - then give him a teasing little pinch on the ear.

"You do not at all look alike. I'm just used to spending time around Fae, and you simply cannot tell."